|The Love Song Job
Author: Original Max A PM
Eliot returns to New Orleans and tries to relive his old life as a blues musician with the girl that got away, but his current life ends up interfering with the fantasy he thought he could have for just one night. Crossover/AU.Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Romance - Eliot S. - Chapters: 3 - Words: 4,555 - Reviews: 11 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 11 - Updated: 11-24-09 - Published: 10-29-09 - id: 5475009
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Bullets, glass shards and wooden splinters darted through air as Camille clutched Eliot's shirt, burying herself in him as he used his body to shield her from lethal debris. His chest swallowed the sound of her cries as she prayed for deadly sounds to fall into silence.
As soon as the bullets stopped, Eliot leapt off the ground with murder in his eyes. His brain tunneled on the singular goal of finding and killing the ones who made his Camille cry out in desperate, heart-wrenching fear. Camille held on tighter to his shirt and looked at him with haunting brown eyes.
"Please, no," was all she could get out.
Eliot looked at her. Her body was still shaking from the attempt on her life.
"I have to…"
"Please," she pleaded, her eyes shining with tears.
Eliot burned with the need to punish the cowardly gunmen, but he couldn't leave her. She needed him and it had been a long time since someone had needed him like that.
"Ok," he said softly, "Ok"
He sank back on his knees and held her as she cried.
"We need to get out of here," he said when she finally calmed down enough to listen to him.
"Billy, I… " she started and then the door was kicked open.
Eliot leapt up, ready for a fight. An older, but muscular man filled the doorway, followed by the bouncer that Eliot passed on his way inside the bar. The older gentleman surveyed the damage and looked directly at Eliot.
"You okay, Miss Camille?" the gentleman asked also looking ready to jump to Camille's defense.
"I'm fine, Andy," Camille replied with her eyes closed. On her knees surrounded by a bullet holes and broken glass, she looked anything but fine, but she continued as if her apartment didn't look like the set of a gangster movie.
"This is my friend, Billy," she said without looking at anybody, "Billy, Andy. He does odd jobs around the club and sometimes tends bar."
"I don't think…" Eliot started.
"And that's Big Mike behind him. He's really sweet. Just had a baby, you know," she finished. Her voice was hollow as if small talk was the only thing keeping her together.
Andy met Eliot's eyes, seeing a concern that mirrored his own.
"Della called the police. They'll be here soon," Andy stated in soothing tone.
Camille let out a harsh laugh and finally turned to look at Andy, "Did she? Well you can tell her to call them back and politely inform them that we don't require their services."
Camille got up, "Andy, thank you for being concerned, but I already told what I wanted you to do."
Andy looked at Eliot again, but this time with a question in his eyes, looking at Camille and then back at Eliot's face. Eliot gave him a small nod.
"I'll get to it right now," Andy responded and left the room.
Camille dusted herself off and let out a light smile, "That was an adventure."
Eliot grabbed Camille's arms and forced her to looked at him, "Camille, what the HELL is going on?"
"Will you please let go of me?" she asked.
"No." he said.
Camille tried to shrug off his grip, but he held on tighter.
"Excuse me. I have some cleaning to do," she stated.
"Not until I get some answers," he replied.
"What do you want me say, Billy?"
"Acting like your apartment just got shot up would be a start because News Flash! It did!"
Camille took a breath, "Moping is not going to help. I just need to clean up and get some sleep."
"You're crazy if you think I'm letting you sleeping here," Eliot stated.
Camille raised her eyebrow, "Let me? I haven't seen you over 8 years. What makes you think I need your permission to do anything?"
Eliot moved his hand to face, tilting her head to look up at him, "Because I'm not letting you die just because you're scared. They are coming back, Camille and you know it."
Eliot's voice dropped into a dead serious tone, "This wasn't a hit. If they wanted you dead, you'd be dead. This was a warning. I don't know what you're into or who pissed off, but if you are even half the woman I remember, then you deserve to be safe and protected. I can do it if you let me."
