Lists

A lot of shit annoyes me. People who know me personally will attest to the fact that I am the most easily annoyed person on the planet. So, just for fun and out of sheer boredom I decided to make a list of some of the crap that bugs me. Some people may find humor in it, because you'll be amazed at some of the stupid shit listed below, I know I am.

20. People who step out in front of moving cars when there's a cross walk 2 feet away.
19. Texting/reading a text while driving (which will soon be illegal by the way)
18. One way fucking streets that are crowded with cars.
17. The uneven surfaces of pre-paved roads.
16. When Yield signs suddenly become Stops and then suddenly change back to Yields.
15. Kids who think their skate boards or bmx bikes make them cool.
14. Guys who have that 'ghetto walk' and wear their pants below their knees. I don't need to see your fucking boxers.
13. The over use of Linkin Park music on You Tube Videos. There is other music out there you can use.
12. People who slow waaaay down when they have to make a fucking turn off a road that's speed limit is 45 and above.
11. the word 'baby daddy'
10. When your newly purchased software doesn't work and there's no exchange policy for opened Programs in MA
9. Selling back movies you paid nearly $20.00 for and all you get back is a lousy $.46 and then they sell it for $9.99
8. People who try to force you to listen to their religion talk.
7. Door to door salesmen and Holy rollers.
6. Student drivers. 'nuff said.
5. How the Po-Po (Police) will follow you through to the town line before turning around.
4. How one can't find a decent pair of sneakers not containing the color pink and are reasonably priced without searching several stores.
3. Prost-a-tots and all the wanna be thugs.
2. The fashion of today and how there isn't any normal clothing left in the world for people who don't want to dress like slutty ghetto bitches.
1. Elderly drivers. I can't stand elderly drivers with their massive cars when they can't even see over the stearing wheel.

The end. So, those are a few things that make me bat shit crazy. If you have any of these same peeves please do comment!

Obsessions

Since I have On Demand I have recently started watching BBC's Robin Hood but sadly it's in the third season so I'm slightly lost. I went out to this place called Movie Stop and managed to find botht he first and second season, (their 50.00 each) and bought the first season. I gotta say, I'm starting to get wicked addicted to it. I mean yes it's corney as hell and the humor is a bit whacked but I love the characters. Sadly I have finished watching the first season and now want to start on the second but I don't have the money to afford it at the moment, so I'll have to wait.

But, like everything else the only fan fics I can find are slash or basically porno's, so I'm SOL.

Plot Bunnies

New story ideas! I have this idea kicking around in my head for a side story to my current fiction 'Sugar Coated Lies', I have most of it written out but don't like it. The telling is off and I can't make up my mind as to how to write it exactly, but not to worry I am going to continue with SCL.


alright. i'm done.

 

This post is being written into the concern of Winry Rockbell and the lack of a roll she playes in this current fic. Most people who know me and have read my stories before and have heard me rant, know I usually hate female characters. I don't know what it is, but usually the females are often portrayed in movies, manga, books ect. to be either big breasted idiots who were skin tight or short clothing and can't think for themselves, or they go to the other extream as are so manish and can just about anything that they're unbelievable, you know, lined with muscles and can kick any man's ass without breaking a sweat.

Not saying the characters in Full Metal Alchemist aren't well done. I will be the first to state that Winry, Panya (spelling?) Maria Ross, Hawkeye, Panako and even Lust aren't decently rounded characters, because they are. I actually like Pinako and Hawkeye and tolorated Panya and Ross (for as much as those two are barely secondary characters respectivly) but Winry just annoys me to no end.

I honestly think it's the crying and the overly dramatic way she handles things. I absolutly can't stand her and I find her character very flat. She's Ed' mechanic and the long child hood friend of both Elric boys and although she seems strong inside she's really a broken little girl who misses her parents who were killed trying to do the right thing.

Boo freakin hoo.

If Winry was a real person she would be that person I would have to shout at to 'shut the fuck up and pull your ass up by your boot straps and move on' because whatever situation she is found in throughout the manga she's always harboring some kind of emotional baggage and just adding to the already complicated and drama based story.

I have not always hated Winry, int he beginning of the Manga she was actually pretty cool, but as time went on and her character moved out of the 'secondary main character' and her story line became more involved with the Elrics I found myself absolutly hating her.

So, for the real reason as to why Winry isn't a big part of this story and for reaction to Ed's breaking of the auto mail is simple really.

I hate Winry, therefor her role in SCL is extreamly small.

Why she reacted the way she did: Simply put I'm trying to make the characters seem more grown up from what they are in the manga and the two series. I get tired of seeing the same childish antics with her screaming at him, it's time for the children to grow up and mature, and that's what I was attempting to do.

Why Alphonse doesn't play a big role in SCL

Alphonse, while not my favorite character is no where near the 'i hate him so much he'll never be in my stories ever' line. Alphonse, for me sits below his brother but above Mustang.

(Basically for me it goes: Ed, Havoc, Hawkeye, Al, Mustang, Hughs, Pinako..........................(continue with '.........' for 5 lines) ..... Winry. 

