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17/7/11 22:52![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
telarynTitle: This is How The World Ends
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
telaryn
Word Count: 1840
Fandom: Leverage/BTVS
Characters: Eliot/Faith, Hardison
Rating: R
Warnings: Off-screen character death.
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit obtained.
Summary: Following Nate's death, Eliot must stop Faith from a suicide mission of revenge.
Author's Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
angst_bingo, for the prompt "psychotic break".
“I don’t like this, man,” Hardison said – his fingers dancing over the virtual keyboard on his tablet computer. “This is Nate’s daughter we’re talkin’ about. Under the circumstances, don’t you think..?”
“Nate’s daughter died with him,” Eliot said, calmly, studying the wall of monitors. “We’re tracking a super-strong, psychotic killer on a revenge mission. We show her an ounce of mercy and she’ll repay it with pain.”
He realized the hacker was looking at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Don’t sugar coat it for me, man,” he said. “You’re talking about killing her, right? Faith. Nate’s daughter.”
“I’m talking about stopping her,” Eliot said. He knew on some level he should probably have been worried about how emotionally detached he’d become; it was definitely freaking Hardison out. “Whatever it takes. Have you found the shooter yet?”
Hardison turned his attention back to his tablet. “Garrett McNamara,” he said, making a gesture that splashed the information across the larger monitors. “Address, financials, day planner, Facebook login – you looking for anything specific?”
A small spark of his own rage bloomed behind Eliot’s eyes as he looked at the face of the man who’d shot Nate down like an animal in the street. They would collect McNamara and turn him over to the Boston police. Faith didn’t have the resources to track him the way Hardison could; she would be going after the person who’d hired McNamara in the first place.
“Give Sophie the information,” he said finally. “Faith’s not going to waste her time with this guy. When you’ve got enough to make something stick, turn him over to the cops.” He knew Sophie, in particular, would be grateful for something positive to do.
The hacker sighed. “And I expect the next words out of your mouth are going to be that you’re going after Jameson by yourself.”
A picture of the man who’d ordered Nate’s death appeared on the farthest right monitor. “I’m going after Faith,” Eliot said. “I don’t give a shit about Jameson right now – I need to see if there’s any way to bring her back from the edge.”
He’d made Faith a promise a long time ago that he would do whatever it took to keep her from going back to being the monster she’d been. And no matter what it cost him he would see the job done. He’d already failed Nate.
He wouldn’t fail her.
**********
She wouldn’t let him beg for his life. Nate had never had a chance to plead for his own survival, and she wasn’t going to allow Jameson any luxury that he’d seen fit to deny her father. Faith drew back her boot and kicked the prone figure at her feet. Jameson screamed into his gag, tears streaming from his pain-reddened eyes.
“Like that, huh?” Faith hooked a heel around the man’s shoulder, and rolled him onto his back. “We’re just getting started.” She pressed the heavy sole of her boot into the soft flesh just below his collar bone and leaned in. Jameson cried out again; Faith smiled at his obvious agony. “You’re a good student,” she noted, shifting her weight to give him some relief, “but I need you to be quiet now and pay attention.”
When Jameson’s breathing had eased back to normal levels, Faith said, “You ordered a man killed a couple of days ago. I’m sure this isn’t a new experience for you, but he was my father.”
Muffled noises could be heard through Jameson’s gag. Faith shook her head, pressing her boot briefly against his mouth, before moving it to the center of his chest. “Be quiet, or I’ll break your jaw,” she said calmly.
Clearly terrified now, Jameson nodded vigorously. “Good,” Faith went on, calmly. “You might be interested to know that we’re in the ‘blunt’ phase of the five phases of torture.” She held up a finger to illustrate. “After this comes hot, cold, loud and sharp.” She raised an additional finger for each phase she named. “Nobody’s really decided what the best order is. Personally? I like ending with sharp. The blood flow tends to make the victim woozy and they’re more likely to answer your questions.”
She grinned again. “Of course I’m not going to be asking you any questions, but I don’t see any reason to change my strategy for a little thing like that.”
***********
They’d all wondered why he wasn’t taking a gun. ”Man, if you need to bring her down fast…” Hardison had said. He hadn’t finished the sentence – the words dying in his throat when he saw the look on Eliot’s face.
They didn’t understand. None of them did. If everything fell apart and he had to kill her, it couldn’t be safe or easy for him. It had to mean something. She meant something – more to him than he’d ever found the courage to admit to anyone. If he had to kill her, it couldn’t be something he was allowed to walk away from and sleep the night with a clear conscience.
“He believed I was worth saving.”
