Angst Bingo 3.15
14/8/11 16:17![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
telarynTitle: A Matter of Life & Death
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
telaryn
Word Count: 1551
Fandom: Leverage/SPN
Characters: Eliot/Ellen, Jo, Bobby
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Threat of infection/death
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit obtained.
Summary: Coming up against a potential outbreak of the Croatoan virus, Ellen quarantines herself with the other victims, while Bobby attempts to manage the chaos outside.
Author's Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
angst_bingo, for the prompt "quarantine".
Jo Harvelle closed her phone with a snap and braced herself on the dashboard with her free hand. “You know if you roll this thing, it’s not gonna help us get there any faster.”
“Shut up,” Eliot growled, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. “What did Sam say?”
“Dean said that it sounds similar to something they encountered in Oregon. Croatoan – some sort of demonic virus. He and Sam are about an hour out. They said Bobby’s already on scene, and that Mama did the right thing by sealing off the clinic.”
Yeah, but she sealed herself inside, Eliot thought, resisting the urge to gun the engine. As far as he was concerned, no matter how many people she’d saved it was a potentially fatal flaw in her logic. “What did the boys say about a cure?”
Jo was uncharacteristically silent. Eliot risked a glance at Ellen’s daughter. “Jo!” he said sharply, trying to jar her back to the here and now. “Stay with me. What did the boys say about a cure?” Her eyes met his, and Eliot’s chest tightened as he read the truth in her expression.
“No,” he said harshly, returning his attention to the road. “I know how you feel about them, but Sam and Dean Winchester don’t know everything. Your mom’s gonna be fine.”
***********************
Dr. Barrowman looked up at Ellen and shook his head. “He’s gone.”
“Sonofabitch,” Ellen muttered, grimacing. She glanced at the lab, where the doctor had been working on cultures – trying to figure out some way to get in front of the virus. “Okay, take what you need and get back to work.”
She realized Barrowman was looking at the bandage on her arm. “We’ve got half an hour still,” she reminded the man. “Stay focused on what we’ve got.”
“We’ve got a boy in that closet that’s about to shift into stage three,” Barrowman said unhappily. “And me no closer to figuring out what’s causing this.”
Any response Ellen could think to make was interrupted by a sharp rapping on the storefront of the clinic. “Get back to work,” she ordered, before turning to see who was outside.
Bobby. Relief washed over Ellen in a wave so strong it momentarily staggered her. Singer was waving his phone at her; Ellen fished in the pocket of her jeans for her own unit and hit speed dial. “How’s it lookin’ out there?” she asked, when Bobby picked up.
The old hunter sighed. “Sheriff Idjit’s playin’ ball,” he said, “but it was touch and go there for a bit.” He quirked an eyebrow at her through the glass. “You know you’re not exactly his favorite person.”
Ellen snorted. “We’ve got an understanding.”
“Sounds good,” Bobby said, “but do you have a plan to go with that understanding?” When Ellen didn’t immediately say anything, Singer rolled his eyes. “Pretty much what I figured. Okay, Sam and Dean are on their way – Sam’s apparently got some sort of immunity to this thing.” He paused, looking uncomfortable. “Dean talked to Jo.”
Ellen groaned, collapsing into a nearby chair. “I am going to kick that boy’s tail from here to the state line. Dammit Bobby – I didn’t want them worried about this!”
“Them?” Bobby asked carefully. “You have a them?”
Cursing inwardly at her verbal slip, Ellen prepared to explain Eliot Spencer to her fellow hunter.
***********
Once he was finished updating Ellen, Bobby stepped away from the clinic storefront. For such a small town, Sparta, Nebraska had managed to pull together a fairly professional looking set-up. The presence of an FBI agent, even a fake one like him, seemed to be steadying the young sheriff.
Croatoan. Jesus. He’d heard the story of Sam and Dean’s encounter with the virus – of course. Ellen had potentially saved a couple hundred victims by acting as quickly and decisively as she had. And if we lose her in the process…
He hadn’t missed the flash of white bandage wrapping her left arm.
A blue pick-up truck skidded to a stop on the other side of the police barricade. Jo Harvelle was out of the passenger side before the vehicle was even in park; striding directly towards the sheriff. Bobby decided not to interfere in that confrontation – waiting instead for the driver to emerge.
