Routine: In computer programming, routine and subroutine are synonymous with many sequences of codes that are intended to be used repeatedly during the execution of a program. This makes the program concise and easier to write as well as read. The primary sequence of logic in a program can branch into a common routine.
It's a peculiar thing routine. It's steady and fixed. It was a practiced regimen. Routine could be found in his stances and sequenced flows that incorporated the calculated movements from the East and the precise training of the West. Days in and out, he would push himself to the limit. Running an extra two miles, swimming for another hour, or meditating for the chance to be more than himself. This was his armor as he headed into "war".
The next protective layer was acquired by his time with the Leverage team. Like it or not, Eliot welcomed the advisement of the brain, the thief, the grifter, and the hacker. Those four people were the few he trusted. He finally accepted that their perspectives and intellect were more than plain luck. Their individual experiences were better as a whole – or at least a part of a whole. Insight was a commodity that he owed his life to.
And another layer of defense was his newfound purpose. Never had his resolve, instinct, training and courage depended so heavily on the new motivation in life. It was the only thing stronger than the money or possessions or clearances he gained. The value of his life had increased, if only in his own mind.
The weeks leading up to his jobs were the same now. Two weeks before he would leave, he started working on a food schedule, outright creating freezer entrees so they would get proper nutrition, creating easy-to-follow recipes, and prepping meals better than any home delivery service. He could never rely on Alec to properly feed anyone, let alone himself. A calendar of meals was printed out with even more instructions to qualm Eliot's anxiety. Thank God Hardison learned enough culinary skills to complete basic recipes. He smirked at the thought as he headed into his training room.
A week before a job, Eliot found himself shutting the lights off in that very room. Eliot breathed deeply as he prepared before a "hit". These days knowing how to fight without all his senses grounded him – let him think that he could come back home.
Three days before a big job he focused on Hardison, learning new codes (Alec uploading covert software on flash drives that he then stored away in any and every crevasse in Eliot's pack his imagination saw fit) so that he could slip past any security system, facial recognition program, and evade pesky bank account procedures. He's always let the tech geek handle his business. Eliot knew it was best.
"So, two weeks..." Hardison sighed, scrubbing his eyes with his palms.
Eliot softly growled as they reviewed, re-reviewed, and re-re-reviewed "the plan". Granted, he was thankful that his partner understood the gravity of his jobs.
"Two weeks is the check point. If you don't hear from me by then, start tracking me in Port-au-prince. That following week is crucial. No phone calls or emails or texts means you need to worry." He slipped Alec a folded piece of paper. "These are the co-ordinates and IP addresses of the client."
"And what happens in the fourth week?"
The look Eliot gave was enough of an answer. There were safety deposit boxes scattered throughout the continents of North and South America, the Cayman Islands, and Switzerland. He also had investments in homes, stocks, bonds and antiques. And then there were those trusted few who owed him favors. It was set that, if anything happened to him, these women and men would be called upon to protect those he loved.
Two days before the job he would write notes to all those who mattered most to him. And that's all he wanted to say about that.
Two nights before, Eliot let Alec know the depths of his care, want, love, and need, in case this was the final time he could be with this man. This man who still infuriated him yet found ways to heal, soothe and balm his fractured soul. As their bedroom door gently closed, Eliot relished in their slow undressing…the soft words of need and fervor that were murmured. Palming his lover, kissing, massaging, and ensuring that his hands learned – yet again – the feel of Alec beneath them was his most important mission. Slow breath and hot kisses enveloped them. Eliot held onto every moment, embracing Alec and the sharp intake of breath he took as the hitter sucked and gingerly bit the younger man's neck. All fingertips and long, lingering kisses. Through most of the night Eliot would show Alec the depth of his love, admiration, respect, and devotion. Like it or not, Eliot had accepted that he needed this man. His man.
Very few knew that this hitter was tender and affectionate. He worshipped these nights. He drew them in as defense against possible torture. Alec's sighs were a melody. (Yes, he could wax poetically. And?) Those nights were a comfort to his nerves. Each touch and sensation he committed to memory.
That morning, right before he had to leave, Eliot made sure he woke up before Hardison. He walked into the room on their left. Their babygirl's room. She was the best chance he ever took. Sometimes he would hold her while she slept and woke up. Other times he would play with her until his partner awoke. Today she was rustling under the sheets.
Leaning against the doorframe, Eliot smirked. "Hm. I wonder where little Nya could be? I don't see her anywhere. Geez, I guess I'll have to eat all the pancakes."
