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telarynTitle: Target of Opportunity
'Verse: Leverage/Avengers
Characters: Eliot Spencer, Natasha Romanoff, Damien Moreau and assorted others.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2280
Warnings: None
Summary: Eliot races to stop an assassination attempt against Damien Moreau, only to realize too late that coming at Moreau directly is no longer the most efficient way to destroy him.
Author's Note: I recently put up an offer for a fic a day for the first twenty days of December. Still behind, but this is prompt #15, provided by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scout_lover, who wanted to see Eliot and Natasha's past. It being scout_lover, I of course set the story during Eliot's time in Moreau's service, and I think Damien might have ended up taking over the plot. Um...oops?
Damien Moreau was a man who liked his routine, and as long as Eliot was in residence Sunday evenings belonged to the two of them. Following the family meal, Damien would bid good night to his family and he and Eliot would retreat to the study. There Damien would enjoy his favorite cognac, Eliot his beer, and they would talk about whatever topic suited Damien’s fancy.
Lately their conversations would unfold over a game of chess. Eliot had a passing knowledge of the game when he came to work for Moreau, and Damien had gladly taken up the challenge of helping him improve. “You have it in you to be a true leader,” he’d said. “Chess will refine your instincts, make you unstoppable.”
Eliot took these kinds of pronouncements from Moreau with the proverbial grain of salt, but he was never one to turn down the opportunity to improve any of his skills. And playing against Damien added a pleasantly distracting undercurrent to their get-togethers as they talked about the guards, Damien’s clients, his rivals and his plans for the future.
"What do you know about this Russian woman Chapman has been mooning about?” Damien asked one such evening, in the middle of executing a move to corner Eliot’s queen. “Natalia something or other?" He shifted his bishop, then settled back in his chair.
Eliot surveyed the chessboard, trying to remember if any of the regular guards had said something relevant. “I’ve been working on security for the Dubai trip,” he admitted finally, backing his queen out of harm’s way. “Has something specific caught your attention?”
It was midway through his next move before Damien finally answered. “He goes moon-eyed over her when he thinks no one is watching. We’d been talking about promoting him to your second – I’d like to know if that’s still a viable course of action.”
Loyalty to the boss and the cause before all else. Eliot couldn’t keep the slight sneer of contempt off his face as he shifted his knight. Chapman had been in Moreau’s service longer than Eliot had – if anyone besides Eliot should have known what a jealous master Damien was, it was Myles. “The engagement party for the Frazier girl,” he said, taking his hand off the piece and easing back from the table. “You’ve already said any of the guards not on duty can bring dates if they like.” He paused, meeting Moreau’s eyes. “Check.”
“I had thought to give you the evening off,” Moreau countered. “Juliana has that cousin from Greece, after all…”
“I already revised the schedule,” Eliot said, refusing to rise to the bait about Theresa Andropolous. “You’re not going into a situation with that many variables without me.”
Damien studied him for a long moment, and Eliot couldn’t tell if he was surprised, angry, or something in between. “You forget your place sometimes, Eliot.” He moved his bishop again. “Check.”
Eliot didn’t flinch away from that penetrating gaze. “I always know exactly where my place is.” He moved his own bishop into position, springing the trap he’d been carefully laying. “And at this party, it’s watching over you. Check mate.”
************************
Three days passed before Eliot was able to manufacture an opportunity to speak privately with Myles Chapman. “Heard you might have something serious.” They were both off duty, playing a quick game of pool in the recreation room of the guards’ barracks.
Chapman froze for a fraction of a second, but recovered smoothly. “Don’t know if I’d call it serious,” he said, taking his shot. The balls ricocheted wildly enough that Eliot knew Chapman wasn’t going to be sinking anything on this turn. “We met at that charity gala I escorted her ladyship to last month – I think she works in the legal department for that trading company Damien’s trying to buy.” He swallowed, and when he looked directly at Eliot, his unease was evident. “Boss-man know?”