Ever read those stories where Alphonse is back into his perfectly adjusted body and everything is totally fine? Well, my brain went off in a totally different direction and took it to the next extream, thinking Al would have to readjust to being a normal human being again. His role for this fic is mainly as a disembodied voice of reason and someone for Ed to bounce theories off of. To have him tagging along with have made for an expanded story line for poor Mustang to have to make and let's face it, Al's not a state alchemist, so he really has no place being there.

Hmmm..... hopefully I didn't piss anyone off with my theories behind winry and Al. I hope you all continue to read the story and I'm terribly sorry if you don't agree with me about the characters, but that's my opnion and I'm sticking to it. ^_^

till chapter 12!

Title: Why You?

Rating: T (swears)

Summary: Eliot and Nate have a late night conversation after Eliot returns from watching the Marshall as he removed Randy from his abusive home.

Author Note: So, that episode was awesome, waaay better than the Tap-out Job I think. I really want to see if this will be a recurring thing. (probably not since they have 4 other characters to explore, but hey, a fan girl can totally hope). So, yes I wrote down all my plot bunnies and will probably have more up concerning this episode. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about A Dangerous Man. By the way, the title? Yeah it totally sucks, so forgive my lack of creativity there. Onto the story!

Why You?

“What the hell man.” Hardison snarls, his voice dipped low. Eliot rolls his eyes and instead of answering the hacker turns his attention to packing up the van with all the gear. The job had been completed successfully, with Hardison and Eliot wrapping up their end only moments before.

“Hey man, I’m talking to you.” Hardison tries again as Eliot wordlessly turns away and bends down to grab another box, this one the monitor. Schooling his features into a blank expression Eliot lifts the light box, resisting the urge to groan as his hand cramps painfully. Putting the box atop of the seat in the back of the van Eliot backs away, trying to stretch the cramp out of his hand. Hardison, too preoccupied with his electronics doesn’t notice as the hitting silently slips away.

“Ya know man, we could’ve gotten our asses busted just because you wanted to talk to that ki—well now that’s just rude.” Hardison growls to himself as he turns, finding the small parking area void of the hitter’s presence, his annoyance towards the man growing even more.

“What’s rude?” Nate asks, coming around the back side of the van now dressed in his regular clothes. Hardison shakes his head and gestures to where Eliot had just been standing. 

“Eliot man, first he was distracted by some kid and wasn’t listening to me, then he took out his ear bud and went off the radar. I don’t get him, oh and that freaky disappearing act has got to go, because that’s just annoying.” Hardison rattles off, giving the interior to the van another once over before slamming the doors shut, the keys held out for the mastermind to take. Nate plucks the keys from the hacker’s hands and begins to move towards the driver’s door when he looks back over at Hardison who is playing with his phone.

“Can you pull up the hospital security feed?” Nate asks distractedly and Hardison shoots him a questioning glance before nodding.

“Yeah I can, just as soon as we get out of here, I have most of it saved on my drives anyway. Why?” he asks, disappearing around the other side of the van, only to reappear at the passenger side. Nate gets in and slams the door before turning the engine over.

“I want to see what Eliot was doing when he had his ear piece out.” He informs the hacker who nods, suddenly aware of the concerned expression on Nate’s face as he backs out of the small parking lot. Hardison looks into the back but stops short, his eyebrow raising.

“Where are the girls?” he asks as Nate pulls out into traffic, his foot slamming down on the accelerator in an attempt to be a yellow light.

“They’re stopping to get Chinese.” He responds dully and Hardison nods, unable to stop the cab from falling into a worried silence.

>> * <<

The small ‘after con’ party had wrapped up a while ago; leaving Nate’s rented condo pleasantly silent. Although the group of thieves have gotten better they still manage to leave the former agent’s apartment in ruin after they leave, forcing the man to pick up before finally retiring for the night. Nate had just finished cleaning up the counter and setting aside the manila envelope with Eliot’s name on it when the tell-tale sound of boots on the stairs alerts him to the hitter’s return.

“It’s open.” He calls as the boots stop in front on his door. There is a pause in which Nate tosses the sponge back into the sink before Eliot slowly opens the door, his eyes narrowing against the glare of the apartment’s lights. Nate takes in the fighter and the dark beanie pulled down over his forehead before picking up the manila envelope. Eliot’s fierce gaze tracks the yellow paper for a moment before flicking to look at Nate, expression hardening.

He knows that Nate knows.

Eliot waits for Nate to make the first move, to say the first word and tries not to feel like a bad child being reprimanded by an adult. When the mastermind makes no move to either approach or talk the hitter shifts his weight, growing impatient.

“What do you want Nate?” he snaps, anger rising quickly. Although the worry for Randy has stopped twisting in his gut the hitter is still exhausted and hurting after the days events and just wants to head up to his own apartment. His hand cramps up again, making his fingers ache and twitch but Eliot schools himself not to let it show, not in front of Nate.