She popped up from under her Princess Tiana sheets, wearing those damned Darlek pajamas. (Ugh, Alec. He let him dress their daughter in TARDIS onesies when she was still a baby. Wasn't that enough?) Curly hair a-muss, his daughter screeched. "No way!"
Laughing, he scooped her up, kissing her cheeks and squeezing her tight. He then placed her in his lap as he made quick work of gently combing through her tangles, tying her now tamed soft curls in a loose ponytail. Eliot was diligently educated about black hair care from Alec, his Nana, and sisters. It was the hardest task he ever experienced in his life – and he couldn't think of anything else worth his while.
Truth be told, he made sure that her hair wasn't braided the night previous. These were the moments with his daughter, combing through her hair, that were the most satisfying. Lord, when did he go soft?
She drove him in a way his previous training never could. She and Alec spurned him to punch harder, train longer, and fight with more conviction than he allowed himself to feel since before the Leverage team was formed.
"You're really actually gonna eat all the pancakes?" She said as she swiveled and squiggled around, wrapping her legs around his torso, arms draped over his shoulders. She next snuggled into his neck. Who knew you could love someone more than yourself? His hand cupped the back of her head, cradling her closer to him. Breathing deeply, he smelled her Johnson & Johnson hair with a touch of Argan oil (Thank God for Alec's sisters for that find). He loved Nya to his dying breath.
"I might." He laughed as he carried her out of her bedroom.
Once they got to the large kitchen, he plopped her on the countertop. "What's the first thing we need to make pancakes?"
She yawned. "Flour." Then she scrunched her face as if in deep thought. "And chocolate and blueberries."
"Where did your daddy hide the chocolate?" He chuckled.
She pointed to the cabinets above the fridge. Of course. Hardison was barely four inches taller than him. Did he really think that this was a practical hiding place for chocolate chips?
Pulling out thick-cut bacon, Eliot went about creating breakfast for his family. Pancakes were created – from scratch thank you very much. Most were blueberry, a few were sprinkled with chocolate and berries, and chocolate only if Nya had a say in the matter.
"Mmm, what is that I smell, little mama?" Right on cue. Eliot rolled his eyes. Alec had perfected his timing. Eliot knew no one better than Hardison who could evade cooking and housework until the very last moment. His thoughts melted away as his lover kissed his temple.
"Morning, love." He whispered. Eliot instantly felt the need to hug him but, if he did that, he may not leave for tomorrow.
Alec scooped up their newly turned four-year-old daughter, placing her on his lap as he pulled up to the kitchen island.
"Bacon!" She giggled as her other daddy bombarded her with kisses. "Daaaa-dddyyyy. Stop it."
He chuckled as she continued to giggle. "I see daddy combed through your hair."
"He's getting better at it." Her matter-of-fact tone broke Eliot's concentration. That girl will be a handful when she gets older.
"Excuse me? You didn't squirm or complain or cry." He flipped the sizzling pork.
"Yes but," She grabbed Alec's smartphone, "I didn't play. I play with my toys with this daddy".
Those two conspirators high-fived. "Told you!" smiled Alec.
Any other day he would scowl but today he turned around, leaned across the island and placed a chaste kiss on Alec's lips. Nya deftly dodged them as she played some ridiculous version of Candy Crush.
Eliot enjoyed these moments. He went about scrambling a few eggs. Those two always said they didn't want much and yet Nya would "sweetly" ask for more "breakfast stuffs". How Alec taught their little girl to bait him into cooking more, he may never know. He'd fix that one day.
They ate and Hardison packed the dishwasher. The afternoon was spent in PJs, reading, playing, and watching kid shows. He would never admit it but, under the influence of powerful sedatives and truth serum, he may confess to enjoying 'Dr. McStuffins' or 'Martha Speaks'. Lord, he's defiantly gone soft.
Once Ny' was out for a nap, the two Leverage alumni would review for the fourth or fifth or sixteenth time the scheduled plans. Alec and Eliot would re-evaluate the plan, looking for loopholes, and additional escape routes. Hardison would always create a new hack of some sort that Eliot barely understood. Kisses were shared and Nya would pop up from her favorite place on the couch.
That evening Eliot would order out from his family's top three take out choices: Pizza, Chinese, and Indian (He still got satisfaction from converting Alec. Prouder still, Eliot loved that his little bits was fearless and tried anything…typically the milder dishes but it's a win nonetheless. It's better than Alec's Buffalo Chicken Cup o' Noodles.) Tonight was pizza. The family consensus for pizza toppings was supreme though Nya would pick off the mushrooms and sausage to eat at her leisure later…or the next day…or the next.
