The Season Six Job, Chapter 29
Title: The Season Six Job
Characters: Nate Ford, Eliot Spencer, Alec Hardison, Parker, Sophie Deveraux, Patrick Bonnano, OC
Fandom: Leverage
Spoilers: None - takes place before Season 4 finale, they're still in Boston
Warnings: None for now. No network presidents were harmed during the writing of this fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own blah blah blah
banner for chapter 29
Chapter 29
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It was good that the lights were weak and dim, Florence thought while entering another patch of darkness, trying to keep her eye - and ear - on the silhouettes and steps spread all over the garage in search of her. Yet, she would much more prefer more light; somehow, it seemed that bad things didn’t happen in well lit places.
“Florence,” she heard Eliot’s voice through the earbud, but it sounded strangely low. “Don’t scream.”
“Okay,” she whispered back, cautiously passing a car, keeping herself low. “I don’t see why would I scream, anyway. That would only tell them where I am, and they would gather around me. You know, I’m not stupid.” It was good she had to whisper, that hid a treacherous tremble in her voice.
She only made two more steps before an arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her to the side, behind a van; the hand over her mouth stopped her scream that had started despite his warning.
“Don’t. Scream,” Eliot whispered in her ear, and she heard him in stereo, through the earbud too. She just nodded, trying to calm her hammering heart. He really could’ve been more specific.
Two shadows moved a few meters in front of them, shadows with guns ready in their hands, but they were hidden from their sight.
She kept her breath until they disappeared.
He released her when they didn’t hear their steps anymore. “Parker, two are heading in your direction,” he said, keeping his voice even lower, giving her a sign to stay where she was.
“Saw them.” Parker was whispering too. They obviously all were near people who could hear them. “Nate, first one is done, leave that car and go.”
“How did you-?” Florence started and stopped.
“Not now.” Eliot went to the back end of the van to check their route. She was surprised to see him walking at all, in Lucille he looked totally spent - but now under all the slow, careful moves she could see tension that was speeding him up. And there was a strange watchfulness in his eyes when he turned to her again. “Stay behind me all the time. If we’re lucky, we’ll get through the garage unnoticed.”
“I killed all their other cameras,” Hardison’s voice jumped in. “But, you won’t get lucky this time, most of them are heading to you already. Prepare for hide and seek while we do the rest of this. They are all armed, people. Please, don’t get shot or stabbed or cut or killed or scratched or something, I beg you - I don’t want to be the one to tell Betsy that we all went out just half an hour after she left. You can faint, though - as long as there are no marks on your body, no new marks, or cuts or wounds or bruises or even a slight difference in skin tone that would show her you were exposed to the sun-”
“Hardison, shut up, I have to listen,” Eliot whispered and the hacker went silent, with one troubled sigh that echoed for seconds.
“What’s the plan?” she whispered, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. His quick glance told her she wasn’t very good at hiding it. He looked at her, judging her - her fear, not yet panic - and she barely kept herself from shifting.
“To keep you alive on this playground while we wait for them to get us out,” he said a little softer. “The building is still surrounded and being watched, the goons are covering the entire perimeter. That’s another ring we must pass.”
So, not only goons in the garage, but also another group waiting for them outside, in the open? How the hell did they think… she took a deep breath and said as calmly as she could, “What exactly are we waiting for?”
“Armored cars take a little more time, even for Parker,” he said as if that explained it; it seemed that all of them shared that annoying habit. He closed his eyes, raising his hand to keep her quiet, and she snapped her mouth shut, cutting off the next question.
Even she heard the soft sound of shoes on cement, somewhere down on their left, in the deepest shadows. Only two rows of cars separated them from the man approaching, and she knew that that distance was nothing for a gun. Knudsen’s men didn’t have to come near Eliot, and risk being beaten, they could shoot them on sight. They only had to spot them and open fire - running was pointless.
Then another sound came, from the opposite side, behind them. They had nowhere to go. Fear clenched stronger. She tried not to show it.
“Are you angry enough?” Eliot asked if they had all the time in the world for chatting, as if enemies weren’t closing in from both sides.
“Why?” She eyed him, uncertain, knowing that tone. Instead of an answer - which was the answer itself - he grinned and turned her towards the second incoming man. “Go get him. Hurry!”
Well, shit.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t know that she was only a decoy - she made a few similar scenes herself, and much better than this one - yet all her heroines that needed saving always obeyed without thinking, trusting the other party completely. That was the thing that troubled her. She couldn’t trust a man who was unsteady on his feet, and unarmed. She slowed her steps to a lazy walk, giving him time to prepare for attack. He would need at least fifteen seconds, judging by his movement, and she really didn’t want to spend them waiting in front of a gun. She really didn’t want to depend on the attack of a man who went down because he was fucking driving.
Now she could see the shadow of her target, he was on the other side of one van. She took a deep breath and slowed even more, not wanting to jump in front of someone who would fire instantly, being a decoy or not. She wished her heartbeat could follow, and slow down too - she could feel it in her throat.
In fact, she didn’t see why she should expose her entire body to it. Instead of walking in front of the killer, she reached her hand around the back side of the van, and waved.
There. She drew his attention to herself. Mission accomplished.
Knudsen’s man, surprisingly, quietly cleared his throat.
She carefully peeked with one eye, knowing it was almost impossible to shoot that small a target.
Knudsen’s man was lying on the floor. Eliot was standing over him. Waiting for her.
He shook his head. “That was, I don’t know… a fucking hurricane. You give Flash a bad name.”
“I was cautious,” she thought it over. “Extremely.”
A whisper trailed in. “In fact, when you mentioned Flash, I remembered-”
“Not now, Hardison. Parker?”
“Working on the second.”
She moved back a step, to look around the van from where she came. She could feel they weren’t alone here, and that made her heart beat in a frantic rhythm. Every instinct was yelling for her to start running as fast as she could, making her hands shake, drying out her mouth.
And the man behind her put his hands into his pockets, more relaxed now in the middle of this mess, than she had seen him from the beginning. There was something strange about that combination of utter concentration and an easy smile. He still looked unsteady on his feet, yet his whole posture radiated compressed energy even when he swayed. And maybe he was just happy that he finally had pockets to put his hands into, she added morosely.
He came closer to her, watching over her head and above the cars, and once again his hand formed a warning. Without any other word, he grabbed her hand and pulled her after him, keeping the van as cover on their side. She had to quicken her steps to catch up, but he seemed to walk without a problem; he looked unsteady only when standing and not moving.
