Tin Man, 4/4, Leverage, Rated R
Nov. 8th, 2010 11:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveFrom Part Three
Sitting in the back of Hardison's van, they all stayed quiet as Nate went over the plan of attack -- again. Harper had had a chance to get nervous, but he hadn't jumped yet so Nate was wanting to put a little more pressure on him. Sophie was to 'bump' into him and drop a few hints about contacts she'd had from one of his competitors while Parker wandered through the building on a whispering campaign, dropping comments about unnamed employees who had been offered lucrative positions if they left Harper's company.
"Eliot, you'll be on stand-by in case of trouble," Nate began, then he paused. "You're sure you're all right?"
Eliot just gave him a flat look. "I'm fine. How many times do you want me to say it?"
"Okay, okay." Nate held up one hand. "Position yourself someplace with easy access to the third floor as well as the ground level lobby, since Parker and Sophie will be--"
"I know my job," Eliot snapped, not so much irritated as restless with Nate's redundancies. They should be inside already, not sitting in the van, and Eliot was itching to get going.
"Fine," Nate said, crossly. "While you three are inside, Hardison, you're going to--"
"Be spoofing some emails with office gossip and setting up the fake website where Harper can go find out that somebody is headhunting his executives. I know." Hardison glanced over at Nate. "I'm already doing it."
Nate sighed. Then he 'shooed' Sophie, Parker and Eliot. "Well, get going."
Eliot walked into the building with Parker, leaving Sophie to make her own, more grand entrance. He and Parker wanted to blend in and go unnoticed, not be connected to the woman Harper had become mesmerized by recently. Eliot paused inside the lobby near the directory, scanning the area. The only security guard was a typical cookie-cutter minimum wage lackey, meant to look intimidating in the uniform but with no real training other than 'be polite to the important guests.'
He saw Parker get onto the elevator, already with an access badge in her hands. Eliot turned from the directory and headed for the stairs, taking note of the security cameras -- the fifth on to the north was broken. The others had a nearly-invisible red indicator light shining; that one was dark. He slipped into Hardison's hack into the building's security system, wanting to double check if it really was off. He found the cameras easily, checked the map of them on the security center's screens to confirm the dead spot.
"Seriously, Eliot, don't you trust me?" Hardison's voice came over the earbud.
Halfway up the first flight of stairs, Eliot hesitated for half a step. "Excuse me?"
"I'm flattered that you like my hack, but dude, a little more finesse would be nice."
Eliot stopped, and glared at the far wall as if Hardison could see him. "What are you talking about--" Oh. "You can see...?"
In a tone that was amused, and a little bit...something else, Hardison said, "Man, I see you every single time you jump into my hack. It's cute, actually, but maybe you should let me show you how to do it with a little more sneak and a little less blunder? I mean, for a cyborg you should really be--"
He stopped talking as Eliot severed his connection to Hardison's computer and yanked himself back as fast as he could. He shored up the firewall behind him, aware that he didn't know if Hardison had ever broken it. But he would have noticed, if Hardison had ever hacked into him.
Wouldn't he?
"Hey, Eliot," Hardison was saying, his tone full of apology. "I didn't mean you had to run. I just meant... you know I'd tell you if there was something you needed to know. Or you could just ask."
"Sorry," Eliot muttered, feeling embarrassed. Maybe more than embarrassed. "I'll stay out of your way." He continued up the stairs, wondering if he should risk trying his own, direct hack into the building's security to get the scans he wanted. But Hardison would be likely to notice, and the whole reason he'd always piggy-backed on Hardison's hacks was that hacking just wasn't his forte. He had the hardware for it, but not -- as Hardison had so kindly reminded him -- the expertise to go unnoticed.
JS-5 had always done the hacking for them when they'd gone on missions. Jason's input/output was sleeker than anything the rest of them had been given, built expressly to be their communications specialist. He'd been shorted most of the physical advantages his brothers had, his thin wiry frame nowhere near as strong or resilient as the rest of them. He'd been killed only three years after being activated, shot in the chest four times while they had desperately tried to get to his position and draw away the fire.
Eliot rubbed one hand across his face, trying to shove aside the memory. After JS-5 there hadn't been another specialist, and Eliot and his brothers had taken turns trying to do the best they could on their own. Doc Martinez had made sure they'd all gotten upgrades so they had the best hardware to work with, but Jason hadn't ever had the chance to teach them how to use it properly, as Hardison had just vividly reminded to him.
Eliot reached the third floor, aware that Hardison had fallen silent. None of the others were talking to the team; he could hear Sophie speaking to Harper and now and again Parker's voice came over the comm as she planted her rumors. Eliot went to the floor-access door and put a hand on it, wishing he could see the security camera on the other side. He could hear well enough to count how many people were there and roughly how far away each was. The floor was carpeted, which made it harder to tell if the footsteps were the heavy shoes as he would expect from the security guards.
He jolted in surprise as a message came over his text-relay; for a moment he thought it was Doc Martinez, as she was the only one to ever text him once the Project had closed and his brothers had gone their separate ways. But a quick look at the headers showed it was from Hardison's laptop. He glanced at the message.
I'm sorry.
He stared at it, wondering how Hardison had gotten the address, then told himself he was probably being fourteen kinds of stupid. Hardison had his files, had seen every fucking time he'd stumbled his way into Hardison's own computer. Tracing him and figuring out how to send a message was probably child's play.
Forget it, he sent back.
No, came the reply. I shouldn't have said all that, especially not over the comms for everyone to hear. I'm sorry. There was a pause, then another text came through. Please come back.
Eliot stared at the message. He didn't want to go back in, hating the thought that he would be clumsy and obvious. But he needed to see the camera feeds, and he was used to getting the information he needed as soon as he wanted it, through Hardison's computer. If they hadn't been working, Eliot knew, he would just ignore him. But the job came first. Reluctantly, knowing that Hardison would be watching and would see him blunder in, Eliot re-connected to Hardison's computer and searched for the hack into Harper's building.
He blinked in astonishment as he found a string of code waiting for him. He looked at it and realized it was a password. Hardison had built a door for him.
He used the password and slipped inside, locating the camera feeds and ignoring Hardison for the moment. The office on the other side of the door was clear of security, so he settled in to wait where he was, halfway between Parker on the second floor and Sophie on the fourth. As Parker worked her way up, so would he, keeping himself within equal distance of both of them in case of trouble. Harper wouldn't have forgotten that someone had defeated twelve of his men; if Parker or Sophie were discovered, Harper wouldn't react kindly.
He sent Hardison back a text from his own network connection, rather than trying to send it through Hardison's computer itself, not wanting to accidently mess with anything Hardison had going.
Thanks.
You're welcome, anytime. There was a pause then, over the earbud Hardison said, "I still get breakfast the next morning, right?"