Even though Ellen had warned him, Spencer was younger than Bobby would have expected. Not as young as Sam and Dean, but noticeably younger than Ellen herself. His bearing wasn’t as arrogant, his movements not as cocky as the average hunters. Military, he thought – agreeing with Ellen’s assessment. A lot of focused, intensive training had gone into making the man who he was; it showed in every line of his body and every step he took.
Bobby wasn’t surprised to see the Sheriff letting Jo past the barricade. He was surprised to see Eliot given admission without a fight. That said to him that Spencer was an even bigger presence in Ellen’s life than he’d been led to believe.
“What do you know, Agent Fisher?” Jo asked, as soon as the two of them were in range. Bobby saw a small smile hovering around Spencer’s lips on hearing his alias and glared at the man before shifting his attention to the Sheriff.
“Can you excuse us, Sheriff?” he asked. Anderson nodded, then withdrew. Bobby made a mental note to fill the man in as soon as he settled Jo and Eliot. Anderson had cooperated so far, but his goodwill wasn’t going to last if Bobby didn’t do anything to shore it up. And God help us when the boys get here.
“I’ve talked to Ellen,” he told Jo. “She’s all right, and she’s got everything under control in there.”
“For how long?” Spencer asked. It was the right question, but it rankled Bobby that a relative stranger had been the one to ask it.
“As long as it takes,” he said. Spencer held his gaze for a second, then started to walk away – reaching in his pocket for a phone. Without thinking, Bobby grabbed the man and spun him back.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Bobby reared back instinctively from the ice-blue fire in Spencer’s eyes, but waited a beat before letting the younger man go. “You can’t break quarantine,” he said.
“I ain’t gonna break quarantine,” Spencer said – his voice still terrifyingly calm. “I’m just gonna talk to her for a sec.”
***************
Eliot was grateful that Singer didn’t fight him. He’d very nearly slipped when the older man grabbed him; showing off everything he was capable of would have been extremely counter-productive, under the circumstances.
No one was in the front waiting room. Eliot looked through the window and saw Ellen move in front of an open door farther back in the building. She’s keeping them confined, he thought, analyzing the situation. Only worry is people getting out, so she’s keeping them as far away from the exits as she can. It was a solid strategy…for a waiting game.
He rapped sharply on the window with his knuckles. Ellen heard him immediately; Eliot saw her gesture to figures he couldn’t see from his vantage point, before she came out into the waiting room.
Her steps slowed as she recognized him through the glass, and her eyes filled with emotion. Barely holding on to his own emotional turmoil, Eliot dialed her number and raised the phone to his ear. On the other side of the window, Ellen did the same. “Don’t start,” she said, as soon as they were connected.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking her over. While she looked exhausted, he couldn’t see any overt sign of injury except…
Ellen followed his gaze to the bandage on her arm. “Eliot…” she began.
He suddenly felt cold inside. “Jo says this thing’s blood-born,” he said carefully. “You want to tell me what’s under that bandage?”
Her sleeve wasn’t long enough to cover the thick white gauze. “We just lost a guy,” she said. “I guess he figured he needed to try and take me out before he went. I’m not symptomatic,” she added, but Eliot was braced for the “yet” that came with the news.
“No cure,” he said.
Ellen sighed. “This thing is mutating all the time, Cowboy. I’m already seeing different things than what Sam and Dean saw in Oregon. I don’t think we can say anything for certain right now.”
Under previously observed conditions, the virus would mutate and advance until it drove the victim into a killing rage. At that stage, its driving force seemed to be the need to replicate itself, which was why patients attacked other potential victims and arranged to contaminate their blood.
“Let me in.” The words were out before he could decide on the wisdom of what he’d said.
“No.” Ellen’s expression was fierce. “Absolutely not. I’m not letting you put yourself at risk for this.”
Eliot turned to face her fully, letting her see how serious he was. “Open the door, Ellen. I swear I will back your play, including putting a bullet in you myself if the situation calls for it.” He drew a breath and realized he was shaking. “Don’t ask me to stand out here and watch while you go through this alone. I won’t do it.”
