Alec Hardison [Leverage] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stillageek) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
makingthisupasigo2018-07-24 12:53 pm
stillageek) wrote in makingthisupasigo2018-07-24 12:53 pm
And the Inside Job - for Eliot Spencer
One of the many advantages of being the hacker is you don't have to deal with your co-workers all that much. Which can be a literal lifesaver when your co-workers are the deadliest people on the planet.
Hardison is camped out in his server room, pulling up information and data for the various jobs that are coming up for the assassins. And, as usual, looking into the online habits of his co-workers. It's his way to protect himself, digging up dirt on all these guys to keep them at bay. So far it's been working. He hasn't been in Moreau's services for very long and it hasn't been pleasant (no, sir, it has not been pleasant at all) and in the beginning nobody expects him to survive very long.
But then Hardison lives up to his reputation and starts making things happen, digs up information that is thought to be impossible to get, gets a hold of people who are impossible to find, gets into systems they used to work around before because they're impossible to hack. And people take note. If Moreau's personal e-mails can be believed (which of course Hardison totally doesn't read) the boss even wants him to work with Spencer on one of the next jobs. He hasn't met Moreau's favorite yet but what he found out about the guy so far has him nervous in advance.
There's an alert and one of his screens light up, revealing a window with an online poker webpage. There's a second window next to it with code running in the corner. The webpage informs him that beefboy has entered the lobby.
Hardison rolls over in his swiveling chair, grabbing one of the keyboards. "Now what you up to, Brett, my man? You gonna play a little? Spend some of that hard-earned cash? Come on then."
There's just something incredibly satisfying about having these murderjerks lose their blood money on his fake gambling sites. Hardison watches the game unfold for a while, upping Brett's chances here and there, giving him a couple of good runs and waits until the assassin gets greedy. Then he quickly types a line of commands, causing the AI's cards to flip around right before Brett calls. The screen blinks and then the poker site informs that beefboy's winnings have just dropped down to a big fat 0.
There's an enraged howl coming from somewhere in the mansion and Hardison grins, clapping his hands together and giggling. "Ohh yeah, I got you. I got you good! In your face. Where's your beef now, huh? Where's your beef!? At the butchers, that's where it's at!"
While his analyzing programs run some calculations for his actual work he gets up to get himself some food from the kitchen. It's gonna be a long day of pulling data and getting ready for his meeting with Spencer, so he'd probably better grab some snacks while he's still got the chance.
Stepping outside he slows when he passes by a very angry assassin in the hallway. Hardison knows he probably shouldn't be pushing his luck too much but that angry vein that looks like it's about to pop is just too tempting. "Yo, Brett, what's the matter? You having a bad day, my man? Did I hear you scream earlier?"
There's murder in Brett's eyes (but then again when is there not?) and that tower of a man steps up to him. "You looking for a beating there, geek?"
"Yeah, I wouldn't do that if I were you. See, a little birdy told me that you've been using the company's credit card for some little personal shopping. ... The birdy is my computer, by the way. It's, I call it birdy, it's like a..." He trails off when Brett looks at him like he's going to snap his face in two.
"I'm gonna put your head underwater until you beg me to put a knife between your eyes."
Hardison frowns. "Uh, no you won't. Come on, b-boy, you know the drill? The moment something happens to me there's like an e-mail that goes straight to the boss. It's called automatic forwarding. You should look it up."
Brett looms and pushes past him very closely, growling. "You better watch your back, Hardison."
"Oh! Oh! No. What's that? No touching. You know the rules. No, there's no touch, you don't touch me." He holds up his hands, turning in a half-circle while Brett stomps past him and calls after him. "Can't touch this, baby! Yeah, I'm teflon! I'm the teflon man, they call me Mr. T. And the t is for teflon!"
The grin drops off his face once Brett disappears around the corner. God, he is scared to death of these guys.
It doesn't stop him from humming a little tune as he walks into the kitchen, though. Seems empty but there's something simmering on the stove. Hardison randomly sticks his hand inside to grab some of the food, tossing it in his mouth as he walks past it.
Stops.
Walks backwards until he's back at the pot and stares at it because damn. Damn, baby.
He grabs a small bowl from the cabinet, helping himself to some more.
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He should be happy about it. Doing something good for Eliot, making a difference. That used to be what he was about, helping people, a good doctor who is there for his patients. And part of him is, the part that still abhors murder and violence. But that same part is also increasingly enraged by Eliot finding a better life out there at Carter's expense, without him. Having worked so hard to get Eliot to be a better person and to get nothing in return but a few empty words so many years later.