Eliot stifled his grin, then composed himself and growled, "Nate, will you please hit him for me?"
"I'm not getting involved in your domestic disputes," Nate replied easily, sounding as if he didn't know or care that he'd missed most of their conversation.
"This isn't a domestic dispute. Just smack him once," Eliot said. "You know you've wanted to before. I'm giving you permission to do it, now."
There was a sort of muffled cough from Sophie, who was still talking with Harper and keeping her cover intact. There was a laugh from Nate, and Hardison just said, "You hear that? You ever smack me any other time and you'll have him to deal with." He sounded smug.
"I'm thinking this job isn't hard enough," Nate just said. "Maybe I should call in an anonymous tip to the FBI and get them down here just to shake things up and give you people something to do."
"Oo, can we?" Parker asked. "I want to be the felon!"
"Parker, you're already a felon," Eliot reminded her.
"But the FBI no longer has any files on me," she said, and it sounded to Eliot like she was pouting. "Hardison got rid of them all. Not that they ever had much to begin with. They actually thought I wasn't the one who-- Oh, hi! Did you hear that Fred's leaving?"
Eliot shook his head, resisting the urge to thump his head against the wall. Missions with his brothers had never been like this. Part of him wished for the focused professionalism that came from working with highly-trained soldiers. Another part of him liked the fact that he'd only been shot at twice in the last two years, and had only been nearly blown up once.
He wondered briefly where his brothers even were, then he heard footsteps coming towards the door and backed away from the door and headed up one flight of stairs. He peeked down to watch as the door opened and Parker slipped into the stairwell.
"What are you doing?" he asked, coming back down to the landing.
"The whole company's talking about people getting better jobs," she said. "Before I even get to places, people are talking about it. I don't think I need to keep walking around whispering at people."
"The power of company email and the water cooler," Hardison said. "Gossip's all over the place."
"Parker, you can come back to the van," Nate said. "Eliot, I want you to stay where you can reach Sophie."
"Got it," Eliot said, then he jerked away from Parker's hands. "What are you doing?" he hissed.
"Trying to tell if this is one of those metal struts," Parker replied. "You never stand still long enough for me to feel properly. But now that you know I know, I can."
Eliot blinked at her, trying to remind himself that she was crazy as a loon, and telling her off would probably not have any impact.
"Uh, Eliot, is she feeling you up?" Hardison asked.
"No, I'm feeling him down," Parker replied, as her hands worked down from his shoulder towards his elbow. There was a strut there, laid against the humerus. Eliot didn't know how obvious it was underneath the muscle, but if anyone could feel it, it was probably Parker.
He sighed, then picked up her hand and shifted it slightly to the left. "Here," he said, brushing her fingers against the line of the metal.
"Oo, I can feel it!" She grinned at him, then suddenly moved her hands towards his back and he twitched away from her.
"Watch it!"
"OK, hold up. Where is she putting her hands?" Hardison demanded.
"She's--" Eliot began, then smiled. "You sound jealous."
"I haven't even got to feel you up, and she's got her hands all over you," Hardison complained.
"He feels nice," Parker said, her voice just a bit too sultry for Eliot's comfort, despite the fact he knew she was teasing. He hoped she was teasing.
"Can we please focus on the job?" Nate asked, whining just a bit and sounding like he probably didn't expect an answer.
"I'm done," Sophie suddenly said, her voice low. "Harper got called away to deal with an urgent matter." She sounded triumphant; clearly their campaign to put the pressure on was working.
"OK, everyone, let's get out and see if Harper's ready to hang himself," Nate said.
"And Parker, stop feeling Eliot up," Hardison said.
Parker frowned at Eliot. "But I want to see if I can--"
Eliot grabbed her wrist, lightly. "Let's go," he said, knowing it would only delay whatever it was she wanted. But better back at Nate's condo, than the middle of a stairwell.
Well, better not at all, but for some reason he found it incredibly hard to refuse Parker anything. Most of the time it was because she went ahead and did it anyway, no matter what someone else said about it. The rest of the time it was just...easier to give in than to follow her logic well enough to argue with her.
As they headed down the stairs, Eliot kept an eye through Hardison's security hack on Sophie, making sure she was getting out of the building without incident. He ignored Parker's wandering hands, trying not to flinch whenever she found something under his skin that wasn't biological.
"What's this?" she asked as they reached the ground floor, her hand on the back of his neck.
He could hear Hardison grumbling so he paused, then raised his finger to 'shh' Parker before he said, "Darlin', if you've never felt one of those before, maybe you shouldn't ask."
Hardison began shouting over the comm, demanding to know what Parker was doing. Eliot and Parker both clamped their hands over their mouths to muffle their laughter.
"I'm so glad we can do our jobs with professionalism," Nate sighed.
~~~
The Bruins won game four of the playoffs, and afterwards Eliot went back to Hardison's place. The next morning Eliot made breakfast, and for the rest of the weekend Hardison almost completely succeeded in not looking like the cat that ate the canary.
As the days progressed Eliot couldn't stop feeling jittery, flinching whenever any of the team got close and halfway expecting that he'd open his eyes to discover he'd been strapped down and was well on his way to being dismantled.
The others never commented on it, though he knew they noticed. Hardison just kept up a steady stream of chatter, occasionally remembering to talk about things Eliot actually knew something about. Eliot didn't know if he should start trying to watch some of the hundreds of TV shows Hardison kept referencing, or if the blank and somewhat annoyed stare was really the reaction Hardison was going for.
Sophie pretended like nothing had changed, and Eliot had to remind himself that, for her and the others, nothing really had changed. They'd known all along and had simply never discussed it. Sophie didn't ask questions of any of them about their personal lives, so for her there truly was nothing different.
Nate didn't ask either, but he got more obvious about the fact he was taking Eliot's cybernetic abilities into account. Parker, on the other hand, acted like the reins were completely off and felt free to do and ask as she liked, whenever the urge popped into her head. Eliot found it was slightly easier to just answer her questions and do whatever she asked -- letting her run her fingers over his ribcage or demonstrating just how strong he really was.
After he'd set the edge of Hardison's van down, Hardison had bustled Eliot inside the van and proceeded to demonstrate something of his own. Eliot had filed away 'muscle kink' on his list of important things to remember about Hardison.
For Hardison's part...everything changed, but Eliot didn't think that very much of it had to do with what he was. Rather, it had to do with what he was to Hardison -- his boyfriend.
Eliot continually rolled the words around in his head, not at all comfortable with them but at a loss for a better alternative. He didn't know why it made him feel off, unless it was simply such a normal word, one that teased him to think of himself as something he wasn't. But every time Hardison kissed him, or pressed against him, skin to skin, or simply rolled over in bed and flopped an arm across Eliot's body before falling asleep, Eliot felt just a tiny bit more human.