“I can’t.”
Author:
telarynWord Count: 1551
Fandom: Leverage/SPN
Characters: Eliot/Ellen, Jo, Bobby
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Threat of infection/death
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit obtained.
Summary: Coming up against a potential outbreak of the Croatoan virus, Ellen quarantines herself with the other victims, while Bobby attempts to manage the chaos outside.
Author's Note: Written for
angst_bingo, for the prompt "quarantine".Jo Harvelle closed her phone with a snap and braced herself on the dashboard with her free hand. “You know if you roll this thing, it’s not gonna help us get there any faster.”
“Shut up,” Eliot growled, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. “What did Sam say?”
“Dean said that it sounds similar to something they encountered in Oregon. Croatoan – some sort of demonic virus. He and Sam are about an hour out. They said Bobby’s already on scene, and that Mama did the right thing by sealing off the clinic.”
Yeah, but she sealed herself inside, Eliot thought, resisting the urge to gun the engine. As far as he was concerned, no matter how many people she’d saved it was a potentially fatal flaw in her logic. “What did the boys say about a cure?”
Jo was uncharacteristically silent. Eliot risked a glance at Ellen’s daughter. “Jo!” he said sharply, trying to jar her back to the here and now. “Stay with me. What did the boys say about a cure?” Her eyes met his, and Eliot’s chest tightened as he read the truth in her expression.
“No,” he said harshly, returning his attention to the road. “I know how you feel about them, but Sam and Dean Winchester don’t know everything. Your mom’s gonna be fine.”
***********************
Dr. Barrowman looked up at Ellen and shook his head. “He’s gone.”
“Sonofabitch,” Ellen muttered, grimacing. She glanced at the lab, where the doctor had been working on cultures – trying to figure out some way to get in front of the virus. “Okay, take what you need and get back to work.”
She realized Barrowman was looking at the bandage on her arm. “We’ve got half an hour still,” she reminded the man. “Stay focused on what we’ve got.”
“We’ve got a boy in that closet that’s about to shift into stage three,” Barrowman said unhappily. “And me no closer to figuring out what’s causing this.”
Any response Ellen could think to make was interrupted by a sharp rapping on the storefront of the clinic. “Get back to work,” she ordered, before turning to see who was outside.
Bobby. Relief washed over Ellen in a wave so strong it momentarily staggered her. Singer was waving his phone at her; Ellen fished in the pocket of her jeans for her own unit and hit speed dial. “How’s it lookin’ out there?” she asked, when Bobby picked up.
The old hunter sighed. “Sheriff Idjit’s playin’ ball,” he said, “but it was touch and go there for a bit.” He quirked an eyebrow at her through the glass. “You know you’re not exactly his favorite person.”
Ellen snorted. “We’ve got an understanding.”
“Sounds good,” Bobby said, “but do you have a plan to go with that understanding?” When Ellen didn’t immediately say anything, Singer rolled his eyes. “Pretty much what I figured. Okay, Sam and Dean are on their way – Sam’s apparently got some sort of immunity to this thing.” He paused, looking uncomfortable. “Dean talked to Jo.”
Ellen groaned, collapsing into a nearby chair. “I am going to kick that boy’s tail from here to the state line. Dammit Bobby – I didn’t want them worried about this!”
“Them?” Bobby asked carefully. “You have a them?”
Cursing inwardly at her verbal slip, Ellen prepared to explain Eliot Spencer to her fellow hunter.
***********
Once he was finished updating Ellen, Bobby stepped away from the clinic storefront. For such a small town, Sparta, Nebraska had managed to pull together a fairly professional looking set-up. The presence of an FBI agent, even a fake one like him, seemed to be steadying the young sheriff.
Croatoan. Jesus. He’d heard the story of Sam and Dean’s encounter with the virus – of course. Ellen had potentially saved a couple hundred victims by acting as quickly and decisively as she had. And if we lose her in the process…
He hadn’t missed the flash of white bandage wrapping her left arm.
A blue pick-up truck skidded to a stop on the other side of the police barricade. Jo Harvelle was out of the passenger side before the vehicle was even in park; striding directly towards the sheriff. Bobby decided not to interfere in that confrontation – waiting instead for the driver to emerge.