They avoided two more men, in a zigzag around them, with short breaks for waiting, listening and hiding. Eliot kept some sort of direction, going left whenever he could and the situation allowed, and she noticed they were in the same section of garage the entire time.
Breaking the silence didn’t seem like such a good idea. The others were strangely silent too. There was no banter or talking, which they did without a problem when they were breaking into the C4 building. Maybe they weren’t aware of it, but she knew the reason - he wasn’t with them then, in the field. He was safe in the apartment, not among armed goons. If they didn’t want to break his concentration, she surely wouldn’t be the one to do it. Yet, this felt great; she finally read them, read something they didn’t know they were revealing.
Just when she thought they might continue with this endlessly, when they passed the better part of one row, a loud yell from behind raised the alarm. She quickly turned around and saw one of them, raising his hand above his head, giving away their position to the others, telling them the exact part the garage.
“We could use that distraction now,” she squeaked, keeping herself low. Eliot just continued for a few more meters, putting yet another van between them and the man who noticed them.
“Not gonna happen,” his reply sounded just a little breathless. “We are the distraction for them.”
For what? Just great. She bit her lip, glancing around.
“Crawl under the van. Stay there,” he said shortly, pushing her down in the darker shadows, as the first bullet came whistling through the air. It hit the van and ricocheted away from the impenetrable surface - she couldn’t tell if that was good or bad for them.
She dived into the oil and dust on the cement. “Two more are running our way,” she said when she saw distant feet in quick motion, but one pair ran in front of her eyes, and she heard hits and grunts. The van shook when a body was slammed into it, and she couldn’t tell who was slamming whom; she searched all around her, trying to see more legs that could be a threat.
Finally, an unknown body fell only one meter away from her - she just started to pull herself out from under the van, when another pair of feet came quickly, and the sounds repeated.
This time, she noticed with worry, the fight lasted longer.
“The third one is done,” Parker’s voice reported, tense and quiet. “Just a few more minutes.”
She had no idea what they were doing, but it looked like it wasn’t finished yet, and the sounds of the fight continued - she couldn’t simply wait to see the outcome. She wasn’t fucking helpless. She rolled closer to the fight - getting oil all over her clothes along the way - and pulled herself out from under the van. One booted foot missed her head by inches and hit the metal. The owner was caught off balance, and she saw Eliot elbow him twice; the man finally started to fall, more clanging onto his opponent than trying to hit him. Eliot pushed him away; Florence saw he had his gun in his hands.
He looked like he needed to sit down, swaying and completely breathless, but unharmed.
Yet, there was no time for a time-out.
They both heard more steps running in their direction, but Eliot stood motionless for a second, staring at the gun. She couldn’t believe her eyes when he pulled the magazine out, and threw the gun away.
“Why did you-” Her question died on her lips and became a scream when a shadow darted past her and slammed into Eliot with a vicious force that knocked him off his feet. She only caught a glimpse of the blond hair before they both disappeared behind the van in the dark. The Red Guard from the lobby.
“Florence, talk to me,” Nate said, alarmed by her scream.
“Busy,” she stuttered, hurtling forward, then stopping and turning back. She couldn’t do anything bare-handed. She picked up the gun and magazine and hurried after them - she only lost four seconds - hoping she would get there in time for… for what? No idea. But she could shoot a warning shot. She could at least-
The blond guy was in a heap, on the ground. Eliot was in the middle of a fall - or getting up - with his back against the van, staring with unfocused eyes into the guy, as if not sure how he ended up on the floor. She saw that empty stare the first time they met, seconds before he crashed down. If he collapsed now… She ran to him. His knees buckled - yes, it was definitely a fall - yet he managed to stop the fall, reaching blindly with his left hand to the van.
“The gun,” he whispered, and she quickly gave him the weapon, grateful he changed his mind.
“Don’t move,” he breathed, focusing. She opened her mouth to tell him he wasn’t doing such a great job when he moved, when the gun came so close to her head that she almost felt the touch. She had no breath to scream again so she just turned around, just in time to see one man falling, hit directly in the face with the gun. Well, obviously there were many ways to shoot somebody with a gun, she thought bitterly. Throwing it was one of them.
When she turned to Eliot again, he was on his feet, but his left arm was still holding the van in a death grip, not letting it go.
He threw the gun with his right hand, she realized. His face was white.
“I can go to another row of vans, for a minute of two.” She struggled for better control of her voice, but she only managed to whisper. “Draw a few of them after me, then make a circle and come back while you…I don’t know… something,” she finished, miserably failing at an encouraging smile.
He listened for a moment, looking over her head, then looked at her again. Still not moving from the van. She should ask him if he was able to walk at all, and she thought about how to form that question, while at the same time, giving Nate a report. Whatever they were doing, it wasn’t more important than this.
“For the next half a minute we’re not in imminent danger,” he said slowly. Carefully. “Only these few saw where we were. The rest of them are still sneaking around. Not near our row.”
“What can I do?” she cleared her throat, and her voice grew stronger. “How much time do you need? And what do you want me to do as a distraction? I can guide them after me - if they come running to you, and you are waiting, prepared, you can pile them, one after another.” He raised his eyebrows. Great, now he would think she was thinking he was some killing machine. “Or not, if you had enough and don't feel like fighting anymore - when in need, I can fight, too. There’s nothing wrong with fighting and defending, or even attacking-”
“Florence…”
“What?”
“Stop scaring me.”
She gasped. A barely audible soft chuckle sounded like Hardison, but she muted it, staring at Eliot. Glaring at him sounded like a great idea, and she tried, tried really hard, but that gasp broke the pressure mounting in her chest, and she couldn’t stop the grin.
“That’s better,” he nodded, watchfulness subsiding from his eyes with a quick smile. “Rested enough? Can you continue or do you need more time?” The smile was still there, but the concentration was too, and she knew how attentive his listening was.
“Ready when you are - we can collect more guns,” she turned around to see which way they should take, but mostly to give him more time to regain balance - but she didn’t have to bother with that. She barely made one step when he pulled her back and stopped her, just one step behind her.
“Unless I tell you, never go before me,” he grabbed her hand and drew her after him again, going around the van. They weren’t going as fast as before, and he carefully chose every bit of cover he could find. This time he was dragging her with his right hand, she noticed, to have the left ready for attack, and she adjusted her steps to avoid any need to pull her harder.
That helped when he stumbled, she was near.
He shook his head and they both stopped, waiting for the dizziness to pass. “Hardison? How long?” When he spoke, she hoped the others would notice the weariness of his voice, and hurry this up.
“She just finished the fourth one, we are in position.” The hacker’s voice was tense but not alarmed, so she relaxed a bit. “Fifth one in the third row from the elevator.”
