AU Tag to The Experimental Job.
Usual rules apply, sadly they don't belong to me or anyone I could even steal them from! Some SPOILERS from the Season Three Episode The Experimental Job (and one itty little bit from Season 4 – The Long Way Down Job (Episode One). It really shouldn't spoil you too much and unless you've seen it already, then it will be hard to know which piece might actually spoil you… confused, you will be!
The episode tag, even though AU, I think is necessary as I wanted to highlight how crappy this assignment must have been for our favourite Retrieval Specialist, in my own inimitable way. I'm a huge Eliot & Parker shipper, so I'm sorry if this isn't your cup of tea but you never know where my muse might take us on this trip…
A little swearing, No Slash, No bashing of characters as they're all ace, however I like Parker and Eliot together because I think Spencer could handle her particular brand of crazy in a much better way than poor Hardison, think he might have bitten off a little more than he can chew.
Hope you like it enough to let me know by way of a review. I'd be mighty grateful to those of you who do review, and for those of you that just lurk – well that's cool too.
He had a feeling that this wasn't going to be one of their more straightforward cons and if this went down anyway like he suspected it might, this was going to have bigger ramifications personally than any of the other cons he'd taken part in to date. The acting itself was hardly unusual, though rather less often was the likelihood of causing such wounds to be reopened or past histories to be highlighted. He knew that Nate would have some inkling about his past; the others however would be less inclined to know such intimate details about his former life. There was no doubting the wounds that stood to be torn open, former motivations clawed at possibly revealing what had indeed made him into the man he was today and despite all his innermost goodness and a strong heart, there was no doubt that he was a very bad man. As he pulled on the costume that would help him pull off this particular charade he reflected on those years he gave himself to the United States Army, what he had seen and done had changed him from the fresh faced country boy he started out as. If only his mamma had seen the monster he'd become. Knowing his incubuses would revisit from the moment he donned that olive green garb and the nightmares might return wasn't going to stop him helping to find out why that poor man had died and dumped in such unceremonious circumstances. The man was a Veteran and deserved respect in death, more than he'd clearly been given in life. Eliot donned his old beanie, in essence pulling on his persona for the time being. He'd have to watch how he acted from now on, confidence and carefree was not a look often seen on the streets and he felt his stomach churn as he walked through the doors of the well-used haven. Straight off he could see the desperation in their eyes, sense the raw nerves and smell the visceral fear coming off them in waves. This was all before he uttered a word to anyone.
A swift glance around remind him of a world he long ago abandoned, a world he thought or rather hoped he had left behind to a certain extent. Given the fact you can't leave your nightmares behind you, however hard you tried sometimes. The men's faces said it all, classic hyper vigilance, signs of battle fatigue, sleep deprivation both from life on the streets but mostly from the nights torn from their slumber by horrific flashbacks or night terrors, reminding them in no small way of their former lives. He recognises the signs only too well; he knows them and understands them. That's why it was so important to him to play this role and for the team to take this case. He wants restitution, he wants to help, not only the client whose father paid the ultimate price, but he vowed to find a way to help these other heroes, these other unknown men who are most likely amongst the bravest men in the United States. Rejected from their homes, from their lives, from their Units once their service was done, they might have tried to return home, to assimilate back into civilian life and found it was too hard to battle their demons constantly. They needed to find a way to punish themselves for the atrocities they were party too and the faces of the dead that they feel ultimately responsible for. Or for the faces of the ones they did save and returned to their lives with no hope for a future; these were often the faces that haunted more. Eliot Spencer recognised all these symptoms because he is that man, underneath all the bravado of the respected and World renowned Retrieval Specialist is a tormented young man petrified at night to sleep for fear of his own demons.
Taking a tray while not wanting to draw attention to himself, like all good homeless people should do (according to polite society!), he ladled a healthy portion of the slop that passed for food upon his tray. Jesus when this was over he was going to come back here and sort this place out. Even if it meant cooking for the guys himself, then again so far he hadn't see anyone else complaining about the food. You've gone soft Spencer he muttered to himself while heading for a vacant space on a nearby bench. Reaching for the salt he ignored the man opposite him telling him that the seat was taken, when it quite obviously wasn't. Eliot knew it was going to irk the man somewhat however it was also the easiest way to get everyone's attention and ensure they knew he was a Veteran of some long forgotten conflict. Disregarding his neighbour once more in favour of his food tray, to his detriment and it was only when a hand came towards him he finally reacted. Hating that he was doing this to the poor guy, Eliot grabbed his wrist and in one swift movement flipped it over while slamming the guys' head into the table with his free hand (as softly as possible).
