The Fixer (Leverage, Alec/Eliot, 1/1)
Title: The Fixer
Author: jendavis
Fandom/Pairing: Leverage; Alec Hardison/Eliot Spencer
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take too seriously
A/N: jesco0307 was awesome and generous enough to bid on my fandomaid offering, and patient enough to wait (for aaages) for a story that wound up developing a bit of a life of it's own. Thanks dearie!! Hope you like it!
Spoilers: 4x10
Summary: Hardison misses something, and Eliot hides something, but someone's got a fix for it. The truth will out.
(also posted at AO3)
Their client isn't the only one who'd been hit, who'd lost everything; there are hundreds, maybe thousands of others out there. The only thing making this case any different was that none of them knew who they'd lost it to, not exactly.
It doesn't take too long to find the common denominator, though. An audit of online accounts, followed through to an ISP, then followed back again to find thousands more accounts, and then cross referenced for similar online activity. Five websites pop up most regularly, owned by different companies. It's not the dead end it seems at first, however. All five sites use products created by Linktech Internet Security, based over in Providence, only an hour out, and which is owned and overseen by one Ryan Presley.
Presley has no idea what's coming his way.
---
"It's actually kind of brilliant," Alec flips ahead to the next screen. "Presley figured out that the best way to get someone's password was just to ask for it, which means that somebody could use one site to hack potentially thousands. What they're taking advantage of is the questions a lot of sites use as a low-level backup security feature. They ask for your mother's maiden name, the city were you born in, that kind of thing. But this one, here, one of Presley's additions, asks for your most common internet password."
"Seriously?" Sophie shakes her head in disbelief.
"It's smart. Most people do use the same login and password information over and over again, and don't look twice at the question when they see it on a website that they trust. One which they've probably signed into using...you guessed it, their most commonly used login ID." Alec's losing them- Eliot, for one, looks mutinous- but Nate steps in to bring it all together.
"So they've got the most probable logins and passwords of potentially millions of users."
"Right," Alec nods. "Which they can either use themselves or sell it for mad cash and prizes."
"So what's our angle?" Sophie is peering at the list of passwords on the screen in rapt fascination, which is surprising until Alec realizes that to her, they're a list of code words that might represent something important to someone. A birthday, a favorite book, a sports team. Almost any one of the passwords on the list could translate out into the grift in a heartbeat.
"It's going to be tricky," Alec pauses. "The only way to get into the system without maxing out the bandwidth on a single exchange is to have two hackers working on two fronts. Otherwise, the amount of data that's going in one session is going to be large enough to send up a red flag. Now, I could write a program that would work in tandem, but just working the timing on the steps out would take a week, since I'd have to work around a whole lot of-"
Nate coughs, catching Alec's eye before glancing pointedly between Sophie and the screen she's still staring at, and as Alec shuts it down, he takes up the slack. "Hardison, here, has some connections we're going to be using."
"Not that Chaos guy again," Eliot groans, leaning back in his chair and earning a dangerous grin from Parker. She's got ideas for Colin, sure. So does Alec. But those aren't for right now.
"Contrary to what you believe, I'm not the only genius hacker in the world, and he's not the only third-rate runner up. I've got my feelers out; there's a few people I know online who I'm bringing in to assist. Most likely, none of us are ever going to meet them."
Eliot shakes his head, rolling his eyes now. "So you're just going to trust someone without a face-to-face? Great."
It's Sophie, though, who fields this one. "If looking someone in the eye was all it really took to know if someone was being honest, there'd be no such thing as grifters or cons." She gives a theatrical shudder. "I'd probably be working in an office somewhere."
Eliot's not entirely mollified, but then he never really is, and Nate's about two minutes out from following up his as-yet-unknown orders with a 'let's go steal a thing,' but it'll be as superfluous as it always is. They're going to do this thing. It'll be fun.
---
Sophie roped Delano Presley last week, and Nate's been working him for three days now, so between the two of them it's nothing to get Presley out of the office for lunch. Parker's heading in to switch out the server connections- and Eliot's clearing her exits- so Alec can get the real-time feed on all the data that's being drained, a simple thing as long as both he and Wood have their ducks in a row. Soon as that's done, he'll bury their tracks and set up a new online account on a bluffed ISP before tipping off the feds. The massive amount of money Nate's about to take Presley for will more than cover their client's losses. The lawsuits will take care of the others.
Monitoring comms from the van, deliberately ignoring his irritation at the building's lack of cameras, Alec checks the code one last time. Soon, Parker will signal him to upload the server modifications. If they're not perfect, the system will red flag his activities too fast to pull the team out. Humming to himself- he's had The Temptations in his head ever since Eliot slapped it off the clock radio this morning- he forces himself to scan slowly, going over not only his code, but Jeremy's.
It takes him a minute to see it, several more to confirm. Once he notices it, it's glaring.
Jeremy Wood used to hang out on some of the Circle Six BBS's, back in the day, but Alec's had the number to his safe-line phone for years, ever since '06 when Wood had gotten in too deep with the Moscow hack. He'd been Alec's first call, and thankfully, available to pay back on the marker.
Wood had done his half of the two-front attack from somewhere in town; it was almost unfortunate, honestly. In any other circumstances, when staying on the down low wasn't such a priority, Alec would've jumped at the chance to meet him face to face. As it stood, though, anything resembling a meet-up would be a risk not worth taking. And honestly, with the rest of the job in the balance, there just wasn't the time.
More importantly, though, Wood remembered the Circle Six days, still knew how to communicate.
The code looks plain enough, with one minor distinction that Alec recognizes enough to be major. It's a bit of junk code, almost literally. Just an untied "110" where there should be empty space. It changes nothing at all; the program is still as invisible to most of the world as it should be, and it props the back door open nicely. It's also sloppy, and Wood? Alec knows his work. He's never sloppy. It's there on purpose.
It's a signal for the others in the circle. Alec's used it once himself, two months before Nate contacted him about the flash crew he was forming, when he'd been in too deep, over his head, and the Bank of Iceland investigation was bearing down, circling in closer. It's a cry for help, in binary that only makes sense to the circle. Help instead of warning. Already caught instead of being backsearched. Definite trap instead of probable.
His comms are already on, but hand goes to his ear anyway.
"Guys! We've got a problem. It's a setup."
---
Sophie and Nate carry on with Presley as if nothing's happening. Alec's warning doesn't even raise a hint of alarm in Sophie's voice when she orders the chicken salad. Parker's heading towards the van quickly enough; she hadn't even made it to the secure portions of the building yet.
Eliot's not responding, and when Alec brings up the communication monitors, he finds that Eliot's earbud has been set to output only, and the realization that Alec can't hear him is just starting to send thrills of panic up Alec's arms and spine when Parker catches sight of him coming from the south entrance and heading towards them. He's not running. He's not being followed. Everything's fine.
Alec edges the van up into the no parking zone and Eliot climbs in, already rolling his eyes at what he knows is coming next.
"The hell, man?" Alec sighs. They can fight about this- again later, but Eliot's just shrugging and it's hard to not start it now.
"You were humming. It was distracting." He holds Alec's glare for a minute, then nods. "Yeah, I know. Sorry." Parker shifts in the back, a glance in the rearview shows that she's watching him closely with a frown on her face, and it could mean nothing, or any host of things that they just don't have the time to deal with now. When Eliot's got the door shut, asking, "Nate and Sophie? How're they doing?" Alec just lets it go. They've got a job to do.
---
Back at the hotel, Alec gets Wood on his safe line.
"Hey, saw your note. Is this a good time, or are you at the party now?"
"I'm good," Wood replies, relief in his voice all too obvious. "Had a huge crew up in there for a while. Scene got a bit hectic. The DJ was a pro, but he had this entourage, or whatever. They were hell bent on warring on every little thing. Freakin' brought guns to the club, man. No drama, but they're off the guest list." Wood snorts. "Though they're due to pass through again next week. We'll see how that goes. Anyway. I should have the place back to rights in another few days, soon as I get back in there."
"Need any help with the cleanup? I'm in the neighborhood."
"If you wouldn't mind, I heard there's some junk by the back door propping it open. Be careful, though. If it is what I think it is, there's a bunch of mousetraps in there from the renovation, they might not all have sprung. You talk to your uncle about this?"
"He's gonna be pissed, but I'm gonna have to. You let me figure it out. I'll keep your name out of it."
"Awesome. Thanks, man. I owe you one."
---
Alec's pulse is racing as he sets the filter to "mouse" and runs decryption on the code. Within moments, the framework is filtered down to something terrifying. Wood hadn't cued the virus for ISP's, he's tied his trap into the wifi and a host of other systems. Whoever's made Wood build this, they're good. It triangulates physical- not networked- location and responds accordingly. It responds biblically.
