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telarynTitle: Everything Has Its Price
'Verse: Leverage/Hunger Games
Characters: Nate, Sophie, Eliot, Sterling, mentions of Parker and Hardison
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1687
Warnings: None
Summary: With the Games looming, it falls to Eliot to find a patron willing to back a small boy with no chance of winning. Luckily he knows where to look, if he's willing to pay the price.
Author's Note: I recently put up an offer for a fic a day for the first twenty days of December. Okay I'm tragically behind, but this is prompt #13, provided by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fleurlb, who wanted to see a Hunger Games AU with Eliot in the Haymitch role.
“Rumor says you’ve got an appointment with the big guy in an hour.” Dark blue eyes met his in the mirror, ticking down briefly to look at the glass in Eliot’s hand. “You sure that’s smart?”
And by rumor, he means Sophie, Eliot thought. Every time he wondered how someone as kind and gracious as Sophie Devereaux could have ended up as a Tribute Escort, she did something like this – sic’ing Nathan Ford on him. Exhaling sharply, Eliot met Nathan’s eyes again and tossed off the last of the bourbon in a single swallow; setting the glass down with a thump. “Don’t you have some costumes to design or something?” he snarled.
The stylist crossed the expensive carpet, picked up the glass and poured a fresh round of the dark amber liquor. Without missing a beat, he settled himself against the dresser and held it out. Struggling against a sudden flush of embarrassment, Eliot took the glass with a reluctant nod of thanks. “You haven’t met with Sterling in nearly ten years,” Nathan said gently. “Why now?”
Taking a more careful sip of his bourbon, Eliot mirrored Nate’s pose; leaning against the dresser. “The boy…Alec. He was asking all the right questions at dinner tonight – all the things I asked my mentor, that the son of a bitch was either too stupid or too drunk to be able to tell me.”
Nate was quiet for a long moment. “Sophie said you were your usual nasty drunk self at dinner – I didn’t hear anything about any useful bits of your experience being passed on to future generations.”
“I’m going to talk to him,” Eliot said, trying to pretend as he took another drink that he didn’t sound ridiculously defensive. “Tomorrow, before the interviews.” And after he prostrated himself before the great James Sterling and learned what it was going to cost him to try and save the life of a small boy who’d never asked to be any part of this madness – whose only crime was being born in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Another silence; Eliot filled the time with more swallows of his bourbon, grateful as the familiar numbness began to steal over him. In a lot of ways, being in the Capital was easier. He still drank this much in his home in Victory Village, but there was nothing else there to fill his days. Here he had the choice to pretend like he had a purpose, that he could do something that mattered.
That maybe he could save one child from his District from dying in the same horrible, pointless fashion as so many others had.
“You know what he’s going to want.” It wasn’t a question, and Nathan wasn’t looking at him when he said it. Eliot sighed again, and set the empty glass down. Sterling was nothing if not consistent in his demands.
“I know,” he said finally.
**********************
Even though he wasn’t anywhere near the most powerful, Minister James Sterling was one of the more visible figures in President’s Snow’s administration and he knew how to make the most of his position. His home was deep in the affluent Crystal neighborhood, far enough from the Tribute apartments that Eliot had to shell out the coin for two separate cab rides to reach his destination on time.
Any reluctance on his part to pay the extra money had been wiped away by the memory of Alec’s trusting expression as he’d interrogated Eliot the night before. The possibility that he might be able to do something to help the boy survive had also convinced him to accept Nathan’s offer to properly braid and dress his hair. “You don’t want to risk them turning you away because you don’t look the part.” The stylist had been sensitive enough to Eliot’s moods not to suggest changing his clothes however, so he mounted the marble steps in his best – but still shabby by the standards of the people that surrounded him – velvet suit.
The Minister’s steward greeted him at the door, and escorted him to the man’s office at the rear of the first floor. Eliot went quietly, trying not to fidget and successfully resisting the urge to accept a fresh glass of his favorite bourbon.
He was left to wait nearly half an hour, before Sterling himself appeared in the doorway. “I was just watching footage of your charges,” he said, striding into the room and crossing to his chair behind the desk. Eliot had barely struggled to his feet by the time Sterling sat down. “I have to say, Eliot, I’m not sure what brings you here after all this time?”
Swallowing hard, Eliot laced his fingers together behind his back so that he wouldn’t clench his hands into frustrated fists. “I’m here to offer you the kind of show you’ve been missing in the Games. The Careers have taken the last six titles in a row. Weren’t you telling Cesar last month that it was time for the Capitol to reevaluate the amount of money being spent every year on a spectacle a ‘myopic, brain damaged four year old’ could predict the outcome of?”
