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- “What’s the plan, Eliot?”
“How fast can you run?”
Sophie could see in Eliot’s eyes how much he hated this. She knows he would take the bomb for her if he could.
So she looked at him. She looked at him with every ounce of acting talent she had ever possessed and she told him with her eyes, “You take care of them for me, Eliot Spencer.”
He nodded. And then he left.
She managed to send Nate away, finally, and then it was just her and the bomb.
Moment of truth.
She lifted it as high as she could.
And dropped it.
Then she ran like hell.
Eliot was waiting just out of range, and he caught her as she barreled into him, whipping her around and tucking her into his chest, his own back to the apartment.
And then everything was heat and light and sound.
Eliot grunted as the explosion rocked them, and even protected as she was Sophie felt the impact.
The whole thing lasted a moment and a lifetime, and then it was over.
Sophie clung to the strong arm banded over her chest and panted, scarcely able to believe she was still alive.
Slowly, carefully, Eliot unfolded. He didn’t release her, though, and Sophie was grateful. Her legs felt like jelly, her head floating somewhere above her shoulders. It was only when she saw Nate rushing towards them, Parker and Hardison on his heels, his mouth forming her name, that she realized.
She couldn’t hear a thing.
Sophie! Sophie! Nate kept saying it over and over, his hands reaching out to cup her face. Are you okay?
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Sophie tried to tell him back. She only knew it had worked when she saw the look on Nate’s face.
He was panicking, and so was she, her body starting to shake with shock, when firm hands gripped her shoulders and turned her to face Eliot.
The hitter made sure she was looking before he mouthed, slowly and deliberately, Explosion. Hurt ears. Few hours. Fine. Sophie. Okay.
She sagged in his grip.
He winced slightly as he took her weight, and she stiffened.
Hurt? She asked.
Eliot shrugged, releasing her.
Before she could press, Parker was there, slipping behind Eliot.
Sophie didn’t need hearing to understand the yelp that Eliot gave when Parker touched his back.
She reached for him, this time, tugging his shoulder until he reluctantly turned.
She almost cried when she saw his back. His shirt was tattered, ripped to shreds by debris and flame. Blood seeped from a dozen splinter and shrapnel wounds. What wasn’t bloody was red with heat and bruising.
Nate reached out to Eliot, his hand resting lightly on an uninjured part of the hitter’s shoulder until Eliot eventually looked at him.
There were actual tears in Nate’s eyes as he simply mouthed, Thank you.
- “You call me, you tell me you need me, so you can do this?”
Sophie can barely see the stairs in front of her as she leaves the ship, her eyes blurred with tears she refuses to let fall where Nate can see. She’s barely conscious of Eliot trailing behind her towards the chopper, his body between her and the startling amount of guns they were leaving behind.
The chopper’s wind buffets her as she approaches, and she sways a bit. A gentle, calloused hand takes her elbow, steadying her, and Sophie lets herself lean against Eliot’s solid form for just a brief moment.
He lets her, for three seconds they can barely spare, before he all but lifts her into the chopper. The pilot shouts something, and Hardison replies, and then they are rising, the ship and Nate growing smaller and smaller beneath them.
Sophie presses a hand to her mouth, trying to keep it together. Parker and Hardison are leaning against each other on the far side, both of them looking miserable. Eliot glances at them, assessing, and then he turns to her, once again using his body as her shield, hiding her from the others.
She can just barely feel him second guessing as he reaches towards her, but she falls into him easily, burying her face in his chest.
He hesitates, again, so unsure of his place that it hurts something deep inside her chest. Slowly his hand cradles her head, fingers capable of so much violence brushing gentle as the wind through her hair.
He freezes, just for a moment, when she lets out the first sob.
Then he merely holds her tighter, letting her cry herself dry in his arms.
“I’ve got you, Soph.” He murmurs into her hair. “I’m here.”
She’s never been more grateful for the protection of his arms.
- “Eliot! Come on, make it snappy. Being handcuffed in a police station is a recurring bloody nightmare of mine.”
“What? No!”
“Sophie,” Nate sounded frustrated. “he has to handcuff you or it doesn’t play right.”
“No way!” She shied away from the cuffs he held out. “Not in a police station!”
“Sophie!”
“Nate.” Eliot interrupted the mastermind.
There was a brief huff behind her and then Nate went silent. Eliot reached for the cuffs and Nate handed them over easily, stepping back.
Sophie fought the urge to run as the hitter closed in on her.
“Hey.” Eliot’s gruff voice was gentle, soothing. “Listen to me, Soph. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. I’m gonna take care of you the whole time, okay?”
Those blue, blue eyes looked deep into her, firm and reassuring and grounding her back to earth. “I’ll be right with you the whole time. You trust me?”
Sophie took a deep breath and nodded. Eliot held out the cuffs. “Here. You keep these until it’s time.”
She slipped them into her jacket pocket, and marveled once again at how smart Eliot actually was. By giving her the cuffs, he was giving her back as much control as he could in the moment, and she was grateful.