It takes Alec seventeen hours to clean it out, and he removes Wood's back door while leaving his own in place. Another eight or nine hours after that, and Presley's done. They've shut down his operation, alerted every company that uses his security package of the breach, and anonymously forwarded all non-incriminating information to the feds.
"I've got it people," he announces, startling Eliot into wakefulness on Nate's couch. "We're good to go."
Alec's probably legally insane by the time Nate and Sophie finish up their game on Presley. He waits in the van as Parker and Eliot, in their police uniforms, move in to hand Presley over to the Feds.
A strange shuddering thrill goes up his spine. If he'd missed that "110," if he'd uploaded the changes without fixing the code-
-it doesn't matter. They're good. He'd seen it, he'd fixed it, he'd conquered. They can all go home now.
---
The next morning, he remembers being shoved into the Mustang, but he's not sure he's actually recalling Eliot's strange silence. Then again, maybe Eliot had been grumbling through all of it, and Alec had been too close to sleep to notice.
---
Wood's voicemail greeting, when he listens to it on Nate's speakerphone the next afternoon, doesn't tell him much. "Hey, this is Jeremy Wood. I'm off-lining for a while, no worries if you don't hear from me, but leave a message and I'll get back to you when I'm back in civilization."
He listens to it twice more, looking for clues that it's not on the up and up, but it's almost disappointingly plain. Wood's smart. He's already blown wherever he's been, he's laying low, letting his trail grow cold before poking his head above ground again.
It's what Alec would do. They're good.
But it doesn't explain the look on Eliot's face, that flash of anger that's buried in an instant the third time he plays the message.
---
Eliot remembers a time when he could walk into a basement and not expect to find five guys with guns hanging out there. He can even remember a time when he would've taken another few hits before taking them all out. Most clearly, though, he remembers that Hardison's panic bleeds through the comms when the fighting starts, and banks down into low bitching concern afterwards, when they're back home.
If he warns the team, he'll give away his position, so he switches the earpiece's microphone off before he attacks, and when the five are disarmed and unconscious two minutes later, his hand goes up to his ear to alert the others as he heads back towards the stairs.
"Leave it for now," a voice comes from behind him. Standing in the doorway at the end of the short corridor is a lanky, scruffy man with wire-framed glasses, dressed in a T shirt and fatigues, holding two phones. Holding up the one in his right hand, he shakes his head in warning. "You want a detonator? There's an app for that. If I shift my thumb, your blonde friend is made, Ford and Devereaux don't live long enough to argue over the check, and the van across the street explodes the moment your lover-" he smirks on the word, annoyingly pleased with himself, "puts it in gear. You know, I think this will go best without any interruptions."
He might be bluffing, but yeah, he's done his homework, and it's that more than anything that gives him away. He's playing this the way Hardison would- doling out just enough information to distract him. He's some sort of hacker, and Eliot had walked in on him doing his thing. But there's an eager, mad glint in his eye that reminds him of Parker, and his thumb's still hovering over the screen.
Eliot takes out his earpiece slowly, wraps it in his fist. "What do you want?" Eliot ventures.
"You, blind and deaf, for the next minute and a half...." The man backs away to a safe distance, still brandishing the detonator phone in his right as a warning, like a shield. His attention, however, is mostly on the phone in his left hand, he's watching it like he's waiting for something, though it's hard to tell whether it's the delay or the circumstances that have him tapping his foot. Dimly aware that this might be his best shot, getting at him while he's distracted, Eliot shifts his weight, prepares to attack. But it's too late. The guy's nods to himself, pocketing the non-detonator phone and grinning as his attention shifts again to Eliot, taking up the thread where he'd left off. "And once you leave this building, happily still standing, you develop amnesia until you hear from me again. I'll do the same. Because you don't want me remembering what my thumb here can do when I call you. Got it?"
Eliot feels sick. But the guy's back-stepping through the doorway, and it's already swinging shut. Eliot hurries to re-insert his earpiece, but the moment it's back in his ear, he's hearing Hardison shouting that it's a trap, and he thinks yeah, no shit, and he says nothing at all as he picks his way around the unconscious thugs to head back towards the stairs.
---
It's not until he hears the voicemail greeting that Eliot's sure, but he'd been suspecting, anyway. Hardison missing another hacker on the same job was unlikely enough, but Hardison missing two was statistically impossible.
And it's really messed up to think about seven months into dating the guy that Hardison's got friends who would put a bomb in his van. Who'd attack Hardison's entire crew for a payday, because that's what it had to be. This entire thing's too vague to be revenge, and the more Eliot thinks about it, the surer he becomes that what he'd witnessed down in the basement was a wireless file transfer.
Eliot's been careful with it, careful enough that not even Sophie notices that anything's amiss, but Hardison's not stupid. None of them are. Sooner or later, he's going to slip up, snap too quickly, do something to alert them that there's a sword waiting to fall. He'd found the bomb in the van's wheel well three days ago- basic construction, easy to deactivate- but Eliot's realistic enough to suspect that Wood's got backup plans in place should he decide that he needs them.
Just in case, though, Eliot heads down into the garage behind McRory's while Sophie and Nate are meeting with a new prospective client. Hardison's up in Nate's living room, messing around on his computers and researching their next prospective mark. Another hour or so and they'll be calling Parker in, sitting down for the briefing.
Eliot checks the van again, then Nate's car, Sophie's, and his own, on the off chance someone's stopped by in the past hour. There's nothing. They're clean. He should probably feel more relieved- they're safe for now- but then his phone rings. Unknown Caller.
It could be anyone. He knows it's Wood.
"What do you want?" he growls.
Wood's voice is grating when he replies, "I have work for you." It's nearly a relief. The sword's falling, nothing to do but deal with it. Eliot rolls his eyes, glances towards the front of the garage where one of Nate's neighbors is pulling in. Slightly altering his course, he heads back to his truck, as if that his destination all along. There's no way in hell that he's bringing this conversation- even as one sided as they'd hear it- upstairs.
"I'm already employed," he grumbles, playing for time.
"And if you'd like your coworkers to live, I'd suggest you do as I say."
---
Eliot doesn't know all the details, but figures out enough by the time he's arriving at the warehouse. Presley was definitely running the scam through the company on his own; the odds of Wood already being in place before Hardison called him to help were just too small. But Wood had obviously seen the opportunity bringing Presley down created, and he'd taken advantage of it.
There's no point in saying it out loud, though, of letting on that he knows even that much. For now, Wood's got the floor, standing with his arms crossed as he smirks under the dim florescent light. Still. The three laser points currently holding steady on Eliot's chest- aimed from three different points in the too-dark room- feel like overkill. Unfolding his arms, Wood produces a phone sized device- an external hard drive- and holds it up for perusal. His other hand holds plane tickets and a passport.
"You will have this in London by tomorrow evening, and you will leave tonight. How you plan on doing it doesn't interest me, and neither are any excuses you're planning on making. What does interest me what that you don't say, and the people you won't be talking to."
Wood had to have rehearsed this to come up with something so asinine sounding, but Eliot nods. "You want me to keep the team out of it."
"You want to keep the team out of it. I need only concern myself with what happens to them should you decide to do something stupid. Once my London contact confirms that the handoff's been properly made, you'll be freed from your obligations."
"And I'm supposed to what? Trust you?"
"You honestly think I've got nothing better to do than keep tabs on you and your crew? I've seen enough of your personal lives in the past week to last me a lifetime, and I'm not planning on overexposing myself just for the sake of beating a dead horse. This is just business."
It's a fair point. Eliot pockets the drive, briefly examines the passport, but there's no real point. Wood needs him to get through more than he needs him picked up in customs for suspicious papers. His flight leaves in an hour and a half.
---
The job's scrubbed when Eliot doesn't return. Nate drinks, Sophie worries, everyone argues and Parker hides. Alec thinks he's going to lose his mind. There's no time for sleep, as search after search after scan come up blank. Eliot had left his truck in the hourly lot, rather than in long-term parking, which means he hadn't been planning on being gone long. It's been three days.
Three days gets awfully long when you're not sleeping through any of it.
---
One of Eliot's aliases- Kevin Jackson- suddenly reappears coming out of Heathrow on Friday morning; he's bouncing through New York, and he doesn't look at all surprised to find Alec waiting for him at the gate when he eventually arrives. He does, however, look resigned, like he knows what's coming. Not here, not now.
"I'll fill you in when we get home," he promises, and there's this awkward pause where it looks like he might try hugging Alec, or something, but he doesn't, and it shouldn't make Alec feel like crap, but it does, so he grabs him real quick. Anything longer and the anger might give way to relief and exhaustion, and they're just not there yet.
"Damned right you will," he says, though, because someone needs to say something, here.