Jim Sterling had a handful of smiles. Eliot didn’t like any of them, but he’d learned through bitter experience which ones were useful and which ones needed to be avoided at all costs. The one he saw now was one he needed – the Minister was pleased that his words were getting attention, and possibly getting him the kind of results he wanted. “That interview didn’t win me any friends.”
“They were bold words,” Eliot said, “and I think I have the Tribute capable of helping you make your point.”
Dark eyes studied him speculatively. “And what makes you think an under-fed child from the Seam could be of any interest to me?” Sterling’s smile broadened at what Eliot knew was his own startled expression. “Oh please. Thanks to my wife’s…interest…I’ve spent many years studying you and how you think. Your girl has as much chance as any non-Career in the group. Alec Hardison currently sits at the longest odds offered on any tribute in over a decade.”
He leaned back in his chair. “The only reason you would show up here, hat in hand so to speak, is that you’ve seen something in him all the other experts have missed.” He gestured, and Eliot sat back down gratefully. “Enlighten me, Spencer. Tell me a story that will convince me to open my purse for you.”
“You don’t often bet on the games Minister,” Eliot said, praying he would able to get the words out right and not trigger one of Sterling’s infamous rages, “and when you do it’s always an underdog. Where that would scream ‘soft hearted’ in most people, you’ve been able to make it work for your image – establish you as somebody capable of seeing potential the President’s other advisors would ordinarily miss.”
Sterling chuckled, but the laughter never reached his eyes. “That sounds very much like the compliment I just paid you, Eliot. Is it the alcohol making you bold, or are you being this clumsy on purpose?”
Eliot accepted the insult without comment. “I know Tributes, Minister Sterling, and I know the Games. The fact that I come at my little corner of the world the same way you see the bigger picture only means that you know my word on a Tribute can be trusted.”
“And you think this child Alec has what it takes to defeat the others as well as the machinations of the Game Master?” The minister sounded doubtful, but Eliot imagined he could hear a wavering in Sterling’s tone. “Why?”
“His scores on plant and insect knowledge are the highest I’ve ever seen. He’s asking the right questions, and he’s listening more than he’s speaking.” Eliot felt his hands starting to shake, and absently wished that he hadn’t been so quick to refuse the steward’s offer of a drink. “Those who’ve really studied the games…”
“Like you,” Sterling said.
“And you, Minister,” Eliot countered. “You understand that all other things being equal, brain trumps brawn every time. It’s one of the hidden geniuses of the Games, that somebody lacking in the sort of specialized training given to the Careers still has a chance to win.”
“You believe Alec Hardison is that sort of Tribute?” Sterling asked.
Eliot met his gaze squarely. “How many times have I come to you asking your patronage? I have no interest in wasting your time, Minister. I would not be here if I did not absolutely believe that this boy has a real chance.”
Sterling raised his right hand, studying his fingernails in a calculated manner; Eliot’s heart sank as he sensed the trap closing. “You make a good case,” he said. “Unfortunately you know full well that I offer my patronage to nobody unless my wife agrees with the choice.”
It was the reason Nathan and Sophie had been so surprised to hear that he was meeting with Sterling, and the reason Eliot hadn’t approached the Minister in a decade looking for his favor. “Is your lovely wife at home?” he asked carefully. “I would be happy to answer any concerns she might have.” He privately congratulated himself on getting the words out without a hint of how he really felt about the arrangement.
The Minister was smiling again, but it was one of the ones that Eliot hated to see because it mean nothing good for him. “She is in her suite upstairs. I know she will be delighted to see you.” He signaled past Eliot, and his steward came back into the office. “Paul will show you the way – it has been a long time since she’s been able to be alone with you.”
Eliot got to his feet. Alec…he could do this for Alec. Everything was going to be fine. “I’m grateful for your time and consideration, Minister Sterling,” he said.
Sterling’s dark eyes were cold as he looked Eliot over one final time. “Make my wife happy, Eliot, and I will give you reason to be truly grateful.”
'Verse: Leverage/Hunger Games
Characters: Nate, Sophie, Eliot, Sterling, mentions of Parker and Hardison
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1687
Warnings: None
Summary: With the Games looming, it falls to Eliot to find a patron willing to back a small boy with no chance of winning. Luckily he knows where to look, if he's willing to pay the price.
Author's Note: I recently put up an offer for a fic a day for the first twenty days of December. Okay I'm tragically behind, but this is prompt #13, provided by
fleurlb, who wanted to see a Hunger Games AU with Eliot in the Haymitch role.“Rumor says you’ve got an appointment with the big guy in an hour.” Dark blue eyes met his in the mirror, ticking down briefly to look at the glass in Eliot’s hand. “You sure that’s smart?”
