Title: wrung with the wounds which kill not, but ne'er heal
Fandom: Leverage/Angel
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Byron
Warnings: anytime for Leverage; post-series for Angel
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount:100
Point of view: third
Prompt: Leverage/Angel, Lindsey!Eliot/Any, (S)he's fairly sure Eliot's wrist is broken, but (s)he's seen him shake off much worse injuries and now he's just stood there, white as a sheet, staring at his hand.
There is no way it's the worst injury Eliot has ever had. It took a moment for him to register the pain, and he was able to finish the job (of course), but now he's sitting in Hardison's get-away van, silent, staring at his hand.
"Eliot?" Sophie asks softly. "Darling, what's wrong?"
"Nothin'," he mutters, visibly shaking something off. "Just..." He clenches his hand into a fist, straightens out all his fingers, and bends each one. He rubs at his wrist, says, "Light sprain," and then, "Bad memories, 's'all."
He doesn't say anything else for the rest of the ride.