They made their way to the station as a group, Nate finishing the layout of the plan as the arrived. It kept Sophie occupied, thankfully, with no time to focus on what she was about to do until the time was upon them.
Nate and Parker broke off, and Sophie didn’t let herself think twice before she pulled out the cuffs and offered them back to Eliot.
She shivered as his calloused hands wrapped around her wrists as gentle as silk. Her breathing picked up, and Eliot noticed, waiting patiently until she relaxed again. “Doing good, darlin’.” He murmured to her.
She barely heard the snick of the bracelets over her pounding heartbeat.
She knew Eliot could feel her trembling, and she caught the flash of worry in his gaze.
“I’m okay.” She tried to convince them both.
The hitter’s thumbs brushed her wrists in soothing circles just above the cuffs, and slowly the tension melted away until Sophie could breathe again.
There was pride in Eliot’s eyes as she mastered herself.
“Ready, darlin’?”
“Yes.”
Eliot released her just long enough to turn her so her back was to him before getting a grip on his ‘prisoner’ that was more reassuring than firm. It only took a moment for Sophie to summon her drunken rich girl persona, and then they were moving.
She knew she was a bit off, the fact that her hands weren’t free to express messing with her act. Thankfully drunk girl wasn’t a hard part to play, and any time she felt herself slipping, Eliot was there, his solid bulk warm against her back, his thumbs never stopping those soothing circles on her wrists.
- “Talk to me! The hell’s going on up there?”
“I’m still dealing with a sniper.”
Eliot was thrumming with a kind of manic energy Sophie had never seen from him before when the three younger members of the team came back from the courthouse. Parker was talking giddily about tasers, Hardison caught in her wake as he so often was.
Eliot paused next to her at the bar, and she tried to still her anxiously drumming fingers.
His hand came to rest on her shoulder, as delicate as a butterfly. “You alright, darlin’?”
“No, I’m not bloody alright.” She snapped. “I had a sniper try to kill me today!”
His mouth thinned in regret. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to him in time.”
She turned to face him more fully, seeing the play of shadows across his face. She took his huge hand in her own delicate ones, rubbing her fingers over the web of scars and callouses that made up the skin. “No, Eliot, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m a bit out of sorts right now.” She furrowed her brow against the throbbing headache she was sporting from knocking her head against Nate’s desk in her haste to get to cover.
As usual, Eliot read her like no one else could, his free hand brushing through her hair until he found the swollen goose egg. “What happened here?”
“Desk.” She caught the look he gave her. “Desk, I promise. I dived for cover a bit too quick, hit my head.”
His eyes were still murderous, but the manic edge was bleeding away bit by bit. Knowing they could both use it, and knowing he would never, ever initiate, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight.
She felt him stiffen in surprise, and then he returned the embrace. One arm banded firm around her waist, holding her upright, and the other curled over her shoulder and held her head tight against his shoulder.
It was only tucked tight in the safest place she knew that Sophie could finally let herself come to terms with the terror of the day. She knew Eliot could feel her shivering, but he said nothing, just letting her draw from his strength until she felt herself finally relax.
Nate’s car pulled in to the lot, and Eliot tensed again. Sophie released him. Eliot gave her a sad smile and brushed a kiss against her forehead before he made his way upstairs, leaving her alone at the bar.
- “You’re not going anywhere, not in your condition.”
Sophie was admiring her Christmas present when the knock sounded.
Curious, she set down the bracelet and went to check her peephole.
Eliot, finally out of the Santa costume, was standing outside her door holding a bag that looked rather medical in nature.
Sophie almost threw open the bolts. “Eliot! Did you get hurt in the fight? Did you cut yourself with your present?”
The hitter looked affronted at that. “Why would you think I… no, Sophie, I did not cut myself. I…uh…I’m here for you.”
She almost would have said Eliot looked nervous, except the hitter was so rarely off balance. “For me?”
“Yeah.” He gestured to the bag, realized it was closed, and sighed. “Look, can I come in?”
“Sure, Eliot.” Sophie backed up, letting him past her.
Eliot went directly towards the couch, setting the bag on the little table nearby.
“What’s this about?” She asked him, approaching slowly.
“Whiplash.”
“Whiplash?”
Eliot rolled his eyes, “Yeah, Sophie. You crashed a car today. Air bags and everything. You aren’t feeling it yet, but you’re gonna get a nasty case of whiplash.”
“Oh.” Sophie touched her neck lightly. It hadn’t even occurred to her, though it really should have.
“Look,” Eliot said gently, “I’ve been around the block on this, okay? Parker’s done a few of these too. If we take some preventative measures now, we can save you a lot of discomfort later.”
“Preventative measures?”
Eliot held out a vial to her. “Massage. Mostly your neck and upper back. The more we can relax those muscles and stimulate blood flow the easier and quicker they’ll heal.”
“Oh.” The bottle Eliot was holding smelled lovely, peppermint and lavender and a few other scents all mingled together. “Okay.” Eliot shifted his weight suddenly, and Sophie caught a faint flush to his cheeks as she looked up. “What?”
