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“Why me? You had the whole damn team to choose from but you said it was gonna be me and you making contact with Moreau. Why?”
Eliot forced himself to meet Hardison’s eyes, forced himself not to flinch at the anger and hurt he saw there. He deserved that, hell he deserved a lot more, and he wasn’t going to run from it. Not when Hardison had followed him back to his apartment, into his living room despite the anger he knew had been radiating off him since they left that damn pool house. There was no answer he could give that would make things right though.
“Parker’s too much of a loose cannon, Nate might have challenged Moreau and made things worse, Sophie’s done too many high-profile grifts he might recognize, and if I had walked in there alone he wouldn’t’ve let me leave,” he finally said, willing himself to stay still, to keep his arms by his side even though it left him feeling vulnerable and exposed.
Hardison barked out a humorless laugh. “So, I was the lucky pick—fool enough to stick to the grift despite being thrown in a fucking pool!” His voice rose, and Eliot barely held back another flinch. He deserved this.
“You’re no fool.”
“You sure? Because right now I think I could fit into any circus,” Hardison retorted, venom in his words. He was standing like he wanted to throw a punch, feet positioned the way Eliot had been trying to show him for months. He held back, though, using his words to fling blows more painful than his fists would have been. “You pulled the wool over my eyes, over all of our eyes, acting like you didn’t know Moreau other than through his reputation. But now it turns out you know him personally.” He took a breath, and some of the anger in his voice turned to something far too close to fear. “Did you know? Did you know he was gonna kick me into the pool and watch me drown?”
Eliot’s nails were digging crescents into his palms, but he barely felt it. He shook his head once, pushing back the memory of Hardison tipping back into the water with a shout, of the splash, of the panic that raced through him like lightning as he began to count the seconds. Suddenly, he couldn’t meet Hardison’s eyes anymore, and he looked past him, focusing unsteadily on the dingy couch pushed up against the wall.
“Really? You know yesterday I would have believed that but not tonight.”
Pain flashed through him. He could hear the uncertainty and fear dripping from Hardison’s words, and it made his gut churn. He knew he didn’t deserve his trust, any of their trust, anymore but that didn’t stop the pain. He was supposed to be their protector, and he couldn’t do that if they didn’t trust him.
He tore his gaze away from the couch, meeting Hardison’s eyes once again. He kept his posture open, allowed his shoulders to sink with his weariness, and prayed that his friend could hear the honesty in his words as he said, “I promise, when I said we would be the ones talking to Moreau I didn’t think it would end with you on the bottom of the pool.” Sudden panic gripped him, and he took a half step forward, words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. “In another nine seconds I was going to jump in after you, Moreau be damned. Getting you out of that building alive was always my top priority.” And he would have, even if he had to jump in that pool after him. It probably would have been the last thing he ever did, but that was a price he was always willing to pay.
Hardison’s eyes stayed narrowed, but he didn’t step away. “I want to believe you, man. I do. But I’m not sure I can. What the hell did you think was gonna happen when you gave them your name?”
This time, Eliot couldn’t repress the shudder that shook through his body as old memories forced their way to the surface of his mind. “I thought I’d be able to keep Moreau’s attention on me. He’s…wanted me back for years, and I thought he’d make a show of having me.”
“’Having you?’ What does that mean?” As if a switch had been flipped, all the earlier anger and doubt in Hardison’s voice turned to concern, maybe even fear. Eliot’s heart clenched. How could he be concerned for him after everything that had happened today, after everything he now knew?
“Do you need to know?” Eliot had meant for the words to sound neutral, but his voice softened without his approval and he cursed himself for it. He needed to be strong. But he couldn’t, not when he was baring his throat for Hardison the same way he had done for Parker not too many hours ago.
Hardison blinked, and Eliot could practically see the gears turning in his mind. He knew that if he asked, Eliot would answer, just as he would have answered Parker. Then a mask fell over his expression, and the window into his mind closed as he nodded. “Actually, I do.”
Eliot swallowed, clenching and unclenching his fists several times before crossing his arms in front of him. A shield or a restraint?
