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“It’s a counterfeit, it’s your job, honey.” As Becks checked the books from their food trucks business, she pretended to not hear Elliot speaking, to be somewhere else, at least with her mind. She looked outside the window, biting her lips. her lips in a tight line. “You are the Chemist of the criminal underworld. No one recreates pigments like you do, and this job here, with Hardison’s new printer and my connection to find those specific ingredients? Piece of cake.”
“I don’t know…” she breathed, picking on her fingernails. She didn’t dare to meet Eliot’s gaze, pass his scrutiny, knowing all too well that she would have failed. Or maybe… it wasn’t knowing, but thinking that the love of her life would judge her, look at her and decide that, after all, he didn’t like what he was seeing any longer.
That he didn’t love any longer.
“So… what it is, is it because you don’t want to be next to Sophie now that Nate’s gone or… or is it me?” He finally asked. Leaning against the doorframe, Eliot crossed his arms, and tried to meet Becks’ gaze, but she was refusing him to. And besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t know what he would have found there.
Shame and pain and regret.
“Becks, one job. To keep you and Sophie distracted. It’s what you both need.” He spoke gently, his voice so low that it almost actually lulled her to sleep. She closed her eyes as he neared her, cupping her cheek in his palm. Becks enjoyed the sensation of Eliot’s warm skin against her colder one, how rough it was - he had big hands, rough. Hands of a worker, of a real man, of a hitter. Smiling, she kissed his thumb, sighing.
Those hands, they were a thing of beauty. Of magic: Eliot could kill and destroy with them, and yet, they had been able to give food to the hungry, they had taken care of people - of her.
“Elliot, I need to know…” Interlacing their fingers, she gently placed their joined hands over her empty womb, and looked for his eyes, desperate to find an answer. “Are you mad with me?”
“What? Do you think…” Shaking his head, he kneeled down, cradling her head as they stared into each other’s eyes. Becks was still the same as those that had conquered him so many years before, back when they had been living in Boston and one evening he had pretended to be her date. That night was still etched in his mind, if he could swear that, if he tried hard enough, every single tiny detail could get back to him. Shortly before Nate’s passing, Eliot had been remembering that evening with a tender smile, while he cuddled his bride in his arms, caressing her womb, dreaming of telling their child about how they had met, and how one kiss had changed it all.
But now, there was no kid any longer.They had lost their baby, and there wasn’t a single day that Becks didn’t try to put the blame on something, someone, refusing to admit that it had been just… chance.
Mostly, she liked to blame herself- and Eliot guessed that was the reason she had desperately tried to avoid any contact whatsoever with Leverage International.
“Becks, it wasn’t you. It just happened. You heard the doc…” he tried to reassure her, his voice sweet, almost honey to her troubled soul.
“But it is. I lost it, my body… it rejected it! What if…” She sniffed. “What if it’s because of something I did? Some substance I used to use?”
“Babe, it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. The doctor…”
“I know what the doctor said!” She hissed, rolling her eyes and gritting her teeth. She quickly pulled his hand away and stood, walking into the kitchen while searching for something that could help with her sweet tooth. No chocolate, she realized as she rode the cupboard: Eliot was yet again going through his healthy only food phase. “If you dare to repeat it even just one more time, I swear to God I will kill you- and I think we are both well aware that I know at least ten ways to murder you and get away with it.”
“A job, me hitting bad guys and cooking- Dammit girl, I promise I will woo the hell out of you this time around.” He chuckled, giving her a sleepy grin, cheeky.
“Don’t”, she hisses. Her tone is menacing, and she is even pointing a finger at him, but Eliot can’t help but chuckle- which only ends up unnerving her. “Don’t say that. You know that I hate it when you say that!”
He doesn’t listen to her, and simply shakes his head.”Let’s go steal ourselves a stolen painting!”
Laughing, she throws a towel at him, and they start playing like children, chasing each other and throwing random kitchen items at each other, and when he jumps her from behind, squeezing her petite frame in his arms, Eliot breaths in her very essence, that peculiar scent that’s just her, and it’s home, and them.
Family, Love.
Breathing in and out with closed eyes, Becks covers his hands as he hugs her from behind, her head against his scapula; she lets go of everything, living the moment, enjoying it as she maybe never did before. She feels loved, desidred… and above all, wanted.
She rolls her eyes, sighing, but with a smile in her voice.
“Ok, fine, let’s go steal ourselves a stolen masterpiece!”