Of course he only lay in bed for long enough that Hardison fell deeply asleep, before slipping out and going about the business of amusing himself for the bulk of the night. Those nights he was at Hardison's place he didn't dare risk shutting down, but neither did he go home in the middle of the night to shut down in private. He hadn't told Hardison about his need to shut down and so far his lover hadn't mentioned it either. But Eliot knew better, now, than to think that mean that Hardison didn't already know.
It was probably something they should talk about, Eliot figured, but he knew he wasn't ready for that just yet. Instead he just always waited until morning, then he begged off going in to work with Hardison, arguing his way into heading home for a couple hours of unspecified need. Let Hardison think he had delicate plants that needed care, or a pet goldfish that needed feeding. He didn't ask, afraid to broach the subject with a lie in case Hardison retorted with the truth.
He'd also made his promised call to Doc Martinez, the Sunday after the job was over and he had escaped home for a break from Hardison's determination to have a marathon session of sex. He'd been careful not to mention that part to the doc, but she'd managed to wheedle enough out of him that she'd expressed her joy in the same breath as she'd pestered him to allow her to meet the new man in his life.
Two weeks later and he still wasn't sure what to do about that, and was dealing with it by refusing to think much about it. In the meanwhile Nate had taken another job for them and it had ended up taking three days and one broken collarbone to complete. Eliot ranted silently to himself about having broken an actual bone, instead of something that could have simply been removed and replaced. He resigned himself to wearing a sling for three weeks and being careful of his right arm until he regained his strength. Luckily it had been simple enough to snap back into place himself, avoiding the argument about going to see Doc Martinez.
At the moment he was on the couch in Nate's place, scowling at Hardison who was bent over his laptop, typing furiously.
"I thought you said you had satellite hook-up," Eliot said.
"Please! Do I look like I have anything as archaic as satellite hook-up? I'm getting the direct feeds from each of the cameras at the arena, including the one outside taking picturesque shots of the skyline, each one going to a different screen," Hardison gestured at the screens with one hand while still typing with the other.
"Then why isn't the game on?" Eliot demanded. He didn't ultimately care about the game itself; the Boston Celtics were a good team, but really Eliot just wanted to see someone play basketball and didn't so much care who it was.
Watching third-rate fifth graders would be better than staring at the ceiling thinking about all the things he wanted to do and couldn't. Not because of limited mobility, but because Parker and Sophie had taken to hovering over him whenever he tried to get off the couch. Parker kept bringing him things: iced tea, books, a bag of candy corn and a small plastic rocket launcher.
He'd actually appreciated the rocket launcher, aiming the foam rockets at Hardison's head until Hardison had completely unfairly distracted him with a kiss and stolen it.
For the moment Eliot had given in, figuring he might as well watch the game and let someone else bring him popcorn. At least he would if someone would get the game on and stop fiddling with his overly-complicated setup. He was about to find an audio stream of the broadcast online and listen to the game inside his head when there was a knock at the door.
"Right on time," Nate said, as he headed over to answer it.
Vaguely surprised that Nate had lined up another client so soon, Eliot mostly ignored him as he watched Hardison failing to bring the game up. Then he heard Doc Martinez say, "You must be Nate Ford. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Stunned, Eliot spun his head around as Doc Martinez walked in, carrying her bag. "Dr. Carmen Martinez," Nate said, introducing her to the room at large with a sweep of one arm. He pointed out each of the team, and Eliot didn't think he imagined the way her gaze sharpened when Nate said Hardison's name.
Then she looked at Eliot and frowned. "I understand you tried to set a broken bone by yourself."
"It was a simple break," he began, but her frown deepened and Eliot felt himself shrink back. "The bones didn't completely separate," he offered, but when she just shook her head at him, Eliot ducked his head. "I'm sorry?"
To his right, Parker made a sudden, happy noise and she jumped up. "You're Eliot's mom!"
Eliot spun his head around, gaping at her. "No, Parker-- she's not my mother." He looked over to Doc Martinez, trying to figure out how to explain, finding himself a little surprised that Parker, of all people, didn't get that someone who helped raise you wasn't necessarily your parent.
"Eliot," Doc Martinez said in a tone he knew far too well.
He frowned. "She doesn't mean--" he said, and Doc Martinez gave him that look. Not sure exactly what he'd done to earn it, Eliot sighed and fell back against the couch. There was a snicker from Hardison and Eliot just kicked him in the thigh.
"Let me take a look," Doc Martinez said, moving over to stand behind the couch, leaning over to touch his collarbone with gentle, practiced fingers. There wasn't much pain, and Eliot didn't wince when she found the place where the bone had broken. She made 'hm'ing noises to herself, apparently oblivious to the way everyone in the room was staring, watching them.
After another moment she straightened up and said, "I'll want to scan it, but it appears that you managed to get the bone back together cleanly. Though Lord knows how; the last time you broke it we had to fuse the bone together."
"I remember," Eliot said.
"Last time?" Hardison asked, looking interested before apparently realizing it might not be a good story and his face fell, clearly scrambling for a dignified way to retract his question.
But Doc Martinez laughed. "He flew over the handlebars of his motorcycle, trying to avoid hitting an animal that was running across the road. What was it, mi hijo, a raccoon?"
"Opossum," Eliot replied. He'd stolen the bike on the last day of a mission, his brothers all covering for each other by making it appear that the job was taking slightly longer than it had. They'd each spent a few hours doing whatever they could -- playing, Doc Martinez had said, when they'd snuck Eliot back in with his left arm strapped to his side. Billy had had a line of bruises down his side from falling off a skateboard down a flight of steps as he'd tried to re-create a stunt, and Stu had needed stitches over one eye and had refused to tell any of them how he'd gotten them.
"Told you," Parker whispered, leaning towards him.
"Parker, that's not--" Eliot began, then stopped himself. Arguing with Parker was a losing proposition, he reminded himself, thinking that clearly he needed to have the doc hard-wire that into his cortex.
"Keep your arm in the sling," Doc Martinez scolded, and Eliot realized he'd been reaching to intercept Parker's hands.
"Give her back her keys," Eliot told Parker, and Parker smiled shyly.
"I didn't mean to," she said to the doc. "Not really. I mean the keys were just reflex while I was stealing your billfold." She held them both out and Doc Martinez just smiled at her.
"I used to keep candy at my desk for the boys and they were always sneaking in to steal it. I didn't think to bring any with me," she said to Eliot, but Eliot saw the look on Parker's face at the comment, lighting up at the mention then falling when she realised there wasn't any.
"You get a reward for treating your broken bone yourself?" Hardison teased.
Eliot started to retort, then switched gears. "You want a reward for getting the game on the screen before we miss the entire first half?"
