The Two Sons Job: 3/9
Title: The Two Sons Job: Freefall
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: gen, referenced past Eliot/Amie, Eliot/Dean
Verse: Steal The Sky
Fandoms: Leverage, Firefly, Supernatural, White Collar
Summary: Concering old friends, past history, father-son relationships, and the Burke Seven.
Notes: For the Falling square on my H/c bingo card.
Many thanks and much praise to my Beta LMX_V3point3 for continued awesomeness and putting up with my occasional Parker-Like Crazy-Bag disproportions.
This is the Steal the Sky version of The Two Horse Job and will, suprise suprise, focus mostly on Eliot's history.
Chapter One, Chapter Two
Warning: Refferenced Dub-con and Non-con. These references may actually become depictions depending on how the story goes but I'll change the warnings to refflect that if it happens.
He remembered when he first saw them.
The transport had gotten him and his handler in to Manhattan just a few hours ago. Their bags had been sent ahead to their rooms and his handler had insisted on going straight to the meet.
His handler’s name was Rucker. Spencer didn’t know his first name; there was no need for him to know it. Rucker was a hardass, one of the Handlers specifically assigned agents fresh out of the hell that was Tarturus. He’d shocked Spencer to the floor within minutes of their first meeting for breaches in the levels of protocol that so few Handlers followed, even a Low Tech like Spencer didn’t instinctively practice them.
Their first night aboard the transport he’d given Spencer a beating. A blow for every time he’d made eye contact with a stranger, two for every time he’d made eye contact with Rucker, and five for every word he’d spoken without express permission.
Spencer had only been conscious at the end of it because of the endurance he’d gained over the last few months. He was still trying to keep himself from moving stiffly five days later.
He learned fast at least. He wouldn’t have survived this long otherwise.
He walked up to the building with his eyes down, staying one step behind and to the left of Rucker, carefully avoiding brushing into people lest Rucker get it into his head Spencer was picking pockets.
He’d never been to Manhattan before, Low-Techs like him were normally kept on Outter Rim planets. There was once a time he would have been gawking like a tourist but the sights weren’t worth another beating. Even with the new medication they had him on, the life around them was so dense and loud he could hear Echos of it at the edge of his mind.
He focused on the world in front of him, pushing those Echos away. If Rucker thought he was slipping even a little he’d give Spencer another emergency dose of medication like he had the first night. He suppressed a shudder at the memory. The beating had left him weak and he’d Drifted and Rucker had injected the Booster into him before he could protest. The next hour had disappeared into this sharp edged tide of ultimate reality pressing against him.
Like Spencer needed any more reason to drown in recycled and processed-for-humans air.
An anomaly slid past him, a brush of warmth so vibrant against the backdrop of the cold focused minds around him and the forced distance of his medication it took Spencer a moment to realize the sensation was in his mind rather than the physical touch of someone next to him.
He looked up, half stumbling as he searched the crowd around him to find the source. He hadn’t felt that kind of…
He caught sight of them on the far side of the entry way, a wife dropping her husband back off at work after they’d had lunch together. He let out a long unsteady breath, feeling the woman’s smile as the man stated “Love you hun.” Knowing he meant it as much as…
He walked into Rucker. The sudden rush of anger and determination and cold control hit him like he’d fallen into a pit of ice water and couldn’t break surface.
He stumbled back eyes falling immediately to the ground, not flinching away. They were in public. He’d get another beating for this but flinching in public would just make matters worse.
Spencer waited a moment, heart pounding in his ears, world spinning around him. “Come on Spencer. Let’s not keep them waiting.” Rucker growled.
Spencer tried to center himself as they stepped inside the building, trying to pull himself back together like he’d been taught, but he knew it was pointless. He’d been knocked out of a Read and Dropped. The meds he was on were designed to let him do some Reading but they didn’t stop him from Dropping.
Really this was what the Booster was for. For stopping the sensation that he was free-falling. To stop the world from coming at him in overwhelming blurs of light and color and emotion while his own mind tried to drag him back down into a dark made out of panting breath and hands and need and feelings he couldn’t control and his own hands and…
A rough hand shoved him hard back against a wall and a second later sharp currents jolted through him, stealing a cry from his lips before he dropped to the floor. The sudden pain pulled him back to the present. “Get a hold of yourself.”
They were moving. An Elevator. Alone.
Spencer pushed himself back to his feet. A hand grabbed his arm and a second later he felt the bite of a needle. He closed his eyes against the lights that would become painfully bright any moment. The smell of Rucker became almost overpowering, the rub of his loose black uniform like sandpaper against his skin.
