#the way it takes eliot SO long to take his place at the back of the group | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fablesrose · 9 months ago

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Ch 17 - The Three Strikes Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: When Lieutenant Bonanno gets shot, the team goes after a corrupt mayor to get justice.

Words: 4682

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“So, is he going to be okay?” Parker asked.

Nate had just come in and explained the situation. Lieutenant Bonanno from the State Police was in the hospital after a shooting. It was pretty serious and while it was likely he would pull through, it wasn’t a guarantee. He was still in a coma and there were no current suspects.

“They don’t know,” Nate said, pacing the front of the room, clearly upset and drunk.

“Okay, this guy’s a cop,” Tara pointed out. “You’re thieves-”

“I’m not a thief!” Nate declared, but then sat down. “Bonanno, is the cop we tip off when we need to put the cuffs on a mark.”

“You do realize we’re gonna be covering the same ground as the state cops on this one,” Hardison asked. “Hundreds of angry, highly motivated state cops.”

“By the way guys,” Eliot piped up, “whoever shot him up, was using military grade weaponry.”

“Well you know what, I don’t care!” Nate yelled. I flinched back, not expecting him to raise his voice so suddenly. He continued, his voice still raised, “I don’t care about that. This guy dedicated his life to doing the right thing! And this is his payback? I mean, his family’s pain is what he deserves? If we don’t settle the score on this, why do we do this? Do you understand?”

I curled myself into the corner of the couch. I could feel my eyes tearing up, both at the visualization of him and his family suffering and the fact that I didn’t like when people yelled. As far as I could remember there had never been a reason for the discomfort, maybe it’s something natural. And though Nate or my dad very rarely yelled when I was growing up, when they did, it was understandable if not deserved like when I did something stupidly dangerous and it did scare me enough so I never did it again.

There was an ever stretching silence before Eliot leaned forward in the chair next to me and asked Hardison, “What are Bonanno’s active files?”

It didn’t take long at all for Hardison to pull them up on the screen, “According to the State Police database, Bonanno had half a dozen open cases. The most recent one was a protection racket out of Arcadia, but the cops were focusing on an auto theft ring out of Waynesboro. Let’s just say if you’ve jacked a car in Massachusetts in the last year, your head’s gonna be bouncing off a cruiser by dinner time.”

Nate stared at one case on the screen in particular, “What’s that one?”

“That’s public corruption,” Hardison answered, “there’s practically no files on that thing.”

“That’s it,” I blurted out before I could even process the thought. There was something about that case that just felt right. Or more accurately, it felt wrong in a way that mattered in this scenario. A public corruption case with no files on it was fishy on its own, but the fact that it was one of Bonanno’s cases, a guy who seemed to live for justice and from what Nate said, ‘doing the right thing?’ It pushed it over the edge of deniability.

“What? No, no, y/n-” Hardison insisted, “These other two files, they involve violent criminals. This one? It, its-”

“No no no,” Nate cut Hardison off, “she’s right, that’s it. Just… check the shooting, put up the scene.”

Hardison quickly threw the crime scene photos up on the screen. All concrete and blood splatters.

“Okay, so Bonanno goes to a remote location,” Nate talks it out, “alone, no backup. That means he knows his attackers and he’s not expecting any trouble. What did you just say?” He asked Hardison, “No files on it?”

Hardison shook his head.

“So,” Nate continued, “Bonanno, was keeping this investigation, off the books.”

“It explains the secret meeting,” Tara relented. “Off hours, away from any witnesses.”

“Cops are looking in the wrong place,” Eliot said. He then leaned towards me and whispered, “Nice job, sweetheart.”

I couldn’t help the shiver that I felt flow through me at his praise. I smiled softly at him with a nod before turning my attention back to Nate who was pacing in front of the room.

“Absolutely, so,” he muttered, “That leaves, I mean, that leaves us.”

“So who’s the bad guy?” Parker asked.

Hardison looked it up quickly and when it seemed he had the answer, he proposed an alternative, “or, or or, and I’m just spitballing here, we could just let the state cops handle this one. Call in an anonymous tip.”

“Come on Hardison,” Nate said. “How bad could this be?” It didn’t seem like he believed the statement, and looking around, none of us were convinced either.

Our skepticism was warranted when it was revealed that Bonanno was investigating the mayor of Bellbridge, Massachusetts, Brad Culpepper the third. Someone who was surrounded by security, the press, and probably had half of the local cops on his personal payroll. No wonder Bonanno was keeping it off the books.

Nate and Tara attended Culpepper’s re-election fundraiser posing as a real estate developer and a PR rep to gain some insight on him, maybe even getting an in. Parker was casing the mayor’s office, and the rest of us, Hardison, Eliot, and I went over to the Bonannos’ house to see if we could find anything there. One problem, there was a police officer watching the house for the family.

Hardison dug through his box of different jackets, tossing out ones that said FBI, DEA, and others until he grabbed the ones he was looking for: Crime Lab.

“You spend your weekends making these things, don’t ya,” Eliot asked distastefully.

“Yes I do,” Hardison replied, “and does anyone appreciate that?”

“I do,” Parker said on comms. “I like the costumes.”

“I actually helped make these ones,” I said as I shrugged a jacket on. When Eliot gave me a puzzled, unimpressed look I said, “What? You have cooking, I’m still exploring creative, ‘making things’ outlets.”

Eliot muttered something but I couldn’t hear it over Parker saying, “I wish I was there.”

“Parker, we need someone to sweep the mayor’s office while he’s here at the fundraiser,” Nate explained.

“Fine, but I never get to do anything fun,” she reiterated before she jumped off a roof, something I knew she enjoyed an unnecessary amount.

As we approached the house, I had to jog to keep up with the boys’ swift pace. When we got up the front porch where the officer was sitting, Hardison cleared his throat.

“Is this Lieutenant Patrick Bonanno’s place of residence?” he asked the officer. Once he affirmed Hardison continued, “Alright, we’re from the crime lab. Here to collect evidence from the crime scene.”

“Oh, this isn’t a crime scene. We’re just watching th-” the officer tried to say before Eliot cut him off.

“Wait a minute, I’m sorry, he just said this wasn’t a crime scene.”

I stayed on the front step as Eliot and Hardison opened the front door to look in the house.

“I’m just house sitting,” the officer insisted.

“Oh no, he’s right, this isn’t a crime scene,” Hardison said. “Cuz he done walked all over it!”

“I smell soup,” Eliot said seriously. “You smell soup?”

Hardison and I sniffed the air. While Hardison said “I do,” I said, “I’d say tomato and beef, yes.”

ELiot gave me a slightly amused look, lifting the corner of his mouth and an eyebrow before passing Hardison to go into the house.

“What happened, Goldilocks?” Hardison asked the officer. “Get a little hungry and decide to make some lunch in the middle of an active crime scene?”

“I would never do that,” he said, lifting his iced tea in the process, looking between the two of us before lowering his hand, realizing his mistake.

“Eh, uh, mm- Let’s see what you would do, move,” Hardison said.

To the officer’s credit, when he looked at me and saw that I was carrying a camera case he offered to take it in for me. I adopted the boys’ stern demeanor though, scolding him, saying it was delicate equipment and ushered him into the house.

Hardison dropped some yellow crime scene numbers around the living room, next to toys and what not and got the officer started looking for suspicious fibers in the carpet. He instructed us to search the rest of the house for evidence and DNA.

I was searching odd rooms here and there, taking odd pictures mostly for the noise, ones I planned on deleting later. Eliot passed by a doorway where I was when I was taking one of these pictures, fiddling and experimenting with settings.

“That another one of your ‘creative outlets?’” Eliot asked.

“Knowing a little bit of photography was helpful in freelancing every once in a while,” I said offhandedly.“Besides, it’s nice to have good pictures sometimes.” I looked up at him and saw that sunlight was reflecting on him from somewhere I couldn’t quite determine. It seemed to be hitting him just right, he had a slight smile on his face that I wasn’t sure was conscious. It was a moment I wanted to capture. I lifted my camera and was pleased to see that he paused for just enough time for me to take a picture. I looked it over on the screen and then looked up at him in the doorway, “it’s perfect.”

He shook his head, “Come on, you’re gonna delete that right?”

I hugged the camera to my chest when I passed him, walking into the next room, “Never.”

As we searched, Tara coached Parker through convincing the mayor’s secretary that she was pregnant with his baby from a one night stand to avoid her getting kicked out for searching his office. I struggled not to cringe at the awkwardness coming through in waves through the comms. I could only imagine what that secretary was thinking, but I had a pretty good idea.

Eventually Eliot found Bonanno’s investigation notes taped to the bottom of one of his office drawers. The officer proudly came in with a twig from the carpet, delaying us from looking through them until Hardison praised his efforts and encouraged him to keep looking.

“Looks like he was investigating a company called Kirsch Industries,” Eliot said, reading the notebook.

“Seems like Bonanno found out that for the past couple of years, Kirsch industries has been buying up property on the waterfront,” Hardison said.

“Found a file in the mayor’s office for Kirsch Industries,” Parker said. “It’s incorporated in the Cayman Islands.”

“The only industry in the Caymans is scuba diving and tax evasion,” Hardison said.

“It’s a front company for the mayor,” Eliot concluded.

“The mayor did say he wanted to build a park on the waterfront,” Hardison realized.

“So,” I chipped in, “Mayor buys land from his own company with city money, free cash.”

The boys nodded with me before asking Parker what else she had from the mayor’s office.

“Yeah, I mean, there could be a safe in here, but I don’t have time to move all the balls and bats out of here. He could start a baseball team with all the crap he has in his office,” she complained.

We listened as Nate cut off his and Tara’s conversation with Culpepper and told us, “Alright guys, wrap it up. We’re gonna go on a little field trip.”

The three of us shared a look and went to start packing up our stuff. Before we got too far I stopped the boys, “Wait, since I have my camera out, let me take a picture.”

Hardison instantly wrapped his arm around Eliot’s shoulder with a comically large smile and pointed at the evidence in Eliot’s hand. Eliot gave one of the biggest eyerolls I had seen. I quickly took a picture of them like this and smiled at the results.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.”

Turns out our little field trip was to the local minor league ballpark. We were some of the few people in the stands as the team was just practicing in the field.

“I don’t know,” Tara said, looking over the field and then at us, “Culpepper doesn’t strike me aa the type to order a hit. Especially on something like a graft case.What’s the big deal, you know? You get caught, you go on TV with your wife, you cry, you get re-elected.”

“Yeah, it’s the American way,” Parker agreed.

“Exactly.”

“Naw, this guy’s been caught in the middle of a dozen corruption cases,” Hardison said. “Each time he’s walked away and somebody else took the fall. This guy does not get caught.”

“Don’t know, still doesn’t feel right,” Tara insisted quietly. She looked over at Eliot, “What’s that?”

“It’s a page I found out of Bonanno’s notebook,” he replied as he stared at the writing on it.

“The Maltese Falcon,” Tara read. “The book or the movie?”

“It means something,” Eliot insisted. “I just…”

“Okay,” Nate said as he finally joined us. “This is how we’re gonna take down the mayor,” he gestured to the stadium.

“Baseball?” Hardison asked.

“Yeah, we’re gonna steal this ballpark,” Nate nodded happily and started to walk away before he stepped back to us adding, “And the team. Not necessarily in that order.”

Nate and Tara posed on the waterfront to get Culpepper’s attention. The plan was to convince Culpepper that we were gonna build a ballpark there and try to get him to get in on the action with some bribes from his re-election campaign. A federal offense. But first, we needed a team to play in the ballpark.

Eliot snuck into the team, posing as a transfer and a spy for the owner. He started spreading rumors that the team we were just watching practice was going to be moving to our new stadium.

“There’s only one problem,” Eliot said after Hardison explained his fabricated baseball history, including a catchy Japanese energy drink commercial. “I don’t like baseball.”

“What? Everyone likes baseball,” Hardison insisted.

“I don’t like baseball, man,” Eliot reiterated, “Alright? I don’t like sports where you can’t score on defense. Football, hockey, even basketball. But baseball?”

Hardison turned to where I was sitting on the couch, “Back me up here, y/n.”

I glanced up at him from where I was examining my nails, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it's fun going to a game with your friends on a sunny day, getting to see some home runs…”

“But?” Eliot egged me on.

I dropped my hands to my lap and made full eye contact with them, “It can get boring sometimes, especially on TV. I only watch if I can go to the game.”

Hardison shook his head at the two of us, “I’m not even talking to you.” He then walked away.

Eliot repeated me under his breath, “yeah, it’s boring.” Before Hardison was completely gone he did ask for him to put on the commercial again, to which he obliged.

Later that day, Hardison, Parker, and I were calling into radio stations with different voices and accents, further spreading the rumor that the Beavers baseball team was leaving their town. Hardison and I were equally surprised when Parker angrily burst into Spanish on her call.

“You speak Spanish?” Hardison asked.

Parker just looked between the two of us, “Si.”

On the plus side, the rumors bumped ticket sales to the Beavers’ games by a hefty margin. Once Nate and Tara let Culpepper swipe their fake baseball plans, he was hooked. Luckily, it was game day, so we all went to the baseball game. Hardison, Parker, and I started a protest outside the gates to keep the Beavers from moving, dressing up and making signs. Nate and Tara were meeting with the owner, giving Culpepper the impression that the move was actually happening, and Eliot was playing catcher in the game.

Once the protest was well underway, I set my poster to the side and headed into the stadium to watch the game. Hardison was able to get us seats behind home plate if we wanted them and I happily decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

The game was pretty exciting, quite a few hits and runs by both teams. When the other team got a particularly good hit, the runner was looking to score, but Eliot threw his helmet to the side to catch the ball from second base and body slammed him, getting him out. I could see the smile Eliot had from the stands, clearly being won over. He shook out his hair with some of the most beautiful curls I’d seen before heading to the dugout.

It wasn’t too long before Eliot was up to bat.

“Meet me outside,” Nate said over comms after his brief meeting and agreement with Culpepper. It seemed we had this in the bag.

“What?” Eliot said in disbelief, “I’m three for four. This guy’s throwing great, I’m not going anywhere.”

I whined too, “Nate, I’m sure it can wait until after the game, let me just watch. It’s been ages, and this is a great game.”

Right then Eliot hit a great ball, he’d at least get to second or third base, if not a home run.

“Alright, good news, bad news,” Nate said to the others though I could still hear him through comms.

“Good news?” Tara asked.

“The mayor’s hooked, we’re in the pinch.”

“Bad news?”