And by rumor, he means Sophie, Eliot thought. Every time he wondered how someone as kind and gracious as Sophie Devereaux could have ended up as a Tribute Escort, she did something like this – sic’ing Nathan Ford on him. Exhaling sharply, Eliot met Nathan’s eyes again and tossed off the last of the bourbon in a single swallow; setting the glass down with a thump. “Don’t you have some costumes to design or something?” he snarled.
The stylist crossed the expensive carpet, picked up the glass and poured a fresh round of the dark amber liquor. Without missing a beat, he settled himself against the dresser and held it out. Struggling against a sudden flush of embarrassment, Eliot took the glass with a reluctant nod of thanks. “You haven’t met with Sterling in nearly ten years,” Nathan said gently. “Why now?”
Taking a more careful sip of his bourbon, Eliot mirrored Nate’s pose; leaning against the dresser. “The boy…Alec. He was asking all the right questions at dinner tonight – all the things I asked my mentor, that the son of a bitch was either too stupid or too drunk to be able to tell me.”
Nate was quiet for a long moment. “Sophie said you were your usual nasty drunk self at dinner – I didn’t hear anything about any useful bits of your experience being passed on to future generations.”
“I’m going to talk to him,” Eliot said, trying to pretend as he took another drink that he didn’t sound ridiculously defensive. “Tomorrow, before the interviews.” And after he prostrated himself before the great James Sterling and learned what it was going to cost him to try and save the life of a small boy who’d never asked to be any part of this madness – whose only crime was being born in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Another silence; Eliot filled the time with more swallows of his bourbon, grateful as the familiar numbness began to steal over him. In a lot of ways, being in the Capital was easier. He still drank this much in his home in Victory Village, but there was nothing else there to fill his days. Here he had the choice to pretend like he had a purpose, that he could do something that mattered.
That maybe he could save one child from his District from dying in the same horrible, pointless fashion as so many others had.
“You know what he’s going to want.” It wasn’t a question, and Nathan wasn’t looking at him when he said it. Eliot sighed again, and set the empty glass down. Sterling was nothing if not consistent in his demands.
“I know,” he said finally.
**********************
Even though he wasn’t anywhere near the most powerful, Minister James Sterling was one of the more visible figures in President’s Snow’s administration and he knew how to make the most of his position. His home was deep in the affluent Crystal neighborhood, far enough from the Tribute apartments that Eliot had to shell out the coin for two separate cab rides to reach his destination on time.
Any reluctance on his part to pay the extra money had been wiped away by the memory of Alec’s trusting expression as he’d interrogated Eliot the night before. The possibility that he might be able to do something to help the boy survive had also convinced him to accept Nathan’s offer to properly braid and dress his hair. “You don’t want to risk them turning you away because you don’t look the part.” The stylist had been sensitive enough to Eliot’s moods not to suggest changing his clothes however, so he mounted the marble steps in his best – but still shabby by the standards of the people that surrounded him – velvet suit.
The Minister’s steward greeted him at the door, and escorted him to the man’s office at the rear of the first floor. Eliot went quietly, trying not to fidget and successfully resisting the urge to accept a fresh glass of his favorite bourbon.
He was left to wait nearly half an hour, before Sterling himself appeared in the doorway. “I was just watching footage of your charges,” he said, striding into the room and crossing to his chair behind the desk. Eliot had barely struggled to his feet by the time Sterling sat down. “I have to say, Eliot, I’m not sure what brings you here after all this time?”
Swallowing hard, Eliot laced his fingers together behind his back so that he wouldn’t clench his hands into frustrated fists. “I’m here to offer you the kind of show you’ve been missing in the Games. The Careers have taken the last six titles in a row. Weren’t you telling Cesar last month that it was time for the Capitol to reevaluate the amount of money being spent every year on a spectacle a ‘myopic, brain damaged four year old’ could predict the outcome of?”
Jim Sterling had a handful of smiles. Eliot didn’t like any of them, but he’d learned through bitter experience which ones were useful and which ones needed to be avoided at all costs. The one he saw now was one he needed – the Minister was pleased that his words were getting attention, and possibly getting him the kind of results he wanted. “That interview didn’t win me any friends.”
“They were bold words,” Eliot said, “and I think I have the Tribute capable of helping you make your point.”
Dark eyes studied him speculatively. “And what makes you think an under-fed child from the Seam could be of any interest to me?” Sterling’s smile broadened at what Eliot knew was his own startled expression. “Oh please. Thanks to my wife’s…interest…I’ve spent many years studying you and how you think. Your girl has as much chance as any non-Career in the group. Alec Hardison currently sits at the longest odds offered on any tribute in over a decade.”
