Author's Note: This is a songfic based on 'Promises in the Dark' by Pat Benatar, which I highly recommend on the bassis of it being wicked awesome. I won't post the lyrics because I know I rarely read them myself and they tend to interrupt the flow of reading more than aid the comprehension.
[*]
Eliot stared unblinking at the first sliver of blue as it pierced the indigo sky of the small hours.
How did I end up here again? he asked himself. How many years ago was it that he had been standing in this exact position, arms crossed, upper back against a wall and hastily packed bag stuffed in the triangle formed by his legs, the train station's cement wall and the cold ground. Eyes trained on the end of the railroad. Stomach twisted in hopelessness, longing and bitterness.
Aimee.
That time, Eliot hadn't had any qualms whatsoever. He loved her, strong and pure, and as good as any boy could. Eliot knew that he was still a boy when he left Aimee and her father's ranch that last time. With the perspective of later years, he doesn't consider himself the man he is today until months after Croatia, when his experiences had had time to sink in. But he'd loved her, nonetheless, and as much as he did he couldn't let himself cause her any more pain. She would be happier with her new fiancée, her new life, and in a selfless sacrifice of his own happiness, he'd left her on the first train of the morning.
This time is different. He doesn't love this woman, he hates her, except he can't. Can't hate her, as wonderful as she is, can't not love her. Yet how can he love her, when she's lied to him, used him, cheated on him? When she loves someone else?
When this started, he'd decided to keep it strictly sexual. Nothing wrong with that, but he wouldn't give up his heart, not again. He hadn't been the same person for years after he'd broken it off with Aimee, and sometimes he's not sure if he ever recovered fully. He'd sworn he'd never open himself up to that agony again, never give any part of himself to another. And if he did decide to form lasting relationships, like with the team, it would be his choice. And it worked, with the team. He'd chosen to stay, just for another job at first, then for just another, but eventually he knew in his heart that he'd be there as long as he could, even if his rational mind denied the permanency.
His world was shaken when she used them in her con, but he wasn't really that surprised. In fact, he was surprised they'd lasted that long without somebody reverting to their old ways at all. He'd been angry, of course, how could he not be? But it wasn't because of the betrayal, it was anger at himself. Anger that he'd let himself care for her more than he should, that this betrayal hurt him worse than any of the dozens that had taken place before.
Still, when he'd gotten the invitation in one of his multitude of PO boxes around the world, he hadn't thought twice about attending that fateful play.
The team was together again, and they were all so relieved by the end of their separation (though none would've admitted it) that they ignored the events that had taken place six months before. Eliot decided that he needed to keep an eye on Sophie, to see if she was planning anything else. Surreptitiously, of course, no other way. He wasn't going to be rude about it, but he didn't trust her as much as he had.
Eliot considered himself a rather observant man, but this new level of surveillance made him realize exactly how much he'd missed. She always looked happy but unsure whenever she came back from visits with her boyfriend, and she looked at Nate secretly to see if he'd noticed. Her face always fell the slightest amount when he continued talking without looking at her. Eliot noticed that she always smiled with her eyes when Parker did something crazy, even if she was reprimanding the younger woman, and that she'd casually manipulate Hardison into talking to girls in the bar below Nate's apartment. She'd lose the lying tone in her voice when she talked to children, even if she was still in character. And when she talked to Eliot, sometimes she'd hesitate and her eyes would flick away; even more rarely a strange smile would come over her face when she looked at him that Eliot couldn't interpret no matter how much he thought about it.
Which turned out to be a surprising amount. The attractive grifter always seemed to be on his mind. When he woke up and cooked himself an omelet, he'd find himself adding green peppers because that was the way she liked hers. When he was doing his part in a job, he always had part of his mind on her conversation, just in case her con went south. When he was trying to fall asleep at night he'd think of how she'd acted that day, and wonder what she was doing at that moment.
It was a month or two after the team's re-convergence when Eliot realized that the casual smiles and 'darlin's' he gifted to all women had a special spark when he was looking at Sophie. And she noticed; she wasn't one of the world's best grifters for nothing. She humored Eliot's flirting, believing it to be just him growing more comfortable around her, just like he did.