But he hit bottom. He drew a breath in and let it out, feeling like he was actually breathing for the first time in an eternity. A calloused hand petted through his hair like he was an animal who was behaving for once.
A ding that spiked through his head and Spencer opened his eyes, forcing himself to act normally, not sure if he could entirely hide the shake in his frame but seeming to do well enough that Rucker led him out of the elevator and into the offices.
At the top of the stairs they met their contact. Shiny black shoes and well cut trousers. A hard-edged voice, but warm...
Wait. He recognized that voice. Spencer made the mistake of looking up, recognizing the man from earlier, before quickly turning his eyes back down.
“This is the agent?” the man asked, hesitation in his voice.
“Yes,” Rucker answered. “He’s fresh out of the academy, so he’s a little nervous and still learning the rules but he’ll get your job done. Boy. Introduce yourself.”
Spencer looked up, meeting the man’s eyes. “Eliot Spencer,” he stated, forcing a smile. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Special Agent Peter Burke,” the man responded, not moving to shake hands - which was just as well; Spencer wasn’t sure he could deal with skin to skin contact right now. “He seems harmless,” he added to Rucker.
“Don’t be fooled. This kid’s got a body count more than twice his age. Only reason he’s in the program instead of doing hard time is he was a kid when he did it and the ones he killed were bad apples.”
It was a lie. He had a body count, but every single one was alliance-sanctioned.
Still the words had the effect Rucker had been going for. Burke gave him another look and Spencer could practically feel his perception change from ‘baby agent’ to ‘killer, criminal, keep an eye on’.
The Booster had shut down his ability to Read but Spencer knew the warmth he'd felt earlier would never be sent in his direction.
He was falling again. Always. He didn’t even try to stop. His whole focus was on keeping moving, keeping his face expressionless, not being noticed.
Not being hurt further.
The meeting passed by in a blur to Spencer. He didn’t need to know the details, his job was simple enough. Rucker would take him to a location, Spencer would make entry and retrieve the items listed on the warrant, and get out alive.
The meeting broke up and Rucker went to follow the others out, to get coffee or something. He touched Spencer’s shoulder on his way out the door and told him to stay.
The Conference room was closed off, no watching eyes. When Rucker disappeared outside the room, Spencer was mercifully alone.
He pressed himself into the back corner of the room and slid down the wall, curling around himself, letting himself shake and tremble. He wasn’t Dropping anymore; not psychically.
He was still falling.
He didn’t know how long he sat there; shaking, trying to just focus on each breath, just stay conscious, the world outside of his head shutting down into one long narrow tunnel that he’d never break out of.
The hand on his shoulder was jarringly real and he jolted, flinching, pressing himself farther into the corner and letting out a sound that he knew was more like a whine from a wounded animal than human.
“Hey, hey… it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” The words, Burke, the fear and concern shifted through the haze and Spencer opened his eyes and opened them again, seeing the man. “Alright. Stay with me. I’m gonna get your Handler in here.” Panic. Terror. What Rucker would do to him… it must have shown on his face because Burke shook his head. “Alright, alright… I’m not going to get him. He’s on his way back in here, though. You’ve got two minutes. Three at the most.”
Spencer nodded, moving to push himself to his feet. A solid hand grabbed his arm, helping him up, warmth radiating through the contact and through him and he might have sobbed at the feeling if he hadn’t been trying to pull it back in. Pull himself back together. He wouldn’t speak. He hadn’t been given permission and he didn’t know what to say. He knew the words and the language but somehow it all got lost and he didn’t know if he could put them together right yet.
Twenty seconds and he was composed enough to pass muster. Burke looked disturbed. “Are you…”
Burke started and shook his head. “You’re not. I…” He seemed to be trying to figure something out but…
What was there to figure out? It wasn’t like Spencer could explain he was a dead man walking, too stubborn to just die.
That the Alliance was a monster that would always win?
Spencer could feel the warmth Burke’s hand had left on his arm, already dissipating, and just…
He smiled at Burke. “Thank you,” he said. “But I’ll be fine soon.”
He was falling but maybe he had fallen far enough past the point of no return he could just stop trying.
Burke didn’t mention the incident to Rucker and soon they were off to do their jobs, Peter insisting on bringing along a shuttle for observation and backup.
oOo
Later the official report would say that Spencer had successfully made entry, had fought hard but been overcome and taken down. His incursion had prompted the target to send out guards to look for others like Spencer and they’d come across Rucker, who had gone down with a bullet in his brain; no warning they were coming for him.
The reports would also say that Spencer had been knocked unconscious and in their hurry to check for other attackers they hadn’t taken the time for the kill shot. When the assault team that Burke had secured to assist should the mission go badly made entry they were able to recover Spencer.