“I think we lost Eliot and y/n til the playoffs.”

“Please, Nate,” I replied, “it’s one game. Relax. Not sure about Eliot though.”

Like I had said before, it could have waited until after the game was over. Once Eliot and I got back to McRory’s the team was sitting there still discussing the logistics of framing the mayor. Eliot jumped right into how great the game was and his performance.

“Excuse your rudeness,” Hardison said, “I’m explaining the con. It’s very complicated.”

“Really?” Eliot asked, “the mayor gives us a check and you deposit it in some company and you connect it back to him. Looks like he’s embezzling from his campaign funds.” He then made a shocked face that made me laugh.

“At least you can’t say he isn’t picking up what you do and how all this usually works, Hardison,” I said.

Hardison gave me a bitter nod before cutting Eliot off again when he started gushing again, “but that’s not all there is, alright? There’s the Bonanno thing.”

“What? We give Bonanno’s notes to the newspaper, man? They named a sandwich after me ad T.J. Philbin’s!” Eliot would not be stopped.

The rest of the team was finally very impressed.

“I’ll give it to you, man, the sandwich thing’s pretty cool,” Hardison finally relented. The two of them shared a fancy little handshake in excitement.

Nate’s phone rang, “I’m sorry, this is the mayor, is this an okay time to take the call or…”

Eliot gave him permission and Nate stepped to the side with a “congrats on the sandwich.”

Eliot finally sat down with the rest of us, still excitedly telling the team how the game went and his last time at bat. I couldn’t help but just watch him. His excitement was infectious. I only tore my eyes away when I thought I felt eyes on me. I turned my head slightly to see that Tara was looking at me with a slightly tilted head. I tilted my own back at her in question but was denied an answer when Nate came back over to the table with an address written down, asking Hardison to look it up.

“The address is right in the middle of the Bellbridge waterfront,” Hardison answered.

“It’s a walk away,” Eliot said simply.

“Look, this is even better,” Nate insisted, “because he has partners, so this is our chance to bring them down too.”

“But if the bribe is in cash, the con doesn’t work,” Parker pointed out.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash we’re gonna get? It had to have come from somewhere. Hardison can track it.”

“Uh, no Hardison can not,” Hardison corrected.

Nate was not giving up, “Look, you kept saying you don’t think the mayor’s the kind of guy to kill a cop, right?” He asked Tara.

“So let’s go meet the kind of guys who kill cops on the waterfront,” Tara repeated condescendingly, “That’s a solid plan.”

“I’m sorry,” Eliot said, “Where are these partners coming from, huh? And why did they just show up?”

“This is such a bad idea,” I said to myself.

“And the Maltese Falcon thing, it’s just weird,” Parker pointed out.

“Okay, enough!” Nate blurted out. “We are talking about bringing down a corrupt mayor and cleaning up a city. I mean, it’s huge. It’s probably the biggest thing we’ve ever done.”

“They’re not handing out trophies for this,” Eliot retorted.

“Why does it matter that it would be the biggest thing we’ve ever done, Nate?” I asked him seriously. “I don’t know if we should put our lives on the line, we don’t know how far this corruption goes!”

“We don’t always win, man,” Hardison said.

“But we never quit,” Nate emphasized.

“Maybe we should,” I said before I could stop myself.

Everyone looked at me, no one agreeing or disagreeing with me.

Nate gave me a hard look, “I never asked you to join the team, y/n. I love you, but you don’t have to be here.”

He waited for me to say something, to stand up and walk away. I didn’t though. I stared him down with a clenched jaw. I wasn’t going anywhere, no matter how manipulative he was going to be. This was my team, if not my family. Whether Nate or anyone else wanted me here or not, I was staying.

“Okay,” Nate said once he saw I wasn’t leaving, “you guys check out security,” he said, gesturing to Eliot and Hardison. He then turned back to me and Parker, “you two do the perimeter, yeah? And we’ll be on the inside,” he finished with himself and Tara. “Look, we’re gonna do this, we can do it. We’re gonna bring this guy down.”

There was no acknowledgement from the rest of us at the table as he walked away. This was dangerous.

We all loaded into Hardison’s van to go to the waterfront. Hardison and Eliot posed as the Department of Homeland Security to “check out anti terrorism security measures” as a facade to bug the security. What they found instead was no security at all, meaning that the $20 million in federal funds to install high end equipment went missing.

Nate and Tara walked into the suspicious looking warehouse to meet with the mayor and his partners while Parker and I split up to check the perimeter. Parker went under the dock and discovered guys with guns guarding boxes labeled soybeans. The boxes were filled with guns and hand grenades. Probably where that $20 million went. Everything was quiet on my end of the area until six or so black sedans came careening around the corner towards the warehouse where Nate and Tara were with the mayor. They were discussing where the mayor’s partners were when I spoke up to warn them.

Before I could do so, a wicked amount of feedback came through the comms causing me to cringe.

“Someone’s transmitting on our frequency,” Hardison explained.

“Yeah, well, Nate and Tara, you have company from out here, six cars just pulled up surrounding the building,” I rushed out, hoping to give them some time.

“It’s FBI,” Eliot said, “and more than six are coming!”

I looked across the water front to where they were and saw more suvs pull up with sirens blazing. I had already ducked out of sight when the first cars came, but now I started making my way around to the others, staying low. Once I got back to the van, I saw that the others were already there, pulling on FBI jackets with Hardison doing stuff on his computer.

“So the guy who put out a hit on a police detective is an FBI snitch?” Parker asked. “That’s not fair.”

“Of course he’s a snitch,” I sighed in resignation as Eliot handed me a jacket to pull on.

Hardison was able to identify a nearby federal ID cell phone and called it, “you come in and we kill all the hostages. … Oh you thought the mayor was the only one? No, we got a whole Sunday school up in here, we got old folks, we got nuns, and we have explosives. You come in and you make headlines.” He hung up before the agent could respond, back to working on his laptop.

“Scary, but effective,” I commented as I watched the warehouse, the agents not moving in.

“Well now we know why he didn’t go down for any of the corruption cases, cuz he’s a snitch,” Tara said angrily.

“Well, you know, it’s possible that he doesn’t know anything about Bonanno getting shot,” Nate thought out loud.

The mayor in fact did know about it. Nate got as angry as I’d ever heard him, yelling about Bonanno’s family and how he almost died.

“Nate I bought you some time,” Hardison said, “but about now we’ve got a whole army of five-O coming down on us… It’s a big day, big big day for us.”

“You have to let him go,” I heard Tara say.

“No!” Nate said.

“Then kill him now, we have to get out of here!”

“Shit,” I whispered to myself, this was getting worse by the second.

There was a large crash, but it sounded like the mayor was still alive.

“Alright, we’ll deal with him later,” Nate said. He then relayed a plan, a dumb plan, to get him and Tara out of the warehouse. It involved them all walking out of the warehouse as hostages, a sign of good will, releasing one hostage. What would really happen would be that one hostage would come out of the three doors of the warehouse, one for Nate, Tara, and Culpepper.

“No, Nate, man, are you kidding me? That is the worst plan I’ve ever heard!” Hardison said.

“Look, he needs a distraction,” Eliot said.

“I mean, we did just find a box of ammo and explosives,” Parker pointed out. “Boom, I’m just saying.”

“The problem is in the delivery,” Eliot said.

“And the detonator,” Hardison added.

The rest of us looked at the van with some hope and an idea. Hardison was not happy to say the least. He nearly cried when we started to unload the gear to prep it.

“Sorry Hardison, it’s all we got right now. We can get you a new van, I can’t get another uncle Nate,” I said as I pulled one more box out.

“Are you sure you want one?” Eliot asked me.

“Still deciding.”

We got the van rigged up with boxes of grenades and got to work. Right as everyone exited the warehouse, Hardison drove the van via remote control towards the building, and caused it to explode, causing confusion and panic.

Eliot, Parker and I nabbed one of the agent’s cars to use as a getaway vehicle. Eliot was driving, I slid into the passenger seat and was relieved to see that the front had a middle seat so it would fit all of us somewhat comfortably. Eliot picked up Nate first, who shoved me into that newly discovered front middle seat and Tara slid into the back seat easily when we pulled around the building. We finally had to persuade Hardison to get in. He was upset that Nate didn’t listen to us when we said it was a bad idea and the fact it led to ‘Lucielle’s’ death. We peeled out of there once Hardison took the last seat in the back.

What a nightmare. I had a feeling this wasn’t over yet.

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13 @plasticbottleholder @mushycore

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #leverage #rewrite #slow burn #multichapter #nate ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #ford!reader

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lemissingmask · 1 year ago

Text

[ID: Greyscale close up sketch of Eliot Spencer driving, with one hand on the wheel, and looking to his right with an unfocused, tired, expression, his eyes partially closed, and his mouth open as if speaking. End ID]

Day 18: Fever

Eliot develops a fever from an infected wound while driving, and Parker and Hardison have to treat him.

Ficlet below the cut

“Hardison.”

There was something wrong with Eliot’s voice. Not in the least like the voice he had used only moments before.

“Hardison.”

More insistent and even more at odds with the mood of moment Hardison had been so enjoying.

A firm pressure on his arm.

A strong hand gripping him tightly and shaking him.

Shaking him awake in a space as dark as the room in his dream, but with Eliot sitting beside him, bright eyes piercing in the dim light and holding an expression nothing like that of the dream Eliot.

They were in Lucille. They had been driving home from a job. Actually, Eliot had been driving while the others slept.

The van was parked up, but looking around to understand what was going on, Hardison saw they were not at home or at a gas station or any sort of place where they might usually have stopped.

“What?” Hardison asked, looking back to Eliot and imagining a dozen different scenarios…enemies in the dark outside, the van broken down (which, seriously, Lucille VI had just been upgraded), a new job they stumbled into…

“You gotta drive,” Eliot said, breathless, hoarse.

Hardison frowned. Usually Eliot insisted on driving these long journeys through. He could go far longer than the rest of them without sleep, and even on short trips they needed Hardison free so he could work on the digital side of things. And Parker driving was…well, that was an emergencies-only last resort.

Not to mention, Eliot sounded seriously rough.

“You okay, man?”

Eliot never answered that question, and he didn’t now.

“Dammit,” he growled, “Just drive.”

Still frowning, Hardison nodded and opened his door at the same time as Eliot.

As he passed the hitter in the illumination of the headlights, he tried to get a better look at his friend.

He saw no blood seeping through his clothes from a wound he had failed to tell them about, but Eliot looked pretty damn pale in a way the bright, white moon couldn’t justify. And the driver’s seat, when he got into it, was a lot warmer than explainable from normal body heat.

“What’s going on?” Parker, ruffled and flushed from her own sleep in the back of the van, poked her head up between them, “We back?”

“Babe, you mind checking Eliot’s temperature?” Hardison asked as he switched the interior lights on but didn’t yet start driving.

“Don’…”

But Parker was already pressing a hand to his forehead and Eliot wasn’t going to shake her off with enough force for it to actually work.

“You have a fever,” she said seriously and with a strength of accusation that made Eliot look away from them both.

“It’s nothin’.”

Parker huffed then reached through to jab her finger at Eliot’s ribs in a move that for literally anyone else would be obscenely dangerous. Eliot growled and pulled away, throwing her a sharp glare that then prompted him to wince and shut his eyes tightly.

Fever, dizziness, extreme pain in an area they knew had been slashed deep with a cleaver only a few days before…

“It’s infected isn’t it,” Parker glared at him.

“And why didn’t you tell us this?” Hardison offered his own glare to join Parker’s.

“It’s no big deal,” Eliot replied in that unsettlingly breathless voice, “It’ll keep til we get home. We’re only three hours off, but I ain’t safe to drive.”

Hardison gave him a doubtful glance, Parker glared and moments later she was in the front with them, taking up the rarely used middle seat.

“Lemme see.”

“No Parker,” Eliot growled, “Can’ do anythin’ til…we’re back anyway. Just leave it.”

“You’re burning up.”

Hardison looked across at him, “I’m with Parker. You don’t look good, man. Sure you’ll be okay another three hours.”

“‘M sure!”

The growl held even less venom than usual, but Hardison started the van anyway.

If Eliot was right and they couldn’t do anything now anyway, the best option was to start driving as soon as possible.

Three hours was plenty of time for an infection to develop and take hold, and it had already reduced Eliot to a state of hazy awareness, shivering in spite of his high temperature.

Parker produced some wet wipes from somewhere and proceeded to slap one on Eliot’s head or neck at irregular intervals, but it didn’t seem to help at all.

Eliot was completely out of it, struck down by the fever, by the time they reached their HQ. Not unconscious, but nowhere near conscious enough to walk or talk or do anything much beyond shiver.

Hardison wordlessly lifted him up, the heat of his body searing in contrast to the cool of the air conditioning and the night outside. With Parker ahead to open doors and unlock their security system, Hardison carried their hitter inside, ignoring the mumbled incoherent growls and dammits.

He took him to the downstairs bedroom. Technically this was Eliot’s, being the first that anyone would need to pass to reach the others, but it didn’t get much apparent use. More often Eliot took his short periods of sleep on the couch or in Parker and Hardison’s bed when at least one of the others was awake.

The room was stark and tidy, devoid of anything personal. His gym equipment was all in the main areas, and the few items Eliot held sentiment for tended to live in those places too - the katana from Nate and Sophie was on a stand beside the free weights, his guitar lived in Hardison’s room, and his box of training weapons had a hidden compartment known to contain a few photos.

Parker pulled back the sheets so Hardison could lay Eliot on the bed, which he really tried to do carefully, but the bed was pretty low and he sort of half dropped him onto it without much ceremony. The hitter took in a sharp breath, curling slightly towards his infected injury.

“Eliot?” Parker knelt beside him, leaning over his head and peering down at him.

She got no reply, and then nothing more than another sharpening of breath and flinch when she poked the wound.

“Guess we’re on our own,” Hardison laughed nervously, feeling not at all confident.

But over confidence was bad.

So that was okay.

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Parker hopped over Eliot onto the floor.

“While I Google how the hell to treat an infected cleaver wound without a medical degree.”

To be fair, TV and fanfiction had given him a pretty good idea of what it would involve, but he wasn’t about to trust Eliot’s life to the accuracy of research carried out for either medium.

By the time Parker had returned with the very well stocked first aid kit Eliot kept, he had found a guide with reliable citations and that tallied well with other guides and his background knowledge…seemed legit and made sense.

He set his tablet down with the instructions open and began to unfasten Eliot’s shirt.