It wasn't until two months later when things changed.
Eliot came to Nate's flat late, unable to sleep. For some reason, he'd had a dream about Pakistan. The time when the team had been separated wasn't particularly stressful for him, but when they'd come back together and Eliot learned that Hardison had been involved in the situation, he'd done some digging. He was shocked to find exactly how close Hardison had been to serious danger, even closer than the hacker himself knew. It was enough that he couldn't get to sleep, and he ended up coming back to Nate's apartment around one a.m.
Nate wasn't there. But Sophie was.
She was seated on the sofa where she always watched Hardison's presentations, staring at the blank television screen. Her eyes were puffy, her makeup running, and she didn't move as he closed the door behind him.
"Sophie?" For a moment, he thought she was a figment of his imagination, already on edge from the dream. Even with her normally perfect hair mussed and her clothes wrinkled she looked exquisite.
She turned quickly, obviously not knowing he was there. "Eliot!" she exclaimed, wiping the smudged mascara from her cheeks and fussing with the fashionable scarf that was hanged in a disheveled wave around her neck. "Uh-" she swallowed, flustered, and looked at him again. "What are you doing here?"
"Thought I'd do some prep work for that job Nate's plannin' with the clowns," Eliot lied smoothly, not missing Sophie's flinch at the mention of the team leader. "What's the matter, darlin'?"
"It's nothing Eliot, I'm sorry, I have to be going," Sophie averted her eyes from Eliot and tried to walk past him. With very little effort, Eliot caught her arm and sat them both down on the couch.
"Is this about Nate?" he asked gently, already knowing the answer. The look on her face would have been enough of a confirmation even if he hadn't already known, and he continued. "What did he do now?"
Sophie slumped against the back of the sofa. "It was all my fault," she sighed, her stuffy nose making her British accent even more prominent than usual. "He wasn't drinking, but he was staring at a bottle, so I told him he was better off without it, we all were. He asked me why I was telling him what to do. I told him it was because I cared about him and he gave me this look, and he-" She sniffed as tears trickled down her cheeks again.
Eliot gritted his teeth. He still didn't know what had happened, but this wasn't the first time he'd found Sophie in a state of distress because of something Nate had said or done. Eliot couldn't understand why Nate continuously pushed the pretty grifter away. It was obvious to the hitter -and, apparently, everyone but the two of them- that Sophie cared about Nathan deeply, and the team leader was head over heels for her himself.
The hitter wrapped his arms tightly around his friend, allowing her to stain the collar of his shirt as he made quiet shushing noises and murmurs. It wasn't too long before the sniffles subsided.
He looked into Sophie's eyes comfortingly. "You wanna tell the rest?" he asked, knowing that she always felt better once she'd voiced the cause of her grief.
Sophie nodded and looked at her hands, curled in her lap between them. "He said he was broken and there was no way he could care about me that way. He told me to get out of his life." Sophie's breath hitched again, but it seemed like she'd cried herself dry because no more tears came to her eyes.
Eliot took advantage of her closed eyes to allow a murderous look to form on his face. Not only had Nate gotten dangerously close to breaking his promise to stay away from alcohol, but once again he'd hurt the woman who only showed him love. Eliot pulled Sophie's chin up softly.
"I don't know what sort o' brain damage he's got, but any man who wants you outta his life has got to have some serious issues." Eliot smiled a bit to lighten his words and brushed her tangled hair back from her face. "Now look at you, sweetheart, you're better than this, cryin' over some man who doesn't deserve ya. Let's get you cleaned up." He started to move, but she gripped his arm and held him on the couch.
"Soph-" he began questioningly, but was interrupted by her mouth on his. He froze for a moment, completely shocked, but her lips were soft on his and they quickly took advantage of the fact that his jaw had fallen open. Her tongue lightly entered his mouth and he pulled her closer for a moment before he regained his senses and broke it off.