Hardison looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and he hit a button on the remote. All of the screens came to life, showing the basketball game, only twenty-three minutes in. Eliot reached down and pulled out a piece of candy corn and held it out.
For a long moment, Hardison just stared at it. Then he looked at Eliot. "Seriously?"
"I'm not offering you a blow job in front of the doc," Eliot said, scowling harder, ignoring the fact that she'd been the one to tell them all about things like condoms and penicillin. "Do you want to stay to watch the game?" he asked her, though he had no idea if she even liked basketball.
"I'd love to, mi hijo," she said, her eyes soft and shining. She patted him on the arm and let Nate show her to a spot on the other couch, then everyone got themselves settled and Sophie brought drinks and Parker bounded into the kitchen to make more popcorn. She brought back the bowl, along with a can of Cheese Whiz.
"That's disgusting," Eliot told her, but she paid him no mind.
As he settled himself back against the couch, Hardison shifted over, leaning himself ever so slightly against Eliot's shoulder, taking care not to put any real pressure on Eliot's injured arm. Eliot considered his options, then just scooted his foot over against Hardison's. He caught Hardison's smile out of the corner of his eye, and past him he saw Doc Martinez next to Nate. On Nate's other side Sophie had made herself comfortable, while Parker was still squirting cheese onto her popcorn, to Eliot's left.
It was a weird, completely abnormal little group, but Eliot had to admit -- they were his family, and he wouldn't trade them for the world.
"Parker, stop that," Eliot snapped, ten minutes later.
"But I like to make them suffer before they die," she replied, dancing the corn chips in frenzied death throes towards the dip, complete with choking sounds and begging to be spared.
He thought about throwing something at her, but didn't. It worked fine with Hardison, but Parker would throw it back, hard as she could, and as skinny as she was she was pretty damned strong. Eliot smiled at her charmingly as he could, and asked, "Hey, Parker? You know what would be nice?"
She looked at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but with a smile playing about her lips.
Eliot gave her an innocent look, knowing she could see right through it. "There's this leather scabbard in the National Museum of Mongolia that I've always wanted. It's in excellent condition for being so old -- and I've got this long knife that would fit perfectly into it."
"Leather?" Parker said, disdainfully, but he could see her interest was piqued.
"Well, it's encrusted with rubies, but mostly--"
"Oh!" She sat up straight. "I know that one! You want me to get it for you? I can do that." She slid off the couch, obviously ready to leave the country right then and there.
"Parker, sit down," Nate said. "Eliot, be nice."
"I can't sit here and watch her torturing corn chips," Eliot protested.
"Sending her out of the country to steal you a scabbard is a little overkill though, don't you think?" Nate asked patiently, eyes still on the game.
"Actually, there's this little bracelet in that same museum," Sophie said, suddenly. "I've had my eye on it for awhile, but never saw the point in making a trip all that way for just one little piece of jewelry."
"Awesome!" Parker jumped up. "We'll be back in two days. Maybe three if Sophie makes us stop in Rome on the way back."
"Parker, it'll take you that long just to fly there and back," Hardison pointed out.
Parker shrugged. "Yeah? Have you ever been to the National Museum of Mongolia? No security whatsoever. Walk in, walk out. Ten seconds, tops."
Eliot cleared his throat. "Actually, that's not true. A private donor has taken an interest in the museum, after he added some items from his personal collection. I think you'll find it a bit more of a challenge than that now."
"Oh, good!" Parker looked excited, as Eliot had expected her to. "Come on, Sophie!"
Eliot looked over to find Nate watching him, an incredulous look on his face. "Are you really sending them to Mongolia because she was playing with her corn chips?"
He made a face. "No, it's because of the Cheese-Whiz. I need her out of the country while I destroy every can of that stuff they ever made."
At that, Parker narrowed her eyes again and leaned over to grab her canned cheese. She tucked it securely in the crook of her arm, still glaring at Eliot as she walked towards the door.
"Well, every can but that one," Hardison said, sounding almost sincerely sympathetic.
Nate sighed again, then looked at Doc Martinez. "Was he always this difficult?"
Eliot knew he was joking, but he saw the look on the doc's face, and saw as Nate recognized the emotion as well. She shook her head. "It took me a long time to teach them this," she said quietly.
He knew what she was thinking, how they'd been made to follow orders, made to be machines, and soldiers. They'd been taught to hunt and kill and infiltrate, and it had taken years of deceit to undo even the slightest bit of that indoctrination.
She'd given them candy so they'd know what sweet tasted like, let them steal it to encourage their independence from their supervisors. She'd quietly sung them songs when she gave them their physicals and whispered suggestions on how they could take the equipment they trained with and turn them into games, competing for bragging rights instead of thinking in terms of kills. Eidelman and most of his staff had barely spoken to them except to issue orders, but Doc Martinez had soothed their hurts and listened to them when they'd finally dared talk to her.
She'd raised them, all right, from obedient machines into the people they'd finally become.
Eliot realized just how little he still knew about being human after all. She really had been their mother all along, and he had never even noticed until now. And Parker, of all people, had been the first to put a name to it.
She was smiling at him, now, still sadly, still no doubt thinking of how far they had had to come, perhaps even how far they still had to go. She gave herself a little shake, and looked at Nate. "They're mostly good boys, even if they do still need some polishing."
Nate nodded, clearly appreciating what she was, and was not, saying.
Eliot waited until she turned back to him, and caught her eye. "Gracias, Mamá," he said quietly -- loudly as he could with the words getting stuck in his throat.
She sniffed, biting her lip for a moment before composing herself and saying, "But you should still call more often."
Hardison snickered at him, though it sounded a little forced, but Eliot nodded, meekly -- before scowling at his lover. He let the words settle inside him, poking at them each as he said them again silently to himself. He felt Hardison pick up his hand, holding it carefully. Eliot gave his fingers a squeeze, then shifted himself down a bit so he could rest his head on Hardison's shoulder without putting pressure on his broken bone.
They sat there, watching the game in relative silence; Hardison and Nate started cheering and hollering at the screen as they got into the game. Eliot felt too self-conscious to get into the game with Doc Martinez there, figuring that she would be watching him, judging his behavior, even as she kept turned towards the screens, watching the game with apparent interest.
His shoulder was hurting a little, but he felt comfortable and as relaxed as he ever did when he wasn't alone. Hardison was sitting as still as he could, whooping for the home team but trying not to jostle Eliot's shoulder. The sound of Nate's and Hardison's voices punctuated the action of the game and Eliot slowly realized he wasn't really watching, but was simply sitting there listening to them.