"Don't touch me man, just …. You don't wanna touch me." Eliot growled (deep husky voice!) noticing that he had undisputedly achieved his aim. Most were looking in his direction, though no one reacted which said perhaps it was a regular occurrence. "Just…don't touch me, after the things I've seen….and done. I just got back from Iraq." All the fight gone from him, Eliot let the man's head up and his wrist go, then sat back down where he lifted his fork and dug back into the tray of food.
"Well, with moves like that you must be a Ranger…." The man looking a little surprised by the rough handling though more impressed than pissed, rubbing his wrist gently he continued with a short chuckle, "nah man, with a grip like that you must have been a Green Beret." He smiled looking to this new olive-drab wearing street urchin.
Without actually confirming or denying the accusation Eliot turned it about on the man himself and in a low voice he said, "What about you man, you serve?"
Clearly feeling he had gained the upper hand on this newbie to the shelter the elder man proudly said "Hell yeah!" and the opted to further challenge the stranger, "Semper Fi." While proudly unveiling his tattooed arm to show the Eagle, Globe and Anchor, the traditional tattoo worn by most US Marines. "You know what it means son?"
"Always faithful," Eliot answered fork en route to his mouth.
"Always Faithful, well son I was always faithful to the Corps, they just don't tell you it don't work the other way round." Extending his hand across the Eliot, who in took it and offered his name.
"Welcome to the Fifth Street Shelter Spencer, name's Mac." He stated while shaking Eliot's hand. "So you're just back from Iraq then?" Acknowledging Eliot's affirmative he continued, "I served two tours in Nam." Leaning forward while making his offer he proposed, "if I can get you in on something, think you'd be interested? Three squares and fifty bucks per day; what do you think?"
After pausing for a moment of consideration Eliot responded, "Sure, I'm interested. Tell me more?" In that brief pause Eliot found himself pondering just how easily he'd gone from multi—millionaire Retrieval Specialist to dirty vagabond in only a matter of minutes.
Nate monitored the whole confrontation and followed the mumbled conversation thus far through his ear piece and when the talk moved to Units in which they had served he thought about giving the hitter some privacy. However Eliot kept it brief and succinct without actually giving away a single town he ever served in, which Nate thought quite impressive. Even though he often found himself amazed by the younger man's talents he rarely commented out loud, this time he felt it might be prudent to praise the hitter given the circumstances, to remind Eliot he wasn't on his own this time. Deciding upon a suitable remark which he was about to make when Eliot announced he was in, after lunch he would board a bus to the Sleep Centre. Despite not actually addressing Nate, over the years of working with the younger man he had picked up on the subtle nuances that were often directed his way whilst doubling as an answer to the Mark.
Settling upon a swift, "Good job Eliot," Nate was satisfied with Eliot's progress and getting back to the plan he switched channels in his mind to this time tune into Hardison, listening how his own very different meeting was coming along. Could they hope that the Order of the 206 infiltration might go just as smoothly?
Waiting for her role in this job Sophie also found herself listening and was impressed at how easily Eliot fitted in with the Veterans that used the homeless shelter, silently pondering how much of the real Eliot Spencer would he be pouring into this particular character?
Over on the College Campus Parker was sitting legs crossed on the grass basking in the sunshine while she waited for Hardison, she wanted to deliver the work she'd prepped for his first few classes. It didn't hurt that she actually looked like a student complete with courier bag laden with books. Eliot had been pivotal in suggesting the team actually take this case and Parker found herself wondering if there was a reason why this might be particularly poignant for him, maybe more than for the rest of them. While she comes across aloof, Parker is by no means stupid. It was a proven fact that one could learn so much more when your Mark didn't think you were actually capable of grasping everything they were saying or even better, making them believe that you weren't actually listening in the first place. It was a tool she learned long before she met Archie and even with her work within the team, Parker still felt the need to protect herself. Despite her initial efforts she found herself growing close to the members of the Leverage Team and recently she found herself thinking of them as a family. She was close to them all; Hardison, well with Alec she was supposed to be leaning towards a much different relationship than perhaps she was ready for. Another time being aloof helped her protect her heart against the aches it had suffered in her past life. Hearing Eliot speak made her reflect their time on that mountain, it had changed the level of respect she held for the hitter after their time in that Ice Cave. She had bonded with him in ways she would never thought remotely possible beforehand. After their revelations to each other in that cave they had actually talked about how the similarities they shared and their previous lives; not in any great detail, more how alike their roles within the team often were. No matter what her perceived relationship was with Hardison, she wouldn't deny that the blue eyed cowboy was intriguing her more and more as each day past. Silently she pondered how much more of an insight she might achieve into the hitter's persona during this case? Might it help her better understand the enigma and would she know more about what made him tick. Hearing Eliot announce his arrival at the Sleep Centre Parker tuned back into her ear piece, after all she wanted to keep her ears peeled for any new snippets of information.
