A/N: So I'm sittin' there, watching what was quickly becoming my all time favorite ep, thinking to myself. 'Well, pj, you got your wish. Eliot's got an effing girl. NOW WTF are you gonna do?' Haha. Well, then it hit me, while I was driving, and I started writing this (once I got home). You know the song Making Circles? (hahahaha, of COURSE you do) And you know how it's sort of the title and the lyrics really didn't fit so far? Well...it's all starting to come together...Enjoy! -pj
Chapter Seven - The Studio Job, Part One
Tali tossed and turned for three hours before finally giving up on sleep. She blew out a long breath and sat forward on the edge of her mattress, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She swung her legs over to the side and stood, the red plaid shirt she wore draping her slight figure and she clutched the ends of the sleeves in her fists.
A glance at the clock confirmed the late hour and she pulled open her light-blocking black drapes, bathing the room in sunlight.
"Hello noonday sun. Long time no see," she grumbled scowling at the blue sky, and turned to walk to the kitchen, the cool tile shocking her bare feet.
She put some coffee on and pulled herself up onto the counter, watching cars' reflections in the windows of the buildings across the street.
Absently, Tali raised a hand to her nose, smelling the fabric of the shirt.
It still smelled like him.
No wonder she couldn't get any sleep.
It had been nine days since she last saw Eliot. If she was honest with herself, which she tried only to do when absolutely necessary, she was beginning to wonder if he was ever coming back. Which was stupid, of course, because he'd gone more than a month between seeing her before and it wasn't as if they'd had some huge fight and said horrible can't-ever-take-that-back things to each other. They hadn't even raised their voices.
But he'd never left without saying 'goodbye' before, even if it was just to slip a note into her hand while she slept.
She'd never been the one to put the wall between them before either. She was the one who'd locked the bathroom door, afterall.
That was what had her stomach all in knots.
She closed her eyes and dropped her head back to bang against the cabinets.
"Si se mete con un hombre, se mete con problemas," she recited softly to herself, listening to the coffee pot gurgle beside her, the aroma slowly filling the room. "You were right, mama."
It had been nine days and she hadn't slept properly even once. She was tired and achy and cranky, she was pushing her luck with her boss at the club with her snippy comments and the boys at the bar were steering clear of her at all costs.
"Wonder what he would do if he showed up and I wasn't here to ice his pretty little head," she grumbled, jumping down from the counter and pouring herself a mug of coffee, "bet that would be a trip, eh Cowboy?"
She shook her head, wrapping her long fingers around her mug and went over to settle into her couch, pulling the afghan off the back to cover her bare legs. She stared at the sunlight streaming across her hardwood floors while she sipped her drink slowly.
"Big dummy."
Tali bit her lip, wanting to feel spiteful instead of sad, which was much closer to accurate, and frowned at the brown liquid as if it could provide the answers she was looking for. She was pulled out of her musings by her phone vibrating on the coffee table.
She frowned, not recognizing the number, or the 901 area code.
"Hello?"
There were distant voices and ringing phones on the other end, punctuated by a quiet sniffling noise that was closer to the receiver.
"H-hello? Tali?"
Tali straightened, her shirt falling off one shoulder as she refocused all her attention on the vaguely familiar voice.
"Yeah. Who is this?"
The voice made a noise that might have been a relieved laugh or an exhausted sob. Either way, Tali's internal alarm bells were going off like crazy.
"Oh my God, Tali. It's so good to hear your voice. It's Kaye Lynn."
Immediately recognition dawned and Tali set aside her coffee, jumping to her feet and bouncing on her toes.
"Lynnie! What's going on? Are you crying? Are you okay?" She fired off the questions without pause for answer. She hadn't heard from the girl in nearly a year and tears from what sounded like a hospital was not what she expected from their first conversation after all that time.
"I-I'm okay…it's John. God…his hands, Tali, I just…" she broke off crying and Tali was already searching her drawers for a pair of jeans.
"Please Tal, can you come to Memphis?…I-I just can't be alone right now."
Tali slipped on a pair of flip-flops and ran to her closet.
"I'll be on the next flight."
oooOOOooo
~Uh-who exactly did you just refer to as baby?~
~It's like the universal term for baby-how old are you?"
Eliot growled again, low in his throat and pulled his com out. His nerves were frayed enough as it was without Hardison's ridiculous banter in his ear.
And Eliot Spencer did not do frayed nerves.