He closed his eyes, thinking idly that it might be nice to be able to drift to sleep. Instead he merely let himself sit quietly, breathing slowly and deeply until there was nothing but the sounds of the game and the feel of Hardison next to him and the faint scent of Mamá's perfume in the air.
the end
Sitting in the back of Hardison's van, they all stayed quiet as Nate went over the plan of attack -- again. Harper had had a chance to get nervous, but he hadn't jumped yet so Nate was wanting to put a little more pressure on him. Sophie was to 'bump' into him and drop a few hints about contacts she'd had from one of his competitors while Parker wandered through the building on a whispering campaign, dropping comments about unnamed employees who had been offered lucrative positions if they left Harper's company.
"Eliot, you'll be on stand-by in case of trouble," Nate began, then he paused. "You're sure you're all right?"
Eliot just gave him a flat look. "I'm fine. How many times do you want me to say it?"
"Okay, okay." Nate held up one hand. "Position yourself someplace with easy access to the third floor as well as the ground level lobby, since Parker and Sophie will be--"
"I know my job," Eliot snapped, not so much irritated as restless with Nate's redundancies. They should be inside already, not sitting in the van, and Eliot was itching to get going.
"Fine," Nate said, crossly. "While you three are inside, Hardison, you're going to--"
"Be spoofing some emails with office gossip and setting up the fake website where Harper can go find out that somebody is headhunting his executives. I know." Hardison glanced over at Nate. "I'm already doing it."
Nate sighed. Then he 'shooed' Sophie, Parker and Eliot. "Well, get going."
Eliot walked into the building with Parker, leaving Sophie to make her own, more grand entrance. He and Parker wanted to blend in and go unnoticed, not be connected to the woman Harper had become mesmerized by recently. Eliot paused inside the lobby near the directory, scanning the area. The only security guard was a typical cookie-cutter minimum wage lackey, meant to look intimidating in the uniform but with no real training other than 'be polite to the important guests.'
He saw Parker get onto the elevator, already with an access badge in her hands. Eliot turned from the directory and headed for the stairs, taking note of the security cameras -- the fifth on to the north was broken. The others had a nearly-invisible red indicator light shining; that one was dark. He slipped into Hardison's hack into the building's security system, wanting to double check if it really was off. He found the cameras easily, checked the map of them on the security center's screens to confirm the dead spot.
"Seriously, Eliot, don't you trust me?" Hardison's voice came over the earbud.
Halfway up the first flight of stairs, Eliot hesitated for half a step. "Excuse me?"
"I'm flattered that you like my hack, but dude, a little more finesse would be nice."
Eliot stopped, and glared at the far wall as if Hardison could see him. "What are you talking about--" Oh. "You can see...?"
In a tone that was amused, and a little bit...something else, Hardison said, "Man, I see you every single time you jump into my hack. It's cute, actually, but maybe you should let me show you how to do it with a little more sneak and a little less blunder? I mean, for a cyborg you should really be--"
He stopped talking as Eliot severed his connection to Hardison's computer and yanked himself back as fast as he could. He shored up the firewall behind him, aware that he didn't know if Hardison had ever broken it. But he would have noticed, if Hardison had ever hacked into him.
Wouldn't he?
"Hey, Eliot," Hardison was saying, his tone full of apology. "I didn't mean you had to run. I just meant... you know I'd tell you if there was something you needed to know. Or you could just ask."
"Sorry," Eliot muttered, feeling embarrassed. Maybe more than embarrassed. "I'll stay out of your way." He continued up the stairs, wondering if he should risk trying his own, direct hack into the building's security to get the scans he wanted. But Hardison would be likely to notice, and the whole reason he'd always piggy-backed on Hardison's hacks was that hacking just wasn't his forte. He had the hardware for it, but not -- as Hardison had so kindly reminded him -- the expertise to go unnoticed.
JS-5 had always done the hacking for them when they'd gone on missions. Jason's input/output was sleeker than anything the rest of them had been given, built expressly to be their communications specialist. He'd been shorted most of the physical advantages his brothers had, his thin wiry frame nowhere near as strong or resilient as the rest of them. He'd been killed only three years after being activated, shot in the chest four times while they had desperately tried to get to his position and draw away the fire.
Eliot rubbed one hand across his face, trying to shove aside the memory. After JS-5 there hadn't been another specialist, and Eliot and his brothers had taken turns trying to do the best they could on their own. Doc Martinez had made sure they'd all gotten upgrades so they had the best hardware to work with, but Jason hadn't ever had the chance to teach them how to use it properly, as Hardison had just vividly reminded to him.
Eliot reached the third floor, aware that Hardison had fallen silent. None of the others were talking to the team; he could hear Sophie speaking to Harper and now and again Parker's voice came over the comm as she planted her rumors. Eliot went to the floor-access door and put a hand on it, wishing he could see the security camera on the other side. He could hear well enough to count how many people were there and roughly how far away each was. The floor was carpeted, which made it harder to tell if the footsteps were the heavy shoes as he would expect from the security guards.
He jolted in surprise as a message came over his text-relay; for a moment he thought it was Doc Martinez, as she was the only one to ever text him once the Project had closed and his brothers had gone their separate ways. But a quick look at the headers showed it was from Hardison's laptop. He glanced at the message.
I'm sorry.
He stared at it, wondering how Hardison had gotten the address, then told himself he was probably being fourteen kinds of stupid. Hardison had his files, had seen every fucking time he'd stumbled his way into Hardison's own computer. Tracing him and figuring out how to send a message was probably child's play.
Forget it, he sent back.
No, came the reply. I shouldn't have said all that, especially not over the comms for everyone to hear. I'm sorry. There was a pause, then another text came through. Please come back.
Eliot stared at the message. He didn't want to go back in, hating the thought that he would be clumsy and obvious. But he needed to see the camera feeds, and he was used to getting the information he needed as soon as he wanted it, through Hardison's computer. If they hadn't been working, Eliot knew, he would just ignore him. But the job came first. Reluctantly, knowing that Hardison would be watching and would see him blunder in, Eliot re-connected to Hardison's computer and searched for the hack into Harper's building.
He blinked in astonishment as he found a string of code waiting for him. He looked at it and realized it was a password. Hardison had built a door for him.
He used the password and slipped inside, locating the camera feeds and ignoring Hardison for the moment. The office on the other side of the door was clear of security, so he settled in to wait where he was, halfway between Parker on the second floor and Sophie on the fourth. As Parker worked her way up, so would he, keeping himself within equal distance of both of them in case of trouble. Harper wouldn't have forgotten that someone had defeated twelve of his men; if Parker or Sophie were discovered, Harper wouldn't react kindly.
He sent Hardison back a text from his own network connection, rather than trying to send it through Hardison's computer itself, not wanting to accidently mess with anything Hardison had going.
Thanks.
You're welcome, anytime. There was a pause then, over the earbud Hardison said, "I still get breakfast the next morning, right?"