"Sophie!" he said breathlessly, both from the kiss and from shock. "What did- why-"
She kept her face mere inches from his, her already perfect lips looking so much more inviting, tinted red from the kiss. Her deep brown eyes were gleaming in the dim light from the kitchen and staring into his with an intensity that was softened by the tone of her voice. "I need this, Eliot."
The hitter stared at her for a few moments, barely believing his ears. He shook his head and shifted away from her on the sofa, moving his hands to her waist to stop her when she tried to follow. "I'm not gonna be a rebound, Soph," he said firmly, but his eyes jumped to her lips.
"This isn't a rebound, Eliot," she promised. Her mouth gave a twitch of a smile as she inched closer. "I've wanted this for a while, I just wouldn't admit it to myself."
Eliot was still shaking his head when her lips claimed his again, but this time he let her push him back onto the couch.
[*]
It became a stress-release. After every dangerous job (and there were quite a few of those), after every time Sophie had to play Nate's 'date' for a con, every time Eliot got called away for a private job and came back with another horror in his head that he needed to forget about. The sex was incredible, and working in the office and on jobs they were friendly, not awkward in the least. The arrangement seemed to be a natural extension of their friendship, which had completely healed from the repercussions of the David fiascos.
For two months, three weeks and six days, that was all it was.
[*]
"We spend at least ten hours a day right above a bar and we've never gone out for drinks after work! We are wasting our lives, I'm tellin' you. Wasting our lives!"
Hardison was enthusiastic, Parker was curious, and Nate was in a rare happy mood. He put his arm casually across Sophie's back and said 'Why not?'
Her face lit up as she looked at the team leader, then her eyes flicked to Eliot guiltily, then back to Nate and the younger pair, to see if anyone had noticed anything, what they'd seen and how they'd taken it. Eliot snorted quietly: she was nothing if not diligent.
So Hardison explained to Parker that they were actually going to pay for the drinks since Nate knew the owner, then they began a discussion about how they would (hypothetically, of course) break into a particular private museum in Johannesburg. Nate split the time watching the game above the bar and sneaking looks at Sophie when he thought she wasn't looking. Sophie spent the time sneaking looks at him when he wasn't looking and sneaking looks at Eliot, knowing full well he was looking but never managing to catch him in the act.
The night was still young when a drunk college youth tripped over his own feet and spilled his excessively large beer directly onto Nate's lap. The whole team had frozen as the young man apologized and righted himself, barely even noticing that he'd lost over half his drink. Nate stiffly excused himself, pulled away from Sophie and walked straight to the private elevators behind the bar.
The mood had been soured from then on. Hardison was decidedly not a con artist, and had quickly and loudly remembered 'that thing that I had to do real bad, and, oh, Parker, why don't you come give me a hand? What thing? Oh, that thing, you remember? Just come on!' and dragged the confused thief out of the bar, throwing Eliot a 'please-fix-whatever-the-hell-just-happened' look.
Eliot sighed, noticing the depressed look on Sophie's face. However, there was a faraway look in her eyes that meant she was reminiscing, and Eliot had learned early on that she'd come out of it in a nostalgic but calmer mood if he waited it out. So he settled down with a beer.
Later that night, as Eliot prepared to leave after a round of loud and harsh sex at Sophie's place, the grifter's small hand circled Eliot's wrist, tugging him back under the warm covers.
"What is it sweetheart?" he asked softly. He'd quickly found out that this was her favorite nickname, but only used it in bed, not sure about what it would mean if he said it in public.
"Stay here tonight," her achingly beautiful voice implored. She stroked his chest softly and nibbled on the skin under his ear until he relaxed and tucked the covers around them both. She nestled her head on his shoulder until she was comfortable and he curled his arm around her waist, pressing her to his side.
It had been a while since he'd cuddled, and had just completely relaxed into it and was starting to drift of when he heard her speak. He almost missed it; so quiet it could've been one of the murmurs she made in her sleep, but he heard it alright.
"I think I'm starting to fall for you, Eliot."
He didn't sleep a wink.
[*]
She didn't know he'd heard. He was a good enough actor to hide how much that whispered statement had shaken him up, and he managed to avoid having to much contact with her for the next week. So many thoughts rushed around his head every moment he wasn't occupied.