“Moreau likes to display his power,” he said after several moments, his gaze focused on a point an inch above Hardison’s left shoulder. “He has different ways of doing it, some more subtle than others, but he always does something.” Like pushing Hardison into a pool while handcuffed to a chair. “Used to be, he’d make me kneel at his feet. All those people in the pool, I thought he’d want to make a show of having me again—make me lick his shoes or hold a knife to my throat or shove a gun in my mouth while you talked or something. I thought he’d use his power over me to make you uncomfortable; I thought he’d stay focused on me.”
Once he finished silence stretched for several seconds, broken only by the distant whine of police sirens several blocks over. The entire time, Hardison’s eyes roamed over his face as if trying to hack him, to solve the mystery of how he could have let things go so wrong. Despite every instinct that screamed at him to flee, Eliot held still, submitting himself to Hardison’s judgement.
“And you chose me. You would have let me see you like that.” Hardison’s voice was barely more than a whisper, and it startled Eliot enough that his eyes snapped back to Hardison’s. “You walked into that room thinking you’d have to kneel for Moreau, and you were ready to do it.”
“Of course I was ready! You think I wouldn’t kneel if it meant taking Moreau down, keeping the team safe?” Every muscle in his body itched to do something, to hit something, to get out of this conversation, but he forced himself to breathe and uncrossed his arms.
“You think that’s all he would have done? You said it’s all about power for him, so what would have stopped him from pulling the trigger after he shoved a gun in your mouth, huh? You’re making it sound like he treated you like a dog, Eliot. Maybe he would have put you down like one, too.”
Eliot shrugged. “He might’ve. But that kind of bloodshed can be bad for business, so the odds were against it.”
“’The odds were against it’?” The outrage was back in Hardison’s eyes, but this time it didn’t seem directed at him. “Man, almost drowning sucks, but I’m glad you didn’t have to kneel for that bastard.”
Eliot froze, every muscle in his body tensing. Did Hardison? Had he? No, he didn’t deserve consideration like this, forgiveness like this! “I almost got you killed, Hardison! I overestimated how much Moreau valued me and you paid the price! You think I prefer that to sitting on my knees for a few minutes?”
Hardison stepped forward, placing a warm hand on his shoulder and it took every ounce of strength left in his battered body not to lean into the touch. He didn’t deserve Hardison’s concern or warmth. He had to remember that since the hacker obviously didn’t.
“I don’t think I’m a good enough grifter to have held onto my character if you had,” he said, his voice soft.
“You would have. You’re smart enough, you knew the stakes,” Eliot retorted, but standing so close he couldn’t will his voice to be anything stronger than a whisper. Why? Why was Hardison fighting this? Why was this an argument? It didn’t matter what he had thought was going to happen, all that mattered was what had happened. Hardison had almost drowned, and it was his fault.
“I hope so, but I don’t know. I’m not saying I’m not mad. I’m still mad,” Hardison clarified and looking closer Eliot could see some of that anger still sparking in his eyes. But a dozen other emotions overshadowed it, all too soft and forgiving to belong there after today. “But you were facing a man who used you and abused you and you did it for the team. You were ready to do whatever was necessary because we needed you to, just like always. And for now, that will be enough. We’ll get through this.”
The grip on his shoulder tightened, and then he was being pulled into a hug. He tensed at the contact, knowing he should fight it, should kick Hardison out and keep him at a distance so that today never happened again. But his muscles betrayed him, and after a few seconds he melted into the embrace. He didn’t trust himself enough to return it, but he let himself be held until Hardison released him over a minute later.
“The old Eliot Spencer wouldn’t have been counting the seconds I was in that pool,” he said after he pulled away, his voice firm and certain in a way it had no right to be. “You’re not him anymore, despite whatever Moreau wishes or you’re feeling right now. You’re our Eliot.”
Suddenly, Eliot was too tired to argue. There would be no dissuading Hardison now, not without revealing things he didn’t think he could withstand saying, and even then…Hardison was stubborn, if nothing else. And maybe Hardison’s belief would be enough to make it true. If there was anyone he could change for it was Hardison and Parker and this team, this family.