Disclaimer: Not mine yadda yadda. Not making any money with this. Only written for my own entertainment.
Warehouses and Explosions
Some days you wish you just stayed in bed. He had a feeling today was one of those days. In fact he should probably just stay here. Sleep some more. If only he could get that pesky alarm clock to shut up.
The incessant ringing in his ears got worse. With a bit of imagination it sounded like Hardison. A groan escaped his lips. The Hardison-alarm-clock went silent for a moment. Finally. Only to return with renewed vigor. Well, shit.
"Eliot? That you? Man, can ya hear me? C'mon yell at me or something so I know you're alright."
Shut up, Hardison.
"Eliot, Parker? Answer me, dammit!"
Parker? Reality hit him like a cold shower. Parker, she was in here! Have ta – his body violently disagreed with any idea of getting up. Especially if it involved sudden movement. Groaning again and ignoring Hardison for the time being Eliot took the time to catalogue his injuries.
Pounding headache, nausea, sensitivity to light, fuzzy thoughts (though getting better) – had a concussion alright. Breathing hurt like a mother – at least a few cracked ribs, maybe some broken but he survived worse. Moving on. Arms and legs still attached to his body, that's encouraging. Hurt to move them but nothing seemed broken. That was when he became aware of something warm pressed against his side. And a lot of uncomfortable rubble pressing against his back.
Concentrating on his breathing Eliot opened his eyes. If he had paid attention he might have noticed that all what was left of the warehouse they had been in was an interesting collection of rubble. If he had cared he might have noticed that their mark – a local gunrunner – had been blown to pieces, probably by a disgruntled employee or an unsatisfied customer. He might even have worried that the authorities surely had noticed a warehouse going boom in the middle of the day. Even if it was – or had been – located in an isolated part of the harbor.
He didn't notice and he didn't care but he did worry. Pushing himself up, debris rolling off his back in the process, cursing when it made his vision swim and his ribs protest he slowly raised a hand to the blond thief next to him. Searching for a pulse. Afraid he might find none but praying he would.
It was there, steady and reassuring. A weight he hadn't noticed and really wasn't comfortable thinking about lifted from his chest. A quick check-up revealed a nasty bump on the back of her head and but otherwise she seemed unharmed. Underneath his probing hands the thief stirred but otherwise remained unresponsive.
"Parker, darlin', can ya hear me?" No reaction. He gave her shoulder a careful shake. Still nothing. Not that he expected anything else. Considering his luck and all. Time to report to that annoying little voice in his ear that sounded close to a full blown panic attack.
"Hardison, I found Parker. She's alive but out cold." Don't worry about what you can't change. Concentrate on the objective. "I think I see a way outta here. How're Nate and Sophie?"
"En route and pissed and maybe scared, terrified more like it 'cos first the whole thing explodes and then we hear nothing and you two won't answer us dammit man, you don't do that, and you know, bad guys ain't supposed to blow stuff up while we're around 'cos that just sucks an'…"
"Okay, cool, I'm shutting up. Right now. Ain't saying nothing. See, me – I can – I can shut up like-"
Hardison's constant talking – a sure sign of his frayed nerves – was making Eliot's head spin so he growled until the younger man took the hint. Forcing his limbs to listen to his orders he pushed himself up and though his stance was less than steady and his vision still hadn't cleared. The hitter gently bent down to pick up Parker, his ribs immediately sending lovely waves of agony through his body. Carefully he lifted the lithe woman up, cradling her and then slowly rising and staggering towards the light that came flooding through an opening.
Heh, should tell Hardison. Would probably make a joke or something about that. Or he'd freak out. Now that might be interesting. No, focus, dammit. His vision was blurring again, big black spots dancing in front of his eyes trying to convince him to lie down. Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought.
He could worry about that later. First he had to get Parker out of there, then find a save place, then probably fall asleep (or rather unconscious) on the first available surface. That sounded like a plan. Parker made an unhappy sound in his arms.