Eliot hitched one shoulder negligently as he bent over to line up his own shot. “I heard about it from him, so yeah.” The cue ball struck the six head on, sending the colored ball rolling neatly into the corner pocket.
“Did he say anything specific?” Chapman was trying to act non-chalant, but failing miserably. Eliot didn’t try to soothe him as he lined up his next shot; Myles needed to know what was at stake so he could decide if this ‘relationship’ was worth pursuing.
When he missed his next ball, Eliot straightened up and leaned lightly on his stick. “Let’s just say that there’s a reason you were taken off rotation for the night. Bring her around, let Damien see for himself that it’s not going to be a problem and we’ll all go from there.”
**************
Juliana Moreau excelled at two things – spending her husband’s money, and making him look good to his business associates and other wealthy and influential people who moved in the same circles they did. Damien often joked that it was really one thing she was good at, after all making him look good seemed to necessitate spending shattering amounts of his money, but never where the lady herself could hear him.
Three weeks before Christmas, she threw an engagement party for the youngest daughter of an arms manufacturer Damien had been wooing for nearly a year. A veritable ‘Who’s Who’ of European society was going to be in attendance, and over Juliana’s rather strident objections Damien had given permission for his senior staff to attend and to bring guests if they were off duty.
Eliot spent most of the early part of the evening at Damien’s side, only leaving when Juliana insisted that he was the only one who could take care of something for her. The third time it was to retrieve six year old Adrijana Moreau from the duck pond in back of the house. He’d just turned her over to her nurse, and was heading back to Damien, when he realized that Moreau was talking to Chapman and a stylishly outfitted red-haired woman, whose figure at least from behind tugged hard on Eliot’s memory.
Fighting back the urge to run to Damien’s side, to push himself between Moreau and whatever threat the woman might represent, Eliot gradually shifted position until he could get a better look at her face. It was entirely possible he knew her; he knew a lot of Russian woman – but those he did know meant nothing good.
It took him a lot longer than he was comfortable with to find a clear line of sight, but when he did Eliot knew Chapman’s girlfriend immediately. Fuck. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, standing within easy reach of Damien and him none the wiser.
He held his breath waiting to see what she would do, then exhaled softly and forced himself to relax when she let Chapman take her on to the next conversation. Tactics, he thought. It’s all about tactics. Black Widow had an agenda in being here. Whatever it was, he needed to out-think her, force her to make a move that wasn’t already part of her plan.
Scanning the crowd, he quickly located Steven – the bodyguard and confidant of Damien’s youngest son. Slipping past people who could buy and sell dozens of him without putting a dent in their wallet, Eliot made his way to the man’s side as quickly and unobtrusively as he could, and was relieved to see that twelve year old Alexander was in the man’s line of sight, talking to a few of his friends from boarding school.
“Get him out of here,” Eliot said softly, plucking at Steven’s jacket sleeve to get his attention. “Quietly,” he warned, seeing a flare of mingled adrenaline and panic in the bodyguard’s eyes. “I’m hoping it will be nothing, but I don’t want the boys around in case I’m wrong.”
“Eliot!” Alexander’s expression was lit with hero worship as he realized who his bodyguard was talking to. The boy ran up to them, and Eliot automatically crouched down until they were on eye level. Unlike his older brother, Alex hadn’t gone through any sort of growth spurt yet. “You have to come meet my friends!”
“Not right now, sport,” Eliot said, looking directly into the boy’s eyes and gripping him firmly by the shoulders. “We might have some trouble – I need you to go with Steven now, and I need you to make sure your sister stays with you and your brother until I come and tell you everything’s okay.”
He could see the beginning of refusal in the boy’s expression and shook his head. “You want to know how you can help me, Alex – this is how. You know Jules isn’t going to be able to keep your sister calm like you can. I need somebody I trust looking out for her upstairs.”