Eliot changed direction, going left, and Florence adjusted her steps again, not daring to ask anything. They passed four vans. The fifth one had the engine running.
“You drive.” Another whisper; he wasn’t able to breathe and talk at the same time.
She climbed up into the van and waited for him, quickly going over the controls; almost the same as in Lucille, she would manage. When Eliot closed the door after him, she noticed the key wasn’t in ignition. Just a set of wires.
“We’re set, Nate.”
“Wait for Parker - four seconds.”
Florence thought she would join them in the van, but when the four seconds passed a van flashed in front of them, going from the left to the right. She heard yelling, two gunshots, running and the slamming of car doors all around them.
“Okay, people, let’s get the hell out of here. Florence, step on it. Now.”
She started, following Parker who vanished in seconds; two more similar vans moved at the same time, from different parts of the place. In less than ten seconds four identical armored Dvorak Security vehicles left their garage.
Bright daylight hit her eyes as her van emerged on the ground level.
She looked behind her - the chase was after them, but Knudsen’s men, both in vans and smaller cars, didn’t know who to follow. The four vans went in different directions.
And they couldn’t shoot, she realized just then. Neither the men in pursuit, nor the men that were covering the building. They were protected by armor.
“They can corner you and make you stop,” Nate said as if continuing her thoughts. “Keeping driving for a few more minutes, until we see who has the biggest tail.” He was driving too, she heard the exact same engine sound as hers.
“Wooohooo!” A loud yell came from the earbud at the same second a Dvorak Security van, faster than lighting, flashed before her eyes going from right to left, and disappeared in a side street. Florence stepped on the brakes to avoid the two vans and three cars that followed it.
“Parker, try not to kill anybody!” Eliot growled from her right. “Florence, follow them. Chase Parker, that way we’ll all stay close.”
Florence followed, and for a few minutes the row of armored vans and cars moved like a snake after Parker who made impossible turns. The other cars on the streets avoided them, horns were echoing all around them, and the chaos was growing with every second that passed.
BREAKING NEWS: ‘Mentally disturbed TV writer snapped after the cancellation of her show, and wreaked havoc on the peaceful streets of Boston, stealing armored vehicle from a well known and respectable security agency. Police surrounded her, released the collapsed hostage, and took her down with nets and rubber bullets. She is now held in the Psychiatric Institute for mentally disturbed criminals, under heavy drugs.’
She chuckled, keeping the hysteria under control, barely. She could feel Eliot watching her, but she couldn’t come up with anything normal, nothing that would sound sane.
“Hardison, you’re the first to leave the van,” Nate said. “Stop at the next junction when you see Lucille, Sophie’s waiting.”
“’Bout time.” The hacker sounded shaken. “Nobody asked me if I was able to drive this thing, y’know? Driving can hardly be called sensory deprivation.”
Florence continued to follow the chase, but Parker left them all far behind her, disappearing from everyone’s sight.
“I left the van in the middle of the intersection, blocking everything,” Hardison reported after a few minutes. “Two of Knudsen’s cars are stuck in the line behind it, they can’t get out.”
“Good. Florence, you’re next, get ready,” Nate continued. “Slow down a little and put some distance between those in front of you.”
She did as told, increasing the distance, until she saw Lucille maneuvering through the left lane and catching up with her. They both stopped when the red light hit, and Nate opened the side door for them.
Eliot had to go around the van to reach Lucille, and she waited for him, keeping an eye on his steps. The light was still red when Nate closed the door behind them, and they all could see Parker’s van, this time speeding through the intersection from left to right.
“Parker, enough. Leave it - block the biggest intersection you can find, and wait for us. We’ll follow you.”
“But I can-”
“I know. Next time, though.”
They managed to escape from the street full of pissed off drivers at the last moment, before another wave of cars came and got stuck, adding to the utter chaos.
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***
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Eliot seriously contemplated bringing a pillow into his corner behind the driver’s seat, and making it standard equipment. He thought better of it when Florence almost took his place for herself, changing her mind at the last moment; a pillow would be an invitation for everybody.
She sat in a chair facing the table.
Nate was silent, Sophie and Hardison were engaged in quiet conversation while she drove - Hardison demonstratively keeping his head covered with Sophie’s scarf, letting her coo over him and his headache - and Parker was busy with the muffins. Florence left his Challenger just a few minutes away from the place they gathered in Lucille - and he was sure Nate coordinated their driving the security vehicles in that direction, to save time - so Nate let Parker get out and drive it home. Strictly behind Lucille, no speeding.
He could finally close his eyes and think.
The concentration he needed to perform that little dance in the garage - something he had usually been able to do with his eyes closed and having fun - wasn’t something he could switch on and off as he wanted. It still held him, tensing his every muscle. He couldn’t relax, and he sat stiff as a board, breathing in slow, but too shallow breaths.
Nah, even the pillow wouldn’t help - he had to wait for it to pass. It would let go when they arrived in the apartment, and there he could expect some rest. A complete shutdown was more like it. It was inevitable after all the crazy things he did today.
Florence changed chairs.
He glanced at her while she studied Hardison’s things on the table. He forced himself to close his eyes and keep his mind from over analyzing everything around him. He had yet to analyze his moves and reactions in the garage. Especially the reactions; the moves were mostly automatic. He counted four different mistakes while he was doing them, and seven more after he made them, and that wasn’t-
Florence took another chair, moving to the back of the van.
He stopped an irate sigh and paid attention, immediately catching what was wrong.
Nate was silent.
And he was sure, though he couldn’t see it, that his eyes were following Florence all over the van in the rear view mirror.
He tried to think, again, but this time he changed tactics, left the garage, and started evaluating all the ways he could use to make Nate and Sophie search for the best organic food coloring and buy it the next time they went out.
She did do a stupid thing, though. Nate had to talk to her, and make sure she never -
Florence left the last chair, ducked under the sight line from the front end, and sat on the floor beside him.
Goodbye, concentration and analysis.
She must’ve been totally distressed when she sat beside the one who scared her five times a day, just to avoid Nate. Though, he had to admit, when Nate looked pissed off, he was scary as hell.
Her maneuver was futile. Nate left the front, leaving Sophie and Hardison, and came to them. For a moment he just watched them from above - and Eliot was sure they were lucky that Hardison couldn’t see the amount of dust and oil they both got all over Lucille - but then, instead of sitting in a chair, Nate sat in front of them. On the floor. Eliot was pretty certain that he waited until Florence decided to seek shelter here, that was a sign her stress was at the level he wanted it to be.