First off (because he had to impose some order onto the maelstrom of swirling emotions stronger than he'd felt in about a decade), she'd asked him to stay the night. That was only the second time they'd actually slept together, in the platonic sense of the word (not that what happened before hand could be called platonic, but still). The first time was after a job when Sophie had been held at knifepoint at the edge of a roof by a desperate extortionist with nowhere else to turn. Eliot had practically dragged her to bed that night and had clutched her close to him for the whole night. She'd given him a lingering kiss that morning before leaving for her apartment, but they never mentioned it besides that.
Then, this was Sophie. She was a grifter, how did he know she didn't have some angle? He and the team trusted her completely once again, almost as though the job with the Davids hadn't happened. But what if she was trying something again? She couldn't really feel that way, not for him, could she?
Even for all that, the thing that really struck him wasn't what she'd said, it was his reaction to it. He hadn't felt the instinct to run that always sprang up whenever one of his girlfriends started to feel too much for him. Instead, a feeling of warmth had run through him like a soft lightning bolt. It was like something snapped within him, and his mind and heart had been instantly connected to the dark-haired English beauty curled into his arms.
It wasn't love, he told himself. He'd felt love. This was… infatuation? Contentedness? Simple post-coital satisfaction? Whatever it was, since that night her eyes seemed to shine a dozen times more than usual, her voice swept into his ears like silk through a sieve and her movements were so graceful to his eyes that she seemed to be walking on air.
Needless to say, Eliot was terrified.
[*]
"What's the matter?"
He sighed. She was too damn perceptive for… his own good.
"Nothing."
She raised her eyebrows, holding her head up by her elbow on the pillow. "I know something's up, Eliot. You've been acting funny for a week, and tonight you were… distant." She studied his expression, trying to identify the reason for the strange tension that she'd felt anytime she was near him for the past few days.
"You didn't like it?" he asked with one of his devilish grins, shifting on the bed so he could pull her against him firmly, enough to remind her of the roughness of their sex that night.
She took a sharp breath, closing her eyes for a moment. When she looked back at him, her eyes were serious, though, and his smile faded slightly.
"You didn't look at my face," she said quietly.
"It's dark in here, Soph," he answered practically. Her eyes narrowed. His retort had been just a smidge too fast.
"You always look at me anyway. Was it something I said, or did?" There was a bit of tension in her voice, a hint of guilt, and for the life of him he couldn't tell if it was real or if she was manipulating him to get an answer.
He couldn't deny that tone. He tried. "No, sweetheart, it's… I…" He shook his head.
"Please, tell me," she murmured, stroking his cheek with her soft hand.
He didn't look at her when he answered. "What you said, the other night…"
She took a deep, almost silent breath, gathering strength. "I meant it."
His eyes shot to hers. Whatever he'd said, he always could find her eyes easily in the darkness.
"I meant it, Eliot. I feel… closer to you, than I have to anyone in… ages. I feel something for you." She smiled and let the hand on his cheek move to play with his hair. "I want…" She bit her lip and didn't continue.
A few moments of silence, Eliot waiting for her curling accent to slide through the air and make this make sense; he honestly didn't know what Sophie waiting for. The hand he'd rested on the small of her back stroked comfortingly, encouraging her to speak.
"I want this to go somewhere. I want… something real."
Eliot had no idea what to say to that. None. His mind was whirling with ideas, interpretations of her words, images that arose from those ideas, but the forefront of his mind, where he formed words? Empty.
"Eliot?"
Blank.
"Eliot?" A whisper, shy, nervous. He'd only heard her speak just that way when they were alone together, usually in bed. He hadn't noticed exactly how differently they acted alone than when there were other people around them, and the realization shook him to the core.
"I…" Something real. Ten years, since Aimee. A grifter, for God's sake. Sophie! Nate's Sophie!
"What about Nate?" His voice was hoarse, quiet. The silence in the nearly black room was stifling.