---
"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you much," Eliot says, leaning against Nate's counter. He's had a long flight to think about it. If Wood had been telling the truth about backing off, there's nothing to worry about, and if he hadn't, there's no reason to give him a reason to pull something worse. "The call came in on Tuesday for immediate deployment. All I can say is that there was a situation in an allied state that needed all hands on deck. Our communications were being monitored. Any calls would've meant eight or nine intelligence analysts tracking our every move."
Nate regards him calmly over his steepled fingers. Sophie and Parker are watching, waiting to see how this plays out, because they can see as clearly as Eliot can that Hardison's just seconds away from exploding. Thankfully, it's Nate who speaks first.
"Was this more like '04, or more like Prague?"
Eliot finally feels a little of the jet lag slipping away, and he's not sure Nate's doing it on purpose, but Alec's eyes widen a bit, curious and distracted. For the moment, he's forgetting to be angry. "More like '04. Nobody's coming to retaliate. Went down without a hitch." Something changes in Nate's eyes; they narrow, irritation showing through. "I mean. Unless... where are we with the new client?"
"Haven't started the job yet," Nate concedes, and at least there's one thing this month that Eliot hasn't blown. "Another few days won't hurt anything."
"We were waiting on you," Sophie adds, and her tone's got just a tinge of reproach, but she's smiling now, and Parker's already bored, heading for the fridge, and Nate's nodding to himself and getting up. This isn't going to be a problem, then. Not for the team.
Hardison, though. That's another story.
---
Hardison looks like he hasn't slept in days and will probably kill them both if he gets behind the wheel, so Eliot drives. The tension in the car is cutting through his jet lag and exhaustion enough to keep him awake enough to get them home.
"Look, Hardison," he sighs, killing the ignition. "I'm sorry, all right? If I could've used a phone, you would've been my first call, you know that, right?"
"I know." And it's obvious that he does, but he's still tired and down and Eliot doesn't really feel like getting into it either. They drag themselves inside and upstairs and don't bother turning on any lights, just strip down and crash out.
---
Alec kisses him hello in the morning when he's shaving.
"Forgot to mention it," he says, pulling back and grinning at him. "Glad you came back okay."
It's an obvious ploy and Eliot knows it, but Hardison's just conning him into making breakfast, and this could be so much worse.
---
There's just a bit more to do, just to be on the safe side. Eliot accidentally breaks his phone while he's working in the garden. Ten seconds later there's an alert on Hardison's systems saying that their communications have been compromised. Hardison barely fakes his annoyance, spends the next two days tying phones and GPS trackers and computers together.
It's probably the most fun Hardison's had in weeks, setting it all up. Everyone's got new earbuds, too. Better ones, he insists the next afternoon at Nate's place, before telling them all exactly- excruciatingly- why, as he paces back and forth in front of the couch. Eliot's not listening half as closely to the geek spiraling as he should be, too busy realizing that yeah, finally, they're in the clear now.
---
The next week, it all goes to hell.
---
Following the others into McRory's, Alec's listening to Parker describing the new laser array at the Bank of America's west entrance, so he doesn't notice that anything's gone wrong until Nate stops short.
"What do you want, Sterling?"
Sterling turns away from the bar, grinning thinly at them with a cocked eyebrow. "Oh, so many things. But where to start?"
Eliot seems too bothered by Sterling's presence to actually look at the man. He's watching Nate, looking for cues, some signal that lets him know it's okay to attack. So intent on this is he that it seems to take him a minute to realize what Sterling's just said.
"It has recently come to my attention that there is some data, of particular quantity, quality and provenience, which has entered the black market in Dublin. Interesting, however, is that we've yet to confirm the suspects of the actual theft." Sterling's looking at Nate, but his words hit all of them. Parker and Sophie are confused. Alec can't stop himself from glancing in Eliot's direction; the irritation he finds there isn't as heartening as it could be under the circumstances, and he doesn't know why. "Though fortunately, we know who the middle man was."
And Alec's got it, now, the slight narrowing of Eliot's eyes that wouldn't mean anything, were it not for his disappearance last week and the tension he'd been carrying on him lately. Something hard forms itself in Alec's gut, but he doesn't know what to do with it yet.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Sterling," Nate says conversationally, flagging down Clara to order a drink. "Again. Why are you here?"
"A courtesy call. It wasn't too hard to find your particular lack of fingerprints all over the Presley case. And it while it would be oh so easy to make a few simple arrests, the fact of the matter is that I'm feeling magnanimous. Besides. There's one detail in this case that makes me curious. Because you're all so annoyingly ethical in your crimes."
"Thanks," Parker can't decide whether to smile or frown, settling somehow on both.
Sophie's equally confused. "What do you mean?"
"I've never seen you double dipping before. If I'm correct- and believe me, I've got enough to hang the lot of you- you've already taken care of Presley, taken him and his company for all that they've got. But for you to make a side deal on the data after you've already pulled the job? You're criminals, all of you, but you're not that stupid."
"You don't have enough for anything," Nate argues, the same moment Alec says, "we didn't." Alec's heart's not in it, though; maybe Sterling can sense as much, because he doesn't bother mugging when he meets Eliot's glare.
"Then why do I have you, on camera, making a handoff to the buyer?"
---
There are a lot of things Eliot could do, here, but most of them will endanger the team, if not now, then in the long run. The cat's out of the bag. He's tired of hiding it. It has nothing at all to do with Alec's wide, shocked eyes or Nate's narrowing ones.
"Eliot?"
Eliot grabs his beer off the bar and nods back to the corner booth, and the others follow quietly. It should give him a little time to think, but his mind's a regrettable blank.
Hardison starts to ask something- his tone's frustrated and angry, but the what he manages to get out isn't followed by anything useful, and he breaks off when Eliot shakes his head. He slides into the booth next to him, instead of across, which doesn't mean anything until he notices Parker shoving ahead of Sterling. The team's filling the booth on either side of him. Sterling's on the outside end of the table, farthest away.
Maybe the team's just getting as many obstacles between them as they can. Maybe it's a protective move; it almost feels that way. But Nate's sitting across from him, and Hardison's next to them, and their stares are so wary and disappointed that he doesn't actually believe it for a second.
Nate's jaw is clenched tightly enough that it's Sophie who manages to open her mouth first.
"You obviously know something, Eliot," she says diplomatically. "So what happened?"
Eliot sips his beer, but there's no good reason to drag this out any longer than he has to. "It all started when we were making the run on Presley's offices. I was downstairs, clearing the exit route for Parker. I'd just switched my earbud to output only when I ran into Jeremy Wood." A quick glance at Hardison is bad enough; there's no reason to mention Wood's backup. "He had two phones. One of them, he was working on. I'm pretty sure he was transferring some files."
Sterling frowns. "Why didn't you stop him?"
"Because his other phone, he said he'd rigged it up as a detonator to a bomb in the van. I wasn't going to test him on that."
"Is that when you and Wood made your deal?"
"What?" Eliot frowns. "No." Thinking about it some more, though, Sterlings just skipped ahead in the playback. "Well. Kinda. At the time I didn't know who it was- didn't put two and two together about it being Wood until I heard him on that voicemail thing," he explains, mostly for Hardison's benefit. "I didn't know what he was up to, but he made it clear that mentioning it to anyone on the team would lead to repercussions."
"Damn right they will," Hardison mutters darkly enough that Eliot knows, without looking, that Wood's not the only one who's going to have to face them.
"He let me go, and later I found a bomb on the van. He hadn't been playing. Deactivated it and got rid of it, but I figured he'd see that coming and try planting another one." Turning to Nate, he gestures at Sophie. "I was checking the cars again while you guys were here the other night. The phone rang, and it was him; he wanted to meet. Two hours later I was on the plane to London, eighteen after that I was making the handoff. Spent some time making sure I was clear, then came back. The rest, you know."
Eliot doesn't know who to stare back at, but Nate's easiest, sitting across from him, and there's a fair amount hanging on his reaction. It's Sterling, however, who speaks first.
"Interesting," he says, actually sounding surprised as his attention shifts to Hardison. "I'm guessing there's more to the story?"
---
"Hell yeah there is,"Alec has to work to unclench his jaw. Eliot's going to have to wait. Right now, he's got to think for a minute.
He'd messed up. Shouldn't have trusted Wood. Should've checked him out, seen what he'd gotten into since the last time they'd interacted. Should've stopped to wonder about the chances that someone he'd known back in the day would've gotten wrapped up in one of their jobs by mere chance. And he should probably pick his words carefully.
Fuck it. They're already so implicated, not even Nate's shooting him a warning glance. He's still too busy glaring at Eliot.
You're gonna have to wait your turn, he thinks, before turning to Sterling.