He didn’t look pissed off. Just sharp and alert… but it wasn’t any less scary. His gaze was steady on her, almost fixed.
“What did he say?” Nate asked calmly.
She swallowed. “That my offer isn’t bad, and he agreed to stop this. I told him I won’t go to the police, that I’ll give him the USB, and… look, I know it sounds stupid, but I had to try it!”
“Yes, you did,” he agreed lightly. “But not like this. Not without us.”
Eliot glanced sideways at her when she didn’t reply. And just as he knew his opponents' next moves before they were even aware of them, he knew she barely resisted pulling up her knees and hugging her shins.
“Do you remember what Eliot had told you about Knudsen?” Nate went on. “‘They wouldn’t climb so high in their ranks if they weren’t eliminating any possibility of a screw up along the way.’ When you’re a threat to the mob, there’s no bargaining for your life - you’re a liability and you have to be eliminated. They're protecting themselves. Knudsen, even if he really wanted to spare you, couldn’t do it, couldn’t risk it.”
“My offer was logical and good for both sides,” she said quietly. “I counted on that, that he would think like a businessman and see the benefit for him. He would have the USB, and he could stop trying to kill me - every attempt could lead police closer to him. I thought he was aware of that, and when I said I had no intentions of involving police-”
Nate raised his hand to stop her. “Florence, there is only one solution for a businessman like Knudsen. Dealing with the problem efficiently. He simply can’t risk you changing your mind about police in four months.”
“Well, now I know that,” she sighed. “I’m not sorry I tried; now that that possibility has been dismissed, I know where I stand. It’s just…” she paused, choosing her words. “I’m sorry you had to come for me… you had to fight, and steal, and…” her words ended in silence.
Nate rubbed his chin, thoughtfully, but said nothing.
Eliot raised his knee and rested his left arm on it. Nate just glanced at him for one second. No, this isn’t over. Okay, he agreed she had to hear all of it, but Nate could do it in the apartment where they could have a little privacy. She didn’t have to be lectured in front of him, of all people.
“There’s no way out of this for us,” Nate finally replied to the problem that bothered her the most, obviously, and which she left unspoken. She twitched.
Nate tilted his head, reading her every breath. “There’s nothing you can do to stop it, so just accept that as the current situation. We shall solve it.” His voice became flat and strangely bleak and Eliot frowned. “But, you can do one thing, Florence… you can get us all killed. You’re our client, and we need to trust you. Our usual clients were never this close. Our clients never set foot in my apartment, not even when they were working with us and helping us. That would be too dangerous. You are here, now, with us, in something that became our job - and that means our rules. Do you understand that?”
“Completely,” she whispered only that, but she didn’t avert her eyes from Nate. Eliot darted him a clear look - stop it now, that’s enough - but Nate, though he was aware of it, just smiled a smile that matched Betsy’s creepiest calm smiles.
“You’re not a part of the team, and you’ll never be. I trust them when they go to do something that they think ought to be done, because I know them, it’s their job. But when a client does the same, it’s a disaster. You don’t know what you’re doing, and we can all die because of that. From now on, Florence, you do only what we tell you to do - nothing more and nothing less. This situation is already too deadly, and one loose cannon, with its own ideas, could end us. I won’t allow that.”
Okay, this was way too much. He could hear the blood draining from her face. She did something stupid, but she didn’t go to Knudsen when she thought she was the only target - she did that because of them, when she realized they were going to war against all of them. And Nate knew that well, too, so what was the point of this bitching-
“I think she just used all her jokers,” he said before he could think if it was wise to jump in. “Even if she wants, there’s nothing left for her to do, so we can end this chapter.” He smiled while saying that, a neutral smile that should lift her up, and bring Nate down, at the same time.
They both looked at him - Nate with raised eyebrows, Florence with genuine surprise.
“What? You don’t have any new ideas, right?” he asked her. She just shook her head.
“And if you do, you will come to us first?” Nate asked. She nodded.
“Okay, that settles pretty much everything.” Nate’s voice finally returned to a normal tone. “As long as you remember that this is not an episode of your show, and that the actors don’t play the words you wrote for them, we’re good.” He got up, but stayed for a second more, watching her. “It takes guts to go to talk to your killer,” he smiled. Then he turned around and went to sit with Hardison and Sophie.
“But it’s stupid nevertheless,” Eliot added gruffly, not wanting her to feel encouraged.
She hunched down when Nate disappeared, but she glanced at him. “Are you playing good cop, bad cop on me?”
“A cop?” he said. “No need for insults.”
“Because if you are, you’re switching sides too fast - there are rules about that.”
He said nothing, and she did what he thought she would do earlier, she brought her legs up and rested her head on her knees. She didn’t want to reveal how miserable she was in front of Nate - but she clearly felt it was okay to show that to him. And what the hell was that? Progress, or deterioration? He hid his smile when he thought about the ultimate test of that; if he asked her about his beanie, and the state of her hair, he would surely know.
Just for a second, a suspicion hit him - no, paranoia at its best - Nate’s timing of this lecture was... He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Over analyzing was a boring and persistent bitch, he needed to stop doing that. Just as he was watching her now, seeing much more than he wanted to see, than was smart for him to see - her fear, her guilt, her… courage.
“I did the same,” he said suddenly, surprising himself more than her. “I went to talk with… with a man in charge, when they tried to kill us. Chileans. And I know what it takes to do that.”
“What did you tell him?” she whispered.
Oh shit. It was good his concentration was still here, in traces - he quickly pulled on every reserve he had. “N... nothing important.” He leveled his breathing and smiled. No sounds, no gunshots around them, just the engine. Her eyes were attentive but she wasn’t pressing. No, she knew she mustn’t press him. Fuck, she clearly found out more than she was showing. “We talked about the situation from different aspects,” he continued with effort. “Until there was nothing left to say, and they came to get me out.” He put his hands into his pockets before she could look at them.
She said nothing, waiting, but he turned his head in front of him. He said more than was clever. Clever for him. For this day. For his decisions.
The silence was significantly longer this time, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable.
She lowered her head again and muttered something unintelligible.
“What?” he asked, taking care that his voice sounded normal.
“I said,” she lifted her head. “That I feel like a busted truant. Collected, put into the van, now driven home.”
For the first moment he was just grateful because she changed the subject, though it showed that she knew it was a good thing to do, so maybe even why. Then he realized something more. That was a part of her relaxing with him - he had been the first one collected, she only followed.
“You should change your name from Leverage to Hotel California,” she continued, trying to smile, but there was, again, that damn unhappy twist.
“Why?”
“You can check out any time you like,” her voice became a whisper, “but you can never leave.”