Eliot stifled his grin, then composed himself and growled, "Nate, will you please hit him for me?"
"I'm not getting involved in your domestic disputes," Nate replied easily, sounding as if he didn't know or care that he'd missed most of their conversation.
"This isn't a domestic dispute. Just smack him once," Eliot said. "You know you've wanted to before. I'm giving you permission to do it, now."
There was a sort of muffled cough from Sophie, who was still talking with Harper and keeping her cover intact. There was a laugh from Nate, and Hardison just said, "You hear that? You ever smack me any other time and you'll have him to deal with." He sounded smug.
"I'm thinking this job isn't hard enough," Nate just said. "Maybe I should call in an anonymous tip to the FBI and get them down here just to shake things up and give you people something to do."
"Oo, can we?" Parker asked. "I want to be the felon!"
"Parker, you're already a felon," Eliot reminded her.
"But the FBI no longer has any files on me," she said, and it sounded to Eliot like she was pouting. "Hardison got rid of them all. Not that they ever had much to begin with. They actually thought I wasn't the one who-- Oh, hi! Did you hear that Fred's leaving?"
Eliot shook his head, resisting the urge to thump his head against the wall. Missions with his brothers had never been like this. Part of him wished for the focused professionalism that came from working with highly-trained soldiers. Another part of him liked the fact that he'd only been shot at twice in the last two years, and had only been nearly blown up once.
He wondered briefly where his brothers even were, then he heard footsteps coming towards the door and backed away from the door and headed up one flight of stairs. He peeked down to watch as the door opened and Parker slipped into the stairwell.
"What are you doing?" he asked, coming back down to the landing.
"The whole company's talking about people getting better jobs," she said. "Before I even get to places, people are talking about it. I don't think I need to keep walking around whispering at people."
"The power of company email and the water cooler," Hardison said. "Gossip's all over the place."
"Parker, you can come back to the van," Nate said. "Eliot, I want you to stay where you can reach Sophie."
"Got it," Eliot said, then he jerked away from Parker's hands. "What are you doing?" he hissed.
"Trying to tell if this is one of those metal struts," Parker replied. "You never stand still long enough for me to feel properly. But now that you know I know, I can."
Eliot blinked at her, trying to remind himself that she was crazy as a loon, and telling her off would probably not have any impact.
"Uh, Eliot, is she feeling you up?" Hardison asked.
"No, I'm feeling him down," Parker replied, as her hands worked down from his shoulder towards his elbow. There was a strut there, laid against the humerus. Eliot didn't know how obvious it was underneath the muscle, but if anyone could feel it, it was probably Parker.
He sighed, then picked up her hand and shifted it slightly to the left. "Here," he said, brushing her fingers against the line of the metal.
"Oo, I can feel it!" She grinned at him, then suddenly moved her hands towards his back and he twitched away from her.
"Watch it!"
"OK, hold up. Where is she putting her hands?" Hardison demanded.
"She's--" Eliot began, then smiled. "You sound jealous."
"I haven't even got to feel you up, and she's got her hands all over you," Hardison complained.
"He feels nice," Parker said, her voice just a bit too sultry for Eliot's comfort, despite the fact he knew she was teasing. He hoped she was teasing.
"Can we please focus on the job?" Nate asked, whining just a bit and sounding like he probably didn't expect an answer.
"I'm done," Sophie suddenly said, her voice low. "Harper got called away to deal with an urgent matter." She sounded triumphant; clearly their campaign to put the pressure on was working.
"OK, everyone, let's get out and see if Harper's ready to hang himself," Nate said.
"And Parker, stop feeling Eliot up," Hardison said.
Parker frowned at Eliot. "But I want to see if I can--"
Eliot grabbed her wrist, lightly. "Let's go," he said, knowing it would only delay whatever it was she wanted. But better back at Nate's condo, than the middle of a stairwell.
Well, better not at all, but for some reason he found it incredibly hard to refuse Parker anything. Most of the time it was because she went ahead and did it anyway, no matter what someone else said about it. The rest of the time it was just...easier to give in than to follow her logic well enough to argue with her.
As they headed down the stairs, Eliot kept an eye through Hardison's security hack on Sophie, making sure she was getting out of the building without incident. He ignored Parker's wandering hands, trying not to flinch whenever she found something under his skin that wasn't biological.
"What's this?" she asked as they reached the ground floor, her hand on the back of his neck.
He could hear Hardison grumbling so he paused, then raised his finger to 'shh' Parker before he said, "Darlin', if you've never felt one of those before, maybe you shouldn't ask."
Hardison began shouting over the comm, demanding to know what Parker was doing. Eliot and Parker both clamped their hands over their mouths to muffle their laughter.
"I'm so glad we can do our jobs with professionalism," Nate sighed.
~~~
The Bruins won game four of the playoffs, and afterwards Eliot went back to Hardison's place. The next morning Eliot made breakfast, and for the rest of the weekend Hardison almost completely succeeded in not looking like the cat that ate the canary.
As the days progressed Eliot couldn't stop feeling jittery, flinching whenever any of the team got close and halfway expecting that he'd open his eyes to discover he'd been strapped down and was well on his way to being dismantled.
The others never commented on it, though he knew they noticed. Hardison just kept up a steady stream of chatter, occasionally remembering to talk about things Eliot actually knew something about. Eliot didn't know if he should start trying to watch some of the hundreds of TV shows Hardison kept referencing, or if the blank and somewhat annoyed stare was really the reaction Hardison was going for.
Sophie pretended like nothing had changed, and Eliot had to remind himself that, for her and the others, nothing really had changed. They'd known all along and had simply never discussed it. Sophie didn't ask questions of any of them about their personal lives, so for her there truly was nothing different.
Nate didn't ask either, but he got more obvious about the fact he was taking Eliot's cybernetic abilities into account. Parker, on the other hand, acted like the reins were completely off and felt free to do and ask as she liked, whenever the urge popped into her head. Eliot found it was slightly easier to just answer her questions and do whatever she asked -- letting her run her fingers over his ribcage or demonstrating just how strong he really was.
After he'd set the edge of Hardison's van down, Hardison had bustled Eliot inside the van and proceeded to demonstrate something of his own. Eliot had filed away 'muscle kink' on his list of important things to remember about Hardison.
For Hardison's part...everything changed, but Eliot didn't think that very much of it had to do with what he was. Rather, it had to do with what he was to Hardison -- his boyfriend.
Eliot continually rolled the words around in his head, not at all comfortable with them but at a loss for a better alternative. He didn't know why it made him feel off, unless it was simply such a normal word, one that teased him to think of himself as something he wasn't. But every time Hardison kissed him, or pressed against him, skin to skin, or simply rolled over in bed and flopped an arm across Eliot's body before falling asleep, Eliot felt just a tiny bit more human.
