Two to Five, 1/1
Nov. 30th, 2010 06:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveTitle: Two to Five
Author: james
Rating: PG - Gen
Word Count: ~1,400
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Notes: written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
leverage_sesa for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scout_lover
Summary: Eliot just wants to be left alone, but Sophie doesn't seem to mind. Set between season 2 and 3.
Eliot had every intention of barricading the doors and hunkering down for a couple weeks -- though not literally, since he was fairly sure that barring his doors and windows would only serve to challenge his teammates. The idea was to be alone, give his bruises and pulled muscles and aching joints a chance to heal. Throwing down the 'break in if you can' gauntlet was stupid enough and blatant enough that even Sophie, who normally was polite enough to respect a person's wishes, would be forced to call him on it.
To that end, he'd given no excuses, offered no misdirection or lies about what his plans were, and made very sure not to use the phrase 'don't bother me,' especially to Hardison or Parker. He'd been honest -- and if he'd made his plans sound utterly boring to anyone but him, then that was the secret behind conning a con artist. Give them just enough truth that he could deny everything, but not enough of anything to pique their interest.
He realised his careful plans hadn't been good enough when Sophie walked through his front door. She smiled, somewhat apologetically, though Eliot could tell the apology was merely for form's sake. He let her in with a more or less welcoming nod in return. Maybe she'd have left him alone any other time, but, as soon as she sat down on the couch and sighed, Eliot knew these weren't normal circumstances.
He moved carefully over to the far chair, dispensing with the niceties of offering to make a pot of tea or pour a glass of medicinal wine. He felt bad about it, since Sophie clearly could use either and he could use a few minutes to get his head wrapped around the idea of her coming over to talk with him. But he'd overdone it the day before, working out a little harder than he maybe should have, and his entire body was back to screaming at him to soak in a hot shower and lie in bed for a month.
He gave Sophie a look, and saw her still staring at the far wall. "This has got to be about Nate," he said, keeping his tone even and easy.
Sophie half-smiled. "When isn't it?" She leaned back against the couch, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away again. "I wouldn't have bothered you, Eliot, but I just didn't know--" She stopped, and Eliot didn't have to fill in the blanks. Hardison hadn't known enough people like Nate to really understand, and Parker's own brand of logic and view of the world just didn't match anybody's. It made sense that Sophie would chose him to vent at, since the man himself was sitting behind bars and visitor's hours were no time or place for emotion.
"There's whiskey in the kitchen," Eliot said. "Or there's a punching bag down the hall."
Her smile that time was genuine, and amused. "Thank you, it's not that sort of problem. As frustrating and infuriating as Nate can be.. the problem isn't him this time. It's me." She looked down at her hands, and Eliot saw she'd been twisting her fingers together. A reflexive sign of worry and one that normally the grifter wouldn't allow herself except for show.
Eliot didn't think it was faked this time, and he tried to figure out what she needed him to say. They'd talked like this exactly once, when he'd explained why he, or any man, would step into a ring and fight. Since then there'd been small moments, individual comments about one thing or another, that let him feel he was getting to know the woman behind the grift a little more.
Before he could say anything, however, she shook her head in resignation. "I keep thinking -- this whole thing with Nate, when I left and then he called me back only to--" She stopped herself, showing her anger but clearly trying to focus on something else. When she met Eliot's gaze again, she only looked sad. "I left because I needed to figure something out about myself. And I don't think I quite succeeded."
"Nate said you left so you could figure out who you were," Eliot said quietly, not sure if he'd meant to be privy to that revelation. They'd all figured it out, eventually, in between calling her without letting Nate know and following Nate's own clandestine phone calls to her.
"My mother was a grifter," Sophie told him, and Eliot suddenly knew what she was about to say next. Her words didn't disappoint him. Her expression closed off as she said, "As soon as I was born, I was part of her cons. As soon as I could talk she was teaching me what to say and how to say it. I was six years old before I realised that the name she kept calling me in-between jobs was actually my own name." Sophie looked at him, her gaze steady. "Her own mother raised her the same; my grandmother and even my great-grandparents were grifters. Family trade," she added with a smile.
"No wonder you get confused," Eliot said, keeping his tone light. She didn't want sympathy, he knew that much. But it had to have ben hard, growing up with no clear idea of who you were in the midst of all the people you had to pretend to be.
She waved a hand. "I've had plenty of opportunity to get away from the cons, settle down and figure out what I really want. I know what I want," she said, firmly. But then her voice faded. "I just lost track of who wanted it."