At the contact, the hitter growled weakly and reached out to knock his hand away, delivering a strike with the heel of his palm that had unexpected strength to it.

“Hey!” Hardison soothed, withdrawing his hand, “It’s me an’ Parker. It’s just us, El. We’re gonna take care of this wound now.”

Blue eyes opened, just slightly. Bright blue visible within the reddened surround.

“You with us?”

Slowly, Eliot nodded. He kept watching, eyes met with Hardison’s as Parker worked on the task of removing Eliot’s shirt and undershirt, eventually deciding to cut the latter off.

“Y’ gotta…th’ stitches…” Eliot was barely audible, as Hardison helped sit him up for Parker to unwrap the bandages.

“I know,” Hardison brushed some hair from his face, “Undo the stitches, drain the wound, wash it out, give antibiotics.”

“Y’ use…G’gle?”

“No!” Hardison feigned offence, and Eliot smirked tiredly.

“Check see if…foreign body…in it.”

“What?” Parker paused and looked up at him.

“I think,” Hardison ventured, “See if you can find part of the blade or maybe some fabric from his clothes in the wound. Could be what caused the infection.”

Eliot nodded.

“Okay…” Parker pursed her lips, “I’m gonna have to dig around in there.”

“It’s gonna hurt.”

Eliot’s eyes drifted shut, “I know.”

“Guess you’ve been through this a few times before, huh.”

No answer.

Eliot’s eyes were shut, his body still shivered convulsively, but his brief lucidity gone.

With the bandages and clothes removed, Hardison lay Eliot back and looked across to Parker, who fixed him with a set look of determination.

“Let’s do this.”

Hardison nodded and they set to work.

Hands washed, gloves on, sleeves rolled up since they didn’t exactly have scrubs to hand.

The wound, neatly sewn up by Eliot at first, was swollen and red and generally pretty damn gross.

Parker didn’t seem to mind so much, and set to work nimbly following the Internet-found guide and undoing the sutures, releasing some of the reddening pressure of the wound, discarding the bloody thread onto a plastic sheet to the left of her.

Hardison mostly focused on Eliot’s face through this. On the tightening of his features in pain, from either Parker’s ministrations or just the wound more generally, or maybe from the fire of the fever itself. His erratic breathing seemed to stop for a brief, terrifying moment, but otherwise it hardly changed

So at least it didn’t seem to be getting worse. Maybe. Probably.

Hardison wished he’d have spent more time watching medical dramas. Might help now.

Or maybe played some doctor simulators. Operation.

Next came draining the wound.

The source didn’t exactly specify how, but Parker had once drained Eliot’s ear when it had started to cauliflower, and was holding up the same type of syringe used for that. Thick needle, enough to make Hardison grimace just looking at it.

Horrible to look at, but it should do the job.

Some of the pus building up was already released by the removal of stitches alone, and she washed this away with saline solution while Hardison held Eliot still, expecting more than the tensing and slight flinch that they got.

The rest, Parker used the syringe to drain, drawing off the excess built up fluid, enough to fill the large syringe.

Then more cleaning with saline and alcohol, and finally, he had no choice but to be more directly involved in their makeshift surgery.

Parker needed both hands free to search for foreign bodies in the wound. It had been a long slice, spanning across three ribs. Not going very deep all the way, but then there was rib that had luckily stopped it going deeper.

The infection could just be from the cleaver having been dirty, but then Eliot was diligent about cleaning his injuries, so the theory of something caught in there was sound.

Hardison left his place by Eliot’s head, grabbed up his phone, and shone the torch into the cut to give Parker some light.

“Swab away blood when I tell you,” she passed him a sterile roll of gauze, “Okay?”

He only nodded. Opening his mouth right now might just make him throw up.

It was very difficult to fight that or just straight up fainting, watching Parker deliberately probe carefully inside Eliot, pulling out two objects, fragments of cloth, one pretty large but right up in the upper edge where Eliot wouldn’t have found it. Parker continued a little longer, but seemed satisfied and sat back, looked at him, and frowned.

“Hardison, go sit down,” she said with an edge of concern to her voice.

He shook his head shakily.

“You look like you’re about to faint! Sit down! I’ve got this.”

Hardison didn’t argue again.

He did feel faint, and dizzy, and like maybe he had just caught Eliot’s fever. Except he wasn’t unresponsive, fitfully unconscious and feverish. He just needed to not see all that blood and the rib exposed and the smell of the blood…

He stumbled to the nearest bathroom and threw up.

He hated blood when he was younger, got a bit more used to it, especially being around Eliot. But the deliberate opening and poking around and…

Maybe there was a reason he didn’t watch hospital dramas.

He washed his hands, washed his face, washed his mouth out, and hurried back to Parker and Eliot, angry at himself for being unable to help more.

When he got back, Parker had already dressed the wound with some gauze and tape.

No stitches in case they needed to repeat the process.

She was bundling up the bloody gauze and instruments and thread into the plastic sheet when he walked in.

“You okay?” she asked without the least hint of judgement or disapproval, in that alone reminding him that it was alright not to be good at this.

“Yeah, all good,” he replied, forcing a smile and looking back to Eliot. All through this, he had been almost unresponsive, caught up in the fever and at the edge of delirium.

“We need to get some antibiotics,” Hardison said, kneeling and taking a wet wipe to try and offer Eliot a bit of gentle cooling, “I’ll look into where we can at this time.”

He got a hold of some, with the help of a medic they had met on a job a while back, who vouched for them as the best first choice in this case.

It took both Parker and Hardison to help Eliot, in a moment of moderate lucidity, to swallow the pills.

For all his stubbornness and usual refusal to let them help with his wounds at all, Eliot was a surprisingly compliant patient.

He did throw up ten minutes after the pill and water, and he did remove the cold compress Parker made for him twice, but Hardison decided to give Eliot benefit of the doubt and blame that solely on the fever and the infection.

With the antibiotics, which he mostly managed to keep down after the first, fluids given by an IV, and regular cleaning, the fever cleared in 48 hours.

Eliot was out of bed just a couple of hours later, albeit with Hardison helping him, and only to the bathroom so he could shower and make himself feel more human.

Hardison sat on the toilet and Parker in the sink while Eliot washed, as they had done a few times before when their hitter was injured enough that there was legitimate concern for him passing out in the shower. Eliot had argued the first two times, before giving up because, really, there wasn’t a lock he could put on the door that would keep them out.

This time, he even obliged their insistence on redressing the wound before they helped him into clean clothes, and finally back out and to the main comfy living area.

He dropped tiredly into his preferred seat, at an angle to the couch and with sight lines towards the entrance to their HQ, but a clear view of the TV as well.

“You didn’t do any delirious rambling,” Parker complained after they’d been sitting in silence for a while, a film on the screen, volume low.

Eliot frowned at her.

“People with fevers are supposed to be delirious and reveal dramatic secrets.”

The hitter’s expression of mild confusion didn’t change, “Sorry about that. I’ll try to remember next time.”

“Next time,” Hardison glared up from his laptop and the game he had been playing, “You’re gonna tell us as soon as you think a wound’s infected so we can avoid all this nastiness.”

Eliot looked over to him softly and lowered his head, an apology or agreement, or probably both.

They accepted the wordless response, and with it, the matter was dropped. Eliot wouldn't risk putting them through this again, and they would be more alert to the possibility in the future, so nothing more needed to be said.

Except, Eliot did speak, after a long pause.

“Thank you. Both of you,” he spoke almost as quietly as the film, fixing them earnestly, “You did a good job.”

And because a pure, genuine expression of sentiment like that hung uneasily between them in anything but the most dire situation, he added with a smirk, “Even if you did use Google.”

#ailesswhumptober2023 #Day 18: Fever #leverage #parker #alec hardison #eliot spencer #masks whump art

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apollabarnes · 17 days ago

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☎️☎️ 💰💰💰💰 I am intrigued

make me write

(for background on abby and tommy, i've actually got the first few parts posted on ao3 already)

☎️ - abby and tommy au

okay, the first guy has those idiotic balls hanging off the back of his truck. he's going to be a total dick about everything. no. you realize this is grindr and not like, the actual bachelor. they don't have to have a great personality. abby rolls her eyes at the message on her phone as the oven timer goes off. she takes a minute to load up a rubbermaid container, adding it to the bag of snacks the girls are taking with them. she's really hoping six girls can eat as many snacks as she remembers, or they're going to have chocolate chip cookies until christmas. i'm just saying that we can aim a little higher than "don't have to have a great personality." yeah, okay. so who are we thinking, two or three? message them both and see who doesn't lead off with a dick pic or an invitation to their place. why were those your examples? it's grindr, tommy.

💰 - we provide... emergencies (meet tommy's bff eliot spencer)

(nearly featuring "sir not appearing in this snippet" tommy but he showed up right at the end! dialogue heavy draft)

"Oh hey, yeah, Chase Mackey!" Harry gestured at the screen. "He's great. We had him out to the firm a few years ago. He's a real shark, once he took on the city of Los Angeles and… well actually there's an NDA about that, so I shouldn't even really know about it." "Mr. Wilson, you know the most delightful people. An ambulance chaser at Collins, Gershowitz and Safer? I thought they were more highbrow than that." "Okay, ambulance chaser is a strong word — you know, sometimes I really think you people don't like lawyers." "Oh no, Mr. Wilson, we like lawyers. As long as they're one of us," Sophie corrected him, smiling warmly. "I like that Harry still thinks things like NDAs mean anything to us," Parker called from the kitchen. "You already… oh, you already hacked into his files." "In a roundabout way. We were looking into the person he got that deal for." "And you were looking into a firefighter because…" "Because he knows our pilot and we were trying to figure out if that would be an issue." "We have a pilot? Since when have we had our own pilot? And why didn't we use them when we were going to London?" "I mostly do helicopters, but I mean, if you were really in a bind to go transatlantic I could probably find a way." Tommy shrugged. "Poker buddy Tommy is your pilot? Eliot!"

#make me write #answered ask #setmeatopthepyre #that was us #we provide emergencies #(listen i am having a lot of fun with these)#(if you want more stuff regarding the leverage i do have a section picked out since tommy really nearly didn't show up at all)#bucktommy #leverage #abbytommy

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dapper-nahrwhale · 2 months ago

Text

Home is the first grave

(a leverage/the librarians crossover where Eliot and Jake are twins)

Chapter 2

[read it here]

When their Mama managed to herd them all in the old car to Sunday church services, the two of them would hide in the back pews together. And only then would Jake light up and talk Eliot’s ear off about whatever century stain glass or old creepy statues or fancy architecture or something else.

Hiding down in those church pews, it was like magic was real and nothing could hurt them.

The morning light glistened through the stained glass, a kaleidoscope of colors bursting on the brick white walls, all telling stories fragile as glass and paper ever could. The columns and pillars are taller than giants towering over them, the high and hallowed architecture singing loud and silent. Statues older than God line the halls, all praying for some kind of saving.

There were stories to be told behind everything.

But any time someone looked at Jake or passed by them, he'd bite his tongue, get all quiet, and look down at his dirty shoes. It was shame or guilt, something ugly and terrible that ate him up from the outside in. The bright smile and life in his eyes shriveled up and died.

It really was one of the most horrible things Eliot ever saw.

He'd never hated their father more in those moments.

Eliot would glare daggers at anyone who did look at Jake, but the damage was done. It was too late already. They'd got him thinking he couldn't, shouldn't, be smart and enjoy his little art things.

Sure, Eliot didn't get the appeal, but he could see clear as day how happy it made Jake. He just wishes Jake could see it.

But the worst thing is, he got it. Why he hid his talents. Why he didn't tell anybody just how smart he was, why he did all this. He understood, it's a small town and you gotta play your part in your own little boxes, if you stepped out of line bad things could come your way if you weren't careful.

Small towns could be your home or your grave, but it had to be something you carry with you. It just depends how close to the chest you play your cards. Community or cruelty. The rumors fly fast and hit hard, and you don't wanna get kicked out of the only place you've known. It's hard to love something so dearly, something that will kick you to the curb the second you don't stick to how it should be. It's hard to leave and it's harder to stay.

Jake saw value and beauty just about everywhere in the world. Eliot just wished he could see it all in himself.

Eliot knew all he was good for was taking a punch, but Jake was so much smarter than all that. He knew all this stuff about art movements, and about different architecture styles, and could recite poetry on the spot. He'd read books about different languages, research history about all sorts of things Eliot didn't have a clue about. It was so impressive and incredible and Jake didn't really think so.

He'd taught himself all kinds of stuff in secret, skipping out on football practice to stay in at the library. Reading all these old books. He could be something so much bigger than this little town if he'd just let himself.

If he'd just let himself take the more advanced classes, he could do some really impressive stuff and get a scholarship into some fancy college and get out of this two pony town.

Eliot knew he didn't have a chance in hell to get out of this town on his own. He knew that.

But Jake wasn't him, he was better than him. He could do what Eliot couldn't. He had a real shot at leaving. And the fact he refused to even think about it, pissed Eliot off more than anything else.

He said he had an obligation to his family, he couldn't just leave them.

An obligation to their dad. He couldn't just leave.

The company's been better. Eliot had heard Pop yelling on the landline downstairs about something or other going wrong. Pop ain't in charge of it yet, but with the way Grandpa's health has been going, it won't be too long now before he is in charge.

And that could only ever spell disaster.

He'd always blamed Jake when something went wrong. Never himself.

Said Jake was too weak and cowardly, that Eliot wouldn't always be around to cover for his screw ups. All he was good for was brick dumb muscle.

All he ever did was hide behind Eliot.

It was true, but only because Eliot refused to let them be seen.

Eliot would protect them as much as he physically could, but he couldn't protect them in the other ways.

Jake never took to fighting the way Eliot did. As a release, as a refuge, as a requirement. He was far from bad at it, but he lacked the sort of drive and insight that Eliot had. He didn't want to fight. He didn't need to.

He did it to survive, but he didn't enjoy it. Not to say Eliot did, but he always took pride in a job well done.

Boxing and football and wrestling were some of the sports they'd had their hands in. They were good at them, not great, but good. Jake had always been better at team sports and Eliot had shined solo. How it's always been.

But no matter what they did, it was never good enough for him.

It would never make up for the fact they were disappointments deciding to be different than he wanted them to be.

It was hard not to taste his resentment of them. Especially Jake. As much as he tried, he hadn't yet gotten thick enough skin to ignore all the slights and digs at him.

He'd ignore Hannah, blame Jake for every little thing, and push for Eliot to be just like him.

Living there was suffocating. It would kill them in the end, he knew it would.