Even though Ellen had warned him, Spencer was younger than Bobby would have expected. Not as young as Sam and Dean, but noticeably younger than Ellen herself. His bearing wasn’t as arrogant, his movements not as cocky as the average hunters. Military, he thought – agreeing with Ellen’s assessment. A lot of focused, intensive training had gone into making the man who he was; it showed in every line of his body and every step he took.
Bobby wasn’t surprised to see the Sheriff letting Jo past the barricade. He was surprised to see Eliot given admission without a fight. That said to him that Spencer was an even bigger presence in Ellen’s life than he’d been led to believe.
“What do you know, Agent Fisher?” Jo asked, as soon as the two of them were in range. Bobby saw a small smile hovering around Spencer’s lips on hearing his alias and glared at the man before shifting his attention to the Sheriff.
“Can you excuse us, Sheriff?” he asked. Anderson nodded, then withdrew. Bobby made a mental note to fill the man in as soon as he settled Jo and Eliot. Anderson had cooperated so far, but his goodwill wasn’t going to last if Bobby didn’t do anything to shore it up. And God help us when the boys get here.
“I’ve talked to Ellen,” he told Jo. “She’s all right, and she’s got everything under control in there.”
“For how long?” Spencer asked. It was the right question, but it rankled Bobby that a relative stranger had been the one to ask it.
“As long as it takes,” he said. Spencer held his gaze for a second, then started to walk away – reaching in his pocket for a phone. Without thinking, Bobby grabbed the man and spun him back.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Bobby reared back instinctively from the ice-blue fire in Spencer’s eyes, but waited a beat before letting the younger man go. “You can’t break quarantine,” he said.
“I ain’t gonna break quarantine,” Spencer said – his voice still terrifyingly calm. “I’m just gonna talk to her for a sec.”
***************
Eliot was grateful that Singer didn’t fight him. He’d very nearly slipped when the older man grabbed him; showing off everything he was capable of would have been extremely counter-productive, under the circumstances.
No one was in the front waiting room. Eliot looked through the window and saw Ellen move in front of an open door farther back in the building. She’s keeping them confined, he thought, analyzing the situation. Only worry is people getting out, so she’s keeping them as far away from the exits as she can. It was a solid strategy…for a waiting game.
He rapped sharply on the window with his knuckles. Ellen heard him immediately; Eliot saw her gesture to figures he couldn’t see from his vantage point, before she came out into the waiting room.
Her steps slowed as she recognized him through the glass, and her eyes filled with emotion. Barely holding on to his own emotional turmoil, Eliot dialed her number and raised the phone to his ear. On the other side of the window, Ellen did the same. “Don’t start,” she said, as soon as they were connected.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking her over. While she looked exhausted, he couldn’t see any overt sign of injury except…
Ellen followed his gaze to the bandage on her arm. “Eliot…” she began.
He suddenly felt cold inside. “Jo says this thing’s blood-born,” he said carefully. “You want to tell me what’s under that bandage?”
Her sleeve wasn’t long enough to cover the thick white gauze. “We just lost a guy,” she said. “I guess he figured he needed to try and take me out before he went. I’m not symptomatic,” she added, but Eliot was braced for the “yet” that came with the news.
“No cure,” he said.
Ellen sighed. “This thing is mutating all the time, Cowboy. I’m already seeing different things than what Sam and Dean saw in Oregon. I don’t think we can say anything for certain right now.”
Under previously observed conditions, the virus would mutate and advance until it drove the victim into a killing rage. At that stage, its driving force seemed to be the need to replicate itself, which was why patients attacked other potential victims and arranged to contaminate their blood.
“Let me in.” The words were out before he could decide on the wisdom of what he’d said.
“No.” Ellen’s expression was fierce. “Absolutely not. I’m not letting you put yourself at risk for this.”
Eliot turned to face her fully, letting her see how serious he was. “Open the door, Ellen. I swear I will back your play, including putting a bullet in you myself if the situation calls for it.” He drew a breath and realized he was shaking. “Don’t ask me to stand out here and watch while you go through this alone. I won’t do it.”
“I can’t.”
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