After a moment, she spoke softly. "I do… feel for him. I always will, I think. But he's made it clear that he doesn't feel the same way, and I need to move on. Eliot, you're…" She trailed off, shifting until her arms were around the hitter's neck. Even though he couldn't see them in the darkness, Eliot knew- he always knew- that she was looking right into his eyes. "You're such a wonderful person, and I feel so special when I'm with you." She paused, then whispered. "You're the one I want."
[*]
That's when it changed. When he stopped admiring her ass in tight dresses and started watching her hair sweeping across her shoulders, when his concern over her during cons turned into full-blown panic every time something went wrong. When those looks Nate kept sending her way stopping being amusing and started setting off that possessive burn in his gut.
All the girlfriends he'd had in the past started haunting his consciousness. All the times he'd said something wrong or picked a fight over something stupid, every time they'd become horrified at his job or resentful of the lack of time for romance, all the women who'd told him he wasn't attentive enough or that he was too blunt and didn't seem to show his feelings, they all were there in his mind every time he spoke to her, wondering if he'd say or do something to ruin this, too. He almost felt exhausted at the prospect of another girlfriend, another person to fight and argue with, and eventually leave. Was his life meant to be such a consistent pattern of short happiness, vivid unhappiness, then constant loneliness?
This can't be right, he thought anxiously every time these emotions or memories popped up inside of him. This could get in the way of jobs, break up the team. This is wrong.
But every time he mentioned it to her, tried to express how dangerous this felt, how all his internal alarms were going off at the thought of them being more, she'd give him one of those smiles that almost set him at ease. But we are, she said, and the world hasn't ended yet. She'd run her fingers through his hair (and he didn't let anyone do that, no one) and cup his cheek and look into his eyes, then give him a short, sweet kiss, and he'd let go of his fears and kiss her back.
Eliot sighed, checking his watch. The train wasn't going to be here for at least two hours. He could've taken a plane, he did still have some aliases Hardison didn't know about, but something told him that the constant passing of trees along the tracks would be infinitely more comforting. He shifted on the wall and reminisced.
Those months, when they'd finally gotten together, they'd been some of the happiest in his life. They hadn't told the team, but they'd gone into the city, on real dates. They'd practically moved into each other's apartments, Eliot hiding various weapons around hers and Sophie insisting on making over all his under-furnished rooms.
He'd noticed the continued tension between Nate and Sophie, but she'd grifted it away as always, passing it off as some sort of midlife crisis. Still, her discomfort around the leader was growing, and it was only because Eliot was convinced he wasn't doing anything wrong that he didn't feel the same way. If Nate really wanted Sophie, he'd had his chance, and Eliot had decided not to waste any time fretting over Nate's feelings. Sophie's, however, were a different story.
He still could see the bond between the two of them, it had been there right from the start. Even if Sophie assured him that, for her at least, it was only the bond of two friends who knew each other and each other's pasts, he couldn't help but be a bit nervous when the significant looks and loaded silences got to be a little too much. But Sophie's assurances that she was in this with him, not with Nate, had him convinced. For the first time, he was considering that this was an actual relationship, long-term even, with someone that he could grow to love. Ignoring the fact that the idea scared the hell out of him, it was something he wanted, and something Sophie wanted too, with him. So despite the lingering wariness, he was actually secure in his relationship.
[*]
There were lots of times when life felt perfect. Watching the silhouette of her face as they drank champagne on an evening balcony. She tackled him on the couch for the remote, crying that they were not watching yet another imitation rugby game. That had surprised him- somehow he hadn't expected her to be playful, but Soph was honestly fun. Moving around her huge bathroom in the mornings like they'd been together for years, there was a sense of belonging, or pieces just sliding into place, that went deeper than he could remember feeling.
They danced at a museum fundraiser that one of Sophie's personas had needed to attend. That night they dined with the curator and her husband and Eliot made Sophie laugh with a whispered Bonnie and Clyde joke under his breath. She'd scolded him with a laughing glare and made up some explanation for the other couple.
Hours later, curled up in her huge, immensely comfortable bed, she turned over to face him.
"Would you want that?" she asked, her deceptively innocent eyes analyzing, intuiting, auditing. Sometimes he didn't know if she ever turned it off.