“I want to know what made you sidetrack from the con so you could threaten some guy in a stairwell.” Nate responds evenly, his body relaxed and patient. It’s something he’s learned about the group of thieves, you can’t force them. Nate tried that once, pushed at Parker too hard and scared the lithe thief off for a few days. He learned how far he can push each of them, how far they are willing to flex before they refuse to go any further. Out of them all Eliot is the most unwilling, he doesn’t respond to being forced and often responds by pushing back, violently and quickly.

So he waits.

Nate studies the fighter’s posture, finding the confident set of his shoulders a bit hunched and his vibrant and aware eyes shadowed with exhaustion but that calculating edge is still there, the instincts screaming behind the icy blue barrier. When Eliot makes no move to answer his question Nate pushes a little bit more, watching as the man’s eyes flash hotly.

“You put us all in jeopardy by doing that Eliot, our cover would have been blow because you allowed yourself to be foolishly sidetracked by what? What would make you put us all at risk?” The flash within those shockingly blue eyes tell the mastermind he’s hit a nerve within the specialist. Eliot opens his mouth but then closes it, his gaze turning cold and hard as he responds.

“You had it taken care of. It didn’t take me that long to get my point across, I was back to running my part of the job. No harm done.” He defends tiredly and Nate notices the odd way he’s holding his hand, too stiffly by his side. Nate gives up on getting information from the man and quickly approaches, alarmed that one of the thieves had been injured. Eliot backs away a step before swinging his arm in a defensive action, his blue eyes narrowed slightly. Nate stops and holds up his hands, his own worry causing him to forget who he was dealing with.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” he asks, wanting to calm the fighter down. Eliot’s hard stare lingers for a moment more before he relaxes slightly, bringing his injured hand away from his side.

“It’s cramping, that’s all. No big deal.” He says, trying to brush off the injury but Nate only frowns; knowing that Eliot can take care of himself does little to lessen his worry about the younger man’s welfare. Instead of pushing he make a motion for the hitter to follow and wordlessly heads for the freezer, taking out one of the numerous icepacks Eliot had left him. Eliot sits at the bar, holding his aching hand. Wordlessly he takes the offered ice pack and hisses as the cool compress makes contact with his cramped muscles. Nate leans back against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest as he watches the specialist.

“The guy was slapping his kid around, the bruises were barely a week old Nate and that fucker broke the kids arm. Someone had to say something, do something.” Eliot states, his words edged with a menacing growl. Nate closes his eyes for a moment, having watched the video of Eliot confronting the burly man in the stairwell, he had been a little worried when the lithe man thrust the heavier one over the handrail but was pleased with the hitter’s self control.

“You could have let someone else handle it.” Nate states and watches as Eliot drums his fingers of his good hand on the bar top, shaking his head.

“You don’t understand. That bastard knew the local police that kid had no place to turn, no one to turn to for help.” Eliot argues back softly, adjusting the ice on his injured hand.

“But why you Eliot?” Nate asks, wishing for once that Eliot would stop being so cryptic. Nate knew bits and pieces of Eliot’s background and has made a few assumptions about the gaps in his history. Eliot is silent for a few minutes, the sound of the ticking clock impossibly loud when finally he answers.

“I’ve been there, having to lie while he stood by and make excuses about my ‘accidents’. I had no one to go to either and I guess in some way I saw myself in Randy.” He admits almost in a whisper, his head down and eyes averted. Nate stands and simply listens, knowing there is more to the situation.

“I guess I’m kind of like Parker when it comes to kids, their stories hit a little too close to home… I didn’t want to see Randy become like me Nate, something had to be done and I was in the position to do something.” He growls out the words and Nate can see the anger bristling just under the surface. Nate nods, having had the reason for Eliot’s time in foster care explained.

“Again, why you Eliot? Dressed as you were you could have easily reported it to the staff or someone else. Why did you have to do it?” Nate asks again and this time Eliot’s eyes darken a degree, becoming frigid.

“I guess I just wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t like all those other people I saw as a kid, those people who would walk by with knowing looks and not do a damned thing. I couldn’t do that Nate, just like you couldn’t leave that girl alone while he father was in the hospital, like Parker couldn’t leave those kids in Belgrade. I don’t know Nate, I couldn’t just walk by and pretend I didn’t see.” He says and then lets off a bitter laugh.

“I can beat down men, make them bleed and feel pain. I’ve crushed windpipes and maimed people, stolen dead bodies and impersonated people of great influence without even a second thought, but some kid beaten and abused in the care of the abuser is enough to pull me right up. Gotta say, I have some twisted up morals.” He laughs, shaking his head. Nate gazes steadily at the young man, seeing him in a new light.

“You aren’t effected by those things Eliot, the maiming and the beating because something hardened you to the fact that it’s something you have to do. Children are innocent I guess…” Nate trails off as the specialist stands and grabs his take of the money.

“Thanks for the ice pack.” He says, effectively putting an end to the conversation. He’s a mystery most of the time, the silent muscle in the group. Eliot goes along pretty easily with any plan Nate comes up with, playing his part with minimal problems.