“I’m gonna need you to take off your shirt. To do it properly, I mean.”
“Oh.” Now Sophie realized why Eliot looked so off balance. With Parker, it was easy. The little thief had absolutely no body shame, and Sophie knew she and Eliot had patched each other up a dozen times or more already. For them, it was part of the job. Clinical.
For Sophie, clothes made the character. To strip her of them was to lay her bare in more than just the obvious way. It stripped her armor away.
But then, this was Eliot. Eliot who had seen her at her most vulnerable, had comforted her, protected her, never judged her for who she was. If she couldn’t trust him, she might as well leave the team right now.
“Ok.” Without giving either of them time to think, she pulled her shirt over her head in one smooth motion, leaving her in her pants and bra.
Eliot swallowed, averting his eyes. The tips of his ears were pink. “Uh, yeah, good. Uh, just…” He lost words and motioned towards the couch. Sophie sat in a lotus position, relaxing against the cushions. She heard the snap of a bottle opening, and then the lovely scent of the oils filled the room.
There was a brief moment of delicious anticipation, and then Eliot’s hands were warm and firm against her neck, rubbing the medicinal oil into the strained muscles and knots of her neck.
He was right, the whiplash barely bothered her. It took a week to forget the feel of his callouses against her pulse points.
+1 “The others, they don’t need to know what I did.”
Eliot’s hands were shaking.
They had all returned to the bar after seeing The Italian off in her ambulance. Regardless of how furious Moreau had to be right now, the man would be too occupied with his own problems for a bit to come after them.
She had seen Eliot’s hesitation when it became clear they were all planning to stay together, and she suspected it was only his need to see the team safe and sound that had won over his desire to lick his wounds in private.
Even so, he was tense, aloof. He had chosen a spot between them and the door and refused to budge, even when Parker had poked at him. The blond thief hadn’t seemed too upset, she and Hardison still riding the adrenaline high of their bomb-on-a-train adventure.
Nate was well into a bottle, a shade of guilt hanging over him that Sophie couldn’t quite read, but that was directed at their too-quiet hitter.
She knew this case had been hard on Eliot, knew losing Moreau would have further opened the wounds he had tried so hard to hide from them.
But there was something more. Some piece she was missing.
For now, she needed to answer the call of nature.
Sophie rose gracefully and headed for the women’s room, needing to pass Eliot’s position to do so. It was the closest she had been to the hitter all night. As she passed him, the air conditioner kicked on, and he shifted slightly in his chair.
It took everything Sophie had not to stop dead.
Gunpower.
It was a very distinctive scent, and Eliot reeked of it.
Her missing piece clicked into the puzzle.
The bathroom door closed behind her, and Sophie stared at the mirror, her own need momentarily forgotten.
Eliot’s trembling hands. Nate’s inscrutable guilt. The scent of a firearm on a man who never used them.
Eliot had shot someone today, protecting Nate.
No.
Eliot hated guns, but they were just another tool. Even if he was forced to use one, that wouldn’t explain his shaking hands, his isolation. It wouldn’t explain the look in Nate’s eyes. Sophie’s own words came back to her, “You aren’t that person anymore.”
Eliot had killed someone today.
Maybe more than one person.
She sat back down and waited.
Nate left first, needing to take care of a few things before word of tonight’s adventure spread. Parker and Hardison left together not long after, Parker saying something about pretzels that made Hardison grin wide.
She could see Eliot stirring and knew she had to make her move now or lose the chance.
“Eliot.”
His head snapped up. She’d caught him off guard, and in the moment before his eyes shuttered again the emotions swirling in them broke her heart.
“Come here.”
He hesitated, but did so. He moved slow, cautious, and while anyone else would have assumed he was trying not to threaten her she could read the carefully disguised pain in every step. Still, she didn’t say anything, not until he stood in front of her, his tired eyes fixed questioningly on her face.
“Come here.” She motioned.
A question passed across his brow, but he didn’t voice it. He knelt, heavily, in front of her, his hands resting light as bird’s wings on her knees. “Sophie? What is it? Are you hurt?”
“No, dear boy.” She reached for him, burying both hands in his long hair, tugging his head towards her. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
He resisted her pull, looking confused and lost and so, so young. “Me?”
“Eliot.” She murmured. “I know what you did today.”
He flinched, hard, his full body locking up and jolting away from her. She knew it was only his fear of hurting her that kept him from fleeing fully.
She waited until he met her eyes. “Thank you.”
He shattered.
She had thought, at the time, watching Eliot rip open the scar of Moreau in the park that day, that he would never be able to break her heart as completely as he had then.
She was wrong.
Eliot, brave, strong, loyal, wonderful Eliot sobbing into her lap was a whole new level of heartbreak.
She wrapped her arms around him, smoothing her hands over his back and through his hair, ignoring her own stinging eyes as he shook apart in her arms. She suspected he had denied himself this emotional release since he’d met with Moreau. Possibly longer, knowing him. He needed this, desperately, but knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.
Still, for all the times that Eliot had been there for her, the least Sophie could do now was hold him together when he needed her the most.