Hospital reports showed that Rucker had been taking advantage of his power over Spencer and had badly abused the agent, which - the reports showed - was likely the reason the agent had been overpowered despite his previous record of successes. Blame for the loss of life and lead was placed solely on Rucker’s head and the agency that had dispatched them issued an apology to Burke and his team.
Further reports would show that the loss of the lead put them in a time crunch and Burke let the agency know that despite his injuries Spencer would have to continue to function as their agent. Burke would take personal responsibility for the young man for the duration of the case.
That was what the official reports said.
Hell. Most of it was even true.
oOo
The official reports didn’t write that Burke was the one to find Spencer in the warehouse, and that the agent hadn’t been unconscious so much as utterly defeated.
The official reports wouldn’t tell you that Burke saw the hospital records before word from on high came to have them classified at the highest level. That Peter Burke, a seasoned FBI agent, had stared at the file stating in cold medical terms that in the past year the young man, kid - laying in the hospital bed two feet away from him and staring at the ceiling - had been beaten, drugged, raped, and electrocuted multiple times, that there was evidence of beatings since he was a child, repeated brain surgery not following any medical procedure and…
Fifteen minutes later medical records would show the abuse was an isolated incident.
No record would ever show that Burke had gone into the bathroom and stood at the sink wondering if he was going to puke like a green agent or break something. He’d never been that kind of a violent man but there was no way he could figure that the kid was who the alliance said he was, and even if he was worse he didn’t deserve a fraction of what he’d been put through.
And no report would ever show that after hours of staring at the ceiling, completely catatonic, Spencer looked toward Peter as he walked back into his hospital room and said at barely a whisper; “You came back.”
“I came back,” Peter responded, walking closer. He hesitated before reaching out to put his hand on Spencer’s arm.
“Warm.” The boy muttered, hint of a smile crossing his face before he turned away, flinching.
Peter pulled the blanket a little farther up with his other hand. “I got word from your agency. You’re staying here until this case is over. I’ll be keeping an eye on you while you’re here.”
Spencer’s head turned, eyes blue like a shattered sky looking up at him, asking something in a language Peter didn’t know how to interpret or respond to.
“You’re safe here,” Peter said. It was the only reassurance he could make right now.
But those eyes closed and that body settled and Peter let out a long breath.
And Eliot breathed one in.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: gen, referenced past Eliot/Amie, Eliot/Dean
Verse: Steal The Sky
Fandoms: Leverage, Firefly, Supernatural, White Collar
Summary: Concering old friends, past history, father-son relationships, and the Burke Seven.
Notes: For the Falling square on my H/c bingo card.
Many thanks and much praise to my Beta LMX_V3point3 for continued awesomeness and putting up with my occasional Parker-Like Crazy-Bag disproportions.
This is the Steal the Sky version of The Two Horse Job and will, suprise suprise, focus mostly on Eliot's history.
Chapter One, Chapter Two
Warning: Refferenced Dub-con and Non-con. These references may actually become depictions depending on how the story goes but I'll change the warnings to refflect that if it happens.
He remembered when he first saw them.
The transport had gotten him and his handler in to Manhattan just a few hours ago. Their bags had been sent ahead to their rooms and his handler had insisted on going straight to the meet.
His handler’s name was Rucker. Spencer didn’t know his first name; there was no need for him to know it. Rucker was a hardass, one of the Handlers specifically assigned agents fresh out of the hell that was Tarturus. He’d shocked Spencer to the floor within minutes of their first meeting for breaches in the levels of protocol that so few Handlers followed, even a Low Tech like Spencer didn’t instinctively practice them.
Their first night aboard the transport he’d given Spencer a beating. A blow for every time he’d made eye contact with a stranger, two for every time he’d made eye contact with Rucker, and five for every word he’d spoken without express permission.
Spencer had only been conscious at the end of it because of the endurance he’d gained over the last few months. He was still trying to keep himself from moving stiffly five days later.
He learned fast at least. He wouldn’t have survived this long otherwise.
He walked up to the building with his eyes down, staying one step behind and to the left of Rucker, carefully avoiding brushing into people lest Rucker get it into his head Spencer was picking pockets.
He’d never been to Manhattan before, Low-Techs like him were normally kept on Outter Rim planets. There was once a time he would have been gawking like a tourist but the sights weren’t worth another beating. Even with the new medication they had him on, the life around them was so dense and loud he could hear Echos of it at the edge of his mind.