He’d tracked Faith to Jameson’s apartment in Beacon Hill. Wearing his ubiquitous maintenance coveralls with matching cap, Eliot crouched at the door – feeding a surveillance camera under the bottom edge.
The feed was the best he could manage – better than even Hardison could have gotten for him – but he couldn’t get close enough to tell how badly Jameson was already hurt. Faith was circling him like a shark; her steps slow and deliberate. A dagger was in her right hand – not the knife he’d given her for her birthday, he was relieved to see.
”He didn’t have a reason to trust me. He knew what I was, where I came from. I’m trash…damaged goods…and he loved me anyway.” Eliot could hear the sorrow in her voice. ”Nobody’s ever going to understand me the way he did.”
Her grief was growing – overwhelming whatever tenuous hold she had left on her sanity. Swearing under his breath, Eliot pulled the camera free and set to work on the lock.
***********
She’d dropped to a crouch, straddling his chest. Blood still seeped from the dozens of shallow cuts she’d striped his body with; the metallic smell in her nostrils calmed her – focused her on what she needed to do. Faith knew she was ready to die, as long as the Fates let her take her father’s killer with her. She’d had her moment of perfect happiness. It was more than she ever expected, and certainly more than she deserved.
“You can’t stop me,” she said quietly. Her eyes stayed locked with Jameson’s, but her words were directed at Eliot – who’d opened the door as quietly as he could and slipped inside. “You know this is the only way to balance what happened.”
“That’s crap,” Eliot said. “And if you’ll step out of your own way for a second, you’ll see that I’m right.”
Eyes blurring with tears, Faith planted the point of her dagger against the soft skin under Jameson’s jaw. One good shove, and the blade would slide through muscle, flesh and bone, directly into his brain. Her victim’s eyes were closed, but Faith knew he could feel the knife, and understood what it would mean for him in the next half-dozen heartbeats or so.
“It’s not going to bring him back, Faith.”
“I know that,” she growled, tightening her grip on the pommel. “I don’t care. If Nate doesn’t get to continue living, neither does this piece of crap.”
“Or you, right?”
He was close – she didn’t have to look to sense that he was almost in arm’s reach. The only thing keeping him from trying to separate her from Jameson was the fact that she had a better position than he did. Even without her Slayer speed, in a race between the two of them Eliot would lose. And he knows it. “Nobody’s going to miss me,” she said finally.
“I’m nobody?” he asked, and she could hear real anger in his voice now. “Tell me what the hell I’m doing here, Faith, if I’m nobody?”
Her chest ached with all the tears she couldn’t cry. There was vengeance to be had, and she wasn’t going to falter. Not now. “You’re here to stop me. You’re here because you’re the only one who can kill me.”
“I’m here because you made me promise, dammit!” She could hear his control finally starting to waver. “You made me promise to stop you from becoming a killer again – from going back to what you were.” There was a moment of quiet, then Eliot said, “Faith, look at me. You owe me that much.”
She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice suddenly quiet. “Because it’s too hard to think that you might have something to live for? That your life might have meaning beyond Nate’s death?”
You matter. Not just to Nate – you matter to me. I need you to know that. He’d said those words to her on her birthday; Faith felt her resolve begin to crumble as she remembered the moment and how special she’d felt.
*******
He was crouched beside her now, well within arm’s reach. “Faith, give me the knife,” he said softly. “You’re not this person anymore. You haven’t been this person for a long time.”
She smiled bitterly, finally turning to meet his eyes. “I’ve always been this person, Eliot. No matter how hard I try, she’s always here.”
He shook his head. “No, Faith. That’s not how it works.” Aware of the risk he was taking, Eliot reached out and placed his hand on her leather-clad thigh. “The rage is what you’re feeling. I know how hard it is to fight against it, darlin’, but it’s not who you are. You have to trust me on this.”
He exhaled softly, seeing her relax slightly. “Give me the knife, Faith,” he said. “Everything changes if you kill this man – and not for the better.”
After a seeming eternity, Faith bowed her head and withdrew her knife from Jameson’s throat; holding it out to Eliot hilt first. He took it immediately and threw it as far away from them as he could. Wracking, ugly sobs tore their way out of Faith’s chest as the knife skidded to a stop against the far wall.
“It’s okay,” Eliot breathed, gathering her into his arms and dragging her off her victim. “Everything’s going to be okay, Faith. I promise.”
As they collapsed on the floor together, and she buried her face in his chest, Eliot prayed that he was right – that all of them would somehow figure a way through this; past the death of the man who had brought them together and who, despite his many failings, had kept them moving forward.
For himself, Eliot knew he would start by figuring out a way for the woman in his arms to find some peace.