She fell silent, then, for long enough that Eliot knew he had to say something. There wasn't anything to say, though, since she didn't need his advice and didn't need him to tell her who she ought to be. A friendly ear, Aimee had called it, when she'd wanted to talk about something when they'd been teenagers together. He'd kept trying to fix her problems and finally she'd sat him down and told him to shut up and just listen.
He preferred hitting problems, but sitting here and letting Sophie talk wasn't all that difficult. She glanced at him again, like she'd just remembered he was sitting there.
"I did decide one thing," she said. Eliot nodded, and she started to speak again, then hesitated. Slowly, she finally said, "I need someone -- you and Parker and Hardison -- to know who I am. My real name. So when I start to forget...you're there to remind me."
Eliot blinked. This wasn't what he'd expected at all, and he understood just how much she was saying she needed to give. A jealously guarded secret, more than the locations of her storage units filled with stolen property or the numbers of her bank accounts scattered around the world.
"Are you--" he began, and she grinned.
"I'm not telling Nate," she answered, before he could ask. "He has to earn it." She gave herself a small nod, and Eliot almost laughed. It would serve him right, if she let on that they knew and wasn't going to tell him.
"That's reason enough right there for me to want to know," he told her, returning her grin.
"I know." She kept grinning, bright and happy. Eliot saw how her shoulders finally dropped back, and her eyes had brightened as the last of her masks fell to the side. Whoever she was, this was truly her, and Eliot felt unexpectedly touched.
He knew better than to say she didn't have to, diffidently offering her a way out. So instead he just leaned back in his chair, listening to the aches in his shoulder and his back, and waited. After a moment, she tilted her head and looked at him.
"Do you want some tea?" she asked, already halfway standing up.
"That'd be nice," he said, making no move to take the chore from her.
"Should I bring some painkillers while I'm at it?" she asked him, raising one eyebrow.
"They're on the kitchen counter." Eliot let his head fall back. He'd debated with himself about taking them, eventually settling on not -- and privately regretting the decision all day. Sophie just gave him a flat look that reminded him a lot of his mother, then she turned to head for the kitchen. At the doorway she paused, and without looking back, she said a name.
Eliot waited silently as she went into the kitchen and made them both tea, and when she returned they sat and talked about the best way to break Nate out of jail.
Author: james
Rating: PG - Gen
Word Count: ~1,400
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Notes: written for
leverage_sesa for scout_loverSummary: Eliot just wants to be left alone, but Sophie doesn't seem to mind. Set between season 2 and 3.
Eliot had every intention of barricading the doors and hunkering down for a couple weeks -- though not literally, since he was fairly sure that barring his doors and windows would only serve to challenge his teammates. The idea was to be alone, give his bruises and pulled muscles and aching joints a chance to heal. Throwing down the 'break in if you can' gauntlet was stupid enough and blatant enough that even Sophie, who normally was polite enough to respect a person's wishes, would be forced to call him on it.
To that end, he'd given no excuses, offered no misdirection or lies about what his plans were, and made very sure not to use the phrase 'don't bother me,' especially to Hardison or Parker. He'd been honest -- and if he'd made his plans sound utterly boring to anyone but him, then that was the secret behind conning a con artist. Give them just enough truth that he could deny everything, but not enough of anything to pique their interest.
He realised his careful plans hadn't been good enough when Sophie walked through his front door. She smiled, somewhat apologetically, though Eliot could tell the apology was merely for form's sake. He let her in with a more or less welcoming nod in return. Maybe she'd have left him alone any other time, but, as soon as she sat down on the couch and sighed, Eliot knew these weren't normal circumstances.
He moved carefully over to the far chair, dispensing with the niceties of offering to make a pot of tea or pour a glass of medicinal wine. He felt bad about it, since Sophie clearly could use either and he could use a few minutes to get his head wrapped around the idea of her coming over to talk with him. But he'd overdone it the day before, working out a little harder than he maybe should have, and his entire body was back to screaming at him to soak in a hot shower and lie in bed for a month.
He gave Sophie a look, and saw her still staring at the far wall. "This has got to be about Nate," he said, keeping his tone even and easy.
Sophie half-smiled. "When isn't it?" She leaned back against the couch, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away again. "I wouldn't have bothered you, Eliot, but I just didn't know--" She stopped, and Eliot didn't have to fill in the blanks. Hardison hadn't known enough people like Nate to really understand, and Parker's own brand of logic and view of the world just didn't match anybody's. It made sense that Sophie would chose him to vent at, since the man himself was sitting behind bars and visitor's hours were no time or place for emotion.