“You may not think it Eliot, but you are a good person.” Nate calls softly after the hitter. The heel strikes pause for a moment and his voice carries back to the mastermind.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” The door to his apartment closes and Nate leans his head back, listening to Eliot’s footfalls moving down the hallway.

End.

Author Note: drop me a comment/review If you deem this story worthy of it. Thanks for reading!

Title: Side of a Story

Rating: G

Summary: Maggie confronts Eliot

Spoilers: maybe from ‘The Second David Job’

Author Note: had this idea also kicking around in my head (which has a lot of dents) and finally finished writing it out. It didn’t come out as I originally wanted it too, but I dunno. Comment if you deem it worthy.

He was checking out the mansion’s massive kitchen when the determined click of heels on the tiled floor alerts him to someone’s approach. Running an appreciative hand over the butcher block island top Eliot decides not to hang around and wait for Sophie to confront him. His anger at the betrayal still burning hot and free inside his veins, balling up in his stomach like a serpent. With the ease of a person use to making a smooth, unnoticed get away Eliot makes his way out onto the massive patio and down the marble steps into the long neglected gardens of the massive estate. Stopping in front of a fountain, no long spitting water and dried up. Eliot listens for the footfalls of the back stabbing Grifter; he groans, having shed a hope that the woman would have given up and left him alone.

No such luck.

Knowing running won’t help the fighter stands his ground as the clicking of the heels gets louder, the person already at the last landing. Eliot waits, his back turned and fisted hands in his pockets, jaw tight as he narrows his eyes, ready for the confrontation that has been destined to happen.

“Who are you? Really?” Eliot lets loose a breath of surprise and whirls around, finding Maggie standing on the landing above the final steps down to the fountain, her arms crossed and jaw sternly clenched. Surprise at the sight of the woman he conned not even three hours before expels the angry heat from his body, instead filling it with ice water. Eliot’s never had to introduce himself to anyone before; most people who hired him know his reputation and never needed to have a hearty handshake and introductions.

“I mean, obviously your not Adam Sinclair, art expert and all that.” She continues, blue eyes hard with suspicion as she moves slowly down the few final steps, heels clicking sharply. Eliot steps away from the approaching woman, his mind whirling as she moves closer, her expression a mixture of curiosity and mild fury. Eliot knows from past experiences that such a mixture in a high strung woman like Maggie never bodes well from the properly raised man who won’t raise a hand to strike back.

“You also work with Nate and his little band of thieves, so I have to wonder if anything you told me was even true.” She says, seeming to notice the man’s discomfort and stopping a few feet from the specialist, her arms folded and hip cocked as she waits. Eliot’s defenses are slammed up at the tone of her voice and he can feel the urge to move and get away from the situation eating away at him as he struggles with not launching at the woman, his senses seeing her as a potential threat. Maggie’s eyes narrow slightly as she watches the man, trying to figure out the reason behind his tensed stance and weary look. The first time she met the man at the Blackpoole gallery she found his charming and knowledgeable in the ways of the art inspector, but now the seething fury upon finding out the man was working with her ex-husband. Maggie wanted to know, she wanted to understand why this man had pretended to be something he’s not.

“Say something.” She orders, voice hard and cold. Being a mother had given her a little more patience than she had when she was younger but at times like this her former temper flares dangerously. The man’s eyes darken as his face hardens and the woman resists the urge to shudder at the unnerving sense of danger that overtakes her. Where did the charming and sophisticated Adam Sinclair she met at the gallery party disappear too? In that charismatic man Maggie saw someone she could relate too and understand, but in the man standing before her, tensed and weary she can’t see anything relating to the other man. She cocks her head to the side, finding it strange that someone with the same face could have two polar opposite sides.

“What is there to say?” he suddenly asks, voice still rough and accented lightly with a Southern clipping to the words. She moves down another step, taking notice of the slight twitch in the man’s jaw and the tightening of muscles in his neck.

“You can start with your name. Your real name.” Maggie says, using her arms to emphasize her annoyance without approaching the edgy man. He watches her for a moment or two before dropping his gaze, his body language shifting to someone still weary and suspicious to one of a person not about to fight or run. Bright blue eyes come up and he opens his mouth but nothing comes out, his voice seemingly caught in his throat.

“I don’t even need your real name, just give me something. Everything I know about you is a lie…” she trails off, her frustration with the man, with Nate, with the whole situation suddenly evaporating, leaving her exhausted and sullen.

“My name is Eliot Spencer; I’m a retrieval specialist that was hired for a job Nate worked on a while back.” He finally says and Maggie mulls over his words, replaying the name in her head. She quirks a smile at the man and sighs as the change sets the man on edge again, his eyes darting around quickly for an escape.

“I remember seeing your file on my coffee table a few years ago… Nate was obsessed with you.” She says with a bit of laughter on her voice. Eliot relaxes again, unsure of how to proceed and slightly worried what Nate would think, seeing the two of them like this. The man had been nearly spitting nails when Eliot joined Sophie and Blackpoole with Maggie tagging along, he really didn’t need this to be yet another problem on their already rocky and strained working relationship.

