Title: Boston

Summary: A different take on Eliot's Christmas. Sequel to Havana.

Disclaimer: I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

Author's Note: Alright, this is a bit spoilery for anyone who hasn't seen the end of S3, so be forewarned. Hope you guys are enjoying this story as much as the last. Don't forget, those reviews are what keep us writers going!

Chapter 4

Eliot's fists relentlessly collided with the leather of his punching bag, trying to beat through the fog in his mind. When he was young these blows had been brutal to him. They had split the skin on his knuckles and caused blisters that bled. Now all that was left were calloused hands of leather that no longer felt the sting.

The gym was dark; thick black curtains were pulled over the windows with the lights on their dimmest setting. This was how he liked it. He liked to make his senses work. It didn't take long for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, for the air to fill with the smell of sweat. The floor was warm beneath his feet, bare for better traction. His toes planted on the wood made him feel connected to his environment and enabled him to move as he wished. The dark was filled with sounds, the heater kicking in every now and then, the heavy footfalls he made as he switched his stances, the chains clattering as they strained to hold the bag strong against his blows. This was how Eliot Spencer cleared his mind.

Only, there was one thing he missed – her footsteps behind him.

Caught off guard, Eliot swung around with a back fist to what would have been her temple. But Natalia was forever prepared, throwing up both of her forearms to block his attack. He paused and drew a shaky breath before moving again. Slowly, he let his arm down, hands balled into fists to hide the trembling as he turned to face her, his damp hair falling in troubled eyes. If she hadn't been ready - if she hadn't been her - she would be lying on the floor, knocked out unconscious. That shook him to the core. What if it had been Parker or Sophie standing there? He couldn't forgive himself for that. Eliot knew he was dangerous and lived his life under the principle of self control, but right now, he wasn't himself. And he wasn't in control.

"It's Moreau, isn't it."

Wham. He never could keep a secret from her.

"That's what's been eating at you. It's why you don't hear me. Why you're on edge," her eyes held a hardness tempered with concern. For the next few seconds all Eliot could hear was his heart hammering in his ears before she started to move. She shrugged off her black blazer and tossed it in a heap near the door before yanking off her socks to join it and pulling her hair up out of her face. She stood before him now in a black ribbed tank and leggings of the same hue. "Get it out Spencer," she raised her fists to her face and dropped her right leg back into a fighting stance. "Talk to me. Try to hit me. Just do whatever it takes. Let it go."

Eliot's first instinct caused him to swing a wide right hook which she stopped easily with her left forearm. "The team's gonna find out," he growled before attempting an uppercut to her solar plexus with his left hand.

Natalia twisted her body and stopped his momentum with her right arm. "They know you have a past Eliot. You don't learn the things you know from reading a book. You learn it from living, and that's exactly what you've done."

He swung his elbow towards her chin where it instead collided with her own as she thrust her arm up to protect her face. "Nate's gonna be pissed."

"Don't give me that bullshit Spencer. When have you ever been driven by his opinion?" Her voice had a definite edge to it as he jerked his knee up towards her kidney. Natalia effortlessly shifted out of the way. "You're not afraid of Nate. You're not even afraid of Moreau. You're afraid of yourself."

She dodged the left punch he threw before immediately blocking a wild right hook and wrapping her arm around his, holding him in a bicep lock that was just tight enough to cause pain. "Go on," he ground out, the sting of her hold shocking his brain into a different level of clarity.

"You don't like the man you used to be – the man Moreau forced you to be. You're afraid of the others seeing that. And you're afraid that you'll have to go back there." The hitter swung at her with his free fist but she just caught his punch, holding his right arm a bit tighter. "You listen to me Eliot and you listen good. You're not who you think you are. You've never been as bad as you think you are."

He wrenched his left fist out of her hand, twisted to the right, and she let go all at once, springing away from him. The hitter lashed out at her with a back fist to her stomach. Natalia was able to stop him but he grabbed her wrist, flinging her roughly in front of him where he locked her into a bear grab. His biceps tightened around her causing her to wince at the pressure he was putting on her ribs.

"Will you ever be at peace with it Eliot?"

The room fell silent save for Eliot's panting and Natalia's controlled, albeit shallow breathing.

"No." He spat the word with disgust.

"Exactly." In a flash she bent her knees, dropping her stance before reaching between her legs to grab his left calf. She simultaneously pulled up and sat down on the floor, dropping him onto his back like a brick. She held his calf and tightened her thighs around his before leaning back. She was holding the knee bar just firm enough for him to grunt in pain, but not enough for him to submit.

"Eliot," Natalia's eyes locked on his, her voice staunch with conviction. "I can look at you right now and see the torment it still causes. It still eats at your soul. That's the point. You still have a soul. If it didn't kill you a little bit more with every breath that you take, if you didn't still have nightmares, if we weren't having this conversation right now Eliot, then you would be the monster you make yourself out to be." She paused to let her words sink in, still breathing heavily from the exertion. Her voice was soft when she began again.

"You do whatever it is that you have to do. But so long as the ache is still there, no one can call you a monster." She dropped his leg and released the pressure on his thigh as his entire body went limp. His breathing was ragged as he closed his eyes. He knew that she was right, and that seemed to give him some degree of comfort. She slowly slid across the wood floor and reached her arms out to him, pulling his back towards her chest, guiding his head to her shoulder. She pressed her lips to his temple and whispered gently, "I wouldn't be in love with you if you were a monster."

Natalia held him like this for a long time, just like she had years ago when he had committed his greatest sin. He went to her because he didn't know where else to go. He didn't know what else to do. And yet he knew that somehow, she would. She listened to him. She cried with him. She gave him the time and space he needed while still being close enough to reach out to when the dark began to close in again. She woke him from his nightmares and held him until peaceful sleep came. Natalia was the one who pulled him back up onto his feet.

And here she was again, with all the patience of a saint and more love than he ever deserved.