*
Characters: Nate Ford, Eliot Spencer, Alec Hardison, Parker, Sophie Deveraux, Patrick Bonnano, OC
Fandom: Leverage
Spoilers: None - takes place before Season 4 finale, they're still in Boston
Warnings: None for now. No network presidents were harmed during the writing of this fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own blah blah blah
banner for chapter 29
Chapter 29
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***
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It was good that the lights were weak and dim, Florence thought while entering another patch of darkness, trying to keep her eye - and ear - on the silhouettes and steps spread all over the garage in search of her. Yet, she would much more prefer more light; somehow, it seemed that bad things didn’t happen in well lit places.
“Florence,” she heard Eliot’s voice through the earbud, but it sounded strangely low. “Don’t scream.”
“Okay,” she whispered back, cautiously passing a car, keeping herself low. “I don’t see why would I scream, anyway. That would only tell them where I am, and they would gather around me. You know, I’m not stupid.” It was good she had to whisper, that hid a treacherous tremble in her voice.
She only made two more steps before an arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her to the side, behind a van; the hand over her mouth stopped her scream that had started despite his warning.
“Don’t. Scream,” Eliot whispered in her ear, and she heard him in stereo, through the earbud too. She just nodded, trying to calm her hammering heart. He really could’ve been more specific.
Two shadows moved a few meters in front of them, shadows with guns ready in their hands, but they were hidden from their sight.
She kept her breath until they disappeared.
He released her when they didn’t hear their steps anymore. “Parker, two are heading in your direction,” he said, keeping his voice even lower, giving her a sign to stay where she was.
“Saw them.” Parker was whispering too. They obviously all were near people who could hear them. “Nate, first one is done, leave that car and go.”
“How did you-?” Florence started and stopped.
“Not now.” Eliot went to the back end of the van to check their route. She was surprised to see him walking at all, in Lucille he looked totally spent - but now under all the slow, careful moves she could see tension that was speeding him up. And there was a strange watchfulness in his eyes when he turned to her again. “Stay behind me all the time. If we’re lucky, we’ll get through the garage unnoticed.”
“I killed all their other cameras,” Hardison’s voice jumped in. “But, you won’t get lucky this time, most of them are heading to you already. Prepare for hide and seek while we do the rest of this. They are all armed, people. Please, don’t get shot or stabbed or cut or killed or scratched or something, I beg you - I don’t want to be the one to tell Betsy that we all went out just half an hour after she left. You can faint, though - as long as there are no marks on your body, no new marks, or cuts or wounds or bruises or even a slight difference in skin tone that would show her you were exposed to the sun-”
“Hardison, shut up, I have to listen,” Eliot whispered and the hacker went silent, with one troubled sigh that echoed for seconds.
“What’s the plan?” she whispered, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. His quick glance told her she wasn’t very good at hiding it. He looked at her, judging her - her fear, not yet panic - and she barely kept herself from shifting.
“To keep you alive on this playground while we wait for them to get us out,” he said a little softer. “The building is still surrounded and being watched, the goons are covering the entire perimeter. That’s another ring we must pass.”
So, not only goons in the garage, but also another group waiting for them outside, in the open? How the hell did they think… she took a deep breath and said as calmly as she could, “What exactly are we waiting for?”
“Armored cars take a little more time, even for Parker,” he said as if that explained it; it seemed that all of them shared that annoying habit. He closed his eyes, raising his hand to keep her quiet, and she snapped her mouth shut, cutting off the next question.
Even she heard the soft sound of shoes on cement, somewhere down on their left, in the deepest shadows. Only two rows of cars separated them from the man approaching, and she knew that that distance was nothing for a gun. Knudsen’s men didn’t have to come near Eliot, and risk being beaten, they could shoot them on sight. They only had to spot them and open fire - running was pointless.
Then another sound came, from the opposite side, behind them. They had nowhere to go. Fear clenched stronger. She tried not to show it.
“Are you angry enough?” Eliot asked if they had all the time in the world for chatting, as if enemies weren’t closing in from both sides.
“Why?” She eyed him, uncertain, knowing that tone. Instead of an answer - which was the answer itself - he grinned and turned her towards the second incoming man. “Go get him. Hurry!”
Well, shit.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t know that she was only a decoy - she made a few similar scenes herself, and much better than this one - yet all her heroines that needed saving always obeyed without thinking, trusting the other party completely. That was the thing that troubled her. She couldn’t trust a man who was unsteady on his feet, and unarmed. She slowed her steps to a lazy walk, giving him time to prepare for attack. He would need at least fifteen seconds, judging by his movement, and she really didn’t want to spend them waiting in front of a gun. She really didn’t want to depend on the attack of a man who went down because he was fucking driving.
Now she could see the shadow of her target, he was on the other side of one van. She took a deep breath and slowed even more, not wanting to jump in front of someone who would fire instantly, being a decoy or not. She wished her heartbeat could follow, and slow down too - she could feel it in her throat.
In fact, she didn’t see why she should expose her entire body to it. Instead of walking in front of the killer, she reached her hand around the back side of the van, and waved.
There. She drew his attention to herself. Mission accomplished.
Knudsen’s man, surprisingly, quietly cleared his throat.
She carefully peeked with one eye, knowing it was almost impossible to shoot that small a target.
Knudsen’s man was lying on the floor. Eliot was standing over him. Waiting for her.
He shook his head. “That was, I don’t know… a fucking hurricane. You give Flash a bad name.”
“I was cautious,” she thought it over. “Extremely.”
A whisper trailed in. “In fact, when you mentioned Flash, I remembered-”
“Not now, Hardison. Parker?”
“Working on the second.”
She moved back a step, to look around the van from where she came. She could feel they weren’t alone here, and that made her heart beat in a frantic rhythm. Every instinct was yelling for her to start running as fast as she could, making her hands shake, drying out her mouth.
And the man behind her put his hands into his pockets, more relaxed now in the middle of this mess, than she had seen him from the beginning. There was something strange about that combination of utter concentration and an easy smile. He still looked unsteady on his feet, yet his whole posture radiated compressed energy even when he swayed. And maybe he was just happy that he finally had pockets to put his hands into, she added morosely.
He came closer to her, watching over her head and above the cars, and once again his hand formed a warning. Without any other word, he grabbed her hand and pulled her after him, keeping the van as cover on their side. She had to quicken her steps to catch up, but he seemed to walk without a problem; he looked unsteady only when standing and not moving.
They avoided two more men, in a zigzag around them, with short breaks for waiting, listening and hiding. Eliot kept some sort of direction, going left whenever he could and the situation allowed, and she noticed they were in the same section of garage the entire time.
