Fic: Anniversary - Leverage - AU - FRT-13
Feb. 28th, 2011 10:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kathierif_ficTitle: Anniversary
Author: Kathie
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true, blah.
Rating: FRT-13
Pairing: none (if you squint, Parker/Hardison)
Summary: It was a special day - an anniversary.
Warnings: Death of a main character
Word Count: 1184 words
A/Ns: written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
au_bingo prompt Alternate History: Someone died/didn't come back
Alec Hardison silently moved through the dark apartment, walking past pieces of furniture and around a huge potted banana plant without making a single sound despite the fact that it was pitch black and he couldn't see his path.
He didn't need to.
He knew this place like the back of his hand, and he arrived at the huge spacious room at the end of the hall without an accident.
The soothing and familiar blue light of computer monitors greeted him as he stepped inside his office, and with a satisfied sigh, Hardison fell into his office chair and pulled his keyboard close.
Today, a little window on one of his monitors informed him, was a special day.
An anniversary.
Hardison hadn't needed the little alarm to remind him of the special day. He'd woken up early in the morning with the niggling feeling at the back of his skull that it was this day, and it hadn't gone away as the hours passed, even as he'd concentrated on his latest project.
Their anniversary.
Pulling up several programs he'd written himself, Hardison did what he always did on this day.
Finding Sophie was the first thing he did. It wasn't hard - after that fateful day on the ship, Sophie had retreated into private life for a while, but after six months, she had returned as actress. Hardison had hesitated for a long time before he went and saw one of her plays, but when he did, he found himself pleasantly surprised.
Nate had once said that the stage was not where Sophie's stage was. She was a brilliant actress when she was stealing, and she had managed to transfer her talent and had been the discovery of the year. Roles in movies followed her break-through, first smaller, then gradually bigger roles.
If he wanted to find Sophie Devereaux now, Hardison didn't need to do more than pull up imdb.com. The list of her movies was getting longer and longer.
Hardison had seen all of them, and he owned all of them on blu ray, even the silly romantic comedies that made him rant at the TV and want to turn it off.
He never did.
It was a little more complicated to figure out where Eliot had gone. They had done a handful of jobs together after that day, he, Parker and Eliot, but something had been missing and they had agreed to split ways. Eliot had disappeared the day after, without saying good-bye, but Hardison hadn't expected it any different.
Eliot wasn't the kind of guy to say good-bye.
Finding Eliot meant following his many aliases, trying to disentangle them and figure out which third-world country was close or in the middle of a civil war. Chances were that Eliot was somehow involved in it.
Eliot knew that Hardison was keeping an eye on him, and he hadn't done anything to stop him. He trusted Hardison, and on some occasions, he'd called him from the middle of nowhere and asked for Hardison's expertise concerning computers. Hardison would never forget the call he got in the middle of the night and in the middle of a WoW-raid that had started with the words so I'm sitting in the middle of Afghanistan with a bomb strapped to my chest and three minutes to turn it off.
Right now, everything was quiet. None of Eliot's aliases that Hardison knew of had travelled outside of the United States for almost two weeks, and as far as Hardison was concerned, that meant that Eliot was probably lying low somewhere. He probably was tending to his garden; a garden he always talked about but that Hardison had never seen.
Satisfied that Eliot was probably fine and out of trouble, Hardison pushed himself away from the computer and stood. Stretching, he realized that he had needed longer than expected for his little check-up. The sun was already getting up again, its pale light lighting his path as he padded back through the apartment, past the banana tree, a present from Eliot after a trip to South America that had lasted eight weeks and had left Hardison wondering if Eliot had been injured or got lost in the jugle somewhere, past the furniture and the taken-apart entertainment system littering the hardwood floor in what was supposed to be the living room, and into the bedroom.
Parker was not under the sheets, but then, Hardison hadn't expected her to be. A quick glance upwards revealed her hanging in the rafters of the room, head-down and sleeping peacefully.