"Hey." Parker reached out and touched his arm, and Eliot barely restrained himself from reflexively breaking her fingers.
Okay. He didn't usually do frayed nerves.
"What Parker?" He snapped. He glanced at her hand and saw she'd also taken her com out.
"Is everything okay with you and your girlfriend?"
"I'm-what?" He wrinkled his nose, glancing around, "what has that got to do with anything?"
She shrugged one shoulder, flipping her hair off it absently.
"Maybe you wouldn't be so nervous if you pretended she was here."
Eliot closed his eyes briefly. His thing with Tali had been complicated at best before. He hadn't even spoken to her since their…it wasn't even heated enough to call an argument. Still. He hadn't gotten a good hour's sleep since storming out of her place that day.
"Somehow, Parker, I don't think that'll help."
Parker tilted her head, watching Eliot stalk off into the darkness, his shoulders just as tense and square as before. She shrugged, pushing her com back in.
"Couldn't hurt."
oooOOOooo
She moved quickly, but he could've stopped her if he wanted.
But he didn't really want to.
She smelled like clean clothes and leather, it reminded him of home a little bit. Just like her thick southern drawl and girl-next door persona. The vulnerability and doubt tinged with fury that he found almost magnetic.
And then she was standing there between his legs, pressed against him and she seemed so pure of intention he couldn't help but stare down at her while she walked his fingers through the chords of the song.
Her hair smelled like coconuts.
Her small hands were callused on the fingertips from years spent on guitar strings, not soft and manicured like Tali's.
It wasn't that he liked Kaye Lynn's hands better, she was just…different. Comforting, calming for his nerves.
He enjoyed it more than he should have.
oooOOOooo
Parker turned to Hardison, still giving dismayed looks to his computer.
"You think he's thinking of her?"
He furrowed his brows, glancing at her briefly, fingers flying over the keys.
"Who?"
Parker sighed and smacked him on the shoulder.
"Eliot," she motioned out toward the stage, "you think he's thinking about the girl? The one from Africa?"
"Tallahassee."
"That's Florida."
"No, that's her name," he saw Parker's blank look out of the corner of his eye, "the girl from Africa. Her name is Tallahassee."
The thief wrinkled her nose. "Weird name."
She turned back to staring out the viewing window.
"I think they had a fight." She crossed her arms, shifting uncomfortably. Hardison only grunted, she knew he wasn't really listening but she kept talking anyway. "I think Eliot screwed up with this Florida girl and he wrote this song for her."
"Our clients wrote this song, Parker."
She sniffed and glared at him. "I know that," she said, impatient with his misunderstanding, "but it's written from a broken heart."
Eliot was finishing up now, too much emotion pouring into the song for it not to be real. She tightened her arms around herself and shifted minutely closer to Hardison.
"And who's more broken than Eliot?"
oooOOOooo
Eliot practically ran off stage when the song was over and didn't breathe until he'd shut the door behind him in the dressing room.
His heart hadn't pounded this fast since the first time he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.
He smiled nervously, at Kaye Lynn.
"How'd I do?"
His stomach unclenched and all the tension poured out of his body when she smiled.
"That was amazin'." She threw her arms around him and Eliot laughed, more relieved than he'd thought he'd be and returned her hug.
He'd never had a con fall on his shoulders like this before. Usually it was Sophie's performance whom the clients' every hope and dream hinged on, or Nate. But not Eliot. Eliot was the enforcer. The muscle. He retrieved and he hit but he didn't sing.
And for Kaye Lynn, this song had been so much more than a song. It was the last thing John ever played on his beloved guitar. The last song they would write together. It was her childhood dreams, her whole future.
She'd entrusted all of that to him and he'd just wanted to do right by her. Do her proud.
And she was.
He was excited. Happy she was happy. There had been a time, a long time ago, when he'd understood the way she felt right then. The excitement, the fear.
She'd wanted to share it with someone, and after walking off that stage, a part of him felt like he deserved to be that someone.
It wasn't like she'd pressured him. Kaye Lynn, he'd come to realize, didn't know how to be anything other than completely honest and sincere.
And for a moment it was nice to get swept away.
Eliot wasn't used to monogamy. He wasn't totally certain Tali expected that from him.
When she started to lean toward him he'd reflexively returned the gesture, his hands tightening around her back, dipping his chin to meet her lips.
Old habits are hard to break…but he could have tried harder.
TBC - Part Two will be up tomorrow or so.