Breaking the silence didn’t seem like such a good idea. The others were strangely silent too. There was no banter or talking, which they did without a problem when they were breaking into the C4 building. Maybe they weren’t aware of it, but she knew the reason - he wasn’t with them then, in the field. He was safe in the apartment, not among armed goons. If they didn’t want to break his concentration, she surely wouldn’t be the one to do it. Yet, this felt great; she finally read them, read something they didn’t know they were revealing.
Just when she thought they might continue with this endlessly, when they passed the better part of one row, a loud yell from behind raised the alarm. She quickly turned around and saw one of them, raising his hand above his head, giving away their position to the others, telling them the exact part the garage.
“We could use that distraction now,” she squeaked, keeping herself low. Eliot just continued for a few more meters, putting yet another van between them and the man who noticed them.
“Not gonna happen,” his reply sounded just a little breathless. “We are the distraction for them.”
For what? Just great. She bit her lip, glancing around.
“Crawl under the van. Stay there,” he said shortly, pushing her down in the darker shadows, as the first bullet came whistling through the air. It hit the van and ricocheted away from the impenetrable surface - she couldn’t tell if that was good or bad for them.
She dived into the oil and dust on the cement. “Two more are running our way,” she said when she saw distant feet in quick motion, but one pair ran in front of her eyes, and she heard hits and grunts. The van shook when a body was slammed into it, and she couldn’t tell who was slamming whom; she searched all around her, trying to see more legs that could be a threat.
Finally, an unknown body fell only one meter away from her - she just started to pull herself out from under the van, when another pair of feet came quickly, and the sounds repeated.
This time, she noticed with worry, the fight lasted longer.
“The third one is done,” Parker’s voice reported, tense and quiet. “Just a few more minutes.”
She had no idea what they were doing, but it looked like it wasn’t finished yet, and the sounds of the fight continued - she couldn’t simply wait to see the outcome. She wasn’t fucking helpless. She rolled closer to the fight - getting oil all over her clothes along the way - and pulled herself out from under the van. One booted foot missed her head by inches and hit the metal. The owner was caught off balance, and she saw Eliot elbow him twice; the man finally started to fall, more clanging onto his opponent than trying to hit him. Eliot pushed him away; Florence saw he had his gun in his hands.
He looked like he needed to sit down, swaying and completely breathless, but unharmed.
Yet, there was no time for a time-out.
They both heard more steps running in their direction, but Eliot stood motionless for a second, staring at the gun. She couldn’t believe her eyes when he pulled the magazine out, and threw the gun away.
“Why did you-” Her question died on her lips and became a scream when a shadow darted past her and slammed into Eliot with a vicious force that knocked him off his feet. She only caught a glimpse of the blond hair before they both disappeared behind the van in the dark. The Red Guard from the lobby.
“Florence, talk to me,” Nate said, alarmed by her scream.
“Busy,” she stuttered, hurtling forward, then stopping and turning back. She couldn’t do anything bare-handed. She picked up the gun and magazine and hurried after them - she only lost four seconds - hoping she would get there in time for… for what? No idea. But she could shoot a warning shot. She could at least-
The blond guy was in a heap, on the ground. Eliot was in the middle of a fall - or getting up - with his back against the van, staring with unfocused eyes into the guy, as if not sure how he ended up on the floor. She saw that empty stare the first time they met, seconds before he crashed down. If he collapsed now… She ran to him. His knees buckled - yes, it was definitely a fall - yet he managed to stop the fall, reaching blindly with his left hand to the van.
“The gun,” he whispered, and she quickly gave him the weapon, grateful he changed his mind.
“Don’t move,” he breathed, focusing. She opened her mouth to tell him he wasn’t doing such a great job when he moved, when the gun came so close to her head that she almost felt the touch. She had no breath to scream again so she just turned around, just in time to see one man falling, hit directly in the face with the gun. Well, obviously there were many ways to shoot somebody with a gun, she thought bitterly. Throwing it was one of them.
When she turned to Eliot again, he was on his feet, but his left arm was still holding the van in a death grip, not letting it go.
He threw the gun with his right hand, she realized. His face was white.
“I can go to another row of vans, for a minute of two.” She struggled for better control of her voice, but she only managed to whisper. “Draw a few of them after me, then make a circle and come back while you…I don’t know… something,” she finished, miserably failing at an encouraging smile.
He listened for a moment, looking over her head, then looked at her again. Still not moving from the van. She should ask him if he was able to walk at all, and she thought about how to form that question, while at the same time, giving Nate a report. Whatever they were doing, it wasn’t more important than this.
“For the next half a minute we’re not in imminent danger,” he said slowly. Carefully. “Only these few saw where we were. The rest of them are still sneaking around. Not near our row.”
“What can I do?” she cleared her throat, and her voice grew stronger. “How much time do you need? And what do you want me to do as a distraction? I can guide them after me - if they come running to you, and you are waiting, prepared, you can pile them, one after another.” He raised his eyebrows. Great, now he would think she was thinking he was some killing machine. “Or not, if you had enough and don't feel like fighting anymore - when in need, I can fight, too. There’s nothing wrong with fighting and defending, or even attacking-”
“Florence…”
“What?”
“Stop scaring me.”
She gasped. A barely audible soft chuckle sounded like Hardison, but she muted it, staring at Eliot. Glaring at him sounded like a great idea, and she tried, tried really hard, but that gasp broke the pressure mounting in her chest, and she couldn’t stop the grin.
“That’s better,” he nodded, watchfulness subsiding from his eyes with a quick smile. “Rested enough? Can you continue or do you need more time?” The smile was still there, but the concentration was too, and she knew how attentive his listening was.
“Ready when you are - we can collect more guns,” she turned around to see which way they should take, but mostly to give him more time to regain balance - but she didn’t have to bother with that. She barely made one step when he pulled her back and stopped her, just one step behind her.
“Unless I tell you, never go before me,” he grabbed her hand and drew her after him again, going around the van. They weren’t going as fast as before, and he carefully chose every bit of cover he could find. This time he was dragging her with his right hand, she noticed, to have the left ready for attack, and she adjusted her steps to avoid any need to pull her harder.
That helped when he stumbled, she was near.
He shook his head and they both stopped, waiting for the dizziness to pass. “Hardison? How long?” When he spoke, she hoped the others would notice the weariness of his voice, and hurry this up.
“She just finished the fourth one, we are in position.” The hacker’s voice was tense but not alarmed, so she relaxed a bit. “Fifth one in the third row from the elevator.”