"I knew Wood from the community. Recognized his code, saw that there was a message in it just as we may have been about to do something that I'm unsurprisingly reluctant to admit to Interpol. The message indicated that Wood had been in there, finessing some of the code, setting up traps against his will. Cleared out of there, we pulled back. Talked to him, got his encryption key to remove all traces of what he'd done. Anything else would've been cleared out once I was doing that thing that I'm not admitting to. Flash forward, the FBI's tipped off, they've got the stolen data and relevant access history, and I don't think anything of it."
Sophie and Parker are frowning at him in confusion; irritatingly enough, only Sterling seems to be following.
"But with your removal of Wood's work, there was no record of his theft, and the timing of it so close to yours was enough that-" Sterling breaks off into a pleased grin. "You essentially framed yourself."
Alec can't stop himself from rolling his eyes. Whatever. "So, what's your stake in this, Sterling? Been following us that closely?"
"Internet fraud is no small matter, as well you know. Tens of thousands of logins and passwords get stolen, word gets around. Now, Hardison, you were very good at hiding your tracks. There was nothing there at all. Starting with Presley's company, it was easy enough to find individuals who had lost everything due to the fraud; there were thousands. But a simple audit found that one person in particular had mysteriously had all their losses covered, out of the blue." Nate's attention is already on Sterling when he turns to shake his head at him. "You have to admit. Your modus operandi doesn't vary much."
"I'll keep that in mind," Nate mutters coolly, but he's not the only one hearing the warning.
Sophie, when she speaks, does so hurriedly. "So, now that you know everything, what are you going to do?"
Sterling finishes his drink before leveling a look at Alec, then Eliot. But it's Nate whom he speaks to. "You'd be surprised what saving a man's daughter will buy you. But I'm greedy, so I'm going to propose a deal."
"Oh really," Nate mutters, completely unsurprised.
"Don't be that way, Nate. I've got enough here to incriminate all of you for the parts you played. And besides. Given the expressions on, well, all of your faces, I think you'll enjoy this little venture even more than I will. I get the case, you get revenge. Perhaps even a little peace of mind. We all win."
---
"Not now," Hardison says, as they make their way up to Nate's apartment, and doesn't speak to him again for a day and a half.
Nate's we'll talk about it later hasn't been sitting any better.
Eliot's redundant, here. They've already got Sophie and Parker hanging around Nate's apartment, watching from the sidelines, and they, too, are wary around him now.
It wouldn't be such a big deal if he hadn't already finished painting the house, or fixing the shed, or if the engine parts he'd ordered for the Marquis would just arrive, already. As it is, Eliot's entirely without distraction. He sleeps. Works out. Doesn't feel like cooking because he doesn't feel at all like eating.
He spends three hours searching for bombs that aren't there, and it doesn't make him feel any better.
By seven , he'd gotten bored enough to figure out how to turn on the video game console Hardison had brought over, but Madden 2010 isn't enough to keep his mind from going over all the things the others are doing right now, all the things that could go wrong, the chances that they'd call him if something does and if he should just suck it up and go back there.
His team's tied when he hears the car pull up. Churlishly, he redoubles his attention on the game until Hardison comes in.
"Hey," he says, dropping his keys on end table.
"Hey." Eliot pauses the game, looks up at him. "How'd it go?"
"Set traps on every major banking website. Anyone using those login and password combinations will catch a virus; it won't do anything unless the infected drive also turns out to have other stolen login information on it. Should give them enough to triangulate with. Also had an extremely uncomfortable conversation with Sterling regarding what I know of Wood's habits, not that there's much. Thankfully, the first red flag got sent up about an hour ago. Sterling's already doing his thing to organize the arrest."
"Sorry." Eliot sets the controller down on the coffee table. He's a little surprised when Hardison sits down on the couch, but not surprised that he's sitting so far away. "Look, Hardison. I'm sorry about how this all went down."
It's not enough, that much is obvious in Hardison's folded arms, the set of his jaw, the way he's not looking back at him. "Right. You talking about me having to hang out with Sterling, or about you holding out on me. On the team?"
"Both," Eliot admits, not sure whether he should wish that Hardison would look at him, already. "But I had good reason. Wood really was set up to kill you, and I didn't know that he wasn't watching. He had the advantage."
"And he used it very well. Even got you to do his dirty work for him. But hell, man," Alec's finally turning to look at him, shaking his head. Taking a breath, trying to keep himself in check. "I get that you wouldn't send it in an email, or say it on the phone, but you think that our security systems are so bad that he'd hear it if you fucking, I don't know, mentioned it when we were in bed or something? Written it down, passed me a note?"
"Dude, he knew that we've been sleeping together, and it's not like we've been doing a whole lot of emailing the specifics to everyone we know. He had to get his intel from somewhere."
Hardison smirks humorlessly at him, shaking his head. "You were holding out on me."
"And yeah, well. No offense, but you trusted him." It's a risky move and he knows it; thankfully, Hardison seems very determined not to take the bait.
"Don't worry, I've got enough up in here to handle being pissed at both of us at the same time. But I had to hear it from Sterling, Eliot. Sterling. You've been back for days, man. You could've-"
"I could've what? Just waited until breakfast one day and said, 'Hey, Alec, you know your friend's threatening to kill you? And all I need to do to make sure that doesn't happen is keep my mouth shut and drop off a hard drive? Oh, and by the way, I don't trust the fucker at all, he might still have his finger on the trigger?' He had enough to get as far as he did; it wasn't like I had enough on him to know that he'd just let it go once we were done."
Turns out, it's exactly the wrong thing to say, and Hardison's widen in nervous disbelief as he looks away. "So, what, you were waiting for him to call you out on another job?"
"Maybe, I don't know." Eliot pauses. Thinks for a minute before he loses his cool completely. Hardison talking right now will only screw that up, so he continues. "But it doesn't matter."
"Why? Because you think he's going down now, or because you honestly don't think he'd try again."
"No. Because if he did, I'd do it again. In a heartbeat."
"Eliot-"
"Damn it, Hardison," he shakes his head, grabs his arm. "It's what I do, all right? It ain't up for discussion. I'm not about to let you- any of you- get blown up by some asshole, you got that?"
Thankfully- finally- Hardison nods. He looks freaked, though, a little too freaked, and it's not going away the longer he stares at the paused video game.
"Hey," Eliot tries, after a minute. "You okay?"
Hardison blinks, shaking himself briefly before trying a rueful smile. "I hate it. When you're like this."
"Like what?"
Hardison flounders, shrugging and shaking his head. "All noble and self-sacrificing. It's gonna get you killed one of these days."
"Better me than-"
"No. See?" Hardison sits up, rounds on him. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. You get it in your head that the only way to keep us safe is to throw yourself on the grenade. As if we wanted to-" he shakes his head, starts again. "You don't think about the other options, man. Hell. Wood's a hacker, man. You know what the best attack is?"
Unplug their wifi connection, hit them while they're yelling at the screen, Eliot doesn't say. He shakes his head.
"Another hacker. Preferably one who knows what the first is capable of, and therefore how best to take him out. So, let's see..." he scrunches up his face as if deep in thought, scratching at his chin. "You know anyone like that?"
And the fact of the matter is, with how it all seems to be going down with Wood right now, he's probably right.
"Yeah." Eliot waits until Hardison's looking at him again, until he's starting to grin when he realizes Eliot's not messing with him. "Yeah, I know. Seriously. I'm sorry."
"Could've saved you sixteen hours on a plane, at least," he mutters only half-petulantly as he sinks back into the couch, and it's hard not to miss that he's moved closer. He's satisfied, for now. Mostly.
Eliot nods at nothing in particular. "Tell you what. Here on out, any geeks coming at me, I'll let you play the hero."
Hardison laughs, and something in Eliot's gut uncoils. "Already done that, man."
"Then I suppose I should thank you," Eliot teases, rocking his head to look at him. "Gotta admit, though. Not used to being the damsel in distress in this equation. So how d'you think I should start?"
Hardison's eyes narrow, and after a moment, he reaches out, wraps a hand around Eliot's knee. Just rests it there, doesn't do anything, yet.
"For starters," he says, "you can bring your ass over here." Eliot doesn't wait for more, just moves in and kisses him, the rest of him following until he's got him pinned against the back of the couch. Leaning down over him, his hands are on Hardison's shoulders; Hardison's are curled around the backs of his legs, tugging him closer, almost enough to send him off balance.
"You put me through half this much hell next time you're playing damsel, though," Hardison says once they break and Eliot shifts, "you'll be wearing a dress."
Eliot calculates the odds of this scenario ever happening again. He'll be fine. And hell, if not, this part would probably be easier, anyhow.
"Deal," he says, settling against him more solidly now, crashing their mouths together before Hardison starts piling on the nonsense.