He focused on the world in front of him, pushing those Echos away. If Rucker thought he was slipping even a little he’d give Spencer another emergency dose of medication like he had the first night. He suppressed a shudder at the memory. The beating had left him weak and he’d Drifted and Rucker had injected the Booster into him before he could protest. The next hour had disappeared into this sharp edged tide of ultimate reality pressing against him.
Like Spencer needed any more reason to drown in recycled and processed-for-humans air.
An anomaly slid past him, a brush of warmth so vibrant against the backdrop of the cold focused minds around him and the forced distance of his medication it took Spencer a moment to realize the sensation was in his mind rather than the physical touch of someone next to him.
He looked up, half stumbling as he searched the crowd around him to find the source. He hadn’t felt that kind of…
He caught sight of them on the far side of the entry way, a wife dropping her husband back off at work after they’d had lunch together. He let out a long unsteady breath, feeling the woman’s smile as the man stated “Love you hun.” Knowing he meant it as much as…
He walked into Rucker. The sudden rush of anger and determination and cold control hit him like he’d fallen into a pit of ice water and couldn’t break surface.
He stumbled back eyes falling immediately to the ground, not flinching away. They were in public. He’d get another beating for this but flinching in public would just make matters worse.
Spencer waited a moment, heart pounding in his ears, world spinning around him. “Come on Spencer. Let’s not keep them waiting.” Rucker growled.
Spencer tried to center himself as they stepped inside the building, trying to pull himself back together like he’d been taught, but he knew it was pointless. He’d been knocked out of a Read and Dropped. The meds he was on were designed to let him do some Reading but they didn’t stop him from Dropping.
Really this was what the Booster was for. For stopping the sensation that he was free-falling. To stop the world from coming at him in overwhelming blurs of light and color and emotion while his own mind tried to drag him back down into a dark made out of panting breath and hands and need and feelings he couldn’t control and his own hands and…
A rough hand shoved him hard back against a wall and a second later sharp currents jolted through him, stealing a cry from his lips before he dropped to the floor. The sudden pain pulled him back to the present. “Get a hold of yourself.”
They were moving. An Elevator. Alone.
Spencer pushed himself back to his feet. A hand grabbed his arm and a second later he felt the bite of a needle. He closed his eyes against the lights that would become painfully bright any moment. The smell of Rucker became almost overpowering, the rub of his loose black uniform like sandpaper against his skin.
But he hit bottom. He drew a breath in and let it out, feeling like he was actually breathing for the first time in an eternity. A calloused hand petted through his hair like he was an animal who was behaving for once.
A ding that spiked through his head and Spencer opened his eyes, forcing himself to act normally, not sure if he could entirely hide the shake in his frame but seeming to do well enough that Rucker led him out of the elevator and into the offices.
At the top of the stairs they met their contact. Shiny black shoes and well cut trousers. A hard-edged voice, but warm...
Wait. He recognized that voice. Spencer made the mistake of looking up, recognizing the man from earlier, before quickly turning his eyes back down.
“This is the agent?” the man asked, hesitation in his voice.
“Yes,” Rucker answered. “He’s fresh out of the academy, so he’s a little nervous and still learning the rules but he’ll get your job done. Boy. Introduce yourself.”
Spencer looked up, meeting the man’s eyes. “Eliot Spencer,” he stated, forcing a smile. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Special Agent Peter Burke,” the man responded, not moving to shake hands - which was just as well; Spencer wasn’t sure he could deal with skin to skin contact right now. “He seems harmless,” he added to Rucker.
“Don’t be fooled. This kid’s got a body count more than twice his age. Only reason he’s in the program instead of doing hard time is he was a kid when he did it and the ones he killed were bad apples.”
It was a lie. He had a body count, but every single one was alliance-sanctioned.
Still the words had the effect Rucker had been going for. Burke gave him another look and Spencer could practically feel his perception change from ‘baby agent’ to ‘killer, criminal, keep an eye on’.
The Booster had shut down his ability to Read but Spencer knew the warmth he'd felt earlier would never be sent in his direction.
He was falling again. Always. He didn’t even try to stop. His whole focus was on keeping moving, keeping his face expressionless, not being noticed.
Not being hurt further.
The meeting passed by in a blur to Spencer. He didn’t need to know the details, his job was simple enough. Rucker would take him to a location, Spencer would make entry and retrieve the items listed on the warrant, and get out alive.
The meeting broke up and Rucker went to follow the others out, to get coffee or something. He touched Spencer’s shoulder on his way out the door and told him to stay.
The Conference room was closed off, no watching eyes. When Rucker disappeared outside the room, Spencer was mercifully alone.
He pressed himself into the back corner of the room and slid down the wall, curling around himself, letting himself shake and tremble. He wasn’t Dropping anymore; not psychically.