Camille put her hand on Eliot's wrist and pulled his hands down, "You can't protect me. No one can. And I couldn't stand it if you got hurt."
Eliot turned his hand so he was able to clasp her hand tightly, "The people I work for deal with things like this all the time. We work with good people in bad situations who can't go the cops."
Camille let his hands go and stepped away from him, "I can't believe this."
"You," she said, throwing her hand in his direction, "You can't just run in on a white horse and solve all my problems. Nothing works like that. Life does not work like that. Nothing's that easy."
Eliot cocked his head to the side, "You damned right it ain't easy. And sure ain't fair, because if it were we would have never met. You would not have bullet holes in your cabinets. And I wouldn't still hear your voice every time I try to play a single note of music."
"Why do it then? Why try to save me?" she asked.
He closed his eyes, searching for the correct answer that would get her to come with him without saying too much about what's she still meant to him, but he could only speak truth.
"Cause it's the right thing to do," he said finally, "And the one thing you and I have always been together… is right. It's always been right, Camille."
Camille looked like she was about cry again, "Then how did it go so wrong?" she choked out.
"I don't know," Eliot replied and held his hand out to Camille, "But you stay alive long enough, we can find out."
Camille looked from Eliot's hand to his face and back again. She knew all the reasons she shouldn't take his hand, but none of them seemed good enough. As he led her out of her bullet-riddled apartment, Camille realized he wasn't lying. It had been a long time since she felt something like the comfort that came from holding his hand. It felt… right.
"Do you remember the last time you asked us to help out one of your ex-girlfriends? We almost when to jail," Hardison said while banking a hard left on the racing game of his Blackberry Storm.
"We always almost go to jail," Eliot replied from the plasma screen. He was still in New Orleans so he had to talk to the team via webcam.
"And I'm just sayin'," Hardison continued, "When do you find the time to have all of these women?"
Eliot huffed, "Cause I don't waste my life on World of Witches."
Hardison threw his hand up, "First of all, it's World of Warcraft. War. Craft. As in more fights and machismo than you have in your pinky. And second, some of the hottest women in the world are girl geeks."
Parker stopped fiddling with the practice lock she was working on and raised an eyebrow at Hardison. Hardison swallowed.
"So I've been told," he back stepped.
"Nate, this means a lot to me," Eliot pleaded.
Nate nodded, "I can see that. And that's worries me. Listen, Eliot—"
"We'll do it." Sophie said suddenly.
Everyone looked at her, including Nate.
"Excuse us, "Nate said and took Sophie into the back office.
"You don't do that," Nate said calmly after the door was locked.
Sophie held her hands out, "Nate, we need to take this job."
"He's too close to this. I'd hate the say it, but Hardison's right," he replied.
Sophie shook her head and sighed, "Be a romantic for once in you life. Look at it from his perspective. He fell in love with this girl even though she was taken, practically married, but he fell anyway. Now she's back in his life and he has the chance to mean something to her again. That's nearly impossible to pass up."
Nate took one step closer to Sophie, "You still talking about Eliot?"
Sophie looked at Nate in the eye, "Of course. He's going to do this with or without us. I'd rather we be there to watch his back."
Sophie held his gaze and they stayed frozen at stand still. Then Nate turned to the camouflaged wall-camera that Hardison had installed, but didn't think Nate knew about.
"Hardison, pull up everything one Camille Livingston. Her Business and any local gangs, mobs, etc we should know about," he ordered.
Surprised to be talked to directly, Hardison nearly fell out his chair.
"Yeah, boss," he replied, pulling himself off of the floor as Parker snickered at him.
Ignoring the fall, Nate and Sophie made their way to the office door. He opened it for her.
"I know a place that makes the world's best Jambalaya," he stated.
"Is that so?" she asked coyly, giving him a half smile as she passed by.