Eliot changed direction, going left, and Florence adjusted her steps again, not daring to ask anything. They passed four vans. The fifth one had the engine running.
“You drive.” Another whisper; he wasn’t able to breathe and talk at the same time.
She climbed up into the van and waited for him, quickly going over the controls; almost the same as in Lucille, she would manage. When Eliot closed the door after him, she noticed the key wasn’t in ignition. Just a set of wires.
“We’re set, Nate.”
“Wait for Parker - four seconds.”
Florence thought she would join them in the van, but when the four seconds passed a van flashed in front of them, going from the left to the right. She heard yelling, two gunshots, running and the slamming of car doors all around them.
“Okay, people, let’s get the hell out of here. Florence, step on it. Now.”
She started, following Parker who vanished in seconds; two more similar vans moved at the same time, from different parts of the place. In less than ten seconds four identical armored Dvorak Security vehicles left their garage.
Bright daylight hit her eyes as her van emerged on the ground level.
She looked behind her - the chase was after them, but Knudsen’s men, both in vans and smaller cars, didn’t know who to follow. The four vans went in different directions.
And they couldn’t shoot, she realized just then. Neither the men in pursuit, nor the men that were covering the building. They were protected by armor.
“They can corner you and make you stop,” Nate said as if continuing her thoughts. “Keeping driving for a few more minutes, until we see who has the biggest tail.” He was driving too, she heard the exact same engine sound as hers.
“Wooohooo!” A loud yell came from the earbud at the same second a Dvorak Security van, faster than lighting, flashed before her eyes going from right to left, and disappeared in a side street. Florence stepped on the brakes to avoid the two vans and three cars that followed it.
“Parker, try not to kill anybody!” Eliot growled from her right. “Florence, follow them. Chase Parker, that way we’ll all stay close.”
Florence followed, and for a few minutes the row of armored vans and cars moved like a snake after Parker who made impossible turns. The other cars on the streets avoided them, horns were echoing all around them, and the chaos was growing with every second that passed.
BREAKING NEWS: ‘Mentally disturbed TV writer snapped after the cancellation of her show, and wreaked havoc on the peaceful streets of Boston, stealing armored vehicle from a well known and respectable security agency. Police surrounded her, released the collapsed hostage, and took her down with nets and rubber bullets. She is now held in the Psychiatric Institute for mentally disturbed criminals, under heavy drugs.’
She chuckled, keeping the hysteria under control, barely. She could feel Eliot watching her, but she couldn’t come up with anything normal, nothing that would sound sane.
“Hardison, you’re the first to leave the van,” Nate said. “Stop at the next junction when you see Lucille, Sophie’s waiting.”
“’Bout time.” The hacker sounded shaken. “Nobody asked me if I was able to drive this thing, y’know? Driving can hardly be called sensory deprivation.”
Florence continued to follow the chase, but Parker left them all far behind her, disappearing from everyone’s sight.
“I left the van in the middle of the intersection, blocking everything,” Hardison reported after a few minutes. “Two of Knudsen’s cars are stuck in the line behind it, they can’t get out.”
“Good. Florence, you’re next, get ready,” Nate continued. “Slow down a little and put some distance between those in front of you.”
She did as told, increasing the distance, until she saw Lucille maneuvering through the left lane and catching up with her. They both stopped when the red light hit, and Nate opened the side door for them.
Eliot had to go around the van to reach Lucille, and she waited for him, keeping an eye on his steps. The light was still red when Nate closed the door behind them, and they all could see Parker’s van, this time speeding through the intersection from left to right.
“Parker, enough. Leave it - block the biggest intersection you can find, and wait for us. We’ll follow you.”
“But I can-”
“I know. Next time, though.”
They managed to escape from the street full of pissed off drivers at the last moment, before another wave of cars came and got stuck, adding to the utter chaos.
.
.
.
***
.
Eliot seriously contemplated bringing a pillow into his corner behind the driver’s seat, and making it standard equipment. He thought better of it when Florence almost took his place for herself, changing her mind at the last moment; a pillow would be an invitation for everybody.
She sat in a chair facing the table.
Nate was silent, Sophie and Hardison were engaged in quiet conversation while she drove - Hardison demonstratively keeping his head covered with Sophie’s scarf, letting her coo over him and his headache - and Parker was busy with the muffins. Florence left his Challenger just a few minutes away from the place they gathered in Lucille - and he was sure Nate coordinated their driving the security vehicles in that direction, to save time - so Nate let Parker get out and drive it home. Strictly behind Lucille, no speeding.
He could finally close his eyes and think.
The concentration he needed to perform that little dance in the garage - something he had usually been able to do with his eyes closed and having fun - wasn’t something he could switch on and off as he wanted. It still held him, tensing his every muscle. He couldn’t relax, and he sat stiff as a board, breathing in slow, but too shallow breaths.
Nah, even the pillow wouldn’t help - he had to wait for it to pass. It would let go when they arrived in the apartment, and there he could expect some rest. A complete shutdown was more like it. It was inevitable after all the crazy things he did today.
Florence changed chairs.
He glanced at her while she studied Hardison’s things on the table. He forced himself to close his eyes and keep his mind from over analyzing everything around him. He had yet to analyze his moves and reactions in the garage. Especially the reactions; the moves were mostly automatic. He counted four different mistakes while he was doing them, and seven more after he made them, and that wasn’t-
Florence took another chair, moving to the back of the van.
He stopped an irate sigh and paid attention, immediately catching what was wrong.
Nate was silent.
And he was sure, though he couldn’t see it, that his eyes were following Florence all over the van in the rear view mirror.
He tried to think, again, but this time he changed tactics, left the garage, and started evaluating all the ways he could use to make Nate and Sophie search for the best organic food coloring and buy it the next time they went out.
She did do a stupid thing, though. Nate had to talk to her, and make sure she never -
Florence left the last chair, ducked under the sight line from the front end, and sat on the floor beside him.
Goodbye, concentration and analysis.
She must’ve been totally distressed when she sat beside the one who scared her five times a day, just to avoid Nate. Though, he had to admit, when Nate looked pissed off, he was scary as hell.
Her maneuver was futile. Nate left the front, leaving Sophie and Hardison, and came to them. For a moment he just watched them from above - and Eliot was sure they were lucky that Hardison couldn’t see the amount of dust and oil they both got all over Lucille - but then, instead of sitting in a chair, Nate sat in front of them. On the floor. Eliot was pretty certain that he waited until Florence decided to seek shelter here, that was a sign her stress was at the level he wanted it to be.