Being roughly shoved into that four-by-six cell didn't endear the bouncy haired kid to Eliot in any way, shape or form. He was lucky the hitter was incredibly controlled and was also on his best behaviour, for the moment at least! Recalling Hardison's 'resistance is futile' reference from some alien film, he found himself repeating it regularly mantra style just to get his new character settled into the Sleep Programme. Eliot smiled wryly to himself, things would be changing very soon and there wasn't a damn thing they would be able to do in order to stop the Leverage team once they'd set their sights on a target; certainly not considering the ramifications of their failure.
With nothing else to do but wait it out, Eliot racked out on his new bed deciding it was much less comfortable than his memory foam super deluxe mattress back home, he decided it would be prudent to get some rest while he could. While he wasn't sure what to expect during the evening and ensuing night, he felt sure that there were going to be some shenanigans to throw them all off kilter in their new surroundings and he had barely closed his eyes when the music started. At least that's what he thought it was! Putting his hands over his ears and screwing up his face he decided he wasn't going to be getting any sleep after all! Thankfully he had been working on a mantra to help block out some of the racket, after three years living and working with Parker and Hardison of course he could block out a few irritating noises he mused. Of course he was using the term music in the loosest sense in reality it was more like an extremely loud version of an early practice period of a new band playing very badly. Considering his love of rock and metal bands, both of which he enjoyed quite loudly at times, this was taking it to a whole new dimension. There would be listening out for snippets of information, changing of 'guards' or advance warning sounds of whatever was coming next. Not only would he be sleep deprived, there would be no thinking either! Squinting his eyes closed he tried to block it out with some old Jedi breathing trick he'd learnt back in the day.
That was before the temperature began to drop.
Chilling, quite literally, in a small room was hardly a new experience for the cowboy though his current situation did remind him of just how many Veterans were living rough on the streets even in a City like Boston. His guilt prompting him to consider what he would do to help the Shelter he'd visited that day, and perhaps some of the men he was on the programme with, once he'd gotten them all out safely. He had been just about to check in with Nate when he heard his cell door being unlocked. Invited out of his 'room' he was directed towards another where a stocky man sat behind a desk. There wasn't any pushing or shoving this time and he was offered a seat in front of the mystery man. Sitting down he wondered how long it would take things to kick off, he certainly didn't want the others to suffer unnecessarily and he felt the freezing conditions and white-noise was already enough to severely disturb anyone already suffering badly with PTSD. Fortunately he didn't have to wait too long for the man to start his patter, reminding Eliot of a telemarketer reading from a script, the blond haired man started to speak. He introduced himself as Mason, said he had to 'dance for his food' just like the rest of them.
Pushing an envelope across the wooden table in front of Eliot, inviting him to open it should he wish to partake in a side line project; he could open this envelope and aim to earn an extra 100 bucks a day. Nodding his ascent, Eliot opened the envelope. He was to memorise the word written inside and promptly doing so the paper was burned while he watched. Reminding Eliot of his agreement to the new deal, he began his attempt to agitate Eliot by shouting at him. He had to keep the word from him in order to earn his extra money and if he failed, if Mason got the word out of Eliot then he'd earn nothing for his time and be thrown out of the programme. Being no fool Eliot knew to keep his cool and not let the man rile him. Sure as shit they were trying to break the men, these men from their target audience, these men who had given their all in serving their Country. The valiant ones that had made it home only to find their lives changed in such ways their families couldn't live with, men whose lives had been inextricably altered forever. Their friends, comrades in arms, dead or dying around them, scarred with images of the battles, memories of the hand to hand combat required as the battle raged closer and enemies penetrated the imaginary line. It wasn't entirely clear what the plan was here at the Facility but it certainly wasn't merely a sleep deprivation programme.
Eliot just stared at the man in front of him, confounded expression upon his face, he couldn't try to mind fuck this guy, though he wouldn't have minded five minutes in a room alone with him nor would he get tired of punching him! One thing was becoming abundantly clear, they were trying not only to break their spirits with the white noise and extreme temperatures, they were working on ways to achieve breaking point before extracting whatever information they wanted from each subject. Testing out new ways to interrogate without actually laying a hand on him; the newest form of politically correct torture Eliot thought to himself.