If the Eliot from ten years ago – hell, even five years ago, could see him now he'd balk; he'd plot a way to retreat; he may have taken himself out. A tiny person dictating his dinners these days? He wouldn't have it any other way.
He cracked open a beer as Hardison cut up her pizza slice.
"You good, Nya?" Hardison asked as he placed her plate in front of her, a kiss placed on the top of her head.
Her small smile was bright as she picked off her toppings. "Yup! Thank you, daddy."
They all fell in front of the living room TV and watched a cooking competition. Nya had an uncanny ability to shout out the next or needed ingredient. And by uncanny, Eliot accepted that Alec's (and himself) appraisal of their daughter may be biased. Maybe.
Everything was cleared quickly. On these nights, rules were broken; Nya would stay in the master bedroom. One of the things Alec and Eliot agreed early on was limiting their daughter's access to their bedroom. Granted, the hitter knew that when he wasn't around, Alec let her crawl under their blankets. And…he also knew that he might let her nap with him when Alec was away on a job. Nap or sleep through the night. They'd figure it out later.
Baths were had and teeth were brushed. Cuddled up in bed, they watched a Pixar movie on the beyond huge TV Alec recently installed. Afterwards, Eliot read a book Hardison found months back. It was a children's book that helped explain a parent leaving for deployment and how that parent still loved their child as much – if not more. Deployment was close enough to what Eliot wanted her to think he did. He could never tell her exactly what he did. Hell, he didn't know why he did it anymore.
"So, you'll come back to me and daddy?" Her warm light brown eyes peered into his as she placed her hands on either side of his face. The shimmer in her eyes weren't lost on him. Her tears gutted him.
"Always."
Satisfied, Nya sniffled loudly before she scooted closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Always when?"
Hardison spoke. "About three weeks."
"And you get hurt?" Looking up at him, he could still see her bright eyes sparkled, tinted with fear.
"Sometimes," Eliot glanced over to Hardison who knew that their kid wasn't ready to hear that her dad gets hurt 'always'. "But know that I'm out there protecting you and daddy and Nana and your cousins, aunts, uncles, and Parker."
"I guess that's okay." Rolling over slightly, she tugged on Alec's shirt. "We need to get band-aids before he gets back."
"Can do, honey."
Eliot looked back at his partner. His deep mahogany eyes were shiny as tears began to water. This was the worst part before a job.
Eliot smirked as he pulled her close. "I would love some band-aids. You know, just in case." He reached over and grabbed Alec's hand.
His little one's yawns weren't missed. Eliot pulled his daughter close as Alec shut everything off with a button or a clap or an I-Dream-of-Jeanie wink – the hitter never knew and didn't want to. 'Goodnights' and 'I love yous' were whispered until they all fell asleep. Those nights were the best sleep he ever had before a mission.
At dawn, Eliot abruptly awoke. He pulled his pack out from under the bed which he loaded up five days ago. As he took inventory one last time, a few photos spilled out.
A soft grin grew as he looked at himself asleep on their old couch with baby Nya resting on his chest. Another was of the three of them grinning foolishly in bed. His two favorite photos stuck together: one of Alec and Nya at Nana's house trudging through the snow and the other of his babygirl playing at the edge of a creek with him crouched behind her.
He loved them. The memories enveloped him while releasing some of the tension within him. Eliot removed the pictures from his pack. He would not risk his family. He would not leave clues for others to track them down and abuse them. He didn't want to go back to killing people but if the need came up, what better reason to indulge in his primal urges than protecting his family.
Wrapping his trusty bandana around his hair, Eliot kissed his daughter's cheek. "I'm leaving, darlin'."
Nya stirred, groaning as she kicked off the blanket. She muttered something or other as she sleepily hugged her father. Smiling, Eliot tucked her back in bed and marveled at her. She was sprawled about their king sized bed. How could a tiny person like her take up so much room?
Eliot walks around to the other side of the bed, perching himself on the edge as Alec opens his eyes.
"It's time?"
Eliot responds with a sound kiss and a squeeze of his partner's hand. Hardison takes the pictures on cue. They've practice this pass off more than Alec would like. Eliot tells him each time that: "Those photos give me something to come back to."
This time. This time was even more meaningful. Eliot purposefully worked his wedding band off his finger. He pressed the cool metal into Alec's outstretched hand.
"Come back to us?"
"Always." He wanted that ring back.