“Your reputation precedes you and you’re not proud of that?” Maggie suddenly asks, arms crossing and eyebrow cocking as she waits for an answer. Eliot isn’t sure how to respond to that and stares at the woman as she slowly moves down to sit on one of the benches, crossing her legs.

“I mean, I’ve met a few thieves while married and working with Nate, they always boasted about the thing’s they’d stolen or hocked. I met one specialist who went on and on about where he’d been, what he’d done. Men he’d killed.” The last bit coming out seriously, the words cutting through the long haired specialist like his own knife. His tactical mind is working through her ploy though and while this tactic would get most people proud of what they’d done to talk, he knows better. Instead Eliot moves towards the stairs, his movement’s fluid as he shrugs.

“I don’t see the need to boast about my exploits. There are things people are better not knowing about, things that are to easy to draw a conclusion of a person’s personality from. You can’t judge a man by his reputation, because sometimes, that’s only on side of an entirely different story.” He says, taking the marble steps easily as he walks away, having said his peace and kept himself from being picked apart by someone who stands outside the shadowy darkness of the criminal world.

“Eliot suits you better.” He stops at Maggie’s voice and turns slightly, his eyebrow cocking. The woman is standing at the landing, her hands twisting in front of her, a small smile on her lips.

“It’s better than Adam; you don’t look like and Adam.” Eliot gives a chuckle at that and shakes his head, continuing on up the steps. Maggie watches the man go, deciding that learning about the rest of Nate’s motley crew, might just be a unique undertaking.

End.  

“Mr. Ford, JT was a good kid. He had a heart the size of Texas inside of him and dreams ten times the size. He always dreamed of going to college and doing something great. I’m a farmer Mr. Ford, sixth generation. I gave up dreaming of a different life outside the farm years ago, but when my boy JT came into the world… I wanted to fuel his dreams, not tie him down with a failing family business.” Daniel Cooke explains, his voice choked with emotion. Sophie and Nate were sitting across from the man, his wide brimmed hate sitting on the table, his wife’s hand spread atop his calloused one. Behind the couple Eliot is leaning against the door jam, Hardison beside him, arms crossed.

“Please continue.” Sophie prompts gently and the man does, his voice trembling with either fury or sadness.

“JT came home one day from school, saying how this man John Huber was down in the town, calling for anyone who wanted to make good money riding bulls over the summer. At first I didn’t believe him, having seen these types of men before and told him not to listen to any tales that man spun.” Eliot tenses slightly and draws a curious look from Hardison.

“Having big dreams costs a lot of money Mr. Ford and although Brandy and I had been saving for his college the boy got it into his head he’d be able to make more money riding bulls and working for Huber than he would make sticking around the farm.” Nate nods in understanding, the man’s story already pulling at his heart strings and stirring up memories of his plans for Sam.

“JT ran off one night, leaving us a note on the bed saying he’d call us from their first stop and send some of the money he makes home. It was okay for the first two months, the boy would call and we’d get money in the mail from whatever town he was in, but then suddenly everything stopped.” Brandy Cooke explains as her husband becomes to choked with emotion to continue, her hand clutching a handkerchief.

“We got a call about a month ago saying we were needed at the city police station in Omaha right away. We scrambled and found someone to watch the farm and crops for us and headed up. We arrived to find JT was dead and we were needed to identify the body.” Her tears flow freely down her cheeks as she leans into her husband’s shoulder, the large man trying to comfort his wife by wrapping his arm around her.

“Every dime I saved up for that boy’s future was spent putting him in the ground Mr. Ford, then when I went to bring Huber to court for the death of my son I was told there wasn’t enough evidence for a trial. I’ve had to sell off chunks of my farm Mr. Ford in order to pursue the killer of my son.” He chokes for a moment and rocks his sobbing wife gently as Sophie and Nate share a look, Nate’s own throat tight with this man’s grief.

“We will help you Mr. Cooke. We’ll get you the evidence you’ll need to convict this man as your son’s killer.” He promises and glances briefly at Hardison and Eliot, seeing the nod from the hacker and the grim narrowing of eyes from the fighter he knows they’ll back him up.

“Thank you Mr. Ford.” Cooke says, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. Nate takes it and shakes it. Sophie stands and escorts the couple out into the foyer to finish taking down the information, her steps echoing loudly in the silence left by the Cooke’s story.

“Hardison I want you to dig up everything you can on his Huber guy and present it later today, we’re starting this case immediately.” Nate orders, his voice and expression hard as he makes his way to his office.

Damn he needs a drink.

