Title: Desperation in Action
Author: emily64cooper
Rating: PG-13 (for cursing)
Characters/Pairing: Parker/Hardison, Eliot
Summary: A coda to 510, The Rundown Job. A look into Hardison's reasoning behind running from the Spanish Flu. Parker/Hardison.
Written For: The UnLoveYou table over at livejournal.
Author's Note: It's been such a long time since I've written anything, so I hope this came out okay. I just really wanted to know why Hardison was so against helping fight the flu.
Desperation in Action
They need to run. They need to take everything they can gather, give Nate and Sophie a call, and take a group trip to one of Nate's new underground bunkers.
They need to get out of the weapon's path. Fast.
Last time, fifty million people died because of that bug. This time, a hundred fifty million people are going to die, and he's going to make damn well sure his team isn't included in that number.
"Look, we can do this," Parker says. And he hears her angelic voice, and sees her beautiful face, all right there in front of him, but all he can see in his head is her dying slowly in his arms, her big eyes losing their light little by little and all he knows is that that is not an option. "Just treat it like any other job."
"This isn't just any other job," he says softly. She doesn't get it, doesn't see that this can and will take her from him and he can't let that happen because he needs her too damn much.
"Alright, alright just stay focused" Eliot says.
"I am focused!" he growls back. Eliot should understand, he should know that they should be halfway to that safe bunker right now. Doesn't he get what the Spanish flu is, what it does, how much destruction it can cause? They need to get moving. "That bug in there killed fifty million people! Fifty! And that was when the population was lower!"
"And now?" Parker asks.
He can't think, can't breathe, can only see her body going limp in his arms, the color draining from her lips, can already begin to feel the anguish, but answers her calmly as he can. He is desperate now, and this is his desperation in action-if he needs to answer their questions before they'll leave, then he's gonna do it, and he's gonna do it damn quick.
"Now," he answers, looking right at her, and oh God, all he can see is her cold, dead body, and he needs to look away, "a hundred and fifty million. A hundred and fifty million dead."
He finds Eliot, somehow in charge of this whole operation, and tries to get him to understand why they need to get out now. "Look, we're thieves, man. And we're good at what we do, but this is way, way out of our league. And you expect us to go kick some psycho with a city killer, a country killer?"
"You scared?" Eliot counters.
"You're damn right." Eliot should be scared too, dammit, doesn't he see that? Parker, too, but he can't let himself think of that, of her, so he takes that as the end of the conversation, confirmation that they're finally going to get out, when suddenly he finds a hand on wrist, keeping it in place.
"I'm not," No fucking shit, Eliot's not scared, does he want a medal, Hardison thinks, but wisely stays mute. He should be scared, and Hardison can't understand why the hell he isn't.
"I got the best thief..." and oh God, there she is again, gasping for air, and he can't hear a word Eliot's saying over her pained gasps, and the sound of his own heart breaking, and he has to see her, perfect and healthy like she is now, so he seeks her out and their eyes meet and she's telling him it's okay, she's okay, to listen to Eliot and when the hell did she get so damn perceptive and able to speak so clearly with just her eyes, when suddenly his head is yanked away.
"Hey, listen to me," Eliot says in his low, rough tone, his hand a constant pressure on the back of Hardison's neck, "you're the smartest guy I've ever known, Hardison. I need that brain to get me to him."
Hardison softens. Eliot has known a lot of people, and if he's the smartest guy Eliot's ever known, he must be able to do something about this, right? No, he's a hacker, for Christ's sakes, he doesn't know the first thing about taking down the Spanish flu! ...except he does know quite a bit about the Spanish Flu, no matter how badly he suddenly wishes that he doesn't. But still, he doesn't know the cure for it. Even if he could work something out, he'd need to be able to get to the guy who found the flu, see his files, his notes, find out what specific strand of the virus he's using.
"Cause you know if I laid my hands on him, it's done." He can't let Eliot do that, because if no one finds this guy's notes, no one can fix it, but wait! No. Nuh-uh; it's so not safe. He can't-"Get me to him."
Well, fuck. Eliot's giving him that look, that you-have-to-do-this-for-reasons look, that you-absolutely-can-do-this look. And he's right, Eliot will tear the man apart and that would be very bad because then a hundred and fifty million people would die and no one could stop it.
Except him. Hardison knows he's smart. He could probably do this. No, he could definitely do this. He could save them, could save all hundred and fifty million of them. He could save them. He could save her.
That thought was all he needed to throw himself into action.
He could save her.
He focuses. Think. Think, think. A biological weapon. What's the bad guy going to do first? He'll start there. "He has to weaponize it".
"Good. That's a good start."
Eliot's proud and Parker looks still nervous, but relieved, and ya know, Hardison's a little proud of himself for being able to think through this gut-wrenching fear.
"We find the labs," Parker infers. She's suddenly beside him and her hand reaches out and touches him lightly on the back, and his resolve is steeled. He couldn't survive without her, her gentle touch a firm reminder of that. So he has to stop this. He has to, for her.
Her words register more slowly than her touch, and he knows she's wrong. "He doesn't need a lab." He's already got the virus, he doesn't need to make it. He needs to test it. "He needs pigs."
fin.