Ten minutes later, though, nonsense is all that Hardison's capable of saying.
Author: jendavis
Fandom/Pairing: Leverage; Alec Hardison/Eliot Spencer
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take too seriously
A/N: jesco0307 was awesome and generous enough to bid on my fandomaid offering, and patient enough to wait (for aaages) for a story that wound up developing a bit of a life of it's own. Thanks dearie!! Hope you like it!
Spoilers: 4x10
Summary: Hardison misses something, and Eliot hides something, but someone's got a fix for it. The truth will out.
(also posted at AO3)
Their client isn't the only one who'd been hit, who'd lost everything; there are hundreds, maybe thousands of others out there. The only thing making this case any different was that none of them knew who they'd lost it to, not exactly.
It doesn't take too long to find the common denominator, though. An audit of online accounts, followed through to an ISP, then followed back again to find thousands more accounts, and then cross referenced for similar online activity. Five websites pop up most regularly, owned by different companies. It's not the dead end it seems at first, however. All five sites use products created by Linktech Internet Security, based over in Providence, only an hour out, and which is owned and overseen by one Ryan Presley.
Presley has no idea what's coming his way.
---
"It's actually kind of brilliant," Alec flips ahead to the next screen. "Presley figured out that the best way to get someone's password was just to ask for it, which means that somebody could use one site to hack potentially thousands. What they're taking advantage of is the questions a lot of sites use as a low-level backup security feature. They ask for your mother's maiden name, the city were you born in, that kind of thing. But this one, here, one of Presley's additions, asks for your most common internet password."
"Seriously?" Sophie shakes her head in disbelief.
"It's smart. Most people do use the same login and password information over and over again, and don't look twice at the question when they see it on a website that they trust. One which they've probably signed into using...you guessed it, their most commonly used login ID." Alec's losing them- Eliot, for one, looks mutinous- but Nate steps in to bring it all together.
"So they've got the most probable logins and passwords of potentially millions of users."
"Right," Alec nods. "Which they can either use themselves or sell it for mad cash and prizes."
"So what's our angle?" Sophie is peering at the list of passwords on the screen in rapt fascination, which is surprising until Alec realizes that to her, they're a list of code words that might represent something important to someone. A birthday, a favorite book, a sports team. Almost any one of the passwords on the list could translate out into the grift in a heartbeat.
"It's going to be tricky," Alec pauses. "The only way to get into the system without maxing out the bandwidth on a single exchange is to have two hackers working on two fronts. Otherwise, the amount of data that's going in one session is going to be large enough to send up a red flag. Now, I could write a program that would work in tandem, but just working the timing on the steps out would take a week, since I'd have to work around a whole lot of-"
Nate coughs, catching Alec's eye before glancing pointedly between Sophie and the screen she's still staring at, and as Alec shuts it down, he takes up the slack. "Hardison, here, has some connections we're going to be using."
"Not that Chaos guy again," Eliot groans, leaning back in his chair and earning a dangerous grin from Parker. She's got ideas for Colin, sure. So does Alec. But those aren't for right now.
"Contrary to what you believe, I'm not the only genius hacker in the world, and he's not the only third-rate runner up. I've got my feelers out; there's a few people I know online who I'm bringing in to assist. Most likely, none of us are ever going to meet them."
Eliot shakes his head, rolling his eyes now. "So you're just going to trust someone without a face-to-face? Great."
It's Sophie, though, who fields this one. "If looking someone in the eye was all it really took to know if someone was being honest, there'd be no such thing as grifters or cons." She gives a theatrical shudder. "I'd probably be working in an office somewhere."
Eliot's not entirely mollified, but then he never really is, and Nate's about two minutes out from following up his as-yet-unknown orders with a 'let's go steal a thing,' but it'll be as superfluous as it always is. They're going to do this thing. It'll be fun.
---
Sophie roped Delano Presley last week, and Nate's been working him for three days now, so between the two of them it's nothing to get Presley out of the office for lunch. Parker's heading in to switch out the server connections- and Eliot's clearing her exits- so Alec can get the real-time feed on all the data that's being drained, a simple thing as long as both he and Wood have their ducks in a row. Soon as that's done, he'll bury their tracks and set up a new online account on a bluffed ISP before tipping off the feds. The massive amount of money Nate's about to take Presley for will more than cover their client's losses. The lawsuits will take care of the others.
Monitoring comms from the van, deliberately ignoring his irritation at the building's lack of cameras, Alec checks the code one last time. Soon, Parker will signal him to upload the server modifications. If they're not perfect, the system will red flag his activities too fast to pull the team out. Humming to himself- he's had The Temptations in his head ever since Eliot slapped it off the clock radio this morning- he forces himself to scan slowly, going over not only his code, but Jeremy's.
It takes him a minute to see it, several more to confirm. Once he notices it, it's glaring.
Jeremy Wood used to hang out on some of the Circle Six BBS's, back in the day, but Alec's had the number to his safe-line phone for years, ever since '06 when Wood had gotten in too deep with the Moscow hack. He'd been Alec's first call, and thankfully, available to pay back on the marker.
Wood had done his half of the two-front attack from somewhere in town; it was almost unfortunate, honestly. In any other circumstances, when staying on the down low wasn't such a priority, Alec would've jumped at the chance to meet him face to face. As it stood, though, anything resembling a meet-up would be a risk not worth taking. And honestly, with the rest of the job in the balance, there just wasn't the time.
More importantly, though, Wood remembered the Circle Six days, still knew how to communicate.
The code looks plain enough, with one minor distinction that Alec recognizes enough to be major. It's a bit of junk code, almost literally. Just an untied "110" where there should be empty space. It changes nothing at all; the program is still as invisible to most of the world as it should be, and it props the back door open nicely. It's also sloppy, and Wood? Alec knows his work. He's never sloppy. It's there on purpose.
It's a signal for the others in the circle. Alec's used it once himself, two months before Nate contacted him about the flash crew he was forming, when he'd been in too deep, over his head, and the Bank of Iceland investigation was bearing down, circling in closer. It's a cry for help, in binary that only makes sense to the circle. Help instead of warning. Already caught instead of being backsearched. Definite trap instead of probable.
His comms are already on, but hand goes to his ear anyway.
"Guys! We've got a problem. It's a setup."
---
Sophie and Nate carry on with Presley as if nothing's happening. Alec's warning doesn't even raise a hint of alarm in Sophie's voice when she orders the chicken salad. Parker's heading towards the van quickly enough; she hadn't even made it to the secure portions of the building yet.
Eliot's not responding, and when Alec brings up the communication monitors, he finds that Eliot's earbud has been set to output only, and the realization that Alec can't hear him is just starting to send thrills of panic up Alec's arms and spine when Parker catches sight of him coming from the south entrance and heading towards them. He's not running. He's not being followed. Everything's fine.
Alec edges the van up into the no parking zone and Eliot climbs in, already rolling his eyes at what he knows is coming next.
"The hell, man?" Alec sighs. They can fight about this- again later, but Eliot's just shrugging and it's hard to not start it now.
"You were humming. It was distracting." He holds Alec's glare for a minute, then nods. "Yeah, I know. Sorry." Parker shifts in the back, a glance in the rearview shows that she's watching him closely with a frown on her face, and it could mean nothing, or any host of things that they just don't have the time to deal with now. When Eliot's got the door shut, asking, "Nate and Sophie? How're they doing?" Alec just lets it go. They've got a job to do.
---
Back at the hotel, Alec gets Wood on his safe line.
"Hey, saw your note. Is this a good time, or are you at the party now?"
"I'm good," Wood replies, relief in his voice all too obvious. "Had a huge crew up in there for a while. Scene got a bit hectic. The DJ was a pro, but he had this entourage, or whatever. They were hell bent on warring on every little thing. Freakin' brought guns to the club, man. No drama, but they're off the guest list." Wood snorts. "Though they're due to pass through again next week. We'll see how that goes. Anyway. I should have the place back to rights in another few days, soon as I get back in there."
"Need any help with the cleanup? I'm in the neighborhood."
"If you wouldn't mind, I heard there's some junk by the back door propping it open. Be careful, though. If it is what I think it is, there's a bunch of mousetraps in there from the renovation, they might not all have sprung. You talk to your uncle about this?"
"He's gonna be pissed, but I'm gonna have to. You let me figure it out. I'll keep your name out of it."
"Awesome. Thanks, man. I owe you one."
---
Alec's pulse is racing as he sets the filter to "mouse" and runs decryption on the code. Within moments, the framework is filtered down to something terrifying. Wood hadn't cued the virus for ISP's, he's tied his trap into the wifi and a host of other systems. Whoever's made Wood build this, they're good. It triangulates physical- not networked- location and responds accordingly. It responds biblically.
