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Eliot woke to a splitting pain in his right side and the cold, hard ground of a prison cell. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it sent shivers down his spine nonetheless.
He groaned, trying to sit up, and attempted to take in his surroundings, but it was too dark. He couldn’t make out anything. His entire body felt heavy and sluggish, and it took several tries before Eliot was able to push himself into a sitting position, slumping against the concrete wall of his cell. He cursed himself internally. Dammit, what the hell kind of mistake had he made to land himself in this position again?
“Eliot?” A familiar voice came from his right, muffled by the concrete. His hands tightened into fists at his sides. No fucking way.
“Parker?” Eliot replied, bitter anger at himself already churning through his veins. He couldn’t remember much, just that he’d been struck from behind with something heavy enough to cause some serious damage. But if Parker was here, too, then that meant she had been captured, as well. Eliot had one job: to keep her safe, to keep the team safe. He had one job, and he’d failed. Fuck, he was so damn stupid.
“Yeah,” Parker replied through the wall, and he could hear her moving around in her cell. She was quiet for a minute, and Eliot didn’t know what to say, so he let the silence stretch on. He knew he should say something, maybe apologise or ask what happened or check if she was okay. But his throat felt tight and the words were stuck in his chest and he didn’t know if he was capable of saying what he needed to, not with her sitting in the cell next to him, the cell that he had evidently put her in.
“Eliot,” Parker began again, “I was really scared.” There was a sound like she was fiddling with something, and he knew she had her hand in her jeans pocket, trying to play with an engraved lockpick Eliot had given her for Christmas that wasn’t there. “You were unconscious for so long. I thought you weren’t going to wake up.”
Eliot swallowed hard. They were trapped in some kind of prison cells, and she was worried about him? He didn’t respond.
“Nate and the others will find us,” Parker continued, although Eliot wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. “They’ll know something happened when we don’t respond on comms.”
“Did they take our comms?” Eliot asked, grunting as he tried to get to his feet. He needed to shake this off, and fast. There was no way he’d be able to take down any of the mark’s goons if he couldn’t even walk. He took a deep breath, trying to get his bearings. He’d had worse.
“They’re not here anymore,” Parker said in response. “Mine is gone, anyway.”
Eliot nodded, before realising she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, mine too.” He managed to stand, leaning heavily against the wall of his cell. Right. First order of business. He had to determine if there was a way out of here and what, if any, weapons he had at his disposal.
“Can you see anything, Parker?” he called out to her.
“No,” she called back, “It’s too dark.”
“Dammit,” Eliot cursed again. He tried to inhale as much strength as he could and took a cautious step forward. When he didn’t fall or waver, he allowed himself to celebrate the small victory for half a second before he began to walk, feeling his way around the cell, noting its dimensions in his mind.
His sweep revealed nothing; no way out, no weapons, not even a stray nail or a break in the concrete he could use. It was well and truly a prison.
“Did you find anything?” Parker asked when he’d finished, and her voice was painfully full of hope. Eliot felt his heart clench at her faith in him; faith she shouldn’t have.
“No,” he replied. “There’s nothing.” Parker made a small sound in the back of her throat, and though Eliot wasn’t sure what it meant, he knew it wasn’t good. It was scared, at least, and sad. He growled, whirling around so fast it made his head spin, and sank his fist into the concrete wall.
Pain exploded in his knuckles instantly, but Eliot wasn’t bothered by it. Better than the overwhelming tide of emotions that was searing its way through his chest, anyway. He took another deep breath.
“Eliot?” Parker sounded worried.
“Yeah, Parker,” Eliot replied, breathing hard. “I’m good.”
Parker didn’t say anything else, but her silence was telling in and of itself. She didn’t believe him, and Eliot couldn’t say he blamed her for that.
Eliot’s heart was racing, and it made him angry whenever he felt it. He didn’t understand. He’d been in worse situations than this before. He knew he couldn’t panic. Panicking would solve nothing, and he needed to be strong for Parker right now.
Parker.
The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. Of course he was reacting differently now than he had in the past; he had Parker with him. Someone he cared about, someone he loved, was paying the price for his actions and, contrary to the last time he’d been imprisoned like this, Eliot cared more about what happened to her than his own fate.
Dammit.