Jake can smell his mom's chili recipe. The mix of sweet and spicy chili peppers, fresh tomatoes, an absolute insane amount of garlic, and simmering beef.

He hadn't had her chili in years. He can't even remember the last time he'd had it. The memory the smell conjures, chokes him all up.

He misses her more than he ever had. It's a cutting feeling, the yearning for days long past. When life was simple and love was easy. When the worst pain he'd felt was a scraped knee, when summer stretched on forever.

Then he remembered. It's summer. They're staying over at their grandparents house. It's morning. And he can smell his mom's chili.

He stumbles sleepily down the stairs to the kitchen.

The sun is melting down the curtains, the world glows in celebration, in mourning.

It's mourning.

The chatter and clunks from the kitchen as his Grandma and Hannah are crowded around the stove. Hannah's tall enough now that she doesn't need the dusty stool in the corner to see over the counter. And when did that happen, he looked away for a second and she grew up tall. He wonders what else happened to her when he wasn't looking.

The chili has to simmer and cook all day before it's ready. Really it should take a couple days to get the flavors just right, but he can't stand smelling it for that long he thinks.

It smells like longing.

It smells like home.

It's the morning of their Grandpa's funeral.

They don't talk about Eliot’s black eye or how Hannah won't meet their eyes or Jake staring blank at his book under the table.

They never do say things in such words. It's just not what they do, not who they are to bring such things up into the light. Those are reserved for quiet conversations in the dead of night.

They all know what's going on, they know they can't stop it, they know it's bad. They deal by not dealing with it. By pretending it isn't happening. By pretending everything is fine. They're very good at it now, they've had lots of practice over the years.

It festers like an old wound, unchecked and infected.

It always does.

It's really a beautiful ceremony. In the church they all grew up in, the one they hadn't been in since their mom died. It hasn't changed much at all. Same fire and brimstone pastor, same tittering old ladies gossiping, same everything.

Well, there's been a few changes in statues and other little things. But the bones of the building always stay the same. It was built like this, all the same.

He doesn't show up. They had been staying with their grandparents since they found the diagnosis earlier in the year. Only so much time was left. And he never showed up at all during it.

It was a strange adjustment. Took some getting used to, but now Eliot dreads going back to live with him.

It was nice to not have to fight so much all the time. To rest, to cook, to laugh.

He's going to miss it like a limb cut off.

It makes him feel like a piece of shit, that he is more torn up about what the aftermath of Pappy's death will be than him actually dying. Anyone seeing him cry would assume such, they wouldn't think he's grieving the wrong thing.

But they won't see him cry. He stands stoic and jaw clenched tight enough to crack, he can't afford to break. Not right now. He's holding Hannah as she's holding back tears and holding Jake's hand as he's holding the pew in front of them and staring at the ceiling.

The potluck afterwards is mostly somber, with a touch of revelry. There's food of all kinds, including the chili from this morning. They eat and tell stories and laugh and cry.

They decide to spend the final night there with their grandma. She had wanted them to come back to help sort through his things in the following week, but said she needed the house to herself for a bit. She sends them off with bread, and vegetables, and tupperwares of chili and soup and everything else.

The other two are fast asleep in the car as Eliot drives them back. It's a 45 minute drive, but he takes it slower than normal, appreciating the cool breeze of the night. The quiet and the winding road back home.

Eliot sees what he had been hoping to avoid. Their father, drunk as a skunk on the front porch. Waiting impatiently.

His cheeks are sunken and his eyes are hollow. And Eliot feels guilty deep down. He shouldn't have left. Look what happened. What he did.

It was his grandad, but it was his dad's dad first.

He shouldn't have left him alone.

“It's your fault you know.” Pop spits out at him as he comes up the porch.

“I know. Come on, go and get some sleep, Pop.” Eliot steps forward to try and get him inside. It's late and he's tired and stuffed too full of feelings and he doesn't want to do this right now.

“Don't tell me what to do, boy.” He shakily points the barrel of the shotgun next to him in Eliot's general direction.

Eliot stops moving. Staring down the gun, his heart thumps fast in his ears.

Eliot gulps down his fear because he wouldn't, “Pop, just. Just come on, let's go inside an-”

He can barely hear the click as he arms it.

Eliot choked on his heart leaping through his throat. He can't move.

“Whater you gonna do about it now?” He laughs. He pointed a loaded gun at him and laughed.

And Eliot is frozen. In fear and terror and confusion and everything.

“You should see the look on your face! You really think I'd waste a bullet on you? Ha.” But the gun is still there.

Well, he hadn't been sure if he'd really shoot or not. He had been praying on not, but he just couldn't be sure.

He had always been an angry drunk man. Eliot wasn't sure how far Pop would go if pushed. He wasn't sure how far he would go if pushed.

And the gun is still there.

Eliot can't move. His father is holding a gun up to his head and he can't do a single damn thing about it.

He doesn't know if he'd really pull the trigger. He might.

He might not.

But he might.

“Quit it Pop.” Eliot whispers, terrified to say anything louder. He can feel tears prickle and jump at his eyes. He can't cry now. He really can't.

“You don' tell me what to do.” He sneers.

“Okay, okay.” He placates, hands turned up, eyes down. He shoved his anger at this deep down. He can't be angry right now.

“From now on, it's gonna be different around here.” He says, like a smug sheriff.

“Okay.” It's getting hard to breathe. It's getting hard to move, to keep still, to live.

“You're gonna give me the respect I deserve, I'm the one that puts a roof over your heads, feeds you, clothes ya keeps you off the damn streets.” He brandishes the gun a bit more wildly at that.

“Okay.” It's all he can say with all his focus on the gun swaying in front of him, appeasing the angry drunk man has never been so difficult.

“Okay, okay, is that all you can say? You're so stupid, you can't come up with anything more clever in that dumb brick of yours, Jakey.” He taunts, stumbling around.

“M’ Eliot, not Jake.” He'd take a gun in the face any day over slander of his brother's name.

“Same fuckin’ difference. Pair of idiots the both of ya. Good for nothin’s.” And finally the gun goes down enough for him to take a swig from a bottle.

Then he goes down, the gun clatters to the floor and the bottle thuds.

Thank God.

Eliot clumsily fumbles with the shotgun in the dim light to disarm it without blowing his head off, eventually getting it.

He takes the bottle and throws it as far as he can in the distance.

Staring down at him, he feels his anger dissipate. He looks so small.

He still fucking held him at gunpoint.

His dad just died.

But he still just held him at gunpoint.

He sighs, and does what he always knew he was going to do.

He picks him up and drags him to bed.

He throws him in the cover and slams the door.

Gathering Hannah and Jake is easier by a long shot. Just shaking them awake in the car and gently telling them to get to bed, and off they go back to sleep.

Later on he's collapsed on his bed and covers his mouth tightly so he doesn't scream.

If it had been Jake or Hannah in front of that gun, he wouldn't even have hesitated to get in front of them and diffused the situation as quickly as possible. But since it was himself, he hesitated.

He hesitated.

He could have died. His dad could have just killed him if he'd said the wrong thing. He almost got himself killed. He's very lucky to be alive right now.

He doesn't know how much longer his luck will hold out for.

It can't be forever.

#leverage #the librarians #leverage fic #the librarians fic #eliot spencer #jacob stone #b.text

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lokiondisneyplus · 1 year ago

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The first scene filmed for Season 2 of Marvel Studios’ Loki��was the one from Episode 6, specifically when Loki time slips back into the Time Variance Authority to speak to Mobius. It’s a mirror of the scene directly pulled from the first episode of the first season, where Mobius has brought Loki to a time theater to interrogate him about some of his past transgressions. Loki, way back when, does not want to partake in any of this and threatens to burn the place to the ground. But now, at the end of Season 2, the scene takes on a different tone as Loki has returned here to ask for help, and essentially say goodbye to his best friend.

While getting ready to film this scene on set on Day 1, in a behind-the-scenes interview, Tom Hiddleston reflected on what a full circle moment it was for him and the character.

“Loki has to go back, right back to the beginning of the story, to see if he can find an answer to a question in his mind,” He explains. “He needs to go back to where it all began. It reminds me of that T. S. Eliot poem, the “Four Quartets,” ‘and the end of all of our, oh no we shall not cease, we shall not cease from exploration and the end of all of our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.’”

All season long, Loki has been on a mission — across the timelines — to try and save the TVA and his friends. It hasn’t worked out in his favor so far. He’s eventually faced with an impossible task and begins to slowly realize what he must do, but not before slipping back to talk to Mobius one last time. He wants to say goodbye.

“I think structurally we felt as soon as Loki gets back into the Temporal Core control room, the story's got to pick up, and you're going to move into this fully different thing. There's no time to stop down and have that sort of goodbye with Mobius,” Executive Producer Kevin Wright explains to Marvel.com. “When you start talking about, OK, we need to carve out some way that we can get somewhere and have a goodbye with Mobius. And Mobius doesn't know it's a goodbye. Literally, in his timeline, he's just meeting this guy. But to Loki, this is the goodbye.”

Head Writer Eric Martin viewed the scene as one last time for these characters to have one of their tried-and-true conversations across a table. “Loki already knows what he's going to do. He already knows what he has to do. So, when you sit down to write that, it's just like, all right, we have to have him express where he is right now and get what he needs out of Mobius, but he's engaging emotionally, too.”

As Wright notes, unlike the scene in Season 1 Episode 1, the script is flipped on the integration this time, as it’s Loki who’s asking Mobius all sorts of questions. It’s at this point that Loki, and viewers, learn Mobius’ own origin story with the TVA and some of the hard choices he’s had to make over the years. Loki, staring down his own hard choice, needs to hear some of these things himself.

“That was always really important, revealing more about Mobius than maybe we ever realized in two seasons, what his past was, and it was sort of then a flip of that season one interrogation, where it was so antagonistic, and this time it's Loki going back to try to get advice on how to handle a really difficult situation,” Wright continues. “This Mobius doesn't even realize that's the conversation he's having.”

The two men talk for a bit, but it can’t last forever. Loki asks about what it’s like to make hard decisions, and eventually, Mobius tells Loki exactly what he needs to hear: “Most purpose is more burden than glory, trust me you never want to be the guy who avoids it because you can’t live with the burden.”

With tears in his eyes, Loki shakes Mobius’ hand and says thank you before he slips away, again. If you’re emotional, know that that emotion you’re seeing between the two men on screen is real.

“It's a special thing, because Tom and Owen, they have a real connection on screen,” Martin adds. “That chemistry is there. It's there in person. They work so well together. I think it's touching for everybody on set because you're just feeling a little bit of magic. It's the last magic that everybody will see.”

Hiddleston knows that what he’s got with Wilson as a scene partner is special, and that’s what makes this goodbye so much harder. “Owen is kind of elevated the whole series, he’s so intelligent and imaginative and witty. Mobius and Loki are kind of an odd couple but, they found a friendship. They make each other better.”

#tom hiddleston #owen wilson #loki #mobius #loki s2

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dystopicjumpsuit · 1 year ago

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Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 1

Remember Us

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: minor angst

Suggested Listening:

Summary: Soldiers. Heroes. Deserters. Traitors. They've been called many things. As the Galactic Empire rises from the ashes of the Republic, a small group of clone troopers and their allies will find a new identity: Rebels.

Echo, Rex, and Gregor are on a mission to save as many of their brothers as they can. The task is daunting, and their friends are few. But from these small and desperate beginnings will come a spark of resistance that will set the galaxy ablaze.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

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Remember us—if at all—not as lost violent souls, but only as the hollow men.

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

The Marauder pushed off the landing platform with a roar of thrusters and rose through the underworld portal until it disappeared in the swirl of air speeder and starship traffic. The repair shop where Rex had set up his base of operations was deep in the lower levels of Coruscant, and Echo knew the ship would keep ascending long after he lost sight of it before it reached the surface. His decision to part ways with the Batch had seemed very straightforward and logical as he’d discussed it with Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech, but in the face of Omega’s tearful farewell, his resolve had nearly crumbled.

He knew that the rest of the Batch would never let any harm come to the girl; her safety was their only priority. But Echo needed to do more to help his fellow clones, and with Rex, he would finally be in a position to do so. And so he merely watched as the ship departed, bearing his brothers and sister back to Ord Mantell and Cid’s endlessly questionable jobs.

He turned to rejoin Rex and Senator Chuchi. They had been conversing discreetly, giving him privacy and space as he said his goodbyes. The senator watched him now, her luminous eyes soft.

“It’s very brave of you, Echo, to stay behind and join our network after everything you’ve been through,” she said.

“Thank you, Senator,” he said, “but I’ve never been one to back down from a fight.”

“Please, call me Riyo,” she said.

Echo nodded as Rex clapped him on the shoulder.

“Come on, brother,” his old captain said. “I’ll show you around.”

The tour didn’t take long. The repair shop apparently belonged to Trace Martez, the young thief Echo had encountered on Corellia. Rex had taken over the shop when Coruscant got a little too hot for the Martez sisters’ comfort. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement: Rex needed a home base, and Trace needed someone to make sure the shop didn’t fall victim to the seedier elements of the underworld. Rex had set up a kitchen, a temporary barracks, and a small training gym at the back of the shop. There was a tiny room that served as a makeshift office and command center, and finally a communal refresher with two open shower stalls, an enclosed toilet, and a small sink. The garage contained few creature comforts; mostly they just used crates for furniture, though there was a broken-down old sofa with a holotable set up in front of it.

The accommodations were spare and shabby, which was familiar to Echo, but he was struck by how out-of-place Riyo looked in the shop. With her elegant clothing and elaborate hairstyle, she looked far too delicate and fine for her surroundings. Still, she didn’t display either judgment or discomfort at the sparseness of the shop. Echo stole occasional glances at her, admiring the soft curves of her face, the graceful line of her throat, the way her wide, intelligent eyes took in everything around her, missing not a single detail. He wondered how to describe the exact shade of her hair. Was it mauve? Or maybe violet was more accurate. Her gaze shifted to him, and he looked away quickly.

The unmistakable whine of a speeder bike landing on the platform outside interrupted his train of thought, and soon footsteps echoed through the shop.

“Rex? You here?” a woman’s voice called.

“Back here, Cerra,” Rex replied. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

The woman strode into view, faltering a little when she spotted Echo.

“Echo, I’d like you to meet Cerra Kilian,” Rex said. “She handles logistics. Very good at getting things clones aren’t supposed to have.”

“Nice to meet you, Cerra,” Echo said.

The woman clasped Echo’s hand in a reserved greeting and nodded at Riyo. “A pleasure, Echo. Senator, it’s good to see you again.”