"There's whiskey in the kitchen," Eliot said. "Or there's a punching bag down the hall."
Her smile that time was genuine, and amused. "Thank you, it's not that sort of problem. As frustrating and infuriating as Nate can be.. the problem isn't him this time. It's me." She looked down at her hands, and Eliot saw she'd been twisting her fingers together. A reflexive sign of worry and one that normally the grifter wouldn't allow herself except for show.
Eliot didn't think it was faked this time, and he tried to figure out what she needed him to say. They'd talked like this exactly once, when he'd explained why he, or any man, would step into a ring and fight. Since then there'd been small moments, individual comments about one thing or another, that let him feel he was getting to know the woman behind the grift a little more.
Before he could say anything, however, she shook her head in resignation. "I keep thinking -- this whole thing with Nate, when I left and then he called me back only to--" She stopped herself, showing her anger but clearly trying to focus on something else. When she met Eliot's gaze again, she only looked sad. "I left because I needed to figure something out about myself. And I don't think I quite succeeded."
"Nate said you left so you could figure out who you were," Eliot said quietly, not sure if he'd meant to be privy to that revelation. They'd all figured it out, eventually, in between calling her without letting Nate know and following Nate's own clandestine phone calls to her.
"My mother was a grifter," Sophie told him, and Eliot suddenly knew what she was about to say next. Her words didn't disappoint him. Her expression closed off as she said, "As soon as I was born, I was part of her cons. As soon as I could talk she was teaching me what to say and how to say it. I was six years old before I realised that the name she kept calling me in-between jobs was actually my own name." Sophie looked at him, her gaze steady. "Her own mother raised her the same; my grandmother and even my great-grandparents were grifters. Family trade," she added with a smile.
"No wonder you get confused," Eliot said, keeping his tone light. She didn't want sympathy, he knew that much. But it had to have ben hard, growing up with no clear idea of who you were in the midst of all the people you had to pretend to be.
She waved a hand. "I've had plenty of opportunity to get away from the cons, settle down and figure out what I really want. I know what I want," she said, firmly. But then her voice faded. "I just lost track of who wanted it."
She fell silent, then, for long enough that Eliot knew he had to say something. There wasn't anything to say, though, since she didn't need his advice and didn't need him to tell her who she ought to be. A friendly ear, Aimee had called it, when she'd wanted to talk about something when they'd been teenagers together. He'd kept trying to fix her problems and finally she'd sat him down and told him to shut up and just listen.
He preferred hitting problems, but sitting here and letting Sophie talk wasn't all that difficult. She glanced at him again, like she'd just remembered he was sitting there.
"I did decide one thing," she said. Eliot nodded, and she started to speak again, then hesitated. Slowly, she finally said, "I need someone -- you and Parker and Hardison -- to know who I am. My real name. So when I start to forget...you're there to remind me."
Eliot blinked. This wasn't what he'd expected at all, and he understood just how much she was saying she needed to give. A jealously guarded secret, more than the locations of her storage units filled with stolen property or the numbers of her bank accounts scattered around the world.
"Are you--" he began, and she grinned.
"I'm not telling Nate," she answered, before he could ask. "He has to earn it." She gave herself a small nod, and Eliot almost laughed. It would serve him right, if she let on that they knew and wasn't going to tell him.
"That's reason enough right there for me to want to know," he told her, returning her grin.
"I know." She kept grinning, bright and happy. Eliot saw how her shoulders finally dropped back, and her eyes had brightened as the last of her masks fell to the side. Whoever she was, this was truly her, and Eliot felt unexpectedly touched.
He knew better than to say she didn't have to, diffidently offering her a way out. So instead he just leaned back in his chair, listening to the aches in his shoulder and his back, and waited. After a moment, she tilted her head and looked at him.
"Do you want some tea?" she asked, already halfway standing up.
"That'd be nice," he said, making no move to take the chore from her.
"Should I bring some painkillers while I'm at it?" she asked him, raising one eyebrow.
"They're on the kitchen counter." Eliot let his head fall back. He'd debated with himself about taking them, eventually settling on not -- and privately regretting the decision all day. Sophie just gave him a flat look that reminded him a lot of his mother, then she turned to head for the kitchen. At the doorway she paused, and without looking back, she said a name.
Eliot waited silently as she went into the kitchen and made them both tea, and when she returned they sat and talked about the best way to break Nate out of jail.