"It's alright sweety. I got you." He whispered, his voice gentle. If Parker hadn't been unconscious he never would've thought of calling Parker this. Or maybe that was just the concussion messing with his brain. Louder he said "Hardison, quit yer bitchin' an' meet us at the southern wall." Never mind that the hacker had been quiet. He couldn't practically feel the rant Hardison was holding in.
Climbing over the rubble was harder than he liked to admit. Not that he'd admit it in the first place and he couldn't remember when a few feet had last seemed this far. Well, maybe except that one time in Russia, or Croatia, or – well you get the idea. Wasn't memory loss a symptom of a concussion? He thought so. Okay, time to focus. He stumbled across the debris, momentarily losing his footing, he tried to regain it but the move left him off balance. Not wanting to risk dropping Parker he knelt down pointedly ignoring the I-hate-you-so-much-messages his ribs left in his voicemail. Or the way various other parts of his body were preparing to file an official complaint. Just had to catch his breath for a minute. If only he weren't so damn tired.
"Hey man, you okay?"
Hardison? Must have blacked out there for a sec.
Growling he pushed himself to his feet again. "I'm fine." He ground out daring Hardison to argue. Wisely the other man remained silent. For about five seconds.
"C'mon man, just a few steps and you're outta there."
He looked up to see the hacker standing close by. Just behind some fallen support beams. Arms slightly spread ready to take Parker once Eliot got close enough as a silent offer of help. The only kind of help Eliot usually accepted. Grunting with effort the hitter closed the distance, arms straining and going limp the moment the thief's weight was gone. Hardison took her and hurried back towards their van but not before shooting the other man a look that clearly said `Don't go anywhere.´ Eliot quirked an eyebrow. Too exhausted to really bother with an answer. Not to mention his pounding head and the nausea that decided to make itself known again made it not exactly easy to come up with a witty reply.
Hardison was back. If his eyes weren't deceiving him he was talking. He couldn't hear him though. Eliot knew that this should worry him. However, he somehow couldn't bring himself to care. The dancing black spots had invited some friends over. Oblivion was beckoning.
The next time he came to he was lying on something decidedly softer than a concrete floor. Nate's couch something in the back of his mind told him. Blinking slowly he tried to look around the dimly lit, all too bright apartment.
"Parker's alright, you know." Sophie's voice told him from somewhere to his left. "Nasty headache but otherwise not a scratch."
He turned a questioning gaze in what he hoped was her general direction.
"I just thought I'd let you know before you get all broody about not doing your job or anything." There was an undercurrent in her voice that strongly suggested that someone was already acting sullen. He had a feeling he knew who.
"How are you feeling?"
He chose to ignore her question because it wasn't polite to lie to a lady but neither would he admit feeling like a warehouse had just come down on his head. Oh wait, a warehouse had just come down on his head. Who would've thought? God, he really could use some painkillers right now. Instead he redirected. "Nate freaking out?"
"No, he freaked out a couple of hours ago. Right now he's plotting someone's doom." The creaking of a chair and the rustle of clothes told him that Sophie moved before a glass of water was held right in front of his face. Along with a bottle of Tylenol.
"Figured you might want some." The grifter told him with a warm voice. Damn those grifters and their mind reading skills.
Grateful, he raised himself enough to swallow two pills and then all but fell back onto the couch, squinting up at Sophie.
He almost was ready to go back to sleep. Only one more thing.
"So what are we tell our client? Can't really do anything anymore with our mark dead."
"Well, today we rest and tomorrow-" there was a sparkle in her eyes as she said it. "Tomorrow we're going to steal us revenge."
"Steal revenge?" He rolled his eyes. Bad idea.
"Well, it's a working title."
"Yeah, keep working on it."
The grifter pouted for a moment before she looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes that under normal circumstances would've set off his internal alarm. "You'd better get some sleep before Parker finds out you're awake and starts poking your bruises."
Groaning he covered his eyes with his arm. Why, just why didn't he stay in bed that day?
A/N: My first Leverage-fanfic. Tell me what you think. Even if it's just a word or two – reviews make me happy. Also, this fic is unbetaed and English isn't my first language. So if you spot any mistake pointing them out helps me improve.