Author:
telarynWord Count: 1840
Fandom: Leverage/BTVS
Characters: Eliot/Faith, Hardison
Rating: R
Warnings: Off-screen character death.
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit obtained.
Summary: Following Nate's death, Eliot must stop Faith from a suicide mission of revenge.
Author's Note: Written for
angst_bingo, for the prompt "psychotic break".“I don’t like this, man,” Hardison said – his fingers dancing over the virtual keyboard on his tablet computer. “This is Nate’s daughter we’re talkin’ about. Under the circumstances, don’t you think..?”
“Nate’s daughter died with him,” Eliot said, calmly, studying the wall of monitors. “We’re tracking a super-strong, psychotic killer on a revenge mission. We show her an ounce of mercy and she’ll repay it with pain.”
He realized the hacker was looking at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Don’t sugar coat it for me, man,” he said. “You’re talking about killing her, right? Faith. Nate’s daughter.”
“I’m talking about stopping her,” Eliot said. He knew on some level he should probably have been worried about how emotionally detached he’d become; it was definitely freaking Hardison out. “Whatever it takes. Have you found the shooter yet?”
Hardison turned his attention back to his tablet. “Garrett McNamara,” he said, making a gesture that splashed the information across the larger monitors. “Address, financials, day planner, Facebook login – you looking for anything specific?”
A small spark of his own rage bloomed behind Eliot’s eyes as he looked at the face of the man who’d shot Nate down like an animal in the street. They would collect McNamara and turn him over to the Boston police. Faith didn’t have the resources to track him the way Hardison could; she would be going after the person who’d hired McNamara in the first place.
“Give Sophie the information,” he said finally. “Faith’s not going to waste her time with this guy. When you’ve got enough to make something stick, turn him over to the cops.” He knew Sophie, in particular, would be grateful for something positive to do.
The hacker sighed. “And I expect the next words out of your mouth are going to be that you’re going after Jameson by yourself.”
A picture of the man who’d ordered Nate’s death appeared on the farthest right monitor. “I’m going after Faith,” Eliot said. “I don’t give a shit about Jameson right now – I need to see if there’s any way to bring her back from the edge.”
He’d made Faith a promise a long time ago that he would do whatever it took to keep her from going back to being the monster she’d been. And no matter what it cost him he would see the job done. He’d already failed Nate.
He wouldn’t fail her.
**********
She wouldn’t let him beg for his life. Nate had never had a chance to plead for his own survival, and she wasn’t going to allow Jameson any luxury that he’d seen fit to deny her father. Faith drew back her boot and kicked the prone figure at her feet. Jameson screamed into his gag, tears streaming from his pain-reddened eyes.
“Like that, huh?” Faith hooked a heel around the man’s shoulder, and rolled him onto his back. “We’re just getting started.” She pressed the heavy sole of her boot into the soft flesh just below his collar bone and leaned in. Jameson cried out again; Faith smiled at his obvious agony. “You’re a good student,” she noted, shifting her weight to give him some relief, “but I need you to be quiet now and pay attention.”
When Jameson’s breathing had eased back to normal levels, Faith said, “You ordered a man killed a couple of days ago. I’m sure this isn’t a new experience for you, but he was my father.”
Muffled noises could be heard through Jameson’s gag. Faith shook her head, pressing her boot briefly against his mouth, before moving it to the center of his chest. “Be quiet, or I’ll break your jaw,” she said calmly.
Clearly terrified now, Jameson nodded vigorously. “Good,” Faith went on, calmly. “You might be interested to know that we’re in the ‘blunt’ phase of the five phases of torture.” She held up a finger to illustrate. “After this comes hot, cold, loud and sharp.” She raised an additional finger for each phase she named. “Nobody’s really decided what the best order is. Personally? I like ending with sharp. The blood flow tends to make the victim woozy and they’re more likely to answer your questions.”
She grinned again. “Of course I’m not going to be asking you any questions, but I don’t see any reason to change my strategy for a little thing like that.”
***********
They’d all wondered why he wasn’t taking a gun. ”Man, if you need to bring her down fast…” Hardison had said. He hadn’t finished the sentence – the words dying in his throat when he saw the look on Eliot’s face.
They didn’t understand. None of them did. If everything fell apart and he had to kill her, it couldn’t be safe or easy for him. It had to mean something. She meant something – more to him than he’d ever found the courage to admit to anyone. If he had to kill her, it couldn’t be something he was allowed to walk away from and sleep the night with a clear conscience.
“He believed I was worth saving.”