It takes Alec seventeen hours to clean it out, and he removes Wood's back door while leaving his own in place. Another eight or nine hours after that, and Presley's done. They've shut down his operation, alerted every company that uses his security package of the breach, and anonymously forwarded all non-incriminating information to the feds.
"I've got it people," he announces, startling Eliot into wakefulness on Nate's couch. "We're good to go."
Alec's probably legally insane by the time Nate and Sophie finish up their game on Presley. He waits in the van as Parker and Eliot, in their police uniforms, move in to hand Presley over to the Feds.
A strange shuddering thrill goes up his spine. If he'd missed that "110," if he'd uploaded the changes without fixing the code-
-it doesn't matter. They're good. He'd seen it, he'd fixed it, he'd conquered. They can all go home now.
---
The next morning, he remembers being shoved into the Mustang, but he's not sure he's actually recalling Eliot's strange silence. Then again, maybe Eliot had been grumbling through all of it, and Alec had been too close to sleep to notice.
---
Wood's voicemail greeting, when he listens to it on Nate's speakerphone the next afternoon, doesn't tell him much. "Hey, this is Jeremy Wood. I'm off-lining for a while, no worries if you don't hear from me, but leave a message and I'll get back to you when I'm back in civilization."
He listens to it twice more, looking for clues that it's not on the up and up, but it's almost disappointingly plain. Wood's smart. He's already blown wherever he's been, he's laying low, letting his trail grow cold before poking his head above ground again.
It's what Alec would do. They're good.
But it doesn't explain the look on Eliot's face, that flash of anger that's buried in an instant the third time he plays the message.
---
Eliot remembers a time when he could walk into a basement and not expect to find five guys with guns hanging out there. He can even remember a time when he would've taken another few hits before taking them all out. Most clearly, though, he remembers that Hardison's panic bleeds through the comms when the fighting starts, and banks down into low bitching concern afterwards, when they're back home.
If he warns the team, he'll give away his position, so he switches the earpiece's microphone off before he attacks, and when the five are disarmed and unconscious two minutes later, his hand goes up to his ear to alert the others as he heads back towards the stairs.
"Leave it for now," a voice comes from behind him. Standing in the doorway at the end of the short corridor is a lanky, scruffy man with wire-framed glasses, dressed in a T shirt and fatigues, holding two phones. Holding up the one in his right hand, he shakes his head in warning. "You want a detonator? There's an app for that. If I shift my thumb, your blonde friend is made, Ford and Devereaux don't live long enough to argue over the check, and the van across the street explodes the moment your lover-" he smirks on the word, annoyingly pleased with himself, "puts it in gear. You know, I think this will go best without any interruptions."
He might be bluffing, but yeah, he's done his homework, and it's that more than anything that gives him away. He's playing this the way Hardison would- doling out just enough information to distract him. He's some sort of hacker, and Eliot had walked in on him doing his thing. But there's an eager, mad glint in his eye that reminds him of Parker, and his thumb's still hovering over the screen.
Eliot takes out his earpiece slowly, wraps it in his fist. "What do you want?" Eliot ventures.
"You, blind and deaf, for the next minute and a half...." The man backs away to a safe distance, still brandishing the detonator phone in his right as a warning, like a shield. His attention, however, is mostly on the phone in his left hand, he's watching it like he's waiting for something, though it's hard to tell whether it's the delay or the circumstances that have him tapping his foot. Dimly aware that this might be his best shot, getting at him while he's distracted, Eliot shifts his weight, prepares to attack. But it's too late. The guy's nods to himself, pocketing the non-detonator phone and grinning as his attention shifts again to Eliot, taking up the thread where he'd left off. "And once you leave this building, happily still standing, you develop amnesia until you hear from me again. I'll do the same. Because you don't want me remembering what my thumb here can do when I call you. Got it?"
Eliot feels sick. But the guy's back-stepping through the doorway, and it's already swinging shut. Eliot hurries to re-insert his earpiece, but the moment it's back in his ear, he's hearing Hardison shouting that it's a trap, and he thinks yeah, no shit, and he says nothing at all as he picks his way around the unconscious thugs to head back towards the stairs.
---
It's not until he hears the voicemail greeting that Eliot's sure, but he'd been suspecting, anyway. Hardison missing another hacker on the same job was unlikely enough, but Hardison missing two was statistically impossible.
And it's really messed up to think about seven months into dating the guy that Hardison's got friends who would put a bomb in his van. Who'd attack Hardison's entire crew for a payday, because that's what it had to be. This entire thing's too vague to be revenge, and the more Eliot thinks about it, the surer he becomes that what he'd witnessed down in the basement was a wireless file transfer.
Eliot's been careful with it, careful enough that not even Sophie notices that anything's amiss, but Hardison's not stupid. None of them are. Sooner or later, he's going to slip up, snap too quickly, do something to alert them that there's a sword waiting to fall. He'd found the bomb in the van's wheel well three days ago- basic construction, easy to deactivate- but Eliot's realistic enough to suspect that Wood's got backup plans in place should he decide that he needs them.
Just in case, though, Eliot heads down into the garage behind McRory's while Sophie and Nate are meeting with a new prospective client. Hardison's up in Nate's living room, messing around on his computers and researching their next prospective mark. Another hour or so and they'll be calling Parker in, sitting down for the briefing.
Eliot checks the van again, then Nate's car, Sophie's, and his own, on the off chance someone's stopped by in the past hour. There's nothing. They're clean. He should probably feel more relieved- they're safe for now- but then his phone rings. Unknown Caller.
It could be anyone. He knows it's Wood.
"What do you want?" he growls.
Wood's voice is grating when he replies, "I have work for you." It's nearly a relief. The sword's falling, nothing to do but deal with it. Eliot rolls his eyes, glances towards the front of the garage where one of Nate's neighbors is pulling in. Slightly altering his course, he heads back to his truck, as if that his destination all along. There's no way in hell that he's bringing this conversation- even as one sided as they'd hear it- upstairs.
"I'm already employed," he grumbles, playing for time.
"And if you'd like your coworkers to live, I'd suggest you do as I say."
---
Eliot doesn't know all the details, but figures out enough by the time he's arriving at the warehouse. Presley was definitely running the scam through the company on his own; the odds of Wood already being in place before Hardison called him to help were just too small. But Wood had obviously seen the opportunity bringing Presley down created, and he'd taken advantage of it.
There's no point in saying it out loud, though, of letting on that he knows even that much. For now, Wood's got the floor, standing with his arms crossed as he smirks under the dim florescent light. Still. The three laser points currently holding steady on Eliot's chest- aimed from three different points in the too-dark room- feel like overkill. Unfolding his arms, Wood produces a phone sized device- an external hard drive- and holds it up for perusal. His other hand holds plane tickets and a passport.
"You will have this in London by tomorrow evening, and you will leave tonight. How you plan on doing it doesn't interest me, and neither are any excuses you're planning on making. What does interest me what that you don't say, and the people you won't be talking to."
Wood had to have rehearsed this to come up with something so asinine sounding, but Eliot nods. "You want me to keep the team out of it."
"You want to keep the team out of it. I need only concern myself with what happens to them should you decide to do something stupid. Once my London contact confirms that the handoff's been properly made, you'll be freed from your obligations."
"And I'm supposed to what? Trust you?"
"You honestly think I've got nothing better to do than keep tabs on you and your crew? I've seen enough of your personal lives in the past week to last me a lifetime, and I'm not planning on overexposing myself just for the sake of beating a dead horse. This is just business."
It's a fair point. Eliot pockets the drive, briefly examines the passport, but there's no real point. Wood needs him to get through more than he needs him picked up in customs for suspicious papers. His flight leaves in an hour and a half.
---
The job's scrubbed when Eliot doesn't return. Nate drinks, Sophie worries, everyone argues and Parker hides. Alec thinks he's going to lose his mind. There's no time for sleep, as search after search after scan come up blank. Eliot had left his truck in the hourly lot, rather than in long-term parking, which means he hadn't been planning on being gone long. It's been three days.
Three days gets awfully long when you're not sleeping through any of it.
---
One of Eliot's aliases- Kevin Jackson- suddenly reappears coming out of Heathrow on Friday morning; he's bouncing through New York, and he doesn't look at all surprised to find Alec waiting for him at the gate when he eventually arrives. He does, however, look resigned, like he knows what's coming. Not here, not now.
"I'll fill you in when we get home," he promises, and there's this awkward pause where it looks like he might try hugging Alec, or something, but he doesn't, and it shouldn't make Alec feel like crap, but it does, so he grabs him real quick. Anything longer and the anger might give way to relief and exhaustion, and they're just not there yet.
"Damned right you will," he says, though, because someone needs to say something, here.