"If that is true I'm happy for you. You learned to care, that's great, really."
John remembers feeling happy when Eliot showed signs of remorse, when he was slowly breaking through to him. It wasn't enough, never enough, but it was something. Some kind of memory of the world out there to cling to, where people looked out for each other, helped each other, loved each other. Where people had friends. When Eliot leaves, that memory is ripped away from John, that last beacon of hope shattered.
"But I learned to survive."
With Eliot gone and the assassins out for blood all he can do is flee into the protection at Moreau's side. And Moreau is there to pick up the pieces, entangling him in his web like a spider and even though Carter knows, deep down, there's nothing he can do about it. Because this time there really is nothing left but survival.
He takes another sip of his drink.
"... You know, I did try to escape. Once." Just once, that was enough to never attempt it again.
He gives Eliot a wan smile. "You can probably imagine how that went. Made it past the fence, though, almost to the station even." He briefly touches his neck, gaze turning inwards with what can only be very bad memories. "Damien... wasn't very happy about it but he said he understood that I was upset and gave me another chance. And I decided to take it."
John shakes his head.
"You don't understand what it's like for a guy like me in here. You may think you do? But you don't. How there's nothing you can do when these guys decide to take you out. Nothing."
He spreads his arm wide. "I'm not like you, Eliot. Somebody attacks you, you go ahead and break their face. I don't have that. And these guys? They have no concept of someone not having that. They don't understand that if they lose their cool, if they hit me too hard, I'm not getting up again. Hardison, he could blackmail these guys, me? I don't even have that. I had nothing on them. All I had was Damien."
His voice turns harsher. "And you don't know what that's like. What I had to do to make it in this place. If you did, you wouldn't--"
John stops abruptly, snapping his mouth shut.
cw reference to drugs
There's a part of him that's been trying to atone for all the bad he's done--again, from what Carter said about how he wasn't even trying, before--and maybe that's the part that's stubbornly clinging to the notion that maybe, somehow, he can salvage something. That he can get back what he'd lost.
But I learned to survive.
Something cold twists in Eliot's stomach, and he remembers--back when he was still a shell of himself, back when he'd lost the ability to care. Those conversations...
You're not gonna last two seconds here if you keep thinkin' like that. Because this business? It ain't nice. And it'll tear a good guy like you to pieces if you let it.
We don't get many guys with...attitudes like yours here. They don't last. Or if they do, they're someone else at the end. Someone different.
I don't want to change. But I don't want to die either.
Eliot knows he's past the point of trying to hide any of his reactions on his face, and he looks genuinely shocked that Carter tried to escape and...didn't die.
And he listens, he does, but Carter's right. He's so used to being able to take care of himself, so used to his confidence in his abilities, that he truly doesn't know what it's like to be in that situation. He remembers the time he was drugged and that indignation and horror at being so helpless--that was only a tiny scrap of what Carter must have felt all these years, being trapped, being unable to fight back.
"You're right." Eliot's voice is quiet, gritty. "I don't know what that's like. And sorry won't cut it, it won't ever make it right."
"If I did, I wouldn't have left?" The words come out stinging, bitter. Not that he's angry at Carter, he's angry at himself.
cw reference to drugs
Despite the words, Carter's voice is less angry, more in control than before, more like his old self.
"You're not the only one who's changed. I'm not the same person I used to be." His eyes soften just a bit. "I don't think you'd much like me anymore."
cw reference to drugs
He downs the rest of his drink before continuing.
"...you got through to me when I was at my worst. I can return the favor."
cw reference to drugs
Carter's tone is mild, a hint of amusement in it. "You're gonna come in, the knight in shining armor and sweep me away from here? It's a little late for that, Eliot. And I have no reason to trust you."
cw reference to drugs
He sets the glass down a little loudly.
"...maybe. Would you come with me? I know people who can...we can get you out of here."
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"What are you doing? Do you want to die?"
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Not that he could, if he told him he was taking down Damien Moreau, there was a very real chance that Carter would go right up to Moreau and tell him that.
"Would you?"
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If Carter was angry before, he's visibly furious now. Furious, insulted, outraged.
"You come in here, after all these years, and ask me go against Damien? Just like that?" He steps up dangerously close to Eliot, eyes burning. "You think I'd go for that? Give you something to use against me? I should go out there right now, tell him your little deal is off."
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Carter's anger seems to fire him up as well. He knows he's in the wrong here, but he's giving Carter a chance and it's at considerable personal risk to him and the crew's plan.
"I'm tryin' to save you! I missed that chance, and I'm tryin' to make up for it, okay? I left you once, if I can--if I can fix that--"
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At least you broke through his cold exterior?