"Want what?"
"Bonnie and Clyde. Married thieves, going across the country stealing to their hearts' content." She smiled, looking up at the ceiling with a spark in her eyes. "Of course, we wouldn't have to stay in the US." She looked back at him, her face rested on his bicep, breath mingling with his. "We could have the world," she whispered.
"I don't wanna leave the team," he replied.
"Well of course not, Eliot, I'm trying to be romantic here," she whined, dropping the theatricality. She sat up and rearranged the blankets on her. Of course, the tugging meant he had to move to help, and then they could finally settle back down. "I mean," she said seriously, "would you want that?"
He took in a quick breath when he caught her drift. "You mean, would I want to get married?"
"Yeah," she answered. Her British accent carried her voice up a few notes. "What do you think?"
"I- I don't know, Sophie, where did this come from?"
He was flattened by the seemingly random question. They'd been together, more or less, for several months, but neither of them was someone who gave up their hearts easily. Eliot had imagined them continuing on as they were, and he'd been more than comfortable, more than content, with that. While he'd glimpsed it on the horizon and was cautiously allowing himself to hope, to be open to the idea, neither of them had said that they were in love, and marriage was not something Eliot would even think about considering unless he was damn sure.
"It's just a thought."
"Sophie, I-I… I don't even know how that would work, I- don't take this-" He didn't often get tongue-tied, but this bomb had left him shell-shocked.
Sophie smiled and pressed closer. "I'm sorry, I know this was rather sudden. I'm not asking to get married, I'm not even suggesting we ever do."
He nodded, trying to get his thoughts back in a row. What was it about Sophie that made him go from hardened criminal to bumbling teenager so effortlessly?
He kissed her forehead. "I'm not saying- never," he managed, slowly. "But we haven't even told the team. I don't know… that there's really anywhere to go from here, without that."
She looked away. "I understand."
"Do you?" He cupped her upper arm, squeezing gently. "I like you Soph, a lot. But I don't see anything like that working out. Not without-" he hesitated only the slightest of moments, having managed to get this phrase put in the past "our family."
She nodded and kissed him. He held her close, then released her when she yawned into his mouth. "Get some sleep, darlin'. Work tomorrow."
The triple beep of his cell phone broke through the windy quiet of the morning. Eliot leaned over to tug it out of one of the front pockets of his duffle bag and thumbed it open.
6:37- Text from 'Sophie'- Marked as Urgent
He stared at the glowing screen until it dimmed halfway, then blacked out.
He could feel his upper lip curling unconsciously as he dropped the phone on top of his bag.
It was on the job that he noticed it first. She was tense, a bit faster to get flustered when things go wrong and less accepting of risks during the planning stages. It wasn't enough to really get in the way- they all got high-strung once in a while.
But she was also distracted when its just the two of them. Conversations had a strangely awkward tone to them and their dates changed; more often they'd go to the theater or the cinema, places where they didn't have to talk. She started staying at her apartment more, alone.
Eliot was cautious. He knew Sophie as a grifter and a person. If something was wrong that she couldn't hide, it would have to be big. For that something to affect her, it would have to be through the heart, no doubt about it. Sophie was smart; if the problem was worldly, she'd figure it out.
This wasn't going away, though. From that connection that had felt like two cogs meshed together in a wheel, now he felt Sophie was pulling away from him. He tried to stay calm about it, not to get worried about the seeming decline of their relationship.
But when she didn't sit next to him anymore, somehow she'd always end up next to Nate. The two began talking more, as Nate looked like he was getting over his addiction. Eliot was all for that- it made the job safer, plus he honestly liked Nate, but he could feel an old feeling rising up in him, one that he hadn't felt since Aimee. When Nate would- almost entirely casually, it would seem- guide her by the small of her back, or lean in close when he was speaking, Eliot's jaw would clench, his eyes would burn, his hands would turn into fists, all when no one was watching.
When he brought up Nate's recovery, unconcernedly, he knew she saw through it. She looked uncomfortable, and insisted that their outings- baseball games that Nate liked, a fashion show- were just as friends. Eliot didn't know what to make of it, but Nate always had a big smile when he shepherded Sophie out the door, her brown eyes looking back at Eliot with an unreadable expression.
