Fic: A Long Time Coming
Fic: A Long Time Coming
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG
Pairings: None specified
Crossover: Dr. Who
AN: Comment fic for reikoyazumi who prompted: Doctor Who/Leverage, Eliot, Doctor [or Eliot/Doctor], Eliot hates alien guns just as much as he does human ones.
This fic is the prequel to this one which is Eliot/Hardison, so the pairing is semi-inferred, but you don't need to read it.
I still haven't decided if this is 10 or 11, and it worries me a little that the two are so similar I can't differentiate. Hopefully Mr. Smith will pick up a personality of his own over the series.
Regardless... this is way too much of an author's note for a comment fic.
-
Eliot Spencer always knew his life wasn't going to be straightforward after Leverage and co., but after travelling to a British city he'd never heard of that spoke a language he was convinced wasn't English (even if Sophie said it was), falling through a rift in time and space... that had been way more complicated that he'd expected.
It hadn't been too bad, not after the first couple of months spent trying to get back and being told at every turn that it just wasn't possible. He was a sensible guy, people were speaking a good estimation of English and he was happy to rely on the fact that, no matter where you went in the universe it was inevitable you would find some trade in violence.
Once he'd made a name for himself again, met up with a couple of good people he could rely on in a crisis, made enough money to get by... the years hadn't exactly flown by, and his battered and abused body was testament to how much less impressive his physical skill was in this world, but he'd survived it. He'd trained himself not to think about what he'd left behind, who he'd left behind. If he dreamt from time to time about someone waiting for him to come home... he was only human. And human wasn't much these days.
It hadn't taken him long to realise that he hated alien guns as much as he did human ones. They were rarer now, the ballistics-based guns. But oddly easier to transport around the place. It was the energy weapons that truly scared him. Wide-beam total destruction energy weapons, impossible to control or police. Weapons somewhat like the one being waved at him right now, oversized and glowing green at the base and on the barrel and yet still undeniably a gun.
He'd heard the sound of the core charging, so as he wrenched the gun off the armoured goon that was waving it at him he knew he couldn't disarm it or eject the powerpack, so Eliot just threw it aside and dove back in. He was hyper aware of the loaded weapon as he tried to wrench the armour off the goon to get a good blow in, but he underestimated the alien's strength as he was lifted clear off the floor and thrown onto his back, driven into the floor by a hoof-like foot. Grunting in pain as the hoof pressed into his heavily-abused ribs, Eliot threw a look over his shoulder at the discarded gun. There was hating guns and then there was getting yourself dead.
A pair of shoes - converse, completely anachronistic and making him long for home - stepped into his line of sight, walking straight past the gun and bringing a tall stranger into the room. He would have said human once, but he knew better now. Most humans weren't entirely any more. The weight on his chest shifted as the goon spoke, cutting off his air completely, and everything went slowly black as curious eyes stared down at him.
When he woke, the first thing he saw was the gun, still in the corner where he'd thrown it, and the second was the thug that had taken him out, unconscious beside him. He sat up slowly, immediately aware of a couple of broken ribs that were shifting slowly and sharply inside of him. His rescuer, for a given value of rescue, was sat off to one side, studying him intently. Eliot's gaze dropped back to the gun again, knowing he wouldn't be fighting fit for a while yet.
"Oh, no. Don't do that." The stranger objected. "We haven't even met yet. You might like me when you get to know me!" His tone was jovial, and Eliot didn't know what to think.
"Who're you?" he asked, buying time as he straightened and tested his mobility with the busted ribs.
"I'm the Doctor." he replied, in a very matter-of-fact way. "And I think you should know, I'm not a big fan of guns." The self-declared Doctor gave him a serious look, as if anticipating a scripted response.
"Never been a fan." Eliot said.
The Doctor frowned. "Of what?"
"Of guns." Eliot emphasised, remembering conversations with Parker, when he'd never been sure exactly who she was talking to.
"Have you travelled through Cardiff recently?" The Doctor asked, standing in a startling way that had Eliot leaning towards the gun. It took a couple of minutes for the question to settle in.
When it did it was like a firework going off, adrenaline immediately coursing. "How do you know about Cardiff? I've never found anyone here who'd heard of Cardiff."
"Well of course not, it's been gone over two million years. Even New Cardiff, and Retro Cardiff and Real Cardiff, all gone now. There's still that village out in the Boe Nebula, they still speak Welsh there - now that's a language with staying power. No, no one 'round here would have ever heard of them. Took a trip through a rift then, did you? Good number of years back, I'd say, not much rift energy on you now."
Eliot gaped for a moment. "You're *the* Doctor." he gaped. "They told me I should find you. Everyone I've asked about Cardiff said I should talk to you. You or... Captain Harkness. Thought I was being led on."
"Led on? Oh, no. Not at all." The Doctor smiled secretively. "You're a long way from home, Eliot Spencer, and you've been gone a long time... Are you ready to go home?"