“And you as well, Cerra,” Riyo replied.

The contrast between the two women could not have been more stark. Riyo was lovely, with her wide, golden eyes, azure skin, and glossy lavender—no, lilac—hair. Everything about her was soft and feminine and fragile, almost ethereal. Cerra was taller and more solid, her face more angular, and everything about her spoke of practical decisions, from her buzzed head, to her faded mechanic’s coveralls and sturdy boots. More striking, though, was the difference in their expressions. While Riyo’s face was gentle and easy to read, Cerra’s guarded eyes revealed nothing of her thoughts.

“Got a lead on that electro capsule the clone assassin used,” Cerra said.

“What did you learn?” Rex asked.

“It isn’t underworld tech,” Cerra said. “At least, not as far as any of my contacts could tell. More likely military-grade.”

“Then it probably was Rampart’s work,” Rex said grimly.

“Hard to say,” Cerra said. “We know somebody was pulling Rampart’s strings. I’ll keep looking.”

“I hope I don’t sound selfish, but I can’t help wondering. Do you think I might still be in danger?” Riyo asked.

Cerra looked at Rex, wordlessly deferring to him.

“It’s difficult to say,” Rex said. “For now, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for your guards to take additional precautions.”

“I can take a look at their security protocols and offer a few suggestions, if you’d like,” Echo offered.

“Thank you,” Riyo said, gazing up at him with gratitude in her eyes. “I would imagine that someone as accomplished at infiltration as an ARC Trooper would be the best person to find weaknesses in security.”

“Former ARC Trooper,” Echo said, wondering what else Rex had told her about him.

“I don’t think anyone could forget ARC training,” Rex said with a quiet laugh.

Cerra’s eyes flickered to the front entrance of the repair shop, and Echo turned automatically, preparing for a threat. Instead, he recognized a familiar face.

“Didn’t realize we were having a party,” Gregor said as he strode into the room and clasped Echo’s forearm in greeting. “Good to have you with us, Echo.”

The commando nodded at Rex and Riyo, then draped his arm casually over Cerra’s shoulders and handed her a travel cup. The woman pushed him off with an indistinct grumble, but she took the cup with the barest hint of a smile.

“I got some intel on a clone in the 41st Elite Corps who wants to get out. Name’s Fireball, do you know him?” Gregor asked.

“I’ve met him,” Rex said. “Good man. Good soldier.”

“Is the 41st still on Kashyyyk?” Echo asked. “I was there recently. Rex, it could get ugly.”

“It’ll take some time to plan,” Rex said noncommittally.

“That’s not the only thing we’ll need to plan,” Gregor said. “If we’re going to be extracting clones, we’re going to need a way to get the inhibitor chips out of their heads. AZI took mine out on Ord Mantell, but we don’t have a medical droid of our own.”

“Karthon chop fields,” Cerra said. Riyo and the three clones all turned to her. “I’ve been looking into it. My source says there are at least three downed Venators slated for decommissioning on Karthon. We can pull the surgical pod from one of the med bays and set it up here.”

“It’s risky,” Rex said.

“Not as risky as Lotho Minor or Bracca, now that the Empire has stepped up security after your adventure there last year,” Cerra said. “I can get it, but I’ll need help. Gregor, you in?”

“I’d like Echo to go with you on this one,” Rex interjected.

Cerra didn’t react except to nod. “It’s going to take a few days to get the supplies together.”

Over the next few days, Echo began to get a feel for the small group living in the repair shop. Rex was right: his organization was spread thin. Echo wasn’t exactly sure how many others were involved, but at the moment, the only people besides himself who were at the garage were Rex, Cerra, and Gregor. Any others were either deployed on missions or based elsewhere. The three of them were run ragged. Rex looked even more exhausted than he had during the war. Cerra was quiet and remote, keeping to herself and rarely instigating conversations. Gregor was the only one who still seemed to have a sense of humor.

In addition to running missions with Rex, Gregor was the self-appointed quartermaster and chef of the group. He was a surprisingly good cook, and when Echo complimented the food, the commando grinned.

“It’s nice to be the one in charge of the kitchen instead of just washing dishes,” he said.

“If I start cooking, does that mean I can skip dish duty?” Cerra asked.

“No thanks, I’ve tasted your cooking,” Gregor laughed, his eyes bright.

“Rude, but fair,” Cerra acknowledged.

It was the night before Echo was due to travel to Karthon with Cerra. The group sprawled around the holotable, chatting quietly as they ate Gregor’s spicy yobshrimp stew. Echo was jittery. He wasn’t nervous about the mission itself; he’d completed hundreds of missions. But they were always with his brothers or a Jedi. This was his first time with a civilian. Still, Rex obviously trusted Cerra enough to send her after the surgical pod, so Echo tried to quiet his nerves.

“I can take KP tonight,” Echo offered, looking for a distraction.

“You’re on,” Cerra said immediately.

“Sucker,” Gregor giggled.

The kitchen was a spectacular mess, and it took some time for Echo to finish cleaning up. By the time he did, he could hear music blasting from the training gym, and he went to investigate.

Gregor leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, as he watched Rex spar with Cerra. Her face was flushed with exertion, and beads of sweat speckled her forehead and dripped down her temples. Echo could tell that Rex was holding back, though Cerra had surprisingly good form. She clearly had training, but it wasn’t enough against an opponent who was taller, stronger, heavier, and had been trained literally from birth to be a killing machine. Gregor occasionally tossed out a dispassionate suggestion or command, focusing on techniques specifically for fighting a larger combatant.

“Pull guard, Cerra, just like we practiced,” the commando coached.

Cerra grabbed Rex’s forearm and took him to the ground, locking her legs around his waist. Echo immediately recognized the move; he’d practiced it often enough during ARC training. He hadn’t sparred with anyone in ages, and he wondered if his prosthetic legs were agile enough to do it. He suspected so; though they were not quite as dexterous as his legs had formerly been, they made up for it in durability and strength. A single kick would be strong enough to snap a limb or break a spine.

“That’s better, Cerra,” Rex praised.

“Next time, rotate your foot to the outside,” Gregor said, unimpressed. “Unless you want to break your own ankle or get your leg pinned.”

Cerra slapped Rex on the back of the head. “Stop taking it easy on me.”

He grinned down at her. “Sorry, kid. Gotta walk before you can run.”

“First of all, I’m twice your age, and secondly, a real opponent won’t pull their punches,” she said.

“That’s why you have a blaster,” Rex replied calmly. “Want to go again?”

She nodded, but Gregor intervened. “You need to rest up for tomorrow’s mission.”

Cerra released Rex immediately, and he stood to his feet, then extended a hand and pulled her up from the mat. She was breathing hard, and Gregor tossed her a towel to dry off. She spotted Echo and acknowledged him with a jerk of her chin.

“Maybe Echo can teach me some sweet ARC moves while we’re en route to Karthon,” she said.

“Didn’t Fives show you any?” Gregor asked.

Rex winced, but Cerra mopped her face and arms with the towel.

“A few,” she said.

“You knew Fives?” Echo asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m going to hop in the shower.”

“I can’t believe we’re taking that rust-bucket to Karthon,” Echo said.

The rickety shuttle was practically an antique. The sublight drive rattled alarmingly when it started up, and even the hydraulic struts for the ramp only worked about half the time.

“It’s old, but it still has some tricks thanks to Trace,” Rex said. “It’ll get you there and back. Besides, it’s the only ship we have with a cargo hold big enough to transport the surgical pod.”

“She’ll fly all right,” Cerra said as she joined them. “Not fast. Hopefully she won’t leak like a sieve.”

Rex was holding two travel mugs of caf, and he handed one to Cerra.

“You’re a god among men,” she said, taking a blissful sip.

“Is the other one for me?” Echo asked.

“Kark no,” Rex said, chugging half the liquid in one go. “Get your own.”

Cerra strode up the ramp and flopped into the co-pilot’s seat. “Don’t worry, Echo, we can stop at Starcups on the way out.”

Echo pulled a face. “Starcups barely qualifies as caf. More like syrup and blue milk that once heard a rumor about caf.”

“Still gets the job done,” Cerra shrugged. “Let’s roll.”

In the slow, dilapidated old shuttle, it was a full day’s jump to Karthon. Cerra was mostly silent once they entered hyperspace, tinkering with the electronic guts of a clone armor cuirass that she’d modified heavily. Echo, accustomed to Wrecker and Omega’s raucous banter and Tech’s spontaneous infodumps, found the silence deafening. He wished Gregor had come with them on the mission. The commando’s relaxed attitude and cheerful personality seemed to pull Cerra out of her shell in a way that Echo had not yet figured out how to do. He was no sparkling conversationalist, but he didn’t enjoy silence and solitude—not any more.

It had only been a few days, but he missed the Batch. He missed Tech’s monologues as they copiloted the Marauder on long hyperspace jumps. He missed Omega’s endless questions and cheerful commentary. He thought of the way the tears had welled in her eyes as she hugged him goodbye, and his chest ached at the memory.

The cuirass sparked, and Cerra flinched and cursed.

“Need a hand?” Echo offered.

Cerra sighed and dragged a hand across her eyes. “I think I fried one of the connectors when I heated the plastoid to reshape the chestplate. The control unit fits, but I can’t get it to sync with the HUD.”

She passed the cuirass to Echo, who inspected it closely. She was right; there was a tiny scorch mark on one of the connectors.

“We’ll have to salvage another chestplate to get replacements,” he said. “Decent chance we’ll find some on Karthon.”

“At least it’ll give me some protection for now,” she said. “I’ll just have to go without a helmet until I can get it fixed.”

“I can help with the modifications, if you’d like,” Echo offered. “I have some experience with armor mods.”

“So I see,” she said, eyeing his custom suit. “I figured your armor wasn’t exactly off the rack.”

Echo chuckled. “Not exactly. My squadmate Tech helped me with my first set of armor after Skako Minor, but this set I modified myself. I added some extra features. Aside from the obvious.” He gestured to his scomp.

“What kind of features?” she asked.

“Electrical surge prevention,” he said.

She nodded. “Kix told me you got a hell of a jolt at Anaxes.”

“You knew Kix as well as Fives?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “He’s gone, too.”

Darkness flickered across her face, but she took a deep breath and her usual stoicism slid back into place. Echo reached out to lay his hand on her shoulder, but something about her posture made him think she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. He faltered and dropped his hand back to his side. After a time, he broke the silence.

“So,” he said. “How well did you know Fives?”

“Pretty well,” she said flatly. “So how about those sweet ARC moves?”

He wanted to push, wanted to know more. Rex had given him the bare-bones account of Fives’s death, but there never seemed to be enough time to actually process it. Cerra was the only person in Echo’s life other than Rex who had known his twin, but her walls seemed to be made of durasteel, reinforced with beskar. And the last thing he wanted to do was scug her off right before he headed into a mission, trusting her to have his back.

“Rex went through ARC training, too, you know,” Echo pointed out. “He knows all those moves. But I can show you a trick or two that I learned from Clone Force 99.”

---

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Tagging: @secondaryrealm @blueink-bluesoul @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

#stars beyond number #tbb echo #tbb gregor #tbb rex #echo x riyo chuchi #tbb fanfic #dystopicjumpsuitwrites #gregor x ofc #captain gregor #captain traitor #captain rex #arc trooper echo #Spotify

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somestorythoughts · 8 months ago

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Leverage Immortals - do I need to start Numbering these?

Seriously. Should I be numbering these? At the very least I should probably start picking better titles. Anyway. Have some immortal Nate Ford! :

Nate is. Not in the best head place. Frankly. He is fully aware of that. He just doesn't give a shit.

It's not the first time he's lost someone. He likes being around people, he likes have friends and being a regular at the local bar and staying in a place long enough to have favorite places to eat or walk. And he does that a lot. He's the kind of immortal that tends to stay in one place for two or three decades, and if you do that, and you do it around people instead of in the middle of nowhere, it's easy to form enough of a connection to grieve a death. And Nate's more than a bit of a bastard, but he does make friends. It just takes more than a bit of effort. So it's not the first time he's lost someone he cared about.

But he's never had a son.

Maggie had been perceptive. Not immortal, he would have outlived her just as he'd outlived his family, as he'd outlived his first wife, the woman who hadn't turned away from him when she found out he'd already lived longer than she ever would. He thinks she and Maggie would have liked each other. But he's getting off topic. Maggie was no seer, and she didn't See everything, but she saw more of what people where than was normal. So she'd figured out he was immortal, and accepted it.

And then they had a kid. Nate loves Sam more than anything. And Nate doesn't fully know how immortality works but he knows now it isn't a dominate gene. Sam's death breaks him.

He stops caring, for a long time. A bit of vengeance brings him back, pulls enough of him out of the gutter because how dare a con man use his son to convince Nate to steal. And then Sophie, Hardison, Eliot, Parker, they give him a cause. Take down bad guys via theft.

It's not like Nate hasn't been a figure for justice over all his centuries. He'd just. Lost the drive for it with his son. And this is a new way to do it. But it's something to keep him out of the shit show his head is in.

And then it becomes something more.

#nate ford #leverage #leverage immortals au #leverage au #leverage team #maggie collins

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my-beloved-lakes · 1 year ago

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@leveragetober

Leveragetober 2023

Prompt 4: crossover

Parker, Eliot and Hardison take a job in Paris. When it gets interrupted by a con artist who is scamming their mark, they decide to recruit him into Leverage International. (Under the cut.)

Parker eyed the man claiming to be the mark's assistant, tied to the chair in front of her. He was a grifter, No doubt about it now. And he was really good too.

None of them had suspected him of being criminal, not until they had caught him trying to clear out the mark’s bank account at the same time as them, making this simple trip to Paris much more complicated.

So, who was this guy really? A grifter, sure, but why had he chosen the exact same mark as them? Maybe it was just a coincidence, but what were the chances of that?

"Who are you?" Parker asked. "And don’t bother lying. We’ll know if you do.”

Parker heard Eliot crack his knuckles behind her. She knew Eliot wasn't actually going to hurt this guy, since he wasn’t much of a threat, but this guy didn't know that. And yet Parker only caught a brief flash of fear in his eyes before he managed to hide it again.

He’s not gonna talk, is he? Parker shrugged. There were other ways of finding out what they wanted to know.

"Run his face through that thing that tells you who people are." She said turning to Hardison.

"Parker, it’s called...?" Hardison started to say but was interrupted.

"Wait, The Parker!?" The guy asked, astonished.