Of course he only lay in bed for long enough that Hardison fell deeply asleep, before slipping out and going about the business of amusing himself for the bulk of the night. Those nights he was at Hardison's place he didn't dare risk shutting down, but neither did he go home in the middle of the night to shut down in private. He hadn't told Hardison about his need to shut down and so far his lover hadn't mentioned it either. But Eliot knew better, now, than to think that mean that Hardison didn't already know.
It was probably something they should talk about, Eliot figured, but he knew he wasn't ready for that just yet. Instead he just always waited until morning, then he begged off going in to work with Hardison, arguing his way into heading home for a couple hours of unspecified need. Let Hardison think he had delicate plants that needed care, or a pet goldfish that needed feeding. He didn't ask, afraid to broach the subject with a lie in case Hardison retorted with the truth.
He'd also made his promised call to Doc Martinez, the Sunday after the job was over and he had escaped home for a break from Hardison's determination to have a marathon session of sex. He'd been careful not to mention that part to the doc, but she'd managed to wheedle enough out of him that she'd expressed her joy in the same breath as she'd pestered him to allow her to meet the new man in his life.
Two weeks later and he still wasn't sure what to do about that, and was dealing with it by refusing to think much about it. In the meanwhile Nate had taken another job for them and it had ended up taking three days and one broken collarbone to complete. Eliot ranted silently to himself about having broken an actual bone, instead of something that could have simply been removed and replaced. He resigned himself to wearing a sling for three weeks and being careful of his right arm until he regained his strength. Luckily it had been simple enough to snap back into place himself, avoiding the argument about going to see Doc Martinez.
At the moment he was on the couch in Nate's place, scowling at Hardison who was bent over his laptop, typing furiously.
"I thought you said you had satellite hook-up," Eliot said.
"Please! Do I look like I have anything as archaic as satellite hook-up? I'm getting the direct feeds from each of the cameras at the arena, including the one outside taking picturesque shots of the skyline, each one going to a different screen," Hardison gestured at the screens with one hand while still typing with the other.
"Then why isn't the game on?" Eliot demanded. He didn't ultimately care about the game itself; the Boston Celtics were a good team, but really Eliot just wanted to see someone play basketball and didn't so much care who it was.
Watching third-rate fifth graders would be better than staring at the ceiling thinking about all the things he wanted to do and couldn't. Not because of limited mobility, but because Parker and Sophie had taken to hovering over him whenever he tried to get off the couch. Parker kept bringing him things: iced tea, books, a bag of candy corn and a small plastic rocket launcher.
He'd actually appreciated the rocket launcher, aiming the foam rockets at Hardison's head until Hardison had completely unfairly distracted him with a kiss and stolen it.
For the moment Eliot had given in, figuring he might as well watch the game and let someone else bring him popcorn. At least he would if someone would get the game on and stop fiddling with his overly-complicated setup. He was about to find an audio stream of the broadcast online and listen to the game inside his head when there was a knock at the door.
"Right on time," Nate said, as he headed over to answer it.
Vaguely surprised that Nate had lined up another client so soon, Eliot mostly ignored him as he watched Hardison failing to bring the game up. Then he heard Doc Martinez say, "You must be Nate Ford. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Stunned, Eliot spun his head around as Doc Martinez walked in, carrying her bag. "Dr. Carmen Martinez," Nate said, introducing her to the room at large with a sweep of one arm. He pointed out each of the team, and Eliot didn't think he imagined the way her gaze sharpened when Nate said Hardison's name.
Then she looked at Eliot and frowned. "I understand you tried to set a broken bone by yourself."
"It was a simple break," he began, but her frown deepened and Eliot felt himself shrink back. "The bones didn't completely separate," he offered, but when she just shook her head at him, Eliot ducked his head. "I'm sorry?"
To his right, Parker made a sudden, happy noise and she jumped up. "You're Eliot's mom!"
Eliot spun his head around, gaping at her. "No, Parker-- she's not my mother." He looked over to Doc Martinez, trying to figure out how to explain, finding himself a little surprised that Parker, of all people, didn't get that someone who helped raise you wasn't necessarily your parent.
"Eliot," Doc Martinez said in a tone he knew far too well.
He frowned. "She doesn't mean--" he said, and Doc Martinez gave him that look. Not sure exactly what he'd done to earn it, Eliot sighed and fell back against the couch. There was a snicker from Hardison and Eliot just kicked him in the thigh.
"Let me take a look," Doc Martinez said, moving over to stand behind the couch, leaning over to touch his collarbone with gentle, practiced fingers. There wasn't much pain, and Eliot didn't wince when she found the place where the bone had broken. She made 'hm'ing noises to herself, apparently oblivious to the way everyone in the room was staring, watching them.
After another moment she straightened up and said, "I'll want to scan it, but it appears that you managed to get the bone back together cleanly. Though Lord knows how; the last time you broke it we had to fuse the bone together."
"I remember," Eliot said.
"Last time?" Hardison asked, looking interested before apparently realizing it might not be a good story and his face fell, clearly scrambling for a dignified way to retract his question.
But Doc Martinez laughed. "He flew over the handlebars of his motorcycle, trying to avoid hitting an animal that was running across the road. What was it, mi hijo, a raccoon?"
"Opossum," Eliot replied. He'd stolen the bike on the last day of a mission, his brothers all covering for each other by making it appear that the job was taking slightly longer than it had. They'd each spent a few hours doing whatever they could -- playing, Doc Martinez had said, when they'd snuck Eliot back in with his left arm strapped to his side. Billy had had a line of bruises down his side from falling off a skateboard down a flight of steps as he'd tried to re-create a stunt, and Stu had needed stitches over one eye and had refused to tell any of them how he'd gotten them.
"Told you," Parker whispered, leaning towards him.
"Parker, that's not--" Eliot began, then stopped himself. Arguing with Parker was a losing proposition, he reminded himself, thinking that clearly he needed to have the doc hard-wire that into his cortex.
"Keep your arm in the sling," Doc Martinez scolded, and Eliot realized he'd been reaching to intercept Parker's hands.
"Give her back her keys," Eliot told Parker, and Parker smiled shyly.
"I didn't mean to," she said to the doc. "Not really. I mean the keys were just reflex while I was stealing your billfold." She held them both out and Doc Martinez just smiled at her.
"I used to keep candy at my desk for the boys and they were always sneaking in to steal it. I didn't think to bring any with me," she said to Eliot, but Eliot saw the look on Parker's face at the comment, lighting up at the mention then falling when she realised there wasn't any.
"You get a reward for treating your broken bone yourself?" Hardison teased.
Eliot started to retort, then switched gears. "You want a reward for getting the game on the screen before we miss the entire first half?"