Fingers move slowly across his flesh, making his nerve endings tingle at their touch. A soft shiver runs through his body as the delicately filed nail moves down the scar on his left shoulder blade, teasing the damaged flesh but the feeling disappearing as the long finger ends on the indention, scar tissue having cut off all feeling long ago. Her warm, soft lips envelop two of the old bullet wounds, heating the marred flesh of a battle wound long healed. He allows her to continue her exploration of his body, knowing the curiosity wouldn’t be sedated until the woman mapped every scar on his body. She probes further, tracing his spine with a warm, moist finger. Eliot flinches and twists away, signaling a tender spot on his lower back she should not venture too before twisting around to face her, his bare chest exposed to her prying fingers. Slowly she comes to straddle his lap, wrapping her long legs on either side of his thighs and pushes him gently back to rest on the pillows behind him. Eliot groans and sighs as she works her tongue along one of the many knife scars on his chest, her fingers caressing the massive scar near his navel. She giggles into his neck as he brings a teasing hand up to caress her own back and shoulders, the rough calloused hand making her shiver as she turns to capture his mouth in hers, rocking foreword as he allows her to continue exploring. His eyes close as she withdraws from his mouth and earns a growl as she turns her attention back to mapping the many scars that mark his body. She teases him from time to time, capturing his lower lip with her teeth before returning to her exploration. Eliot growls and sighs, leaning back into the pillows as she moves to the numerous dog bite wounds and indentions of removed flesh of his thighs.

“So many scars Eliot…” she breathes softly, her warm breath teasing him as she moves her way back up to his chest, pausing to inspect a botched branding attempt, the gnarled flesh long since healed showing the gruesome numbers of a cell mate in some backwater country. He grunts in response and allows her to suck deftly on his fingers and knuckles, pausing over the thick hide of a brawler, his hand tingling in response. He strokes her back, his long fingers tangling in her hair as he kisses her down the neck, sucking on the hollow of her collar bone.

“Your going to be in a lot of pain when you get older and slow down Eliot.” She states softly, leaning into his touch as he cups her with one steel band like arm and hikes her further up, her bottom coming to rest on his navel, his body curving to suck on her shoulder, his tongue working lower to moisten the skin of her breast. She knows where his mind is headed and refuses to succumb to his desire, knowing it’s a ploy to turn the subject away from his body. She moves away from his mouth and shifts to the side, away from his body and smiles at the frustrated growl he utters, his eyes closed tightly. Taking pity on the man she gently messages his scalp, her nails raking across his head gently as he strokes her back slowly.

“What will you do then Eliot? When your body gives out on you and refuses to take any more abuse?”  she asks and Eliot’s lips part into a smile, his unguarded blue eyes filled with mirth as his southern drawl, more pronounced now then usual informs her gently.

“Then I’d give up my job, find a nice cabin someplace and live out my life in peace.” She smiles into his hair, inhaling the scent uniquely Eliot, one of clean soap and honest sweat. Wrapping a hand around his shoulders she slips down onto the pillows beside him, making Eliot twist on his side to watch her.

“That would satisfy you? A life of peace and boredom?” she asks slowly, watching his eyes as the serenity the moment brought to them disappears, replaced with a hard question. She knows she’s edging on a thin like here, their relationship is about the ‘here and now’ not tomorrow or the near future. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they wouldn’t look beyond today.

“Where’s this coming from?” he asks slowly, his hand tracing the curve of her breast before tapping a rhythm out on her stomach, his eyes dark with question and concern. She smiles slightly at him, wanting to put the scowl developing at ease once more. Eliot doesn’t take the bait, his gentle caressing stops and his eyes become troubled. She knows the line has been crossed and there is no turning back and she knows the consequences.

“I was wondering if there would be a place in your life for me… beyond what we have going on here.” She says and Eliot tenses, sucking in a breath as his eyes widen for a moment, a look of horror streaking through those eyes like lightning. Suddenly she regrets having said anything at all but it is too late, Eliot’s already pulling away from her, getting ready to run. Quickly Eliot pulls away from her, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed they’d shared numerous times. She watches as the mangled flesh of his back tightens, the muscles moving as he breathes and brings his hands up to scrub at his face.

“We both agreed that this isn’t something we’d carry through with. It was a deal we made when we started this… now your changing the deal.” He breathes softly, the southern drawl hardened. She feels anger boiling in the pit of her stomach at his words and with anger she snarls.  

“Is that all this is Eliot? Is this just a business deal?”  The defined shoulders tighten as Eliot gathers himself to stand, his back still to her. The sheet slips from his nude form, giving her a full picture of the scars marring his body, the map of a man’s soul. She seethes in anger as Eliot wordlessly gathers up his clothing, slipping the boxers and jeans on. She watches as the scars she’d just caressed are hidden behind cotton and denim, much like the man’s heart.

“We made this work and it would have continued to work if you didn’t start looking into the future.” He responds slowly, his hands pulling the shift over his head, the long hair falling over his features. She sits up and stands, her bare feet hitting the hard wood floor.

“Excuse me for thinking we had something, for thinking we’d have a future together with children and a family.” She can feel the tears pricking behind her eyes but stubbornly forces them back, not wanting to break down in front of the man.

“It would never have worked; I’m not the settling kind. If this had developed into something like that I’d just end up leaving you behind.” He says honestly, his words cutting sharply into her heart.

“I know this is right Eliot. We’re meant for each other.”  She pleads and watches as a sad smile crosses the man’s features, his fully dressed figure so guarded and lonesome.

