The Damascus Job, a leverage fanfic

Title: The Damascus Job
Author: Trapper Creek Kaniac
Fandom: Leverage
Category: general, humor
Rating: T

Summary: What happened in Damascus. Missing scene from the Cross My Heart Job.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and places belong to the show's awesome creators John Rogers and Chris Downey, I am only having some fun with them. I do not own Leverage and am not affiliated with the show other than being an obsessed, ahem, devoted fan. That concludes our regularly scheduled disclaimer, so make yourself comfortable and join the fun!

Author's Note: Inspired by Hardison's comment from the Cross My Heart Job about a Nerf sword and Eliot saying that he actually fought a guy with one. Had the idea for a flashback in my head for awhile and finally got around to writing it.

"It's not like anybody's asking Eliot to fight a guy with a Nerf sword." Hardison complained from behind the old desktop he was using to try and hack into the national transplant donor database.

Without missing a beat Eliot snapped, "Damascus, 2002."

"Like you've ever been to Damascus." Hardison retorted.

Eliot ignored him and turned back to the walkie-talkies he was reassembling.

It was hot.

Summer in Syria was always oppressive but the heat seemed particularly blistering as Eliot surveilled his target through a pair of binoculars. The palm tree he was leaning against offered him little relief from the heat. His clothes clung to his skin and sweat dripped down his back. Eliot lowered the binoculars and pulled a bandanna from the leg pocket of his cargo pants and used it to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

Eliot was in Damascus for a retrieval job. He had been hired to retrieve a solid gold, jeweled ceremonial tureen that supposedly belonged to one of the client's family members before it was stolen and added to an oil baron's collection. The oil baron, Griffin Delancey was a well known man and the two families seemed to have a history. Eliot's client offered him twenty-percent more than his usual fee in addition to telling him that anything that caught his eye in the other man's house was his to take.

In addition to his New York mansion, Griffin Delancey owned another mansion in Damascus, where he spent much of his time. He was currently away on business, leaving the house in the hands of a few unsuspecting guards.

Eliot brought the binoculars back up to his eyes just as another guard appeared. So far that made seven and he added a couple more to his mental tally to account for any that may not have shown themselves. It appeared to be an average job, in and out, and he'd be long gone.

Now it was time to sit back and wait until the sun set to make his move.

Eliot pulled out a pair of dark aviator sunglasses and lost himself in the crowd passing by, looking the part of an American tourist.

L*E*V*E*R*A*G*E

It was nearly dusk when Eliot checked out the large hotel that was used primarily by tourists or rich business men.

"We hope you have enjoyed your stay, Mr. Acton," the pretty receptionist was saying and Eliot smiled at her.

Outside, the temperature had dropped along with the sun to a cool seventy-two. Eliot ran a hand through his short curls as he mentally went over the mansion's schematics one more time. The heat, thanks to all the sweat, was doing horrible things to his hair. He would have hidden the unruly mess under a stocking hat if it wasn't so damn hot.

A tiny sliver of the sun was still visible on the horizon when Eliot arrived outside the Delancey mansion. The guards were on a ten minute sweep and the next group was scheduled to pass by the large ornamental bush Eliot was lurking behind in approximately thirty-seven seconds. Right on cue four of them came around the corner, talking about some hot chick, and one of them bumming a light for the cigarette hanging out of his mouth off of his companion.

Eliot slipped inside without incident and made his way towards the lavish dining room the client said he had glimpsed the prized tureen. He hoped it hadn't been moved since then or he would have to go to plan B.

Large windows provided just enough light for him to navigate without running into things and announcing his presence. The room featured a large and expensive teak dining table and was lavishly decorated with art. An imposing fireplace stood at the far end of the room with a huge oriental rug sprawled at its foot. The tureen was proudly displayed on the mantel above it, clearly the centerpiece among the expensive pieces displayed.

Crossing the rug and coming to stand before the fireplace, Eliot noticed a Nerf sword leaning against the side of the hearth. He almost laughed. Seriously? Apparently this guy was into fake sword fights...

Eliot pulled from his shoulder the padded bag he used to transport delicate items. He gently lifted the jeweled artifact from the mantel and wrapped it well before lowering it into the bag. He straightened to appraise the other pieces when his eyes fell on a stunning Faberge dagger with an six inch blade. The handle was silver enameled blue with an imperial Russian eagle of solid gold sitting atop a pavé setting of diamonds. The sharp Spanish steel blade inlaid with gold nearly made him drool. Yeah, he was definitely taking that.

Eliot lifted the dagger from its stand, testing the feel of it in his hand. Perfect, absolutely perfect. He placed it with the tureen and shouldered the bag. Time to go.

He turned to go just as a guard was passing the doorway. The guard saw Eliot's dark figure and stopped.

"Hey, you! What are you doing in here?"

"Housekeeping." Was Eliot's sarcastic response.

The guard was walking toward him and Eliot set down the bag so it would not get in the way of the fight. He reached for the nearest thing that could be used as a weapon.

The Nerf sword.

Well, first time for everything, Eliot thought as the laughing guard advanced. He twirled the feather-light sword easily in his hand.

Despite the flimsy sword, the guard refused to get close enough for Eliot to properly strike him.

"C'mon," Eliot growled at him.

The other man tried to bait him away from the stolen items by circling but Eliot stood his ground. Eliot, impatient to be gone before anyone else noticed the disturbance, found his opening and lunged at the guard. He whapped him hard on the side of the head a couple times, then managed to stab the guard in the left eye.

"Ah, my eye!" The guard cried out, pressing both hands to his eye. Eliot dropped the sword and took him out with powerful right hook.

Eliot snatched up the pack and hauled ass towards his exit. He had forty-four seconds to make himself scarce. He crouched behind the bush he'd used as cover earlier and breathed a sigh of relief as they strolled past his hiding place. He would be safely long gone when they discovered their companion and the missing pieces.

L*E*V*E*R*A*G*E

Eliot hadn't thought about that job for some time before Hardison's comment sparked the flashback. He still had the dagger, it was right at home among all the others in his ever-growing knife collection. That was the first time he'd ever fought a guy with a Nerf sword and he planned on it being the last.

Author's Note: By the way, the dagger is a real dagger; it absolutely gorgeous. Internet cookies and a special visit from Eliot for anyone who spotted the Kane reference (or Kane-ism, as CK likes to call them). Reviews are always very much appreciated!