"The one and only." Parker sighed. She was getting tired of people recognizing her as a world famous thief.

"You stole the Hope Diamond five years ago!"

Parker nodded.

"And then put it back!"

Parker rolled her eyes.

“Yes I did. So, since you know so much about me, why don't you tell us about yourself," Parker glanced at Hardison's computer. "Neal Cafrey."

"Ooh, you were good!" Hardison sounded genuinely impressed as he read from the files that popped up.

"Still am." Neal smirked.

"Huh, says here that you're dead." Hardison said.

"Aww, Your FBI handler wrote a very sweet message for your obituary." Parker added, reading more information from the files that Hardison had found.

Neal ducked his head and looked away.

oops. Parker thought. She hadn't meant to be insensitive, but that seemed to have hit a nerve. Maybe they had been close.

Parker pulled up a swivel chair and sat down in front of Neal.

"Alright, just tell us why you were running The Oklahoma Little Chucky on our mark." She demanded.

"No, it was a John and Mary scam." Eliot corrected. "You need a pit bull and a wedding cake for the Oklahoma Little Chucky.”

"Well, it couldn't've been a John and Mary scam cuz you need a whole fire station for that one." Hardison argued.

"Oh, I had the fire station." Neal said slyly.

"Ooh!" Eliot, Hardison and Parker all said in unison. They were all genuinely impressed.

"And to answer your question; the same reason as you, I'd imagine." Neal continued.

"Because his company was polluting the surrounding areas, making people really sick and killing all the wildlife?" Parker asked.

"Okay, I guess not." Neal looked taken aback. "Alright, you guys have already figured out half of it. I faked my death back in America and I fled here. I needed an easy score that would pay well so I could set myself up with a new life." Neal explained. "You guys are criminals, just like me. You understand, so, one criminal to another, would you be so kind as to let me go?" Neal slipped his hands out of the ropes and stood up without waiting for an answer.

Parker cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

“I'm very good at what I do.” Neal shrugged.

He was good. Anyone who could slip one of Eliot's knots had to be.

Neal grabbed his hat off the table, flipped it in his hand and placed it back on his head before heading for the door.

"What if..." Parker said and spun her chair around to face him, "we offered you a job?"

Neal hesitated at the door.

"It comes with that chance at a new life you were looking for. A chance to run your own crew, long term, right here in Paris." Parker added.

she glanced at Eliot and Hardison who both nodded in agreement. It was the same pitch they had given to Hurley when they had set up the Mexican branch of leverage, and now she got to give it again. They had come to France in the hopes of setting up a new branch of leverage in the first place. She hadn’t been sure how they were going to find someone willing to do it, but then along came Neal Cafrey, an experienced grifter looking for a fresh start. The perfect candidate had fallen right into their lap.

Neal turned around. He was intrigued.

"Let's talk business." Parker said with a sly smile.

#leveragetober #leveragetober 2023 #leverage #eliot spencer #alec hardison #parker #white collar #Neal Cafrey #white collar fanfic #leverage fanfic #leverage/white collar crossover #i am having so much fun with this!

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innytoes · 8 months ago

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Gilmore Girls x Leverage x JATP crossover

I'm pretty sure I've asked you about some combination of those, but not all three at once lololol

Oooh Katie you have no idea what you have unleashed.

So @hawkguyhasstarbucks and I have this long-running joke that everyone everywhere should somehow be connected to Stars Hollow.

-Eliot is related to Luke Danes and you cannot tell me otherwise.

-TJ may or may not be Reggie's Uncle. Just based on vibes. (Also in a more canon universe he'd be like: Oh yeah my nephew's playing the Orpheum. No you don't know him, he died 25 years ago but I guess he's back now.)

-Sophie and Nate retire to Stars Hollow because they once got stuck there between jobs and Eliot couldn't help but introduce them to his cousin because Hardison already Knew and else Parker would have broken into his place.

-You know Sophie and Miss Patty know each other from Way Back When.

-Can you imagine how fucking annoying Nate would be at Town Meetings if he wanted to be.

-Luke's parents don't want him to end up like the Town Troubadour while Luke is like: um actually that was my backup plan if the whole rock star thing doesn't work out.

-Reggie's back up plan is for Luke Danes to make him his apprentice. He will not take 'diners don't do apprenticeships' as an answer. HE ALREADY WEARS PLAID HE CAN PUT ON A BASEBALL CAP IF IT HELPS LUKE.

-Parker vs Kirk: ultimate showdown. Either that or she LOVES his movies and like, loudly cheers at the screening when everyone else is silent.

-Alex' parents and Mrs Kim go to the same church. When they kick Alex out for being gay Mrs Kim is like: dancing and rock and roll may get you sent to hell but not loving your child for who they love is worse.

-Congrats Lane you have a white brother now.

-DRUMMER SIBLINGS. DRUMMER SIBLINGS. Lane shows Alex her secret closet and Alex is like: =/ I just came out of the closet thanks.

-Hep Alien vs Julie and the Phantoms friendly rivalry 4ever.

#julie and the phantoms #leverage #gilmore girls #this isn't even the worst of our sprawling au #it's just one big YES AND and I love it with all my heart #the jatp leverage gg au #I guess #AUs are awesome #I wrote a thing #I blame hawkguyhasstarbucks

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heroofshield · 1 year ago

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Whumpcember Day 26- Collapse (Fable 3 Hero/Ben Finn)

@whumpcember

Carolina felt her feet start to slip, the sand underneath it giving way. She tried to keep her balance but couldn't, so she slid down the dune-rolling to a stop at the base. Closing her eyes against the sun, she lay there for who knows how long, ever since arriving in Aurora she's lost track of time.

"I have to get help. For Walter." she dimly thought, feeling a stab of guilt at having to leave him back at the ruins. Even if he had ordered her to...

Taking a breath, Carolina slowly pushed herself up-standing and mustered up the energy to start walking again. The sun beat down relentlessly and she wished for night so she could at least get a break from the heat. The sun had started to angle downwards when she heard a shout. Pausing, she raised her sun-burned arm to shade her eyes so she could see whoever it was better.

"Princess!"

Confused, she squinted at the waving figure-taking a few halting steps forwards.

"Carolina!"

The figure became clearer and Carolina wasn't sure what to think. Lowering her arm she watched Eliot walk towards her with his trademark smile. "Elliot?" she whispered when he was closer. "But...how? You're dead."

"You killed me. It's your fault." Eliot said, his voice distorting into the Crawler's as his body twisted and contorted into smoke, winding itself around Carolina. Turning into shadow demons, the Crawler grew until he blotted out the sun.

Carolina let out a frustrated howl, she'd thought that she'd gotten away from the cursed demon. Pulling out her sword, she swung it at the demons, jumping away as they tried to attack her. Tapping into her Will, she let loose a whirlwind and ice spell- to confuse and then freeze them in order to keep them from overwhelming her.

As she fought, the Crawler kept taunting her; how she'd left Walter to his death back at the ruins, how she'd sent Eliot and Swift to their own deaths by letting them believe that she could overthrow Logan.

Eventually she drove her sword through the last shadow demon and the Crawler disappeared, the sudden light of the setting sun making Carolina near blind after so long in the dark. Blinking rapidly, she kept her sword out- letting it drag in the sand as she started her trek again.

Ben Finn raised the spyglass to his eye, slowly sweeping it across the sand. "She has to be out here somewhere." he thought, trying not to let the knot of worry in his stomach get to him. "I know the Princess and she's a fighter."

"Ben." Kalin said while placing a hand on his arm, her voice neutral but sad at the same time. "We need to start heading back.

"Just a few more kilos. We'll still have time to get back before dark." Ben replied without tearing his gaze from the spyglass.

Kalin gave Ben a sympathetic look, she knew the hope that he still held all to well. But at the same time they needed to get back to the temple before dark. Before the Crawler came to the city. Letting a slight sigh escape, she turned to the small party that had accompanied them-giving a slight nod to signal that they'd continue.

Ben led the group, his white head covering helping to block the worst of the sun, but he could still feel the tan that he was getting. Climbing the top of the dune, he lift the spyglass to his eye again and started the search all over again.

Still not seeing anything, he was about to give up for the day when he spotted movement out of the corner of the glass. Pausing he turned towards the movement and felt his breath catch.

Carolina.

"There." Ben said, pointing before lowering the glass and handing it to Kalin so she could verify it herself. "I'd know that sword anywhere."

Kalin was silent for a few seconds before lowering the glass and collapsing it before handing it back to Ben. Turning towards the rest of the party, she spoke in her native tongue sharply. Everyone sprung into action, racing down the dune and in the direction she had pointed.

Ben skidded down the dune, the hope in his chest exploding as he shouted, "Princess!"

Carolina paused at the shout, knowing that the voice sounded familiar but didn't want to believe it. "It could be another trick." she told herself, trying to draw the strength to fight the mirage, but was struggling. Fighting the Crawler so much had drained her of her Will.

Then the mirage sharpened and Ben Finn, still in his Royal Army uniform, can running towards her. "Ben." she whispered, wavering as her legs felt weak.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Ben laughed, glad that he had finally found them. Then he realized that Carolina was alone and his joy turned to confusion. "Where's Wally?"

Carolina closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over her and she pitched forwards.

Ben was close enough that he lept towards Carolina as she collapsed and gently lowered her to the ground, getting on his knees so she didn't have to lay in the sand. "It's okay, I've got you."

"Walter...ruins." Carolina whispered, eyes fluttering closed again.

"Ruins? What ruins? Where are they?" Ben asked while looking up at Kalin, who had quietly moved to the side.

"I know of what she speaks. Fortunately it's not far from here, we'll be coming close to it but we can make it there and get back just as darkness falls." Kalin said before turning towards half of the group and ordering them towards the ruins. "We need to get your friends inside the temple, our healers can tend to them there."

"I've got you love." Ben whispered, gently brushing some hair off of Carolina's face. "I've got you."

Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.

Carolina dimly heard Ben's voice and after a few seconds pause, gave his hand a light squeeze. There was muffled cursing that roused her enough to crack open an eye. Shutting it again, what felt like a few seconds more, she slowly opened both eyes.

Staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, she tried to sit up to see where she was but found that she couldn't.

"Easy there, Princess." Ben said, all but jumping off his chair to help Carolina sit up. Once she was comfortable, he sat back down. "Am I glad to see you awake. You have no idea the fright you gave me."

"Oh?" Carolina said, her voice harsh from unuse. Clearing it, she tried again. "I couldn't have been out for that long."

"Trust me you were." Ben moved the chair closer so he didn't have to lean forwards so much.

Carolina gave Ben a slight smile, "I guess I should thank you, for finding me."

"You remember that? I'm flattered." Ben tried to pass it off as a joke, but he was suddenly overwhelmed with the relief that he'd been keeping at bay while Carolina recovered. "I'm just glad that you're going to be okay."

Carolina took Ben's hand and gave it a squeeze, "With you having my back I know I will."

#whumpcember2023 #fable 3 #ben finn #hero of brightwall #fable!verse carolina

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fablesrose · 1 year ago

Text

Ch 9 - The Top Hat Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: The team has to play as magicians to get into a food company that has contaminated food on the shelves. *Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about magic, so don't come for me*

Words: 5377

A/n: So I've burned through my stock of chapters after this and I've been having a bit of a tough time for the next couple of weeks. I've got final weeks and then surgery to fix my wrecked knee, I want to get back to this as soon as possible, but I'm not sure when that will be. Thank you all for reading this far, it means so much to me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Nate and Sophie were downstairs in the pub meeting with the client. I was watching as Eliot, Hardison, and Parker were starting recon on the target: Lillian foods. From what brief background we already had, their frozen food was contaminated, but one of the higher-ups calculated the risk and said that the amount of deaths was acceptable relative to cost in lawsuits vs pulling the food off the shelves. So, a real dirtbag, like all the rest of them.

Hardison and I were in Nate’s apartment monitoring all of the tech stuff while Eliot and Parker were doing the leg work. Eliot was posing as a pizza delivery man with comms and a button cam, going into the heart of the beast. We watched as he approached the front desk where a pretty brunette sat taking phone calls.

“Her name is Katie,” Hardison told him as he balanced a tennis ball on his forehead casually, “Likes wild horses, dislikes vanilla toothpaste.”

“Please stop talking,” Eliot responded.

I laughed a bit, “The fact you can find those things is wild.”

“Hey,” Eliot greeted the receptionist, and I could hear the smile in his voice, “How ya doin’?”

She didn’t respond to him, only lifting a finger signaling for him to wait a moment.

He turned away from her in a way that I could visualize him leaning against the counter. “Oh, I’m so in,” he said a bit cockily.

My smile soured a bit, remembering just how much of an eye for pretty chicks Eliot had.

“Hey Eliot, what’s that blocking your button cam?” Hardison asked him. I furrowed my brow, as while it was a bit warped because of how small it was, it wasn’t too bad. That was until Hardison finished his thought, “Oh yeah, it’s your ego!”

That made me smile a bit again before moving it along, “Parker? Whatcha got?”

“First ten floors are free climbing heaven, but after that, it's a slip and slide,” she responded easily before a random person started to vaguely harass her, saying she had pretty hair.

“Uh, Parker, maybe don’t stay next to that person.”

I didn’t get a response from her as Nate and Sophie walked in bickering.

“When was the last time you had a date?” Sophie asked him which caught my attention. “A real date… with food?”

“Stop,” Nate responded before his attention turned to us, “Hardison…”

“I don’t think that counts,” Sophie commented before turning to me to answer her question.

I only shook my head to indicate that it had been a long time.

“Are you running recon on Lillian Foods?” he asked us.

“Uh, yeah?” Hardison responded for the both of us.

“Don’t you think you should consult with me first?”

“Did he just…?”

“We do this all the time, Nate,” Sophie defended.

“Hey, look man, where do you think all my intel comes from? For the last time, there is no blueprint fairy.”

“Yeah, well, I want you to pull them out. Do it now,” Nate told him as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Why? What’s up?” I asked him. He seemed a bit more strict than a usual job.

“Look, we know what we’re doing, man. It’s a food company,” Hardison rebuffed.

“No, you don’t. No. Not with a place like this. You don’t know what you’re doing,” Nate insisted.

I watched on the screen as Eliot started to get escorted away, “Eliot?”

“Give it exactly two seconds before this becomes a train wreck.”

And just like that Eliot responded, “Hardison, we’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” He asked.

“They’re MRI-ing my pizza and their stance says ex-CIA.”

“You could tell somebody worked for the CIA just from how they stand?” Hardison asked before I could.