“It’s a cruel joke that’s been played on you then, because you can’t be meant for a renegade like me, it’s just not right.” He responds and turns, his booted feet making clomping noises across the floor and the door knob squeaking under his hand as he turns it. The darkness of my apartment beyond the door swallows the man, his figure fading into the darkness as his boots go silent. His words echo in her head as she sobs into her blankets, arms curled around the pillow he’s just vacated, the warmth of his body soaking into her skin as her tears stain the pillow.

Title: A Matter of Family 

Rating: G

Disclaimer: I don’t own and no money is being made.

Pairings: None, a little Parker/Eliot Friendship

Summary: Parker helps Eliot unpack.

Author Note: I merged two things together on this one. Christian Kane played Abe Wheeler on “Into the West” episodes “Hell on Wheels” and “Dreams and Schemes” (I think their episodes 4 and 5) I took the liberty of using that history for Eliot. Not going to reveal too much. The image was made in PS CS3.

“What’s all this stuff?” Parker asks, picking through one of the many boxes Eliot had placed in his newly renovated room. It had been Nate’s idea actually to move everyone into the massive mansion. The others had readily agreed to the idea and soon started moving their possessions from their condo’s and apartments to their newly renovated apartment like rooms in the mansion. Eliot had been a bit more reluctant to join the team in the massive house, being a man who liked his privacy. It took Sophie, Nate and Hardison nearly two months to convince the man to move in and then when he did agree it took him another three months to renovate his room the way he wanted it. Now, with the room finished and ready to be inhabited the long haired man was finally moving his things from the small studio apartment on the opposite side of town. The last box was in the man’s hands when Parker had asked, prying open the box to pick out a few small items. Eliot dropped the box of books with a loud thud on the hardwood floor of the sitting area before walking over to look at the items on the box.

“That’s just some things I threw into the box.” He says stonily before pulling the box away from the thief and heading to the small mini fridge in the corner and grabbing a Budweiser. Parker stands from where she’d been kneeling and allows an old tarnished gold pocket watch to drop from her hand 

“So, what’s this then?” she asks slyly and Eliot chokes a bit on the beer before swallowing and glaring at the blond thief.

“Parker, put it down. That thing’s over a hundred years old.” He says and steps towards the woman, only to have Parker back up a few steps and lean against the back of the couch, her fingers still playing with the watch.

“Well if it’s just a ‘thing you threw in the box’ why are you so anxious about me holding it?” she asks childishly as she examines the old watch, popping it open and tapping on the glass before closing it gently. Eliot gives a sigh and makes a gesture that Parker only smiles at

“Beyond me being a thief.” She clarifies with a roll of her eyes and Eliot takes another swig of his beer before putting it down on the half wall and walking towards the small woman. Parker watches Eliot skeptically, knowing he wouldn’t physically harm her but doesn’t put it beyond his temperament to threaten it. Eliot pauses for a moment, having sensed the thief’s hesitation and for a moment Parker sees the flicker of sadness pass over his face before his eyes narrow slightly and his hands go to his hips.

“It’s just a family heirloom that’s all. Damn thing doesn’t even work.” He responds tersely, his eyes never leaving Parker’s. Parker looks down at the old trinket and smiles sadly at it, pushing gently on the catch to open the watch, stroking the intact glass over the black hands and pure white back. With gentleness born out of respect for the item and whatever history it might possess the thief closes the lid and holds it out for Eliot to take. Cautiously the long haired specialist takes the old pocket watch and nods his head a look of relief flashing briefly as he turns the old trinket in his hand.

“You know, for something that you don’t care about you got real defensive while I had it.” Parker says thoughtfully, a small smile pulling on the young woman’s lips as she moves back to the box of stuff, digging through it lightly. Eliot gives a soft sigh and relents to her curiosity, knowing the blond thief won’t leave until she’s satisfied the curiosity that is making her pull out the old and ragged photographs, inspecting them all closely. Gently Eliot settles down on the floor beside the box, placing the watch safely in one of the many small boxes along with several old coins. Picking up some of the old photographs Eliot glances at them before putting them aside, his hands picking up memories and mind filling in the stories he was told as a child.

“Ohh this is pretty.” Parker says, pulling out an old and tarnished locket, her eyes widening. Eliot watches as the other woman looks it over closely before putting his hand out.

“Let me see it, there’s a trick to getting it open.” He explains and gives the woman a smile as he gently opens the silver locket, exposing the two old photographs in the ovals before handing it back. Parker gives a soft breath as she brings the photographs close to her nose, scanning them.

“Who are they?” she asks, handing the locket back to the specialist who studies the photographs before closing the lid and putting it with the old watch. Eliot leans back and counts for a moment in his head before responding.