He was still falling.
He didn’t know how long he sat there; shaking, trying to just focus on each breath, just stay conscious, the world outside of his head shutting down into one long narrow tunnel that he’d never break out of.
The hand on his shoulder was jarringly real and he jolted, flinching, pressing himself farther into the corner and letting out a sound that he knew was more like a whine from a wounded animal than human.
“Hey, hey… it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” The words, Burke, the fear and concern shifted through the haze and Spencer opened his eyes and opened them again, seeing the man. “Alright. Stay with me. I’m gonna get your Handler in here.” Panic. Terror. What Rucker would do to him… it must have shown on his face because Burke shook his head. “Alright, alright… I’m not going to get him. He’s on his way back in here, though. You’ve got two minutes. Three at the most.”
Spencer nodded, moving to push himself to his feet. A solid hand grabbed his arm, helping him up, warmth radiating through the contact and through him and he might have sobbed at the feeling if he hadn’t been trying to pull it back in. Pull himself back together. He wouldn’t speak. He hadn’t been given permission and he didn’t know what to say. He knew the words and the language but somehow it all got lost and he didn’t know if he could put them together right yet.
Twenty seconds and he was composed enough to pass muster. Burke looked disturbed. “Are you…”
Burke started and shook his head. “You’re not. I…” He seemed to be trying to figure something out but…
What was there to figure out? It wasn’t like Spencer could explain he was a dead man walking, too stubborn to just die.
That the Alliance was a monster that would always win?
Spencer could feel the warmth Burke’s hand had left on his arm, already dissipating, and just…
He smiled at Burke. “Thank you,” he said. “But I’ll be fine soon.”
He was falling but maybe he had fallen far enough past the point of no return he could just stop trying.
Burke didn’t mention the incident to Rucker and soon they were off to do their jobs, Peter insisting on bringing along a shuttle for observation and backup.
oOo
Later the official report would say that Spencer had successfully made entry, had fought hard but been overcome and taken down. His incursion had prompted the target to send out guards to look for others like Spencer and they’d come across Rucker, who had gone down with a bullet in his brain; no warning they were coming for him.
The reports would also say that Spencer had been knocked unconscious and in their hurry to check for other attackers they hadn’t taken the time for the kill shot. When the assault team that Burke had secured to assist should the mission go badly made entry they were able to recover Spencer.
Hospital reports showed that Rucker had been taking advantage of his power over Spencer and had badly abused the agent, which - the reports showed - was likely the reason the agent had been overpowered despite his previous record of successes. Blame for the loss of life and lead was placed solely on Rucker’s head and the agency that had dispatched them issued an apology to Burke and his team.
Further reports would show that the loss of the lead put them in a time crunch and Burke let the agency know that despite his injuries Spencer would have to continue to function as their agent. Burke would take personal responsibility for the young man for the duration of the case.
That was what the official reports said.
Hell. Most of it was even true.
oOo
The official reports didn’t write that Burke was the one to find Spencer in the warehouse, and that the agent hadn’t been unconscious so much as utterly defeated.
The official reports wouldn’t tell you that Burke saw the hospital records before word from on high came to have them classified at the highest level. That Peter Burke, a seasoned FBI agent, had stared at the file stating in cold medical terms that in the past year the young man, kid - laying in the hospital bed two feet away from him and staring at the ceiling - had been beaten, drugged, raped, and electrocuted multiple times, that there was evidence of beatings since he was a child, repeated brain surgery not following any medical procedure and…
Fifteen minutes later medical records would show the abuse was an isolated incident.
No record would ever show that Burke had gone into the bathroom and stood at the sink wondering if he was going to puke like a green agent or break something. He’d never been that kind of a violent man but there was no way he could figure that the kid was who the alliance said he was, and even if he was worse he didn’t deserve a fraction of what he’d been put through.
And no report would ever show that after hours of staring at the ceiling, completely catatonic, Spencer looked toward Peter as he walked back into his hospital room and said at barely a whisper; “You came back.”
“I came back,” Peter responded, walking closer. He hesitated before reaching out to put his hand on Spencer’s arm.
“Warm.” The boy muttered, hint of a smile crossing his face before he turned away, flinching.
Peter pulled the blanket a little farther up with his other hand. “I got word from your agency. You’re staying here until this case is over. I’ll be keeping an eye on you while you’re here.”
Spencer’s head turned, eyes blue like a shattered sky looking up at him, asking something in a language Peter didn’t know how to interpret or respond to.
“You’re safe here,” Peter said. It was the only reassurance he could make right now.
But those eyes closed and that body settled and Peter let out a long breath.
And Eliot breathed one in.