He’d tracked Faith to Jameson’s apartment in Beacon Hill. Wearing his ubiquitous maintenance coveralls with matching cap, Eliot crouched at the door – feeding a surveillance camera under the bottom edge.
The feed was the best he could manage – better than even Hardison could have gotten for him – but he couldn’t get close enough to tell how badly Jameson was already hurt. Faith was circling him like a shark; her steps slow and deliberate. A dagger was in her right hand – not the knife he’d given her for her birthday, he was relieved to see.
”He didn’t have a reason to trust me. He knew what I was, where I came from. I’m trash…damaged goods…and he loved me anyway.” Eliot could hear the sorrow in her voice. ”Nobody’s ever going to understand me the way he did.”
Her grief was growing – overwhelming whatever tenuous hold she had left on her sanity. Swearing under his breath, Eliot pulled the camera free and set to work on the lock.
***********
She’d dropped to a crouch, straddling his chest. Blood still seeped from the dozens of shallow cuts she’d striped his body with; the metallic smell in her nostrils calmed her – focused her on what she needed to do. Faith knew she was ready to die, as long as the Fates let her take her father’s killer with her. She’d had her moment of perfect happiness. It was more than she ever expected, and certainly more than she deserved.
“You can’t stop me,” she said quietly. Her eyes stayed locked with Jameson’s, but her words were directed at Eliot – who’d opened the door as quietly as he could and slipped inside. “You know this is the only way to balance what happened.”
“That’s crap,” Eliot said. “And if you’ll step out of your own way for a second, you’ll see that I’m right.”
Eyes blurring with tears, Faith planted the point of her dagger against the soft skin under Jameson’s jaw. One good shove, and the blade would slide through muscle, flesh and bone, directly into his brain. Her victim’s eyes were closed, but Faith knew he could feel the knife, and understood what it would mean for him in the next half-dozen heartbeats or so.
“It’s not going to bring him back, Faith.”
“I know that,” she growled, tightening her grip on the pommel. “I don’t care. If Nate doesn’t get to continue living, neither does this piece of crap.”
“Or you, right?”
He was close – she didn’t have to look to sense that he was almost in arm’s reach. The only thing keeping him from trying to separate her from Jameson was the fact that she had a better position than he did. Even without her Slayer speed, in a race between the two of them Eliot would lose. And he knows it. “Nobody’s going to miss me,” she said finally.
“I’m nobody?” he asked, and she could hear real anger in his voice now. “Tell me what the hell I’m doing here, Faith, if I’m nobody?”
Her chest ached with all the tears she couldn’t cry. There was vengeance to be had, and she wasn’t going to falter. Not now. “You’re here to stop me. You’re here because you’re the only one who can kill me.”
“I’m here because you made me promise, dammit!” She could hear his control finally starting to waver. “You made me promise to stop you from becoming a killer again – from going back to what you were.” There was a moment of quiet, then Eliot said, “Faith, look at me. You owe me that much.”
She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice suddenly quiet. “Because it’s too hard to think that you might have something to live for? That your life might have meaning beyond Nate’s death?”
You matter. Not just to Nate – you matter to me. I need you to know that. He’d said those words to her on her birthday; Faith felt her resolve begin to crumble as she remembered the moment and how special she’d felt.
*******
He was crouched beside her now, well within arm’s reach. “Faith, give me the knife,” he said softly. “You’re not this person anymore. You haven’t been this person for a long time.”
She smiled bitterly, finally turning to meet his eyes. “I’ve always been this person, Eliot. No matter how hard I try, she’s always here.”
He shook his head. “No, Faith. That’s not how it works.” Aware of the risk he was taking, Eliot reached out and placed his hand on her leather-clad thigh. “The rage is what you’re feeling. I know how hard it is to fight against it, darlin’, but it’s not who you are. You have to trust me on this.”
He exhaled softly, seeing her relax slightly. “Give me the knife, Faith,” he said. “Everything changes if you kill this man – and not for the better.”
After a seeming eternity, Faith bowed her head and withdrew her knife from Jameson’s throat; holding it out to Eliot hilt first. He took it immediately and threw it as far away from them as he could. Wracking, ugly sobs tore their way out of Faith’s chest as the knife skidded to a stop against the far wall.
“It’s okay,” Eliot breathed, gathering her into his arms and dragging her off her victim. “Everything’s going to be okay, Faith. I promise.”
As they collapsed on the floor together, and she buried her face in his chest, Eliot prayed that he was right – that all of them would somehow figure a way through this; past the death of the man who had brought them together and who, despite his many failings, had kept them moving forward.
For himself, Eliot knew he would start by figuring out a way for the woman in his arms to find some peace.
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