The phone beeped again.
The sun was higher in the sky, the grays and browns of the surrounding buildings turned from gloomy to peaceful simply by the glaze of foggy sunlight. Eliot breathed deep in the smell of engine exhaust, oil, old Happy Meals and sweat.
The phone beeped again.
7:19- Text from 'Hardison and Parker, pick up your phone, Eliot, where the hell are you'- Marked as Urgent
"Stupid hacker, messin' with my phone," he muttered. He opened the text.
We just got in and Sophie's crying all over the place- Nate's not saying anything. What the hell happened? WE NEED YOU!
Eliot considered turning the cell off. He let out a huge sigh of frustration, hanging his head back against the hard concrete wall of the terminal.
The layout of Sophie's apartment was a bit unusual. When you first entered, there was a small area for shoes and coats, then, where most places would open to a living room, the first sight was the dining room, with the kitchen off to the right with an open floor plan. Past the dining room was a hallway; on one side was the master bedroom and a spare room that Eliot had turned into a weights area. Directly across were the guest bedroom and an office, respectively, with the living room at the far end of the hall.
They'd been watching the widescreen in the master bedroom when there was a knock on the door. Sophie got up because she didn't really care about hockey, whereas Eliot's eyes didn't even leave the screen.
There were only four minutes until the end of the game, which translated to about fifteen minutes before Eliot emerged from the bedroom and saw Sophie's hand in Nate's hair as he pressed her up against the kitchen counter.
He swallowed. Then he coughed.
Sophie pushed Nate away, immediately looking over his shoulder at Eliot. Nate turned, awkward in the empty center of the kitchen.
"Eliot? What are you doing here?"
He met Sophie's gaze. She looked utterly horrified, eyes locked on him. She was shaking her head weakly.
"Just watchin' the game," he said casually. "But it's over now, I was on my way out."
"Wait, Eliot," Sophie stepped forward, voice shaking, hands shaking. "You don't have to leave.
"Looks like you two need to work things out." His voice was too intense. He swallowed again and sounded less murderous. "I'll leave you alone."
"Eliot, don't do this," she ordered, voice somewhere between commanding and begging.
Nate was looking between them, confusing turning toward disgruntlement. "What is going on with the two of you?"
"Nothing." He couldn't look away from her, the soft kitchen light marking the tear that edged around her cheekbone, still denying as her head moved from side to side.
"There's nothing going on with the two of us."
The phone beeped again. Rolling his eyes, he flipped it open.
7:49- Incoming call from 'Hardison'
It took four rings until the guilt made him press the green button.
"Yeah, Hardison?"
"She told us, man. She told us everything.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He shook his head for a good long while. "What did she say?"
"She's not doin' too hot. Having sort of an identity crisis, plus Nate's drinking kinda got us all down."
"Is that all?" he demanded, teeth grinding together.
Hardison's short sigh came through crystal clear on the high-tech cell. "She said you two've been seeing each other for months. Since you had to fight for that one con."
"It was after that."
"Why didn't you tell us, man? Why the secrets?"
Eliot glared at a nearby pillar. He'd never meant for there this to happen. He never wanted to lie to the family he'd made for himself here. He wouldn't have minded telling the others about him and Sophie either. There was only one answer to that question. "Nate."
"Yeah, I can see that. Look, she wants to talk to you."
"You know where I am, Hardison?"
There was a short silence. "Yeah, I tracked your phone."
"And I wouldn't be here for nothin', would I?'
"You gonna leave us all over this, Eliot?" Hardison's voice sounded smooth. Not rough, like he was crying, but smooth like something was crawling around the pit of his stomach. Eliot knew the feeling.
"I wouldn't leave for somethin' stupid, Hardison. This isn't the only reason."
"Do you think we're gonna let you go, man? This is nothing! Nothing! You two can make up, we are not loosing everything over this! Do you hear me?"
"I can't stay here like this, Hardison. I'm sorry, I can't."
Hardison spoke again, much quieter. "I'm putting her on."