“It’s a very distinctive stance,” he whispered back.

I watched anxiously as a bunch of red flags and alerts popped up on Hardison’s screens. Hardison started to hack back with a vengeance to try and take back some control. I had faith in him, but the beeping and buzzing and flashing lights really didn’t make me feel better. Suddenly it took a turn for the worse where the screens said system lock out.

“Uh, Eliot, I think you should get out of there,” I said into the comms before the power in Nate’s apartment went out.

“Right now,” Hardison added on.

I glanced back to where Nate was sitting at the kitchen table with his hands raised as if to say, ‘see? This is what happens.’

“I’m working on it,” Eliot responded, accompanied with the sounds of fighting. “Parker, I’m comin’ out hot.”

“Okay, all clear out here. Just me-” she started to respond before the same person from earlier’s voice came through.

“Copy that, I think I got one out here, too.”

“Parker, did you stay next to that guy? That doesn’t sound good,” I commented, partially to her, but mostly myself.

It sounded like Eliot got through the worst of his escape as he whispered, supposedly to the receptionist, “I’ll call ya.”

I rolled my eyes to myself, of course he would do that.

“You know when I said you had pretty hair?” the guy next to Parker asked, “I was lying.”

I gagged, what a creep.

“Yeah, well, so was I when I said you didn’t… wait, damn it.” Parker responded before it sounded like she made her escape.

“Hardison?” Nate asked him after a little bit.

“Wait for it,” he said as he typed on his keyboard before the lights came back on. “See? There wasn’t no problem. I mean, I had it under control.”

He rambled on for a little bit longer, clearly flustered, as I laid my head back against the chair I was sitting in, letting out a sigh of relief that it was okay.

Later, when Eliot and Parker were able to make it back to the apartment, we sat around the kitchen table as Nate talked to us. I was still trying to figure out if he was going to chew us out or be nice and just explain what went wrong.

“So, pizza delivery guy was your big plan?”

“You know what man?” Hardison said, “It was recon, okay? Information gathering has historically been a very safe and peaceful business. It was a food company! Wasn’t like they were making weapons.”

I glanced at Eliot as he shifted an ice pack he was holding to his arm.

“Listen,” Nate said, “I’ve worked insurance for companies like this. Anyone gets their hands on the company’s food patents could cost them billions. And by the way? The guard that stuff better than defense contractors.” Nate explained.

Hardison looked at me in disbelief, but I shook my head, “Hey, I didn’t know that.”

Parker poked at Eliot’s arm, “does that hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“Well that explains all the ex-spooks hanging around the lobby then,” Sophie commented.

“You know what?” Hardison said a bit aggressively, “Ya live and ya learn.”

“No. I lived, alright,” Eliot cut in, “You sat behind a computer and acted like Kool Moe Dee.”

“What’d you call me? Kool Moe Dee? Like you even know anything about Kool Moe Dee. I was gathering very crucial information.”

“Does that hurt?” Parker poked Eliot again.

“Yeah.”

“How about now?”

“Alright!” I stood from my seat and smacked my hands on the table, a little overstimulated with all the arguing, which stopped it. “Parker, please stop poking Eliot, assume that it hurts. Eliot, we are very glad you lived, and Hardison…” I sighed, the little bit of adrenaline that I had worn off already, “what crucial information did you happen to gather in this train wreck?”

“Yes,” Nate said, backing me up a bit as I slowly sat back down, “How about you share that crucial information with the rest of us.”

I glanced up at Eliot who was looking at me with a softer expression, but I looked back down at the table, my hands in my hair.

“You know what?” Hardison answered Nate, “You ain’t said nothin’ but a word.” He pulled a remote out of his pocket, starting up the screens.

We all started to make our way to the living room to hear what Hardison had gathered.

“Hey, you heard y/n, stop it,” Eliot said to Parker after she poked him one more time.

“Eliot, what are you doing?” Nate asked, walking around the table towards him.

“She’s poking me,” he replied, watching as he came closer. “Don’t man…” He said, shrugging him off as Nate grabbed his hurt arm too, rubbing it in a little more.

I chuckled, “Come on Eliot, I’ll protect you from the meanies.” I walked ahead of him and was pleasantly surprised when he sat down so I was next to his injured arm.

He tapped his knee to mine, “you better.”

I tried to fight the smile that was growing a bit too wide as Hardison began the briefing.

“Lillian Foods is the third largest food company in the world. Last year it made 12 billion dollars,” Hardison started. “This is the vice president of the frozen food division, Erik Casten. Erik with a K, Casten with a C.”

“How is that relevant?” Nate asked.

“Oh,” Parker answered, “Eric with a C, nice and friendly. Erik with a K, evil.”

“I mean, she has a point,” I corroborated.

“I didn’t know that,” Sophie commented.

“Everybody knows that,” Parker replied.

“According to Dr. Jameson,” Hardison continued, “Erik with a K is trying to cover up salmonella in the frozen dinners so his division doesn’t have to pay out for the recall.”

“That’s why I grow my own food,” Eliot said next to me.

“How do you find the time?” Sophie asked.

“You make time. I only sleep 90 minutes a day.”

“I didn’t know that,” I whispered to him, “The growing your own food part. That’s super cool. I only have a basil plant on my window sill. But I don’t think that that little sleep is good for you.”

“The basil’s a good start,” he whispered back, not addressing my sleep comment.

I could never tell what the next thing I was going to learn about him was. I’ve started to seriously wonder what this man couldn’t do. I already knew that failing to steal my attention was not on that seemingly shorter list.

“So what we have to do is, we have to get a hold of Casten’s report and make it public,” Nate said. “It’s on the servers. How do we get into the building?”

“I think pizza delivery guy is off the table, for the record,” I commented, nudging my knee against Eliot’s, purposefully avoiding his gaze, but I heard him huff a laugh anyway.

“I am so far ahead of you, man, it’s scary,” Hardison told Nate. “Look, I can’t hack their system from the outside, so I sent a Trojan phone. It’s hacker 101.”

I pulled out my phone, “Oh, if this is a course, should I be taking notes?”

“You might as well be,” Hardison answered before continuing, “What I did was messenger a smartphone with an extended battery to an employee that’s on vacation. The package sits in the mail room. It scans for wireless and bluetooth access points. Unfortunately, even their internal servers are locked down like the CIA. So all I was able to get was employee emails.”

“Oh, anything useful there?” Sophie asked.

“Oh yeah, you know what?” Hardison sat on the edge of his seat, leaning towards her, “Marie from Payroll has a crush on Steve from Accounts Receivable.”

She and I were more invested in this gossip then we probably should have been.

Hardison pulled up a picture of a shirtless below average guy, “Look, that’s Steve right there on his vacation in Florida from a month ago.”

“She likes him? Really?” Parker asked half-heartedly, voicing my own thoughts as well.

“Oh yeah. That man is a sexy man-beast right there” Hardison half insisted before moving onto the next piece of gossip. “Now, Shannon and Chris from Marketing, they got a little fight going on with Lauren from Ads.”

“Office politics,” Sophie concluded, “God. It’s lucky we don’t have that.”

Eliot and I shared a look that showed we were both skeptical of that. It was just different kinds of politics.

“Everybody’s up in there complaining about this state of the company thing tomorrow,” Hardison continued, “And Brian from IT-”

“That’s it right there,” Nate cut in, “That’s our way in.”

“Brian from IT?” Hardison asked, “No, he is not a team player.”

“No no no no no,” Nate responded, “That’s our way in… yeah. Yeah yeah. That’s it. The state of the company meeting. Here we go.”

“What is that?” Eliot asked, “I don’t know what that is.”

“Me neither,” Parker said.

“It’s like State of the Union?” Hardison offered.

“What is that?” Sophie asked as well.

“Nate,” I said, “You’re the only one here who’s had like a traditional corporate job. Even with me, the places I worked never did that.”

“Oh right, right,” Nate said, finally understanding, “You guys have never had real jobs.”

The rest answered in the affirmative while I gave him a pointed look. He nodded apologetically as if to say, ‘I know you did, but yeah.’

“Alright,” Nate began to explain, “so when I used to work for IYS we would do this all the time. The company, big companies, they make their employees sit for an entire day listening to these boring speeches, lame entertainment, bad food. It’s…”

Parker huffed a sigh, “I’m so glad I don’t live in the real world.”

I nodded in agreement.

“It’s mandatory,” Nate added. “It’s the only time that all the employees are away from their desks at the same time.”

“Alright, so we go in as caterers. We download the report while everyone’s chucking back the mini quiches. Easy,” Sophie concluded.

“No,” Hadison contradicts, “see, it’s a food company. All the catering is in house. The only outsiders involved in the whole big operation are the entertainment.”

“And who would that be?” Nate asked.

“Oh, you gonna love this… It’s a magician.”

Nate perked up, looking at me, “ah…”

I, in turn, deflated, “no…”

The now former entertainment was a magician, and from what Hardison told us, he was pretty slimy. A couple of sexual harassment charges didn’t help. It didn’t take much for Hardison and Parker to dismantle his show and get him arrested for punching Hardison in the face.

The next day Sophie called Lillian Foods to explain the problem and give us an in to replace ‘Chronos the Magnificent.’ Nate went in first as ‘head magician’ talking to the head of security.

“Harry Turner,” he said, handing the security guard a business card.

“The magician, I know.”

“Illusionist,” Nate corrected, “Magicians do kid’s parties. I do Fortune 500 companies.” He waved us over, “Uh, right this way gang.”

“Woah, and who are these people?” The security guard asked.

“Oh, this is my team, I believe you spoke with my manager, this is Nell Carver,” he waved towards Sophie who was rolling in a cart of supplies before introducing the rest of us, “my illusions designer, Frank Brunner, my lovely assistant Clea, and of course my beloved apprentice Miss Birdie.”

I fought to not roll my eyes at Nate introducing me as such, hoping we could get past security without me blowing it.

Hardison stepped forward towards the guard, “Hey man, I hope you have a doctor in the house, because this man right here is gonna blow your mind.”

“Alright, come on, we’re on a very tight schedule,” Nate said as he started to walk forward.

“Nothing gets in or out of this building without being scanned,” the guard said, stopping him.

“These crates contain my illusions, my life. I’m not gonna reveal my secrets. Come on.”

“That’s not my problem, is it?”

“I’ll take care of this,” Sophie said, stopping Nate from continuing, “Mr. Markland, I’m sure we can figure something out. It’s not possible-”

“Let’s pull up the van, Frank, and let's get out of here,” Nate said.

“Harry, are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Then an older man walked up to the commotion we were making, “what is going on here?”

“Mr. Price, sir, this is…” the guard started.

Nate turned and introduced himself with a business card, “Harry Turner, illusionist extraordinaire, you are Mr. Price, CEO of this company?”

“I am, what’s going on here?”

“I would like very much, sir, to give your people a wonderful show, but your doorman here would like to look at our boxes of illusions and destroy the illusion.”

I bit my lip to try not to laugh at the obvious manipulation that Nate was pulling, particularly with the context of us being magicians. I never would have dreamed of us being in a situation like this.

“Markland, just lighten up, will ya?” the CEO asked. “It’s a magic show for Pete’s sake.”

Nate repeated him as he followed Mr. Price and led us through security into the building.

Once we were on stage Nate said, “Okay, we’re clear, let him out.”

Harison opened the giant upright box to let Eliot out. He was dressed in his black stealth related outfit with a beanie on his head that I liked a little too much. He held a classic white rabbit and hat in his arms and carefully stepped around a bird cage at his feet when getting out.

“It’s a good job you’re not claustrophobic Eliot.” Sophie commented.

“I was when I was a kid,” Eliot said, shoving the rabbit into Nate’s hands, “take this damn thing.”

“Really? How’d you get over it?” Parker asked while taking the rabbit as Nate handed it to her.

“I locked myself in a woodshed behind my house for a couple nights. After that I was fine.”

I looked at him in disbelief, pausing my task of unpacking the bird cage and checking on the birds inside, “That is the worst form of exposure therapy I have ever heard of… Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“That is so funny,” Parker said, “I was scared of the dark and did the exact same thing.” She then relayed a story of how her friends buried her alive in a wood chest when she was a kid.

“That is not the same thing,” Eliot responded. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I take it back Eliot, Parker’s is worse.” There were moments like this where I questioned where my life path has taken me to get to the point where my friends are these people. Then I remember that it is my own damn fault for willingly following Nate’s hard left turn in life. I shrugged to myself before continuing to prepare.

“So, you’re actually enjoying this,” Sophie said to Nate.

“You know, being a magician, it’s the next best thing to being a con artist, you know? It’s all about misdirection and control.”

“So no one actually told you that you can’t control life. You see, this is why you’re not in a relationship.”

“No, Sophie, I’m just very focused on my work right now. You know, I was out of control before. Now I’m in control, it's a good thing.”

Hardison turned to me, “You do not seem very pleased about this, but you are kinda confident right now, so I’m confused.”

I glanced at him as I kept unpacking stuff, “Uh, yeah, because when I was in middle school, Nate and I went through a magic phase where we worked together and learned a lot of this stuff. We got pretty good at it, not gonna lie…” I then pointedly said, “Though I don’t understand why I have to go by Miss Birdie like I did when I was like 12 and Nate can’t go by Monsieur Kitty!”

“Do you hear yourself right now, y/n?” Nate asked.

“Yes, and I can be petty when I want to be, you’re using my childhood nickname against me.”

“So you know how to do all this magic stuff?” Eliot asked.

“Absolutely,” Nate answered, “Positively, yeah. It’s all about the rabbit. You know having… by the way, where’s the rabbit,” he asked, turning around before shrugging it off. “Hardison, let’s go over the plan.”

We all gathered around Hardison as he started to outline the plan. As he did so, I couldn’t help but notice how my heart was beating faster than it should be. I knew I was nervous about this, the stage, performance, how much the team was relying on this distraction, and every little thing that had to go right, but I maybe didn’t realize how much until we were here and I took the moment to stop.

“Okay, the show opens with our friend Erik Casten delivering the state of the company speech,” Hardison said. “The speech is scheduled to last an hour, giving myself, Eliot, and Parker enough time to go down to the server room, hack the servers, download the report, and get back downstairs.”

“So, massively there will be no magic show,” Sophie said.

This helped calm my nerves a little bit, but something in my gut told me something was going to go wrong.

“Oh no, there might be a magic show. Absolutely,” Nate said which counteracted Sophie’s statement and its effects. “We might want to treat these people to the illusionist extraordinaire!”

