This is just a short little piece I did forever ago and recently found at the bottom of my digital pile. :) I wrote it while listening to "Please Do Not Let Me Go" by Ryan Adams. As may be obvious, this takes place sometime in the team's very early days. Thanks for reading!
Eliot was alone and happy to be so. Being alone was freedom.
At least, that was what he was telling himself.
But he kept finding things of theirs. Parker had kept a box of her favorite cereal in his cupboard in case she needed a snack, and Hardison had set up that stupid TV on one entire wall of his living room. He could do whatever he wanted because he was alone. But what he found himself doing was eating cereal in front of that stupid TV.
And he was angry. Angry that those people, his people, had turned him into someone who missed other people. But this was their fault. They hadn't listened to him, had gotten themselves hurt. And when they had assured him that next time they would listen, he had told them there wouldn't be a next time.
It was as good a time as any.
He'd been gone for a week before Sophie called him. He ignored the call. It was easier to make clean breaks. He preferred things neat, tidy. He wouldn't allow them to make this messier than they already had for him.
It wasn't long after that before Hardison called. And then Parker called. And called. He took the battery out of his phone.
He sat in his apartment in the silence, ordering himself to enjoy it. None of Parker's poking, or Hardison's geek rambles, or Sophie and Nate's annoying dynamic as they danced around how they felt about each other. Those things drove him nuts. He was happy to be alone. Being alone was freedom.
He put the battery back in his phone but they had stopped calling. He thought Nate must have made them. He told himself he was grateful.
Two weeks passed before Nate called.
"Not interested," he growled into the phone, angry at himself for picking up at all.
"Eliot, we need your help," Nate said, predictably.
"Yeah, I bet you do. Not interested," he said again, inches away from hanging up.
"Look, Eliot, we can't do it without you. I know you're mad that we didn't listen to you, and you were right. But this next one, it-"
Eliot hung up. He refused to get caught up in Nate's little game again. Suddenly, unbidden, his mind called up Parker and Hardison's faces. If Nate tried something without …
He showed up at the offices that night, rolling his eyes at their surprise.
"Eliot!" Parker exclaimed, hopping up to the back of the couch. "Are you still mad?"
He stood behind the couch, arms folded. "Just get on with it," he grumbled, gesturing at the screens.
They were still giving him odd looks, but Hardison continued the briefing. And when Nate shot him one of those knowing smiles, it was all he could do not to punch him in the face.
But at least he wasn't alone anymore.