He didn’t look pissed off. Just sharp and alert… but it wasn’t any less scary. His gaze was steady on her, almost fixed.
“What did he say?” Nate asked calmly.
She swallowed. “That my offer isn’t bad, and he agreed to stop this. I told him I won’t go to the police, that I’ll give him the USB, and… look, I know it sounds stupid, but I had to try it!”
“Yes, you did,” he agreed lightly. “But not like this. Not without us.”
Eliot glanced sideways at her when she didn’t reply. And just as he knew his opponents' next moves before they were even aware of them, he knew she barely resisted pulling up her knees and hugging her shins.
“Do you remember what Eliot had told you about Knudsen?” Nate went on. “‘They wouldn’t climb so high in their ranks if they weren’t eliminating any possibility of a screw up along the way.’ When you’re a threat to the mob, there’s no bargaining for your life - you’re a liability and you have to be eliminated. They're protecting themselves. Knudsen, even if he really wanted to spare you, couldn’t do it, couldn’t risk it.”
“My offer was logical and good for both sides,” she said quietly. “I counted on that, that he would think like a businessman and see the benefit for him. He would have the USB, and he could stop trying to kill me - every attempt could lead police closer to him. I thought he was aware of that, and when I said I had no intentions of involving police-”
Nate raised his hand to stop her. “Florence, there is only one solution for a businessman like Knudsen. Dealing with the problem efficiently. He simply can’t risk you changing your mind about police in four months.”
“Well, now I know that,” she sighed. “I’m not sorry I tried; now that that possibility has been dismissed, I know where I stand. It’s just…” she paused, choosing her words. “I’m sorry you had to come for me… you had to fight, and steal, and…” her words ended in silence.
Nate rubbed his chin, thoughtfully, but said nothing.
Eliot raised his knee and rested his left arm on it. Nate just glanced at him for one second. No, this isn’t over. Okay, he agreed she had to hear all of it, but Nate could do it in the apartment where they could have a little privacy. She didn’t have to be lectured in front of him, of all people.
“There’s no way out of this for us,” Nate finally replied to the problem that bothered her the most, obviously, and which she left unspoken. She twitched.
Nate tilted his head, reading her every breath. “There’s nothing you can do to stop it, so just accept that as the current situation. We shall solve it.” His voice became flat and strangely bleak and Eliot frowned. “But, you can do one thing, Florence… you can get us all killed. You’re our client, and we need to trust you. Our usual clients were never this close. Our clients never set foot in my apartment, not even when they were working with us and helping us. That would be too dangerous. You are here, now, with us, in something that became our job - and that means our rules. Do you understand that?”
“Completely,” she whispered only that, but she didn’t avert her eyes from Nate. Eliot darted him a clear look - stop it now, that’s enough - but Nate, though he was aware of it, just smiled a smile that matched Betsy’s creepiest calm smiles.
“You’re not a part of the team, and you’ll never be. I trust them when they go to do something that they think ought to be done, because I know them, it’s their job. But when a client does the same, it’s a disaster. You don’t know what you’re doing, and we can all die because of that. From now on, Florence, you do only what we tell you to do - nothing more and nothing less. This situation is already too deadly, and one loose cannon, with its own ideas, could end us. I won’t allow that.”
Okay, this was way too much. He could hear the blood draining from her face. She did something stupid, but she didn’t go to Knudsen when she thought she was the only target - she did that because of them, when she realized they were going to war against all of them. And Nate knew that well, too, so what was the point of this bitching-
“I think she just used all her jokers,” he said before he could think if it was wise to jump in. “Even if she wants, there’s nothing left for her to do, so we can end this chapter.” He smiled while saying that, a neutral smile that should lift her up, and bring Nate down, at the same time.
They both looked at him - Nate with raised eyebrows, Florence with genuine surprise.
“What? You don’t have any new ideas, right?” he asked her. She just shook her head.
“And if you do, you will come to us first?” Nate asked. She nodded.
“Okay, that settles pretty much everything.” Nate’s voice finally returned to a normal tone. “As long as you remember that this is not an episode of your show, and that the actors don’t play the words you wrote for them, we’re good.” He got up, but stayed for a second more, watching her. “It takes guts to go to talk to your killer,” he smiled. Then he turned around and went to sit with Hardison and Sophie.
“But it’s stupid nevertheless,” Eliot added gruffly, not wanting her to feel encouraged.
She hunched down when Nate disappeared, but she glanced at him. “Are you playing good cop, bad cop on me?”
“A cop?” he said. “No need for insults.”
“Because if you are, you’re switching sides too fast - there are rules about that.”
He said nothing, and she did what he thought she would do earlier, she brought her legs up and rested her head on her knees. She didn’t want to reveal how miserable she was in front of Nate - but she clearly felt it was okay to show that to him. And what the hell was that? Progress, or deterioration? He hid his smile when he thought about the ultimate test of that; if he asked her about his beanie, and the state of her hair, he would surely know.
Just for a second, a suspicion hit him - no, paranoia at its best - Nate’s timing of this lecture was... He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Over analyzing was a boring and persistent bitch, he needed to stop doing that. Just as he was watching her now, seeing much more than he wanted to see, than was smart for him to see - her fear, her guilt, her… courage.
“I did the same,” he said suddenly, surprising himself more than her. “I went to talk with… with a man in charge, when they tried to kill us. Chileans. And I know what it takes to do that.”
“What did you tell him?” she whispered.
Oh shit. It was good his concentration was still here, in traces - he quickly pulled on every reserve he had. “N... nothing important.” He leveled his breathing and smiled. No sounds, no gunshots around them, just the engine. Her eyes were attentive but she wasn’t pressing. No, she knew she mustn’t press him. Fuck, she clearly found out more than she was showing. “We talked about the situation from different aspects,” he continued with effort. “Until there was nothing left to say, and they came to get me out.” He put his hands into his pockets before she could look at them.
She said nothing, waiting, but he turned his head in front of him. He said more than was clever. Clever for him. For this day. For his decisions.
The silence was significantly longer this time, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable.
She lowered her head again and muttered something unintelligible.
“What?” he asked, taking care that his voice sounded normal.
“I said,” she lifted her head. “That I feel like a busted truant. Collected, put into the van, now driven home.”
For the first moment he was just grateful because she changed the subject, though it showed that she knew it was a good thing to do, so maybe even why. Then he realized something more. That was a part of her relaxing with him - he had been the first one collected, she only followed.
“You should change your name from Leverage to Hotel California,” she continued, trying to smile, but there was, again, that damn unhappy twist.
“Why?”
“You can check out any time you like,” her voice became a whisper, “but you can never leave.”
*