Eliot and Nate laughed a bit as Nate bowed to the empty auditorium. I tried to laugh with them, but all that came out was a shaky breath. To counteract this, I turned my attention back to the props, including the birds, and pantomimed the motions of making them appear and disappear. I vaguely heard Sophie say something about Nate getting a girlfriend, but I was too focused on practicing the few tricks that I remembered.

My gut turned out to be right, unfortunately. Instead of giving an hour long speech, Erik Casten’s speech was barely five, keeping it ‘short and sweet.’

“...and let’s give a warm welcome to… Harry Turner, illusionist extraordinaire,” Erik finished.

“Shit,” I said, mostly to myself.

“That’s you,” Sophie realized. “Hey, you’re on.”

“Parker, I need my assistant,” Nate said into the comms, as the other three were somewhere in the building going to hack the servers.

“How come Parker gets to be the assistant?” she asked.

“How come Nate gets to be the magician?” Hardison asked. “I do card tricks too. I do great card tricks.”

The rest of them were bickering over comms, asking about doing each other's jobs, while the stage was sitting empty. I eventually shoved past Sophie and Nate to get on stage, ignoring the nerves and my rapidly beating heart. I approached the center of the stage and looked at the crowd of people sitting in the previously empty auditorium.

“Hello Lillian Foods!” I said, trying to decide if the waver in my voice was noticeable to anyone else. “As you might suspect, I don’t quite fit the name ‘Harry Turner.’”

To my relief, the crowd laughed a bit which drowned out the bickering still going on in my ear.

“To everyone’s relief, as well as my own, that is not my name. I am Harry’s apprentice. You may call me Miss Birdie.” The thought of changing my stage name crossed my mind, but I thought it was easier this way. As some people in the crowd said hi to me, using the name, it made me smile. “I think I am on the same page as most of you when expecting a big long speech from your vice-president. And while you may all have been relieved…”

The crowd cheered and laughed as they could see where this was going.

“My mentor was not as prepared as he should have been to be on stage this soon, that is where I come in. I’m sure any interns in the audience know the feeling.”

That got a particularly large roar from the crowd. I glanced off stage where Nate and Sophie were arguing still, though not as much as before. Nate gave a pointed eyeroll and shrug at me which encouraged me to continue.

“I must apologize as I am a little more familiar with close up magic, so let me know if you can’t see anything and I’ll try to make it work. Do you see what is in my hand?” I raised my hand to show some quarters pinched between my fingers.

The crowd responded in the affirmative before I continued. I did some subtle disappearing tricks before making them reappear with the exception of one.

“Hmm, it seems I lost a quarter somewhere… Any ideas?”

The crowd booed a bit with the skeptics yelling out where the quarter could be. ‘In your hand! In your pocket!’ etc etc.

“In my pocket?” I asked, I pulled out my pockets inside out and a few coins came out. “There's some coins, but they look like pennies to me, how about my coat pockets?” I took my blazer jacket off and shook it upside down. A comically large amount of pennies fell out of it. “I need some help examining all these coins… Is there a Dave Bickle in the audience today?”

There was some cheering in one corner as he stood up.

“Dave, do you mind coming up here and helping me?” He started to walk over before I added, “Bring your coffee, I know you can’t live without it.”

The crowd chuckled as he came up, coffee in hand. I asked him if he saw my missing quarter anywhere in the spread coins, which he said no. When he wasn’t paying attention, I was able to slip the ‘missing’ quarter in his coffee mug. I was glad it was a mug rather than a covered cup or tumbler, which made it easier. I made sure there was no splash and that it was out of sight for most of the audience.

“Well, I guess I’m too good at making things disappear, but not great at making them come back… You know something about that, especially with coffee, huh, Dave?” I knew I was milking this bit, but Mr. Price didn’t give us much to work with for crowd work. When Dave laughed and took a sip of his coffee he came out with the quarter in his mouth. I held up my handkerchief to take it back from him, “Oh! You found it, thanks, that’s my bus money for later!”

The crowd laughed and gave a little applause as Dave went back to his seat. I glanced over to Nate to see Parker had joined him and Sophie backstage. I took this as an okay for me to finish up since they seemed a bit more prepared now.

I quickly introduced Nate as Harry Turner and had him come on stage for his performance. He graciously brought me a broom to sweep up all of my pennies so they wouldn’t interfere later.

“That was really good, y/n! You have all the skills of a pickpocket with sleight of hand, why didn’t you mention it earlier?” Sophie congratulated me once I got off stage.

“I have blocked out those memories up until yesterday and to be completely honest, I can only half hear you over the blood pumping in my ears right now, how is everything else going?” I kind of laughed to myself, I couldn’t believe I had done that. As I picked up the coins from the floor I could see that my hands were still shaking.

“That’s natural after being in front of a lot of people, we’ll get you trained up as a grifter and thief in no time!”

I smiled at her sentiment, but didn’t encourage it. As I slowly calmed down I could hear that things were not going great upstairs; Erik had the same idea as we did: accessing the server room while everyone was downstairs. Except he was deleting the files we were trying to access.

Hardison and Eliot were able to make it up to a higher level to gain access to the computers but they needed higher clearance authorization to gain access. Nate was able to gain Mr. Price’s fingerprints by simulating a trick on stage, but then Hardison said we needed him for retina scanners as well. Nate caused Mr. Price to ‘disappear’ in a magic box by switching it out for an empty one. Sophie and I pushed the box Mr. Price was in to the elevator and shipped him up to Eliot and Hardison.

It wasn’t long after Sophie and I returned to the backstage that Hardison gave an ‘uh oh’ in addition to the fact that Erik had deleted all of the files before he could get to them.

“Uh oh? What do you mean uh oh?” Eliot asked.

I heard a security guard demand that he get out of the elevator.

“Oh. That uh oh.”

Sophie and I looked at each other in worry and returned to the elevator as we heard Eliot beat up some guards.

The elevator opened and Eliot stepped out over the guards, “Show’s over. We’re blown.”

“Nate, bring down the curtain,” Sophie said.

“We’ve got to go!” I added.

The three of us made our escape and listened for the others to do so. We all made it out with the exception of Hardison who had been caught in the locked junction room where he accessed the servers. They had brought Hardison out of the building to try and find the rest of us when Parker swiped Erik’s phone.

Nate proceeded to call one of the guards and talk to Erik on his own cell phone and blackmail him into removing the frozen food line that was contaminated off the shelves. He did so by planting the company’s patents on Erik’s phone. The client was there to stick the final nail in the coffin by informing Mr. Price and getting Erik fired.

When we rendezvoused at Nate’s apartment, the rest of us were unwinding and eating dinner while Nate continued to research clients… Working.

Sophie voiced her concern about him.

Eliot shrugged her off saying that he’s fine. The fact that we pulled this one off proof that he’s at the top of his game.

“Well that’s the problem. He keeps winning.” Sophie said, “And everytime he wins he believes a little bit more that he can control… life.”

“It’s what gets him through the day,” he replied.

“What happens when he loses? The last time he lost, it broke him. He breaks again… I don’t think even we can pick up the pieces.”

I didn’t know what to say to that since I thought she might be right. Instead, I stood and moved to the fridge behind Eliot to see if there was anything there that tickled my fancy. Eliot followed me with his box of takeout, leaning against the counter beside me.

“Do you want some of this Kung Pao?”

I looked at it for a second before grabbing some chopsticks off the counter and grabbing a bite.

“So, you really know some of that magic stuff, huh? I heard it over comms, the crowd was digging it,” Eliot said between bites.

I laughed, “Yeah, a little bit.” I took another bite before saying, “I didn’t get to do my signature trick though.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, “show me.”

I thought about it for a second before obliging him. I moved to tuck some hair behind his ear, a slight misdirection. He watched me closely, eyebrow raising slightly at my movement. When my hand was slightly out of his sight, I flipped my wrist and released the dove that was sleeping comfortably in my sleeve. It made a louder rustling noise than I had anticipated, but he didn’t even flinch. I pulled my hand back so I could show him the bird sitting on my finger.

He smiled as he looked at it. He then looked between me and Nate, “birdie.”

I nodded, “Birdie, but he’s the only one that can call me that.”

He laughed and stroked the bird, “That’s alright. I’ll stick to sweetheart.”

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @isoldeahlstrom @kniselle @technikerin23

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #leverage #rewrite #slow burn #multichapter #nate ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #ford!reader

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possibly-god · 9 months ago

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The Stand-Up Job, a.k.a. Leverage's Bizarre Adventure

Time for a crossover AU maybe 2 people will care about! Because you know what the JoJoverse's trademark uniquely skilled ensemble casts and "I outsmarted your outsmarting" remind me of? Heists.

February 2011, 2 months out from the San Lorenzo job. With the heat finally dying down to Nate's liking, the Leverage crew has had enough of laying low - they're ready to start taking clients again, get back to stealing the world a better place. So when the Horsell family shows up at McRory's, it couldn't be more perfect.

Good old boy Holden spins them a yarn about hostile workplaces and head wounds that still trouble him 20 years later. His wife Mariah tells of a road accident that left her paralyzed and of massive hospital bills when company insurance refused to pay out. Their son Benji recounts losing his older brother to a work accident. Lives full of pain on account of the place meant to provide for them - the Speedwagon Foundation.

Sure, maybe the Horsells' story doesn't quite add up (Sophie's grifter sense is tingling from the jump), but neither does the Foundation's - a privately-owned multi-million dollar "environmental research institute" with no notable output or major publications, ties to the oil industry, international paramilitary operations, and organized crime, and seemingly only answerable to some old-money family (what kind of name is Joestar anyway)? That ticks a lot of Leverage's boxes - definitely something to look into.

Meanwhile in their hotel room, Hol Horse, Mariah, and Boingo celebrate the incoming payout, plus a little long-coming revenge on those damned Joestars, not realizing that, once again, they've underestimated their marks.

Not that the Speedwagon Foundation doesn't give Leverage trouble. Getting into their New York offices, digging around in their files, that's small potatoes - hell, it's weird how little security the place seems to have. But then a manager taps Sophie on the shoulder and she literally can't lie. The others try to bail her out, and then their earpieces are just gone. Guards are called and Eliot starts taking hits from something he can't even see. They have to go all the way to Plan J to escape (too close to Plan M for Hardison's liking), and when they blow the wall of the lab Parker gets hit with some shrapnel. Only it's not concrete or plaster they pull from her shoulder - it's antique bronze, a shard of an old arrowhead. Still plenty sharp too, no one can touch it without getting cut...

They regroup. Nate and Hardison start going through anything they can find of the Foundation with a fine-tooth comb, finding more and more bizarre details with each sweep. Sophie and Eliot start sniffing around the Horsells, poking their shoddy story into a veritable fishing net of holes. Parker starts coming down with something, starts worrying when the rest of the team does too, worrying about secret bioweapons, about viral hallucinogens when she starts seeing things.

It's almost a relief when they come back to a strange man in their office - this is familiar, this they can handle. This "Dr. Kujo's" explanation sounds like bull, but it's hard to deny when a ghostly figure lunges out from him - and when Eliot does the same thing right back. The next several hours are full of discussions, and of discovery -

Nate - 「Rock of Ages」

An ornate doorknob which can be inserted into any solid surface to create a door through to the other side. Once placed, anyone can see and use the door until Nate calls the knob back to him.

Sophie - 「Like a Prayer」

An elegant jeweled cameo choker which allows perfect vocal mimicry of any target whose name she knows - she doesn't have to know their voice, and the cameo changes to show the subject even if she's never seen them. She can give the necklace to another person to wear, but she can only change the target while wearing it herself, and she can call it back to herself at any time.

Parker - 「Free Bird」

A feathered suit stand which reverses gravity for the user. Any person she touches directly matches her gravity, returning to normal when released, while inanimate objects retain normal direction.

Eliot - 「Red Right Hand」

Come on, you know this boy has a punching ghost. Beyond simple melee utility, a touch (or punch) from the eponymous hand to any part of the body deadens sensation in that area. Eliot throws off regular combatants with invisible backup and other stand users by fighting in tandem with his stand instead of letting it have all the fun.

Hardison - 「Fools Gold」

Typically a small humanoid made of gold computer parts, it can morph into any electronic device it touches, copying the data and capabilities therein. However, it can only hold one device in memory at a time. These mimicked devices can be passed to and used by other stand users and do not require a charge to function, but do require WiFi/data/etc. to do any tasks that would ordinarily require such things.

After much deliberation, it's decided that both sides will be allowed to continue as before - the crew may call upon the Foundation if need be and vice versa, but they'll be keeping their noses out of each other's business. Of course, things change around Leverage - Parker spends days finding new hiding spots and new ways to use her gear, Sophie pranks the others with their voices over the comms, Hardison calibrates face and voice recognition to work with LaP, Eliot discovers the best sous chef he's ever had, and Nate incorporates a new dimension of skills and contingencies into their plans. New abilities also mean new scrapes to get into, new crimes to bust, and general shenanigans -

Their immediate job is going after the idiots who tried to con the con men and got them into this mess - Hardison gets got trying to plug his laptop into Bast (he just about goes insane with the magnetism wiping every electronic he touches until he figures out Fools Gold is immune) and Eliot hates Emperor with a burning passion (not only is it a gun, it's a gun that *cheats*), but in the end the "Horsells" are still just a cut-rate cut-and runner, an egotistical knife pervert, and an utterly useless comic book junkie (Hardison berates him for "giving nerds a bad name").

Hardison calls home to catch up with his Nana and siblings, and while reminiscing he realizes "hey that wasn't normal" and that he showed Hamon potential as a child. Not that it really affects him after 20 years without any further incidents or training - but it sounds like little Breanna might be following in his footsteps in more ways than one...

They call Tara in on a con and, at the vehement behest of the Speedwagon Foundation, do their damnedest to keep Stands and the paranormal a secret from her... and in the end she knew about it long before they did (perks of an FBI background)

Conversely, Sterling is perpetually on the verge of an aneurysm as the bane of his existence has somehow become even banier - before this he could at least catch up with the con after the fact, but now?

A job busting a drug ring in Italy runs the team afoul of Passione, and after shots fired on both sides and the intervention of the Foundation, the two organizations come to an uneasy understanding - Giorno and Nate each see the other as naive in method but admirable in ambition.

Come October, Dr. Kujo returns to personally hire the team as "expert consultants" in the matter of his daughter being sent to prison - their intervention perhaps brings about a happier end to Part 6.

Idk how I came up with this, or why I spent so much time on it - ultimately, I guess I just want to give the Leverage team some new gadgets to play with :)

#leverage #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba #crossover au

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