There was a tense moment where Eliot suspected he was going to have a fight on his hands, then the boy’s shoulders slumped. “Will you meet my friends some other time?” he asked, his voice suddenly small and quiet.
Eliot smiled at him. “It’s a promise.” He paused, mind already moving onto the next problem. “Where’s your brother?”
Once all three children were secured, Eliot scanned the living room again. Chapman was talking to two of the other guards, and Damien and Juliana were in the center of a throng of powerful people close to the middle of the room.
There was no sign of the Black Widow.
Adrenaline flooding his system, Eliot grabbed the wrist of one of the off-duty guards as he passed. “Did you see the woman Myles brought with him?”
Piotr looked confused for a moment, then nodded. “She went out onto the patio. Something about feeling light-headed?”
The patio. Where Damien’s daughter had been playing not thirty minutes earlier. Stopping the fantasies of how horribly wrong things could have already gone in their tracks, Eliot fixed Piotr with a glare. “Grab one of the others, and the two of you stick to Damien and the missus. Chapman and his date aren’t to get anywhere near them, do you understand me? I don’t care how messy it gets.”
Eyes wide, the man nodded. Eliot gave him a small shove in the right direction, then continued out onto the porch. He was going to hear about the order to keep Chapman at arm’s length, but if they came through the night intact he felt absolutely comfortable defending his actions. Spy…master assassin…he’d crossed paths with Natasha Romanoff on two separate occasions before settling into his new life with Damien and neither occasion had ended well.
If somebody had hired her to go after Damien, Eliot was determined to see that this encounter ended definitively in his favor.
Later, when he had time and space to review the events of the next handful of moments, he would realize that his fear for Damien and his family had pushed him into a rookie mistake. He’d come out onto the patio already scanning for his target, but it had never once occurred to him that she would be waiting for him.
Or that she would be able to get close enough to spray her “Widow’s Kiss” full into his face.
****************
When he finally managed to claw his way back to consciousness, Eliot had no idea where he was. Close fitting manacles bound his wrists together behind his back, and a high-tension fiber line fastened those cuffs to the matching set that bound his ankles together.
Movement across the dimly lit room drew his attention. Natasha was in the process of changing out of her evening gown and into her work clothes, her magnificent body seemingly carved out of the shadows and shaped with what little light was available. “Now you’re being mean,” he said – holding no illusions that she thought he was still unconscious.
She laughed. Eliot winced, realizing it was the same laugh she’d used the first time they’d met, before he really knew what he was up against, and before she’d handed him his ass in the process of making off with a high value target. “Consider it your consolation prize for walking so obligingly into my web.”
He closed his eyes with a groan. “You weren’t after Damien.”
Natasha finished dressing and strolled back to his side. “Yes and no.” Toeing over one of the rickety folding chairs, she sat down and leaned forward – clasping her hands in front of her. “Taking you on has been one of the best and worst things Moreau has done in the last handful of years. He has an impressive threat now to keep his enemies in line, but he’s come to rely on you too much.”
“You’re overestimating how important I am to him,” Eliot said flatly, although he knew the Black Widow’s available resources as well as she knew his. “And I don’t believe you’re going to kill me; you would have done it already and skipped the peep show.”
He’d confused her. It was a small victory, but at this point Eliot knew he’d take what he could. “I have never understood your modesty,” she said at last. “Everyone who has studied you knows that the most effective way to cut Moreau’s throat right now is to take you out of play.”
Eliot knew he couldn’t pretend she was wrong, and he vowed to change that as soon as he was free. “You’re still not going to kill me,” he repeated.
His heart sank as he realized she was looking at him with pity in her eyes now. “Given who’s paying me to deliver you, I suspect before it’s over you’re going to wish I had.”
'Verse: Leverage/Avengers
Characters: Eliot Spencer, Natasha Romanoff, Damien Moreau and assorted others.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2280
Warnings: None
Summary: Eliot races to stop an assassination attempt against Damien Moreau, only to realize too late that coming at Moreau directly is no longer the most efficient way to destroy him.