---
"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you much," Eliot says, leaning against Nate's counter. He's had a long flight to think about it. If Wood had been telling the truth about backing off, there's nothing to worry about, and if he hadn't, there's no reason to give him a reason to pull something worse. "The call came in on Tuesday for immediate deployment. All I can say is that there was a situation in an allied state that needed all hands on deck. Our communications were being monitored. Any calls would've meant eight or nine intelligence analysts tracking our every move."
Nate regards him calmly over his steepled fingers. Sophie and Parker are watching, waiting to see how this plays out, because they can see as clearly as Eliot can that Hardison's just seconds away from exploding. Thankfully, it's Nate who speaks first.
"Was this more like '04, or more like Prague?"
Eliot finally feels a little of the jet lag slipping away, and he's not sure Nate's doing it on purpose, but Alec's eyes widen a bit, curious and distracted. For the moment, he's forgetting to be angry. "More like '04. Nobody's coming to retaliate. Went down without a hitch." Something changes in Nate's eyes; they narrow, irritation showing through. "I mean. Unless... where are we with the new client?"
"Haven't started the job yet," Nate concedes, and at least there's one thing this month that Eliot hasn't blown. "Another few days won't hurt anything."
"We were waiting on you," Sophie adds, and her tone's got just a tinge of reproach, but she's smiling now, and Parker's already bored, heading for the fridge, and Nate's nodding to himself and getting up. This isn't going to be a problem, then. Not for the team.
Hardison, though. That's another story.
---
Hardison looks like he hasn't slept in days and will probably kill them both if he gets behind the wheel, so Eliot drives. The tension in the car is cutting through his jet lag and exhaustion enough to keep him awake enough to get them home.
"Look, Hardison," he sighs, killing the ignition. "I'm sorry, all right? If I could've used a phone, you would've been my first call, you know that, right?"
"I know." And it's obvious that he does, but he's still tired and down and Eliot doesn't really feel like getting into it either. They drag themselves inside and upstairs and don't bother turning on any lights, just strip down and crash out.
---
Alec kisses him hello in the morning when he's shaving.
"Forgot to mention it," he says, pulling back and grinning at him. "Glad you came back okay."
It's an obvious ploy and Eliot knows it, but Hardison's just conning him into making breakfast, and this could be so much worse.
---
There's just a bit more to do, just to be on the safe side. Eliot accidentally breaks his phone while he's working in the garden. Ten seconds later there's an alert on Hardison's systems saying that their communications have been compromised. Hardison barely fakes his annoyance, spends the next two days tying phones and GPS trackers and computers together.
It's probably the most fun Hardison's had in weeks, setting it all up. Everyone's got new earbuds, too. Better ones, he insists the next afternoon at Nate's place, before telling them all exactly- excruciatingly- why, as he paces back and forth in front of the couch. Eliot's not listening half as closely to the geek spiraling as he should be, too busy realizing that yeah, finally, they're in the clear now.
---
The next week, it all goes to hell.
---
Following the others into McRory's, Alec's listening to Parker describing the new laser array at the Bank of America's west entrance, so he doesn't notice that anything's gone wrong until Nate stops short.
"What do you want, Sterling?"
Sterling turns away from the bar, grinning thinly at them with a cocked eyebrow. "Oh, so many things. But where to start?"
Eliot seems too bothered by Sterling's presence to actually look at the man. He's watching Nate, looking for cues, some signal that lets him know it's okay to attack. So intent on this is he that it seems to take him a minute to realize what Sterling's just said.
"It has recently come to my attention that there is some data, of particular quantity, quality and provenience, which has entered the black market in Dublin. Interesting, however, is that we've yet to confirm the suspects of the actual theft." Sterling's looking at Nate, but his words hit all of them. Parker and Sophie are confused. Alec can't stop himself from glancing in Eliot's direction; the irritation he finds there isn't as heartening as it could be under the circumstances, and he doesn't know why. "Though fortunately, we know who the middle man was."
And Alec's got it, now, the slight narrowing of Eliot's eyes that wouldn't mean anything, were it not for his disappearance last week and the tension he'd been carrying on him lately. Something hard forms itself in Alec's gut, but he doesn't know what to do with it yet.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Sterling," Nate says conversationally, flagging down Clara to order a drink. "Again. Why are you here?"
"A courtesy call. It wasn't too hard to find your particular lack of fingerprints all over the Presley case. And it while it would be oh so easy to make a few simple arrests, the fact of the matter is that I'm feeling magnanimous. Besides. There's one detail in this case that makes me curious. Because you're all so annoyingly ethical in your crimes."
"Thanks," Parker can't decide whether to smile or frown, settling somehow on both.
Sophie's equally confused. "What do you mean?"
"I've never seen you double dipping before. If I'm correct- and believe me, I've got enough to hang the lot of you- you've already taken care of Presley, taken him and his company for all that they've got. But for you to make a side deal on the data after you've already pulled the job? You're criminals, all of you, but you're not that stupid."
"You don't have enough for anything," Nate argues, the same moment Alec says, "we didn't." Alec's heart's not in it, though; maybe Sterling can sense as much, because he doesn't bother mugging when he meets Eliot's glare.
"Then why do I have you, on camera, making a handoff to the buyer?"
---
There are a lot of things Eliot could do, here, but most of them will endanger the team, if not now, then in the long run. The cat's out of the bag. He's tired of hiding it. It has nothing at all to do with Alec's wide, shocked eyes or Nate's narrowing ones.
"Eliot?"
Eliot grabs his beer off the bar and nods back to the corner booth, and the others follow quietly. It should give him a little time to think, but his mind's a regrettable blank.
Hardison starts to ask something- his tone's frustrated and angry, but the what he manages to get out isn't followed by anything useful, and he breaks off when Eliot shakes his head. He slides into the booth next to him, instead of across, which doesn't mean anything until he notices Parker shoving ahead of Sterling. The team's filling the booth on either side of him. Sterling's on the outside end of the table, farthest away.
Maybe the team's just getting as many obstacles between them as they can. Maybe it's a protective move; it almost feels that way. But Nate's sitting across from him, and Hardison's next to them, and their stares are so wary and disappointed that he doesn't actually believe it for a second.
Nate's jaw is clenched tightly enough that it's Sophie who manages to open her mouth first.
"You obviously know something, Eliot," she says diplomatically. "So what happened?"
Eliot sips his beer, but there's no good reason to drag this out any longer than he has to. "It all started when we were making the run on Presley's offices. I was downstairs, clearing the exit route for Parker. I'd just switched my earbud to output only when I ran into Jeremy Wood." A quick glance at Hardison is bad enough; there's no reason to mention Wood's backup. "He had two phones. One of them, he was working on. I'm pretty sure he was transferring some files."
Sterling frowns. "Why didn't you stop him?"
"Because his other phone, he said he'd rigged it up as a detonator to a bomb in the van. I wasn't going to test him on that."
"Is that when you and Wood made your deal?"
"What?" Eliot frowns. "No." Thinking about it some more, though, Sterlings just skipped ahead in the playback. "Well. Kinda. At the time I didn't know who it was- didn't put two and two together about it being Wood until I heard him on that voicemail thing," he explains, mostly for Hardison's benefit. "I didn't know what he was up to, but he made it clear that mentioning it to anyone on the team would lead to repercussions."
"Damn right they will," Hardison mutters darkly enough that Eliot knows, without looking, that Wood's not the only one who's going to have to face them.
"He let me go, and later I found a bomb on the van. He hadn't been playing. Deactivated it and got rid of it, but I figured he'd see that coming and try planting another one." Turning to Nate, he gestures at Sophie. "I was checking the cars again while you guys were here the other night. The phone rang, and it was him; he wanted to meet. Two hours later I was on the plane to London, eighteen after that I was making the handoff. Spent some time making sure I was clear, then came back. The rest, you know."
Eliot doesn't know who to stare back at, but Nate's easiest, sitting across from him, and there's a fair amount hanging on his reaction. It's Sterling, however, who speaks first.
"Interesting," he says, actually sounding surprised as his attention shifts to Hardison. "I'm guessing there's more to the story?"
---
"Hell yeah there is,"Alec has to work to unclench his jaw. Eliot's going to have to wait. Right now, he's got to think for a minute.
He'd messed up. Shouldn't have trusted Wood. Should've checked him out, seen what he'd gotten into since the last time they'd interacted. Should've stopped to wonder about the chances that someone he'd known back in the day would've gotten wrapped up in one of their jobs by mere chance. And he should probably pick his words carefully.
Fuck it. They're already so implicated, not even Nate's shooting him a warning glance. He's still too busy glaring at Eliot.
You're gonna have to wait your turn, he thinks, before turning to Sterling.
