My jump back into the world of fanfiction. This can either be seen as Pre Eliot/Parker or just family. Set sometime after season 4. Please let me know what you think.
Parker's a little banged up. Eliot is just finding out. She's confused. He's mad. Maybe they'll both learn something.
A matter of Bruises
Eliot carefully swept Parker's legs out from under her. She rolled with the motion, easily flowing back onto her feet. He gave her an approving nod. She was stronger than most people would expect from a woman her size, and she'd picked up on the moves he'd taught her fast. She'd probably be fine against an average attacker as long as she wasn't on the ground where her size would make it difficult for her to lever anyone off.
Parker darted towards him, fist cocked for a punch. He ducked. Started to tell her off for telegraphing the blow so blatantly. Was almost taken down by the knee she'd aimed at his solar plexus. Sneaky. He liked it.
He smiled at her as he caught her lower-leg and flipped her lightly over his hip.
She hit the practice mat with a light smack of hands and knees. Sighed loudly as she flipped over to sit down and scowl up at him.
"Crap."
He chuckled. "Not bad," he told her. "Little bit faster and you might have got me."
She grinned at the praise. Despite the intensity of their sparring, there was only a light flush on the tops of her cheekbones. Scaling buildings all day gave her endurance to match his.
He reached out a hand and pulled her up. Then walked across the room and snagged a couple of bottles of water. He tossed one to her which she caught without even looking. He took a couple of sips of his, shrugging his shoulders and cocking his neck to either side in a light stretch.
"I'm making butternut squash and wild mushroom risotto if you want to stay for dinner," he invited.
"Sounds weird but I'll eat it," she replied.
He turned to frown at her. Froze, heart skipping a beat. He squinted hard at his teammate.
Parker was in the middle of a backbend, face and torso facing the sealing and arms not quite touching the floor behind her. The move had made her shirt ride up, revealing a slim strip of flesh between the bottom of her shirt and the waistband of her pants. The pale skin was marred by a large inky blotch larger across than his fist.
"Parker! What the hell?"
She jerked at his yell, surprise throwing off her balance. He was across the room to her in three quick strides. He caught her with an arm around her back, pulling her upright with a little more force than he'd intended. He started to yank up the hem of her shirt. Remembered at the last possible moment that that would be a spectacularly bad idea.
"What?" she demanded, staring up at him, expression caught between shock and annoyance. He was relieved not to see any fear though. Sometimes he forgot just how skittish she could be about being touched without her permission, even by the people she trusted.
"Your stomach," he said. "Let me see it."
She blinked at him. Cocked her head to the side. "Why?"
"You're hurt."
"No I'm not," she denied. Her expression was totally baffled. She had no idea what he was talking about. Which was crazy because there was no damn way she couldn't know. Bruises like the one he'd spotted weren't pleasant. Judging by the color, it was a couple of days old. She had to have been feeling it.
"You have a bruise," he clarified. Sometimes, Parker still needed a little bit of an explanation when it came to the normal things everyone else understood automatically.
"Uh. Yeah…" She shook her head, bright ponytail swinging. "Got them from that last job."
'Them.' Son of a bitch. Between her and the dumb shit Hardison got into, he was going to have a stroke before he was forty. Seriously, why couldn't the kids just take better care of themselves?
"Let me see," he ordered.
There was a time when she would have bolted at a demand like that. Hell, it hadn't been that far back that him touching her for so long would have had her jumping out the nearest window. It spoke to just how far Parker had come that her only response was a sharp glair.
"I'm fine. Just a couple of bruises. I get them all the time from my harnesses."
What he'd seen wouldn't have come from any of her gear. Wrong place, wrong shape.
He dug for patience. "I just want to check, okay?"
She hesitated and he braced himself for an argument. He knew that she thought he was overreacting. But that dark discoloration on that part of her stomach could be a sign of internal damage. There were a lot of vital organs in that area. He wasn't willing to take the risk of their being something seriously wrong.
"Alright," she agreed, surprising him.
Thank you, God!
He led her over to a counter and helped her to perch on the top. She started to swing her legs, bright eyes fixed on his face. He did his best to keep his expression calm and nonthreatening. He moved slowly in an attempt not to startle her. He'd made that mistake once before when she'd gotten hurt. The result had been bad enough that he'd do his best to make sure it never happened again.
He pulled up the bottom of her shirt and his eyes immediately were drawn to the large, dark, almost line-shaped horizontal bruise in the middle of her stomach. Now that he had a better look, he could see several smaller bruises and scrapes around it. The scrapes had already started to scab over, and the smallest of the bruises were already beginning to fade. But the whole area still looked worrying, not to mention painful.
He swore. He gave himself a second to take a deep breath, to force back the anger. God damnit. Why hadn't she said anything? And how the hell had she been moving around so well. He hadn't noticed her wincing or anything.
His hands were as gentle as he could make them as he felt of the largest bruise. She tensed. He couldn't tell if it was because he was touching her bare skin or because she was in pain. The second one couldn't be helped. He lightly palpitated the area.
"How bad does that hurt?" he asked.
"It's fine," she said. He didn't need to see to know that she was rolling her eyes.