Author's Note: I recently put up an offer for a fic a day for the first twenty days of December. Still behind, but this is prompt #15, provided by
scout_lover, who wanted to see Eliot and Natasha's past. It being scout_lover, I of course set the story during Eliot's time in Moreau's service, and I think Damien might have ended up taking over the plot. Um...oops?Damien Moreau was a man who liked his routine, and as long as Eliot was in residence Sunday evenings belonged to the two of them. Following the family meal, Damien would bid good night to his family and he and Eliot would retreat to the study. There Damien would enjoy his favorite cognac, Eliot his beer, and they would talk about whatever topic suited Damien’s fancy.
Lately their conversations would unfold over a game of chess. Eliot had a passing knowledge of the game when he came to work for Moreau, and Damien had gladly taken up the challenge of helping him improve. “You have it in you to be a true leader,” he’d said. “Chess will refine your instincts, make you unstoppable.”
Eliot took these kinds of pronouncements from Moreau with the proverbial grain of salt, but he was never one to turn down the opportunity to improve any of his skills. And playing against Damien added a pleasantly distracting undercurrent to their get-togethers as they talked about the guards, Damien’s clients, his rivals and his plans for the future.
"What do you know about this Russian woman Chapman has been mooning about?” Damien asked one such evening, in the middle of executing a move to corner Eliot’s queen. “Natalia something or other?" He shifted his bishop, then settled back in his chair.
Eliot surveyed the chessboard, trying to remember if any of the regular guards had said something relevant. “I’ve been working on security for the Dubai trip,” he admitted finally, backing his queen out of harm’s way. “Has something specific caught your attention?”
It was midway through his next move before Damien finally answered. “He goes moon-eyed over her when he thinks no one is watching. We’d been talking about promoting him to your second – I’d like to know if that’s still a viable course of action.”
Loyalty to the boss and the cause before all else. Eliot couldn’t keep the slight sneer of contempt off his face as he shifted his knight. Chapman had been in Moreau’s service longer than Eliot had – if anyone besides Eliot should have known what a jealous master Damien was, it was Myles. “The engagement party for the Frazier girl,” he said, taking his hand off the piece and easing back from the table. “You’ve already said any of the guards not on duty can bring dates if they like.” He paused, meeting Moreau’s eyes. “Check.”
“I had thought to give you the evening off,” Moreau countered. “Juliana has that cousin from Greece, after all…”
“I already revised the schedule,” Eliot said, refusing to rise to the bait about Theresa Andropolous. “You’re not going into a situation with that many variables without me.”
Damien studied him for a long moment, and Eliot couldn’t tell if he was surprised, angry, or something in between. “You forget your place sometimes, Eliot.” He moved his bishop again. “Check.”
Eliot didn’t flinch away from that penetrating gaze. “I always know exactly where my place is.” He moved his own bishop into position, springing the trap he’d been carefully laying. “And at this party, it’s watching over you. Check mate.”
************************
Three days passed before Eliot was able to manufacture an opportunity to speak privately with Myles Chapman. “Heard you might have something serious.” They were both off duty, playing a quick game of pool in the recreation room of the guards’ barracks.
Chapman froze for a fraction of a second, but recovered smoothly. “Don’t know if I’d call it serious,” he said, taking his shot. The balls ricocheted wildly enough that Eliot knew Chapman wasn’t going to be sinking anything on this turn. “We met at that charity gala I escorted her ladyship to last month – I think she works in the legal department for that trading company Damien’s trying to buy.” He swallowed, and when he looked directly at Eliot, his unease was evident. “Boss-man know?”
Eliot hitched one shoulder negligently as he bent over to line up his own shot. “I heard about it from him, so yeah.” The cue ball struck the six head on, sending the colored ball rolling neatly into the corner pocket.