Hardison looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and he hit a button on the remote. All of the screens came to life, showing the basketball game, only twenty-three minutes in. Eliot reached down and pulled out a piece of candy corn and held it out.
For a long moment, Hardison just stared at it. Then he looked at Eliot. "Seriously?"
"I'm not offering you a blow job in front of the doc," Eliot said, scowling harder, ignoring the fact that she'd been the one to tell them all about things like condoms and penicillin. "Do you want to stay to watch the game?" he asked her, though he had no idea if she even liked basketball.
"I'd love to, mi hijo," she said, her eyes soft and shining. She patted him on the arm and let Nate show her to a spot on the other couch, then everyone got themselves settled and Sophie brought drinks and Parker bounded into the kitchen to make more popcorn. She brought back the bowl, along with a can of Cheese Whiz.
"That's disgusting," Eliot told her, but she paid him no mind.
As he settled himself back against the couch, Hardison shifted over, leaning himself ever so slightly against Eliot's shoulder, taking care not to put any real pressure on Eliot's injured arm. Eliot considered his options, then just scooted his foot over against Hardison's. He caught Hardison's smile out of the corner of his eye, and past him he saw Doc Martinez next to Nate. On Nate's other side Sophie had made herself comfortable, while Parker was still squirting cheese onto her popcorn, to Eliot's left.
It was a weird, completely abnormal little group, but Eliot had to admit -- they were his family, and he wouldn't trade them for the world.
"Parker, stop that," Eliot snapped, ten minutes later.
"But I like to make them suffer before they die," she replied, dancing the corn chips in frenzied death throes towards the dip, complete with choking sounds and begging to be spared.
He thought about throwing something at her, but didn't. It worked fine with Hardison, but Parker would throw it back, hard as she could, and as skinny as she was she was pretty damned strong. Eliot smiled at her charmingly as he could, and asked, "Hey, Parker? You know what would be nice?"
She looked at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but with a smile playing about her lips.
Eliot gave her an innocent look, knowing she could see right through it. "There's this leather scabbard in the National Museum of Mongolia that I've always wanted. It's in excellent condition for being so old -- and I've got this long knife that would fit perfectly into it."
"Leather?" Parker said, disdainfully, but he could see her interest was piqued.
"Well, it's encrusted with rubies, but mostly--"
"Oh!" She sat up straight. "I know that one! You want me to get it for you? I can do that." She slid off the couch, obviously ready to leave the country right then and there.
"Parker, sit down," Nate said. "Eliot, be nice."
"I can't sit here and watch her torturing corn chips," Eliot protested.
"Sending her out of the country to steal you a scabbard is a little overkill though, don't you think?" Nate asked patiently, eyes still on the game.
"Actually, there's this little bracelet in that same museum," Sophie said, suddenly. "I've had my eye on it for awhile, but never saw the point in making a trip all that way for just one little piece of jewelry."
"Awesome!" Parker jumped up. "We'll be back in two days. Maybe three if Sophie makes us stop in Rome on the way back."
"Parker, it'll take you that long just to fly there and back," Hardison pointed out.
Parker shrugged. "Yeah? Have you ever been to the National Museum of Mongolia? No security whatsoever. Walk in, walk out. Ten seconds, tops."
Eliot cleared his throat. "Actually, that's not true. A private donor has taken an interest in the museum, after he added some items from his personal collection. I think you'll find it a bit more of a challenge than that now."
"Oh, good!" Parker looked excited, as Eliot had expected her to. "Come on, Sophie!"
Eliot looked over to find Nate watching him, an incredulous look on his face. "Are you really sending them to Mongolia because she was playing with her corn chips?"
He made a face. "No, it's because of the Cheese-Whiz. I need her out of the country while I destroy every can of that stuff they ever made."
At that, Parker narrowed her eyes again and leaned over to grab her canned cheese. She tucked it securely in the crook of her arm, still glaring at Eliot as she walked towards the door.
"Well, every can but that one," Hardison said, sounding almost sincerely sympathetic.
Nate sighed again, then looked at Doc Martinez. "Was he always this difficult?"
Eliot knew he was joking, but he saw the look on the doc's face, and saw as Nate recognized the emotion as well. She shook her head. "It took me a long time to teach them this," she said quietly.
He knew what she was thinking, how they'd been made to follow orders, made to be machines, and soldiers. They'd been taught to hunt and kill and infiltrate, and it had taken years of deceit to undo even the slightest bit of that indoctrination.
She'd given them candy so they'd know what sweet tasted like, let them steal it to encourage their independence from their supervisors. She'd quietly sung them songs when she gave them their physicals and whispered suggestions on how they could take the equipment they trained with and turn them into games, competing for bragging rights instead of thinking in terms of kills. Eidelman and most of his staff had barely spoken to them except to issue orders, but Doc Martinez had soothed their hurts and listened to them when they'd finally dared talk to her.
She'd raised them, all right, from obedient machines into the people they'd finally become.
Eliot realized just how little he still knew about being human after all. She really had been their mother all along, and he had never even noticed until now. And Parker, of all people, had been the first to put a name to it.
She was smiling at him, now, still sadly, still no doubt thinking of how far they had had to come, perhaps even how far they still had to go. She gave herself a little shake, and looked at Nate. "They're mostly good boys, even if they do still need some polishing."
Nate nodded, clearly appreciating what she was, and was not, saying.
Eliot waited until she turned back to him, and caught her eye. "Gracias, Mamá," he said quietly -- loudly as he could with the words getting stuck in his throat.
She sniffed, biting her lip for a moment before composing herself and saying, "But you should still call more often."
Hardison snickered at him, though it sounded a little forced, but Eliot nodded, meekly -- before scowling at his lover. He let the words settle inside him, poking at them each as he said them again silently to himself. He felt Hardison pick up his hand, holding it carefully. Eliot gave his fingers a squeeze, then shifted himself down a bit so he could rest his head on Hardison's shoulder without putting pressure on his broken bone.
They sat there, watching the game in relative silence; Hardison and Nate started cheering and hollering at the screen as they got into the game. Eliot felt too self-conscious to get into the game with Doc Martinez there, figuring that she would be watching him, judging his behavior, even as she kept turned towards the screens, watching the game with apparent interest.
His shoulder was hurting a little, but he felt comfortable and as relaxed as he ever did when he wasn't alone. Hardison was sitting as still as he could, whooping for the home team but trying not to jostle Eliot's shoulder. The sound of Nate's and Hardison's voices punctuated the action of the game and Eliot slowly realized he wasn't really watching, but was simply sitting there listening to them.
He closed his eyes, thinking idly that it might be nice to be able to drift to sleep. Instead he merely let himself sit quietly, breathing slowly and deeply until there was nothing but the sounds of the game and the feel of Hardison next to him and the faint scent of Mamá's perfume in the air.
the end