"No, it's not," he snapped, unable to keep hold of his temper any longer. "Damn it, Parker! How the hell did this happen?"
"I slipped," she said. "Caught myself on a ledge." He felt her shrug. "Figured that was better than hitting the ground."
In his mind, he saw Parker falling, scrabbling to catch herself, smashing stomach-first onto a ledge and clinging for dear life.
God damnit. How hadn't he known she'd fallen? What if she hadn't managed to catch herself?
His brain immediately treated him to a picture of her body crashing onto unforgiving concrete. Blood, broken bones, dead eyes.
He cursed some more and kept checking her over. He didn't feel any swelling, and she obviously felt fine. He couldn't fully rule out internal damage without a CAT scan, but he was as sure as he could be that she wasn't about to bleed to death or die of a ruptured liver or spleen. Considering that getting her to the hospital for a scan would probably involve a lot of kicking and screaming, he'd settle for just keeping a close eye on her for the next few days.
He sighed and moved away. "You gotta tell me about this kinda stuff when it happens, Parker."
It was all he could think to say. Telling her not to climb without him would be completely impractical—they both had jobs to do and often those rolls didn't overlap. And besides, it wasn't like he could catch her if she fell fifty feet or something. Trying would end up with both of them dead. But she did need to let him know when she got hurt. Injuries were something he could work with. And he could stop her from doing something stupid—like hand-to-hand fighting—until she was healed.
She didn't say anything. He opened a cabinet, digging through it for the first aid kit and the chemical cold packs in it. He'd make her ice that big bruise for a day or two. Try to get her to take it easy for a while, not that he figured he'd have much luck. What kind of crazy person willingly spars two days after slamming onto a ledge?
"I don't get it," Parker said suddenly. "What's the big deal?"
Eliot turned to scowl at her. "What's the big deal?" he repeated. "Parker, your bruised all to hell. You don't train when you're this messed up."
She blinked and cocked her head to the side. Her long ponytail fell over her shoulder as she stared at him again. After a second, she shook her head. "Why not?"
He started to tell her off because bruises like hers weren't something to play around with, but then he realized. She wasn't being flippant. She truly didn't understand what the problem was. She'd likely been hurt before and kept going. Knowing what he did of her background, she'd probably been doing so all of her life.
God damnit. He closed his eyes for a second and reached for patience. Not for the first time, he wished he could get his hands on the people who had broken the child his friend had once been. He'd make them regret ever being born.
"You could do further damage to yourself," he explained.
She rolled her eyes. "I know."
"Then why'd you do it?!" he snapped back, anger clawing at him. He hadn't known. Not only could she have further harmed herself, he could have hurt her. He'd promised himself to never hurt one of his teammates; to use his skills only to keep them safe. Damn her. Why the hell hadn't she said anything?
"Because," she said, tossing her hair out of her face. "I need to learn, and Archie always said that pain's a good motivator."
Eliot tensed, nerves standing on edge. Adrenalin flooded through him. His heart pounded hard in his chest and his fists clenched.
Archie Leach. Parker's mentor. The thief who had taught her, trained her. The man who had thought she was good enough to go on high-risk jobs for him, but not good enough to take in off the streets.
Eliot hadn't liked the guy the time he'd met him. Actually, he'd wanted to punch him. Maybe give him a kick or twenty. It was his fault that Parker had taken a job on her own; had risked her life and nearly gotten caught. And what kind of bastard saw a broken little girl and turned her into his own personal tool? He'd had a chance to save her and hadn't taken it.
There was a whole list of reasons Eliot wanted to hurt Leach, but he knew doing so would be for himself, not Parker. But if he had ever laid a finger on her…
"Parker," he said more sharply than he'd meant to. He made a conscious effort to gentle his tone. "Did Archie ever touch—ever hurt you?"
She stared at him blankly, truly not understanding the question or its implications. He moved closer so that just a foot separated them. He started to lay a hand on her shoulder, decided not to. She was starting to look a little skittish
"Did he ever hurt you? To motivate you?" he asked, voice as soft as he could make it.
It took a second, then her eyes widened in comprehension.
"No," she said. "He never did anything like that."
The rage left him in a rush that left him feeling fifty pounds lighter. He let out his breath in a quiet sigh. Nodded at her. Started to turn away.
"Eliot?" she questioned. She sounded uncharacteristically hesitant.
He turned back to face her. "Yeah?"
She squirmed. Bit her lip and twisted her fingers in the bottom of her shirt. She looked everywhere but at him.
"Why would it matter what Archie did to train me?"
The question felt like a sucker punch to the stomach. All unexpected pressure and deep pain. She didn't get it. Maybe never would. She didn't know why someone hurting her was wrong. More, she didn't understand why he cared.
Four years on the Leverage team. Four years of having people watch her back, of having people who trusted her and whom, Eliot knew, she trusted in return. And even after all that, she still was confused why he wanted revenge for the wounded child hidden inside of her.
He looked at her. Saw the face of the tough, fearless woman who he was proud to work beside. And under that, he thought he could just make out a mistrustful little girl who no one had ever bothered to protect.
He rested a hand on her shoulder, felt the press of fragile bone under the lithe muscle. He met her eyes.
"Because you matter to me, Parker."