"You're lucky this room isn't bugged or this conversation would already be over. You're trying to get me killed? Is that it?"
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Eliot’s eyes widen, his usual intensity at an all-time high.
Who are you and what have you done with John Carter?
“You’re right, I didn’t. But I’m offering it to you now, and...”
He shakes his head, his hair falling in his face again. “No! Of course not! You don’t even know how much I’m risking by just being here, much less even telling you this—“
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He works his jaw, almost too upset to speak for a moment and when he continues, his voice is pure ice.
"I'm there, at his side, I'm his partner and it took me a long time to get there. A long and a very, very painful time, no thanks to you. And you don't get to come in here and take that away from me. Not after what you did. Not after what I've been through."
An even colder look than his voice. "And if you try, I will ruin you and your little scam here."
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Eliot looks like he's been kicked in the stomach, the blood drains from his face and he can't speak for a moment. When he finally does, he sputters, the sheer disbelief evident in his tone.
"His partner!? You're Moreau's partner!?"
That look looks so wrong on Carter's face. He doesn't get chills easily, but that...that does it.
"...I'm not scamming anybody."
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He picks his glass back up, more of a prop than anything. "What did you think would happen? What choices did you think you left me with here? This is who I am now. Like you said, life is just like that sometimes. It ain't fair."
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"You ar--were my friend." He just barely stops himself from making that in the present-tense. "But I messed up, I did, and I just...it was the only way I could protect you, when I left..." There was little point explaining himself over and over again, he wasn't sure why he was still holding onto it. Maybe he was just saying it to make himself feel better.
"I don't know. Just...didn't think you'd go so far as to become Moreau's partner. I thought you hated...all of this. What I...used to do."
Life was feeling very, very unfair at the moment.
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No present-tense here for either of them, nope.
"But like you told me, we don't always get a choice. I was alone. I had to adapt."
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"Well, that's great. You had to adapt all the way up to being Moreau's partner? You know what he does! You're okay with that!?"
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His voice takes on a sharp tone, pointing an accusing finger.
"Don't you dare to stand there and judge me, Eliot, you of all people, don't you dare! Mr. Number One Assassin, Mr. Right there at his Side, Mr. Murdered More People Than I can even imagine, don't you dare! You know damn well that being his partner is the only reason I am still here, that is the only reason he kept me! You know damn well doctors are expendable!"
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Carter's anger and agitation only fuel his own, and he slams his glass down hard enough on the table that it slides right off, clattering on the floor.
"You're supposed to be better than me! Better than this, better than us..." His eyes are wide, because what Carter's saying does sink in.
How else would he have managed to survive this long?
Some of the fire fades, and Eliot sits back in the chair, his eyes still wide with anger, but there's a scoff of disbelief as he rubs a hand on his face.
"Partners with Moreau."
He should have seen it coming.
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While he can reflect rationally on what happened to him, there's no emotional response to the accusation Eliot is throwing his way. His face stays impassive (maybe a bit too impassive) and he lifts his chin arrogantly.
"I know the people. I know the rules. I'm the only doctor he can trust. You can't do this job without someone you know can't be bought, can't be tricked into stabbing you in the back."
Someone who doesn't care about money because he had all the money in the world already and chose to turn his back on it. Someone who won't let anyone die who ends up on his table. Someone who has nobody else, nothing to go back to. The perfect tool.
"Spare me your self-righteousness, Eliot. You knew this was coming the moment you walked out the door. You wanted to save me, right? Well, here I am. I'm safe."
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He drops his hand, glaring up at Carter but it's mostly anger at himself, fueled by being...what, afraid of what he was seeing, hearing? That somehow this really was the worst thing he'd ever done and it wasn't over yet, it just kept getting worse and worse?
He's right. This was pretty much the best, the only outcome, and he just didn't want to see it.
Eliot's silent for a long, long moment.
When he finally speaks again, he can't quite look him in the eyes.
"And now. Now, this is what you want?"
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The words are hollow, cold, a bit subdued.
"I told you, Eliot. I want to live."
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But the gears in his head were turning. He wasn't going to give up on this, give up on Carter. He might've, he'd come close to, maybe if he didn't spend this much time with him, maybe if he hadn't had to 'catch up'. But now it was too late. He couldn't leave him again, he couldn't take that on his conscience.
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Carter puts the bottle topper back on the flask, looking back over his shoulder.
"You looked after me when I first got here and I haven't forgotten that. So I'm gonna give you a pass this one time. Do your job, and don't interfere."
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