Time seemed to stretch. It was like his eyes adjusted suddenly to the sun, and everything was instantaneously given a washed out appearance. The wind blew slow and cold over his face.
"Eliot?"
He swallowed and didn't reply for almost too long. "Yeah?"
Sophie sniffed. Her voice cracked terribly. "It wasn't what it looked like last night, I swear."
He couldn't think of anything to say.
"I've been- talking. With Nate. Last night, we- that's all, we talked. A lot. We talked all night."
She paused, so he could say something, but Eliot could only try and swallow the lump in his throat that had been there since the moment he'd seen them together. He blinked at the sun.
"I- I haven't been feeling really well for a long time." She took a big breath. "I've been trying to figure things out, and, I've felt so full. Full of fear, and, and doubt and anger and I haven't known what to do, and I didn't know how to confront it, so I pushed it away. Nate- talking with Nate, when I- I explained everything to him, about us."
She stopped again. Eliot had closed his eyes, put his head back against the cement.
"Talking it all through, it's helped me see why I was so conflicted. Why I was pushing you away. " She swallowed, her breath when she took it in sounded like a quiet, desperate gasp.
"I didn't know how to deal with- I was- I didn't know how to say, to admit, that I loved you."
He could only breath through his teeth, tasting the Happy Meals on his tongue.
"Please say something."
He opened his eyes. Stared at the graffiti on the wall opposite. It was blue and spiky, nonsensical words and bubble letters.
"I was confused, because- I… The last person I really cared about was Nate. And I had gotten over him, I was over him. He was getting better, and I was so happy that he was getting better. And I wanted to spend time with him, because, he was my friend, and he was safe. I didn't feel scared around him, I didn't feel- like I was about to fall. Fall off something, into something. He was my escape.
"But he still had feelings for me. I tried not to encourage him, but if I wasn't with him- he was the only thing that was stopping me from going crazy! Because I couldn't- I could say that I cared about you, I couldn't admit it to myself, and please, Eliot, please say something!"
He swallowed harshly at the sound of her sobbing. "Soph, I…"
"He kissed me! I was trying to tell him, last night! I was going to tell him about us, but I couldn't, not when he was looking at me like that, I couldn't be so cruel, and then he kissed me at just the wrong moment! I was going to explain it to him, but-" She broke off with loud, hitching breaths.
Eliot heard the sound of the train rumbling along the tracks in the distance. It was approaching his station.
"I love you! And I'm bloody scared of it, but I can't let you walk away. Nate understands, we talked about it, there's no hard feelings."
The train whistle sounded, dense and loud in the morning.
"Eliot!" She sounded panicked. "Please!"
He shook his head, eyes bright. "He loves you, Sophie, I can see it. It's been obvious since the day we all met up."
"I don't want him, Eliot, I want you! I want that wedding, and pink begonias, and Bonnie and Clyde, and those little egg things with the cous cous you made!" she listed desperately, shards of the past few months piercing his heart.
The train pulled up in front of him, its brakes making an ear-piercing noise as they brought the vessel to a halt.
"We're criminals," he told her, voice gravelly. "Career criminals. Stuff like this just doesn't work for us."
"Are you running because you don't love me, or because you do?" she demanded.
"Are you crying because you love me or because you think it'll get me back?" he shot back, voice just as hard.
"I'm crying because I've finally finished being afraid," she answered. "After years of being alone, I fell in love with you in just a few months. And there's no other choice but to force myself to be brave enough to say it."
The train sounded to signal the last boarding call. The hand that held the phone trembled.
"It's been years for you too, I know. And it might be hard, with Nate, even if he says he's all right with it. But Hardison's happy for us and I think Parker just left to steal a cake."
His own smile surprised him. He picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder.
"I think it's worth it. I think we're worth it."
Eliot stood still. This sounded like one of those pep talks she'd say to a mark. It sounded so genuine, so loving, but what if it was a lie?
"Please stay."
The world was absolutely motionless as he answered her. Then he closed the phone and turned to meet his future.
[*]
Please tell me what choice you think Eliot made!