"I'm not going to lay a hand on you, I promise, but I will use every other means possible to get that word from you." Mason as he had addressed himself then stood as if to make his point over the seated hitter, "for each day you I fail to get the word, you earn another hundred bucks," annunciating each word with a pointed finger down towards the hitter, "but you leave here with nothing if I get the word from you. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Eliot calmly stated, "when do we start?"
"WE STARTED THE MINUTE YOU WALKED INTO THE ROOM" bellowed Mason, going redder in the face than should be humanly possible with exploding, he continued screaming at the top of his voice at the younger man, "I'M GOING TO USE EVERY TRICK IN THE BOOK TO BREAK YOU, YOU FESTERING, USELESS, SHIT FOR BRAINS, STINKING SON OF A BITCH, YOU'RE GOING TO GIVE ME THAT WORD IF IT'S THE LAST THING YOU DO!" once more leaning down from the table and shouting into Eliot's face his thinly veiled threats.
"So we start tomorrow then." Came the way-too calm reply from the steely eyed hitter. Standing up and turning towards the door he had come in through, he asked to go back to his room.
Only once the door was slammed behind him and the resonating noise came appeared back through the speakers did Eliot put a finger to his ear to activate his ear piece, "Nate, they got trained Interrogators in here, they ain't tryin' to cure PTSD, they're tryin' to cause it!"
It was much later that evening when Eliot was finally getting bored with the music that the cell door once again opened. He knew that they were relatively safe in the confines of these cells, certainly from the usual people trying to get hold of him. Though for some reason he felt no need to move from his spot on the bed as he felt safe in the company of whoever had just opened the door. Confirming his senses were still as sharp as ever when the petite blonde thief appeared in his field of vision, Eliot actually smiled at her as she came closer to his meditation pose.
Waving a hand in front of his face Parker had crept into the room, although it felt much more like a cell in her humble opinion, worried that she would spook the hitter unintentionally thereby causing all manner of chaos. Parker didn't want to upset him or cause a ruckus, so once he had acknowledged her presence with a small smile, she practically leapt up on the end of the bed to sit with him. Given the situation it was extremely lucky for them both that they regularly practised American Sign Language (ASL), never knowing when it might come in use, they were quite grateful for the skill this night.
"Hey Sparky," Parker wore her brightest smile in an attempt to deflect some of the misery she felt coming from the usually upbeat cowboy. "Why's it so cold in here?" she signed.
"Another way to drive you mad," Eliot signed slowly and carefully to the thief, ensuring he used the correct signals. There were many different ways to sign and while Eliot was a fast learner he was nowhere near as proficient as Parker was at Sign Language. "Nice to see you Parker." He signed somewhat wearily. He could cope with torture better than the endless sitting around waiting for something to happen. He was a man of action and all this time laying around, some of the time planning his next course of action and some of it talking with the team, though all of the time thinking about why he was actually in there.
Spotting a flicker of despair in her friend's normally bright blue eyes, Parker motioned for Eliot to sit next to her with their backs against the wall. When the hitter moved, she lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulder while nestling in closer under his arm. She lay there for close on an hour, knowing that the night shift guard was asleep at his post and she would be safe for a little while longer, all the while she 'listened' to Eliot's heart beating through his muscular chest. He felt chilled to the bone and Parker would have to bring blankets of some fashion on her next visit. The music was awful and had she not been concentrating on the strong vibration of Eliot's heart for the past hour, she was sure she'd have been driven half mad by the noise.
Knowing she couldn't sit there for much longer, it was so cold and the music was beginning to seep into her subconscious, she raised her head and with a downturned half smile she signed that it was time for her to go. Opting to tell Eliot that "After all, she still had Hardison's homework to complete before she could call it a night." She was gone from his side in a moment, pausing only to place a kiss on the hitter's forehead before waving goodbye and sneaking back out of the room.
Eliot was left with a new situation to think about once the quirky thief left his side, one he wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable thinking about. Perhaps he'd dreamt the whole thing, some bizarre hallucination caused by the white-noise reverberating through his very core. Surely she hadn't just kissed him in such a tender and dare he say it, loving way. Putting a hand to the place that still felt warmed on his forehead, he knew his actions were purely to comfort him in a time of discomfort. However, when he found himself sleeping closer to the spot Parker had previously occupied, he knew he was in trouble.
Author's Note: I know that there are several inaccuracies from the actual episode; I have chosen to change a few things to keep it in line with my own version of events. I hope this hasn't spoiled your reading pleasure in any way. This is almost finished and is only going to be a three-piece and then back to Escaping the Past…..I just needed a tiny distraction….
Grateful for any thoughts, reviews, comments or cookies you might have for me x