"I knew Wood from the community. Recognized his code, saw that there was a message in it just as we may have been about to do something that I'm unsurprisingly reluctant to admit to Interpol. The message indicated that Wood had been in there, finessing some of the code, setting up traps against his will. Cleared out of there, we pulled back. Talked to him, got his encryption key to remove all traces of what he'd done. Anything else would've been cleared out once I was doing that thing that I'm not admitting to. Flash forward, the FBI's tipped off, they've got the stolen data and relevant access history, and I don't think anything of it."
Sophie and Parker are frowning at him in confusion; irritatingly enough, only Sterling seems to be following.
"But with your removal of Wood's work, there was no record of his theft, and the timing of it so close to yours was enough that-" Sterling breaks off into a pleased grin. "You essentially framed yourself."
Alec can't stop himself from rolling his eyes. Whatever. "So, what's your stake in this, Sterling? Been following us that closely?"
"Internet fraud is no small matter, as well you know. Tens of thousands of logins and passwords get stolen, word gets around. Now, Hardison, you were very good at hiding your tracks. There was nothing there at all. Starting with Presley's company, it was easy enough to find individuals who had lost everything due to the fraud; there were thousands. But a simple audit found that one person in particular had mysteriously had all their losses covered, out of the blue." Nate's attention is already on Sterling when he turns to shake his head at him. "You have to admit. Your modus operandi doesn't vary much."
"I'll keep that in mind," Nate mutters coolly, but he's not the only one hearing the warning.
Sophie, when she speaks, does so hurriedly. "So, now that you know everything, what are you going to do?"
Sterling finishes his drink before leveling a look at Alec, then Eliot. But it's Nate whom he speaks to. "You'd be surprised what saving a man's daughter will buy you. But I'm greedy, so I'm going to propose a deal."
"Oh really," Nate mutters, completely unsurprised.
"Don't be that way, Nate. I've got enough here to incriminate all of you for the parts you played. And besides. Given the expressions on, well, all of your faces, I think you'll enjoy this little venture even more than I will. I get the case, you get revenge. Perhaps even a little peace of mind. We all win."
---
"Not now," Hardison says, as they make their way up to Nate's apartment, and doesn't speak to him again for a day and a half.
Nate's we'll talk about it later hasn't been sitting any better.
Eliot's redundant, here. They've already got Sophie and Parker hanging around Nate's apartment, watching from the sidelines, and they, too, are wary around him now.
It wouldn't be such a big deal if he hadn't already finished painting the house, or fixing the shed, or if the engine parts he'd ordered for the Marquis would just arrive, already. As it is, Eliot's entirely without distraction. He sleeps. Works out. Doesn't feel like cooking because he doesn't feel at all like eating.
He spends three hours searching for bombs that aren't there, and it doesn't make him feel any better.
By seven , he'd gotten bored enough to figure out how to turn on the video game console Hardison had brought over, but Madden 2010 isn't enough to keep his mind from going over all the things the others are doing right now, all the things that could go wrong, the chances that they'd call him if something does and if he should just suck it up and go back there.
His team's tied when he hears the car pull up. Churlishly, he redoubles his attention on the game until Hardison comes in.
"Hey," he says, dropping his keys on end table.
"Hey." Eliot pauses the game, looks up at him. "How'd it go?"
"Set traps on every major banking website. Anyone using those login and password combinations will catch a virus; it won't do anything unless the infected drive also turns out to have other stolen login information on it. Should give them enough to triangulate with. Also had an extremely uncomfortable conversation with Sterling regarding what I know of Wood's habits, not that there's much. Thankfully, the first red flag got sent up about an hour ago. Sterling's already doing his thing to organize the arrest."
"Sorry." Eliot sets the controller down on the coffee table. He's a little surprised when Hardison sits down on the couch, but not surprised that he's sitting so far away. "Look, Hardison. I'm sorry about how this all went down."
It's not enough, that much is obvious in Hardison's folded arms, the set of his jaw, the way he's not looking back at him. "Right. You talking about me having to hang out with Sterling, or about you holding out on me. On the team?"
"Both," Eliot admits, not sure whether he should wish that Hardison would look at him, already. "But I had good reason. Wood really was set up to kill you, and I didn't know that he wasn't watching. He had the advantage."
"And he used it very well. Even got you to do his dirty work for him. But hell, man," Alec's finally turning to look at him, shaking his head. Taking a breath, trying to keep himself in check. "I get that you wouldn't send it in an email, or say it on the phone, but you think that our security systems are so bad that he'd hear it if you fucking, I don't know, mentioned it when we were in bed or something? Written it down, passed me a note?"
"Dude, he knew that we've been sleeping together, and it's not like we've been doing a whole lot of emailing the specifics to everyone we know. He had to get his intel from somewhere."
Hardison smirks humorlessly at him, shaking his head. "You were holding out on me."
"And yeah, well. No offense, but you trusted him." It's a risky move and he knows it; thankfully, Hardison seems very determined not to take the bait.
"Don't worry, I've got enough up in here to handle being pissed at both of us at the same time. But I had to hear it from Sterling, Eliot. Sterling. You've been back for days, man. You could've-"
"I could've what? Just waited until breakfast one day and said, 'Hey, Alec, you know your friend's threatening to kill you? And all I need to do to make sure that doesn't happen is keep my mouth shut and drop off a hard drive? Oh, and by the way, I don't trust the fucker at all, he might still have his finger on the trigger?' He had enough to get as far as he did; it wasn't like I had enough on him to know that he'd just let it go once we were done."
Turns out, it's exactly the wrong thing to say, and Hardison's widen in nervous disbelief as he looks away. "So, what, you were waiting for him to call you out on another job?"
"Maybe, I don't know." Eliot pauses. Thinks for a minute before he loses his cool completely. Hardison talking right now will only screw that up, so he continues. "But it doesn't matter."
"Why? Because you think he's going down now, or because you honestly don't think he'd try again."
"No. Because if he did, I'd do it again. In a heartbeat."
"Eliot-"
"Damn it, Hardison," he shakes his head, grabs his arm. "It's what I do, all right? It ain't up for discussion. I'm not about to let you- any of you- get blown up by some asshole, you got that?"
Thankfully- finally- Hardison nods. He looks freaked, though, a little too freaked, and it's not going away the longer he stares at the paused video game.
"Hey," Eliot tries, after a minute. "You okay?"
Hardison blinks, shaking himself briefly before trying a rueful smile. "I hate it. When you're like this."
"Like what?"
Hardison flounders, shrugging and shaking his head. "All noble and self-sacrificing. It's gonna get you killed one of these days."
"Better me than-"
"No. See?" Hardison sits up, rounds on him. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. You get it in your head that the only way to keep us safe is to throw yourself on the grenade. As if we wanted to-" he shakes his head, starts again. "You don't think about the other options, man. Hell. Wood's a hacker, man. You know what the best attack is?"
Unplug their wifi connection, hit them while they're yelling at the screen, Eliot doesn't say. He shakes his head.
"Another hacker. Preferably one who knows what the first is capable of, and therefore how best to take him out. So, let's see..." he scrunches up his face as if deep in thought, scratching at his chin. "You know anyone like that?"
And the fact of the matter is, with how it all seems to be going down with Wood right now, he's probably right.
"Yeah." Eliot waits until Hardison's looking at him again, until he's starting to grin when he realizes Eliot's not messing with him. "Yeah, I know. Seriously. I'm sorry."
"Could've saved you sixteen hours on a plane, at least," he mutters only half-petulantly as he sinks back into the couch, and it's hard not to miss that he's moved closer. He's satisfied, for now. Mostly.
Eliot nods at nothing in particular. "Tell you what. Here on out, any geeks coming at me, I'll let you play the hero."
Hardison laughs, and something in Eliot's gut uncoils. "Already done that, man."
"Then I suppose I should thank you," Eliot teases, rocking his head to look at him. "Gotta admit, though. Not used to being the damsel in distress in this equation. So how d'you think I should start?"
Hardison's eyes narrow, and after a moment, he reaches out, wraps a hand around Eliot's knee. Just rests it there, doesn't do anything, yet.
"For starters," he says, "you can bring your ass over here." Eliot doesn't wait for more, just moves in and kisses him, the rest of him following until he's got him pinned against the back of the couch. Leaning down over him, his hands are on Hardison's shoulders; Hardison's are curled around the backs of his legs, tugging him closer, almost enough to send him off balance.
"You put me through half this much hell next time you're playing damsel, though," Hardison says once they break and Eliot shifts, "you'll be wearing a dress."
Eliot calculates the odds of this scenario ever happening again. He'll be fine. And hell, if not, this part would probably be easier, anyhow.
"Deal," he says, settling against him more solidly now, crashing their mouths together before Hardison starts piling on the nonsense.
Ten minutes later, though, nonsense is all that Hardison's capable of saying.