“Did he say anything specific?” Chapman was trying to act non-chalant, but failing miserably. Eliot didn’t try to soothe him as he lined up his next shot; Myles needed to know what was at stake so he could decide if this ‘relationship’ was worth pursuing.
When he missed his next ball, Eliot straightened up and leaned lightly on his stick. “Let’s just say that there’s a reason you were taken off rotation for the night. Bring her around, let Damien see for himself that it’s not going to be a problem and we’ll all go from there.”
**************
Juliana Moreau excelled at two things – spending her husband’s money, and making him look good to his business associates and other wealthy and influential people who moved in the same circles they did. Damien often joked that it was really one thing she was good at, after all making him look good seemed to necessitate spending shattering amounts of his money, but never where the lady herself could hear him.
Three weeks before Christmas, she threw an engagement party for the youngest daughter of an arms manufacturer Damien had been wooing for nearly a year. A veritable ‘Who’s Who’ of European society was going to be in attendance, and over Juliana’s rather strident objections Damien had given permission for his senior staff to attend and to bring guests if they were off duty.
Eliot spent most of the early part of the evening at Damien’s side, only leaving when Juliana insisted that he was the only one who could take care of something for her. The third time it was to retrieve six year old Adrijana Moreau from the duck pond in back of the house. He’d just turned her over to her nurse, and was heading back to Damien, when he realized that Moreau was talking to Chapman and a stylishly outfitted red-haired woman, whose figure at least from behind tugged hard on Eliot’s memory.
Fighting back the urge to run to Damien’s side, to push himself between Moreau and whatever threat the woman might represent, Eliot gradually shifted position until he could get a better look at her face. It was entirely possible he knew her; he knew a lot of Russian woman – but those he did know meant nothing good.
It took him a lot longer than he was comfortable with to find a clear line of sight, but when he did Eliot knew Chapman’s girlfriend immediately. Fuck. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, standing within easy reach of Damien and him none the wiser.
He held his breath waiting to see what she would do, then exhaled softly and forced himself to relax when she let Chapman take her on to the next conversation. Tactics, he thought. It’s all about tactics. Black Widow had an agenda in being here. Whatever it was, he needed to out-think her, force her to make a move that wasn’t already part of her plan.
Scanning the crowd, he quickly located Steven – the bodyguard and confidant of Damien’s youngest son. Slipping past people who could buy and sell dozens of him without putting a dent in their wallet, Eliot made his way to the man’s side as quickly and unobtrusively as he could, and was relieved to see that twelve year old Alexander was in the man’s line of sight, talking to a few of his friends from boarding school.
“Get him out of here,” Eliot said softly, plucking at Steven’s jacket sleeve to get his attention. “Quietly,” he warned, seeing a flare of mingled adrenaline and panic in the bodyguard’s eyes. “I’m hoping it will be nothing, but I don’t want the boys around in case I’m wrong.”
“Eliot!” Alexander’s expression was lit with hero worship as he realized who his bodyguard was talking to. The boy ran up to them, and Eliot automatically crouched down until they were on eye level. Unlike his older brother, Alex hadn’t gone through any sort of growth spurt yet. “You have to come meet my friends!”
“Not right now, sport,” Eliot said, looking directly into the boy’s eyes and gripping him firmly by the shoulders. “We might have some trouble – I need you to go with Steven now, and I need you to make sure your sister stays with you and your brother until I come and tell you everything’s okay.”
He could see the beginning of refusal in the boy’s expression and shook his head. “You want to know how you can help me, Alex – this is how. You know Jules isn’t going to be able to keep your sister calm like you can. I need somebody I trust looking out for her upstairs.”
There was a tense moment where Eliot suspected he was going to have a fight on his hands, then the boy’s shoulders slumped. “Will you meet my friends some other time?” he asked, his voice suddenly small and quiet.
Eliot smiled at him. “It’s a promise.” He paused, mind already moving onto the next problem. “Where’s your brother?”