“Eliot,” Parker’s voice filtered through the walls of their respective prison cells, “Stop pacing.” Eliot grit his teeth, forcing himself to a standstill. He had too much nervous energy, and he wanted to punch something, needed to punch something, but he couldn’t, and so all of that energy was leaking out of him with every breath he took.
“Just sit down,” Parker continued. “Talk to me.”
“Alright, darlin’,” Eliot agreed readily. It sure as hell beat pacing up and down the length of his prison cell, thinking about everything and nothing all at once. “Whatever you need.” He took a seat next to the wall that separated them from each other. “What’d you want me to talk about?”
“Stealing,” Parker offered dreamily. Eliot couldn’t help the way his lips quirked upwards at that. They were literally being held prisoner, and Parker wanted to hear him talk about stealing.
“Yeah, okay, sure,” he said, “but I think you’re the expert here, not me.”
“You’re right,” Parker said, humming a little in response. “Maybe I should talk, then.” With that, she opened her mouth and began to tell Eliot about her most recent heist in Beijing, sparing no detail. Eliot couldn’t help how something like the shadow of a smile crossed his face at the sound of her voice, delighted to be talking about her heist and what she’d done to dismantle their security system and steal a priceless diamond from the display case.
As she talked and he listened, Eliot found himself relaxing, bit by bit, until, finally, he felt like he could breathe again.
Almost as if she was reading his mind and somehow knew exactly what he needed, Parker abruptly cut herself off and started humming an old Styx song instead. Eliot exhaled shakily and closed his eyes for just a minute, allowing himself to dream.
He dreamt of the others coming to rescue them. He could picture Nate unlocking their cell doors, dragging them out and to safety. He saw Sophie’s hands fluttering over them in that fussy yet gentle, almost maternal, way of theirs. He heard Nate’s heartfelt, “Glad you’re okay,” that reminded him of the good parts of his own father. Most of all, Eliot imagined Hardison sprinting towards them and wrapping he & Parker in the tightest hug Eliot could ever remember receiving.
He hoped - no, he knew, dammit - that the instant he saw Hardison, he was going to kiss him right then and there, Nate and Sophie be damned.
And then, after he’d done that, Eliot was going to pick Parker up and kiss her like they were never going to see each other again, because their predicament was only proving to Eliot that death could strike out of nowhere, and there was no use in pretending he didn’t feel anything for either of them when he knew damn well he did.
Eliot had only made one promise to himself, ever, and it was a promise that he had broken when he killed Moreau’s goons in the warehouse. He shuddered. He remembered the aftermath of that night with startling clarity. He’d been fucked up, hard-hit, reeling with broken promises and memories he wished he could forget. None of the others dared approach him.
But Parker, beautiful, brilliant Parker, had never exactly been one to go with the status quo. She let herself into his room anyway and settled down like she intended to stay.
“What are you doing here?” he’d growled at her.
“You don’t like guns,” she had said simply, and that was all the words either of them needed.
The memory brought tears to Eliot’s eyes, and he wiped them away hurriedly even though he knew there was no one else around to see them.
“Eliot,” Parker said, and he could swear he heard something like vulnerability in her voice; it was unusual, to say the least. “I can’t sleep.”
“Uh,” Eliot started, at a loss for words, “Well, I’m sorry, sweetie, but I’m not sure I can help you there.”
“Yes, you can,” Parker insisted. “Sing to me.” The request was so different from anything Eliot had been expecting that it took him a minute to recover and realise that she wasn’t joking.
“Sing? I-I...Yeah, okay.” Eliot sighed. He couldn’t give her much right now - couldn’t get them out of here, couldn’t find the right words to apologise or guide her through treating her injuries - but he could, at least, do this one thing. For her.
And so, with a deep breath, and a pit of anxiety simmering in his gut, Eliot opened his mouth and began to sing.
Parker’s delighted little sound was, as it turned out, more than enough for him to find it within himself to keep singing for her, long into the night and well after she had fallen asleep.
In the dark, before he surrendered to sleep himself, Eliot whispered his new promise. It was a promise about protection, about hope, and about kissing Parker & Hardison until all of their doubts were gone underneath Eliot’s lips and the love he felt for them. This, he knew, was a promise that he would always keep.