-- To the sequel--
Author: LMX
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG
Pairings: None specified
Crossover: Dr. Who
AN: Comment fic for reikoyazumi who prompted: Doctor Who/Leverage, Eliot, Doctor [or Eliot/Doctor], Eliot hates alien guns just as much as he does human ones.
This fic is the prequel to this one which is Eliot/Hardison, so the pairing is semi-inferred, but you don't need to read it.
I still haven't decided if this is 10 or 11, and it worries me a little that the two are so similar I can't differentiate. Hopefully Mr. Smith will pick up a personality of his own over the series.
Regardless... this is way too much of an author's note for a comment fic.
-
Eliot Spencer always knew his life wasn't going to be straightforward after Leverage and co., but after travelling to a British city he'd never heard of that spoke a language he was convinced wasn't English (even if Sophie said it was), falling through a rift in time and space... that had been way more complicated that he'd expected.
It hadn't been too bad, not after the first couple of months spent trying to get back and being told at every turn that it just wasn't possible. He was a sensible guy, people were speaking a good estimation of English and he was happy to rely on the fact that, no matter where you went in the universe it was inevitable you would find some trade in violence.
Once he'd made a name for himself again, met up with a couple of good people he could rely on in a crisis, made enough money to get by... the years hadn't exactly flown by, and his battered and abused body was testament to how much less impressive his physical skill was in this world, but he'd survived it. He'd trained himself not to think about what he'd left behind, who he'd left behind. If he dreamt from time to time about someone waiting for him to come home... he was only human. And human wasn't much these days.
It hadn't taken him long to realise that he hated alien guns as much as he did human ones. They were rarer now, the ballistics-based guns. But oddly easier to transport around the place. It was the energy weapons that truly scared him. Wide-beam total destruction energy weapons, impossible to control or police. Weapons somewhat like the one being waved at him right now, oversized and glowing green at the base and on the barrel and yet still undeniably a gun.
He'd heard the sound of the core charging, so as he wrenched the gun off the armoured goon that was waving it at him he knew he couldn't disarm it or eject the powerpack, so Eliot just threw it aside and dove back in. He was hyper aware of the loaded weapon as he tried to wrench the armour off the goon to get a good blow in, but he underestimated the alien's strength as he was lifted clear off the floor and thrown onto his back, driven into the floor by a hoof-like foot. Grunting in pain as the hoof pressed into his heavily-abused ribs, Eliot threw a look over his shoulder at the discarded gun. There was hating guns and then there was getting yourself dead.
A pair of shoes - converse, completely anachronistic and making him long for home - stepped into his line of sight, walking straight past the gun and bringing a tall stranger into the room. He would have said human once, but he knew better now. Most humans weren't entirely any more. The weight on his chest shifted as the goon spoke, cutting off his air completely, and everything went slowly black as curious eyes stared down at him.
When he woke, the first thing he saw was the gun, still in the corner where he'd thrown it, and the second was the thug that had taken him out, unconscious beside him. He sat up slowly, immediately aware of a couple of broken ribs that were shifting slowly and sharply inside of him. His rescuer, for a given value of rescue, was sat off to one side, studying him intently. Eliot's gaze dropped back to the gun again, knowing he wouldn't be fighting fit for a while yet.
"Oh, no. Don't do that." The stranger objected. "We haven't even met yet. You might like me when you get to know me!" His tone was jovial, and Eliot didn't know what to think.
"Who're you?" he asked, buying time as he straightened and tested his mobility with the busted ribs.
"I'm the Doctor." he replied, in a very matter-of-fact way. "And I think you should know, I'm not a big fan of guns." The self-declared Doctor gave him a serious look, as if anticipating a scripted response.
"Never been a fan." Eliot said.
The Doctor frowned. "Of what?"
"Of guns." Eliot emphasised, remembering conversations with Parker, when he'd never been sure exactly who she was talking to.
"Have you travelled through Cardiff recently?" The Doctor asked, standing in a startling way that had Eliot leaning towards the gun. It took a couple of minutes for the question to settle in.
When it did it was like a firework going off, adrenaline immediately coursing. "How do you know about Cardiff? I've never found anyone here who'd heard of Cardiff."
"Well of course not, it's been gone over two million years. Even New Cardiff, and Retro Cardiff and Real Cardiff, all gone now. There's still that village out in the Boe Nebula, they still speak Welsh there - now that's a language with staying power. No, no one 'round here would have ever heard of them. Took a trip through a rift then, did you? Good number of years back, I'd say, not much rift energy on you now."
Eliot gaped for a moment. "You're *the* Doctor." he gaped. "They told me I should find you. Everyone I've asked about Cardiff said I should talk to you. You or... Captain Harkness. Thought I was being led on."
"Led on? Oh, no. Not at all." The Doctor smiled secretively. "You're a long way from home, Eliot Spencer, and you've been gone a long time... Are you ready to go home?"
-- To the sequel--