Once all three children were secured, Eliot scanned the living room again. Chapman was talking to two of the other guards, and Damien and Juliana were in the center of a throng of powerful people close to the middle of the room.
There was no sign of the Black Widow.
Adrenaline flooding his system, Eliot grabbed the wrist of one of the off-duty guards as he passed. “Did you see the woman Myles brought with him?”
Piotr looked confused for a moment, then nodded. “She went out onto the patio. Something about feeling light-headed?”
The patio. Where Damien’s daughter had been playing not thirty minutes earlier. Stopping the fantasies of how horribly wrong things could have already gone in their tracks, Eliot fixed Piotr with a glare. “Grab one of the others, and the two of you stick to Damien and the missus. Chapman and his date aren’t to get anywhere near them, do you understand me? I don’t care how messy it gets.”
Eyes wide, the man nodded. Eliot gave him a small shove in the right direction, then continued out onto the porch. He was going to hear about the order to keep Chapman at arm’s length, but if they came through the night intact he felt absolutely comfortable defending his actions. Spy…master assassin…he’d crossed paths with Natasha Romanoff on two separate occasions before settling into his new life with Damien and neither occasion had ended well.
If somebody had hired her to go after Damien, Eliot was determined to see that this encounter ended definitively in his favor.
Later, when he had time and space to review the events of the next handful of moments, he would realize that his fear for Damien and his family had pushed him into a rookie mistake. He’d come out onto the patio already scanning for his target, but it had never once occurred to him that she would be waiting for him.
Or that she would be able to get close enough to spray her “Widow’s Kiss” full into his face.
****************
When he finally managed to claw his way back to consciousness, Eliot had no idea where he was. Close fitting manacles bound his wrists together behind his back, and a high-tension fiber line fastened those cuffs to the matching set that bound his ankles together.
Movement across the dimly lit room drew his attention. Natasha was in the process of changing out of her evening gown and into her work clothes, her magnificent body seemingly carved out of the shadows and shaped with what little light was available. “Now you’re being mean,” he said – holding no illusions that she thought he was still unconscious.
She laughed. Eliot winced, realizing it was the same laugh she’d used the first time they’d met, before he really knew what he was up against, and before she’d handed him his ass in the process of making off with a high value target. “Consider it your consolation prize for walking so obligingly into my web.”
He closed his eyes with a groan. “You weren’t after Damien.”
Natasha finished dressing and strolled back to his side. “Yes and no.” Toeing over one of the rickety folding chairs, she sat down and leaned forward – clasping her hands in front of her. “Taking you on has been one of the best and worst things Moreau has done in the last handful of years. He has an impressive threat now to keep his enemies in line, but he’s come to rely on you too much.”
“You’re overestimating how important I am to him,” Eliot said flatly, although he knew the Black Widow’s available resources as well as she knew his. “And I don’t believe you’re going to kill me; you would have done it already and skipped the peep show.”
He’d confused her. It was a small victory, but at this point Eliot knew he’d take what he could. “I have never understood your modesty,” she said at last. “Everyone who has studied you knows that the most effective way to cut Moreau’s throat right now is to take you out of play.”
Eliot knew he couldn’t pretend she was wrong, and he vowed to change that as soon as he was free. “You’re still not going to kill me,” he repeated.
His heart sank as he realized she was looking at him with pity in her eyes now. “Given who’s paying me to deliver you, I suspect before it’s over you’re going to wish I had.”
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17/12/12 20:23 (UTC)SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
This is awesome, I totally love this! I love fic of Eliot's history with Damien, this is so great!
Ha, Eliot is playing chess with Damien - and now I'm imagining Damien rubbing that in Nate's face...oops?
Eliot and kids - love it!!!
I love the interaction between Eliot and Natasha, the way he's realizing he made a mistake a second too late.
And damn you, now I want to know who want's Eliot delivered...you're planning on writing more to this, right? Please?
Yeah, I know it's not mine but I couldn't care less.