Hardison grinned fondly. These rafters had been the reason why he had bought this apartment. There was enough room for Parker to sit on them, sleep in them, and probably hide a fortune in stolen goods in them, but as long as she returned there after the heists she pulled, Hardison didn't complain too much. The only exception was when all the spoons disappeared - he made her bring them down from her little hiding places and put them back in the kitchen drawers regularly.
Parker's eyes opened. "Is it time?" she asked, her voice quiet and subdued, but still loud in the quietness of the room.
"Yeah." Hardison nodded and started to pull clothes out of his wardrobe. When he turned around to go to the bathroom, Parker was standing in front of him, already dressed and ready to go.
Checking up on Nate was the last step of his little anniversary ritual. With Parker following him quietly, Hardison quietly walked over the grassy ground of the cementary, until he reached the headstone with the simple name Nate Ford.
"When I arrange a rescue, I do it properly," Sophie had said, back on that ship, three years ago. She had turned her back on her successful life as a thief when she had managed to get Eliot, Parker and Hardison to safety, but Nate had died, trying to protect them and taking the fall for them, giving himself up to Sterling while he was already bleeding out from the gunshot wound in his stomach.
They had become Nate's family, his only family, and those had been Nate's last words to them.
They had been even closer than family, and that was the reason why Hardison was here, on this quiet and peaceful morning, at this cemetary, at Nate's grave.
Flowers, fresh and tasteful, were already arranged around the headstone - Sophie had been there before them, but that was okay.
Sophie was family, too.
Parker put down the flowers and the diamonds they'd brought, and they stood silently in front of the grave for long moments before turning to leave.
Maybe Eliot would drop by later. Hardison wasn't sure, but he was prepared, in case the hitter showed up. The spoons were back in the drawer, and he'd even bought fresh vegetables and put them in his fridge. There was a bottle of Sophie's favorite wine, expensive tea and about twenty sorts of sugar cereal, for Parker, of course.
He didn't know who would show up, besides Parker, but it didn't matter. They were family, they knew where to find him.
They knew that his door would always be open for them, especially at the anniversary of Nate Ford's death.
--end.
Author: Kathie
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true, blah.
Rating: FRT-13
Pairing: none (if you squint, Parker/Hardison)
Summary: It was a special day - an anniversary.
Warnings: Death of a main character
Word Count: 1184 words
A/Ns: written for
au_bingo prompt Alternate History: Someone died/didn't come backAlec Hardison silently moved through the dark apartment, walking past pieces of furniture and around a huge potted banana plant without making a single sound despite the fact that it was pitch black and he couldn't see his path.
He didn't need to.
He knew this place like the back of his hand, and he arrived at the huge spacious room at the end of the hall without an accident.
The soothing and familiar blue light of computer monitors greeted him as he stepped inside his office, and with a satisfied sigh, Hardison fell into his office chair and pulled his keyboard close.
Today, a little window on one of his monitors informed him, was a special day.
An anniversary.
Hardison hadn't needed the little alarm to remind him of the special day. He'd woken up early in the morning with the niggling feeling at the back of his skull that it was this day, and it hadn't gone away as the hours passed, even as he'd concentrated on his latest project.
Their anniversary.
Pulling up several programs he'd written himself, Hardison did what he always did on this day.
Finding Sophie was the first thing he did. It wasn't hard - after that fateful day on the ship, Sophie had retreated into private life for a while, but after six months, she had returned as actress. Hardison had hesitated for a long time before he went and saw one of her plays, but when he did, he found himself pleasantly surprised.
Nate had once said that the stage was not where Sophie's stage was. She was a brilliant actress when she was stealing, and she had managed to transfer her talent and had been the discovery of the year. Roles in movies followed her break-through, first smaller, then gradually bigger roles.
If he wanted to find Sophie Devereaux now, Hardison didn't need to do more than pull up imdb.com. The list of her movies was getting longer and longer.
Hardison had seen all of them, and he owned all of them on blu ray, even the silly romantic comedies that made him rant at the TV and want to turn it off.