He leaned back in his chair. “The only reason you would show up here, hat in hand so to speak, is that you’ve seen something in him all the other experts have missed.” He gestured, and Eliot sat back down gratefully. “Enlighten me, Spencer. Tell me a story that will convince me to open my purse for you.”
“You don’t often bet on the games Minister,” Eliot said, praying he would able to get the words out right and not trigger one of Sterling’s infamous rages, “and when you do it’s always an underdog. Where that would scream ‘soft hearted’ in most people, you’ve been able to make it work for your image – establish you as somebody capable of seeing potential the President’s other advisors would ordinarily miss.”
Sterling chuckled, but the laughter never reached his eyes. “That sounds very much like the compliment I just paid you, Eliot. Is it the alcohol making you bold, or are you being this clumsy on purpose?”
Eliot accepted the insult without comment. “I know Tributes, Minister Sterling, and I know the Games. The fact that I come at my little corner of the world the same way you see the bigger picture only means that you know my word on a Tribute can be trusted.”
“And you think this child Alec has what it takes to defeat the others as well as the machinations of the Game Master?” The minister sounded doubtful, but Eliot imagined he could hear a wavering in Sterling’s tone. “Why?”
“His scores on plant and insect knowledge are the highest I’ve ever seen. He’s asking the right questions, and he’s listening more than he’s speaking.” Eliot felt his hands starting to shake, and absently wished that he hadn’t been so quick to refuse the steward’s offer of a drink. “Those who’ve really studied the games…”
“Like you,” Sterling said.
“And you, Minister,” Eliot countered. “You understand that all other things being equal, brain trumps brawn every time. It’s one of the hidden geniuses of the Games, that somebody lacking in the sort of specialized training given to the Careers still has a chance to win.”
“You believe Alec Hardison is that sort of Tribute?” Sterling asked.
Eliot met his gaze squarely. “How many times have I come to you asking your patronage? I have no interest in wasting your time, Minister. I would not be here if I did not absolutely believe that this boy has a real chance.”
Sterling raised his right hand, studying his fingernails in a calculated manner; Eliot’s heart sank as he sensed the trap closing. “You make a good case,” he said. “Unfortunately you know full well that I offer my patronage to nobody unless my wife agrees with the choice.”
It was the reason Nathan and Sophie had been so surprised to hear that he was meeting with Sterling, and the reason Eliot hadn’t approached the Minister in a decade looking for his favor. “Is your lovely wife at home?” he asked carefully. “I would be happy to answer any concerns she might have.” He privately congratulated himself on getting the words out without a hint of how he really felt about the arrangement.
The Minister was smiling again, but it was one of the ones that Eliot hated to see because it mean nothing good for him. “She is in her suite upstairs. I know she will be delighted to see you.” He signaled past Eliot, and his steward came back into the office. “Paul will show you the way – it has been a long time since she’s been able to be alone with you.”
Eliot got to his feet. Alec…he could do this for Alec. Everything was going to be fine. “I’m grateful for your time and consideration, Minister Sterling,” he said.
Sterling’s dark eyes were cold as he looked Eliot over one final time. “Make my wife happy, Eliot, and I will give you reason to be truly grateful.”
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
17/12/12 00:26 (UTC)(no subject)
17/12/12 01:49 (UTC)(no subject)
17/12/12 19:58 (UTC)(And Aimee is one I hadn't thought of, but putting her in that position would have made a much angstier story than I was going for. Sterling's wife is Tara.)
(no subject)
17/12/12 14:11 (UTC)I love all your choices and they're all things I never would've thought of. The only question is who is Sterling's wife? I'm thinking Maggie, perhaps. :)
(no subject)
17/12/12 18:34 (UTC)(no subject)
17/12/12 18:43 (UTC)Who has a fairly canonical attraction to Eliot but is also mercenary enough to take advantage of all the perks of being married to somebody like Sterling? Who would also be willing to go along with Sterling pressuring Eliot to prostitute himself because she wants to sleep with him?
(no subject)
17/12/12 19:59 (UTC)(no subject)
17/12/12 18:04 (UTC)(no subject)
17/12/12 19:57 (UTC)(no subject)
17/12/12 19:53 (UTC)as for who's Sterling's wife - Tara, maybe? I have one more guess, but let's see how I do with this one first ;).
(no subject)
17/12/12 19:57 (UTC)Right in one!
(no subject)
17/12/12 20:27 (UTC)(no subject)
17/12/12 21:13 (UTC)