He never did.
It was a little more complicated to figure out where Eliot had gone. They had done a handful of jobs together after that day, he, Parker and Eliot, but something had been missing and they had agreed to split ways. Eliot had disappeared the day after, without saying good-bye, but Hardison hadn't expected it any different.
Eliot wasn't the kind of guy to say good-bye.
Finding Eliot meant following his many aliases, trying to disentangle them and figure out which third-world country was close or in the middle of a civil war. Chances were that Eliot was somehow involved in it.
Eliot knew that Hardison was keeping an eye on him, and he hadn't done anything to stop him. He trusted Hardison, and on some occasions, he'd called him from the middle of nowhere and asked for Hardison's expertise concerning computers. Hardison would never forget the call he got in the middle of the night and in the middle of a WoW-raid that had started with the words so I'm sitting in the middle of Afghanistan with a bomb strapped to my chest and three minutes to turn it off.
Right now, everything was quiet. None of Eliot's aliases that Hardison knew of had travelled outside of the United States for almost two weeks, and as far as Hardison was concerned, that meant that Eliot was probably lying low somewhere. He probably was tending to his garden; a garden he always talked about but that Hardison had never seen.
Satisfied that Eliot was probably fine and out of trouble, Hardison pushed himself away from the computer and stood. Stretching, he realized that he had needed longer than expected for his little check-up. The sun was already getting up again, its pale light lighting his path as he padded back through the apartment, past the banana tree, a present from Eliot after a trip to South America that had lasted eight weeks and had left Hardison wondering if Eliot had been injured or got lost in the jugle somewhere, past the furniture and the taken-apart entertainment system littering the hardwood floor in what was supposed to be the living room, and into the bedroom.
Parker was not under the sheets, but then, Hardison hadn't expected her to be. A quick glance upwards revealed her hanging in the rafters of the room, head-down and sleeping peacefully.
Hardison grinned fondly. These rafters had been the reason why he had bought this apartment. There was enough room for Parker to sit on them, sleep in them, and probably hide a fortune in stolen goods in them, but as long as she returned there after the heists she pulled, Hardison didn't complain too much. The only exception was when all the spoons disappeared - he made her bring them down from her little hiding places and put them back in the kitchen drawers regularly.
Parker's eyes opened. "Is it time?" she asked, her voice quiet and subdued, but still loud in the quietness of the room.
"Yeah." Hardison nodded and started to pull clothes out of his wardrobe. When he turned around to go to the bathroom, Parker was standing in front of him, already dressed and ready to go.
Checking up on Nate was the last step of his little anniversary ritual. With Parker following him quietly, Hardison quietly walked over the grassy ground of the cementary, until he reached the headstone with the simple name Nate Ford.
"When I arrange a rescue, I do it properly," Sophie had said, back on that ship, three years ago. She had turned her back on her successful life as a thief when she had managed to get Eliot, Parker and Hardison to safety, but Nate had died, trying to protect them and taking the fall for them, giving himself up to Sterling while he was already bleeding out from the gunshot wound in his stomach.
They had become Nate's family, his only family, and those had been Nate's last words to them.
They had been even closer than family, and that was the reason why Hardison was here, on this quiet and peaceful morning, at this cemetary, at Nate's grave.
Flowers, fresh and tasteful, were already arranged around the headstone - Sophie had been there before them, but that was okay.
Sophie was family, too.
Parker put down the flowers and the diamonds they'd brought, and they stood silently in front of the grave for long moments before turning to leave.
Maybe Eliot would drop by later. Hardison wasn't sure, but he was prepared, in case the hitter showed up. The spoons were back in the drawer, and he'd even bought fresh vegetables and put them in his fridge. There was a bottle of Sophie's favorite wine, expensive tea and about twenty sorts of sugar cereal, for Parker, of course.
He didn't know who would show up, besides Parker, but it didn't matter. They were family, they knew where to find him.
They knew that his door would always be open for them, especially at the anniversary of Nate Ford's death.
--end.