“That would be my great, great, great, grandfather Abraham Wheeler and his wife Judith.” He informs the other criminal and Parker blink for a moment before it dawns on her and she gestures to the watch and locket

“So when you said that watch is over a hundred years old you mean it!” she exclaims and Eliot nods grimly, flipping through several framed photographs before producing one of his ancestors and hands it over to Parker who takes it cautiously. The woman holds the old picture and frame delicately as she examines the image of the man, her eyes widening. The man indeed looks like Eliot, a bit younger in this image and with much longer hair, but the angles and curves of his face are the same, even the piercing stare. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Eliot and then back at the photograph, then back at Eliot.

“Wow… I’ve never seen a family resemblance like this.” She says and hands back to the old image which Eliot repacks into the box before replacing all the other items. Parker watches him pack away his memories and heirlooms, a confused pout coming to her face.

“Why do you do that?” she asks suddenly as Eliot hauls himself back to his feet and stops, looking at the reclining thief quizzically, his eyebrow raised. Parker blows out a breath that moves her bangs before gesturing to the box.

“Why do you pack everything away, I mean their your family.” She clarifies and watches as Eliot tenses and walks away and picks up his beer, taking another long gulp before moving to the other boxes. He’s adamant on ignoring the other woman as he picks up one of the boxes designated for the bedroom, intending on heading there when Parker steps in front of him, arms folded across her chest and a determined set to her jaw. With a growl Eliot tries to continue to the bedroom by going around the woman, but Parker steps in the way again. This goes on for a few more minutes, this strange dance of avoidance and confrontation until finally Eliot let’s the box drop from his hand and land on the floor with a loud bang. His temper flares at the woman and he backs away a few steps, running a hand through his long hair.

“Parker, I would like to get unpacked before doomsday.” He snarls at the woman, his anger edging his words in that dangerous way that makes people back away, but not Parker. The fearless thief just stands, arms crossed and a defiant light in her eyes.

“No, I want you to answer my question.” She responds icily, rooted to the spot. For a moment to Eliot the scene morphs back to the kitchen in the old farm house when he was nineteen and his younger sister was standing in front of the door, blocking his departure from the house. Her stance and determination mimicking Parker’s perfectly, causing Eliot to shiver at the memory. That had been the last time he’d seen his family beyond the day his grandfather died. He showed up to the funeral, paid his respects and was on his way back to the base when the box had been thrust into his hands, his father’s grim face stony and voice hard.

“He wanted you to have these. Don’t know why, your just an ungrateful little bastard.” Those had been the last words to pass between Eliot and his father. Eliot sucks in a breath and blinks and suddenly the image shifts back to Parker standing defiantly in front of him. A small smile pulls at Eliot’s lips and he looks down at his hands, his mind scrambling for a good response.

He doesn’t find one.

“So there isn’t a reason?” Parker says at his silence and Eliot finally nods, running a hand through his hair and shrugging. Parker’s arms fall to her sides and she walks to Eliot, staring hard at the broody man.

“You know I grew up and orphan. I didn’t know my parents and if I had things like you have, the pocket watch and the pictures, the lockets and other things I’d display them with pride. I mean… I would do anything to know my family, know where they came from, what they did. For all I know, I could be a lost descendent of one of the presidents!” she says, the final words coming out in a laugh that makes Eliot smile broadly, his arms crossing over his chest in a defensive gesture to the personal moment.

“Yeah Parker, a real Kennedy.” He remarks and the young woman smacks him lightly in the arm before stepping back and looking around his sparse apartment.

“You have to know where you came from, in order to not get lost in the future.” She says cryptically and for a moment Eliot muses over the words. He cocks an eyebrow as the younger woman turns and smiles at him

“Let me guess, fortune cookies for breakfast?” Eliot asks, pointing at her before heading back to the box he had dropped and picking it back up. Heading for the bedroom Eliot’s hearing picks up the soft response from Parker.

“Something like that.”

End.

Hope you enjoyed it. Leave me a comment if you deem it worthy!
 

“It’s starting to get colder.” Parker says, this time looking at the long haired man and noticing the fine tremors of his chilled muscles and she wonders if he can feel his body’s protest to the cold. Her own eyes travel upward to the fighter’s face, finding his eyes a long ways off, unfocused and seeing something other than the graveyard and the snow falling lazily to the ground. In some ways Parker understands his reluctance to leave but in others ways she can’t begin to grasp his relationship with the deceased man.

What did he owe this man that makes him stand a silent and memory ridden vigil over his grave hours after the other mourners had turned the page of this chapter in their lives and looked foreword to moving on, letting bygones be bygones and not dwell of the life of the man long past.

What made the specialist unable to do the same?

It’s unnerving to the blond thief to see the usually active minded man so silent and still, the only motion is his breathing and the soft trembling of too cold muscles. She watches him a moment longer before turning to look again for the black town car that should be returning to pick them up any moment. When the funeral was finished and the hole covered everyone else had returned to the warm confines of their cars, heading to whatever destination they needed to be at, leaving Eliot alone. Sophie had offered to stay but Eliot declined her with a sad smile. Hardison stood beside him for several minutes before squeezing his shoulder and walking back to the car with Sophie. Parker was the only one who stayed, silently keeping watch for whatever reasons. The sound of a car’s engine draws the blond thief’s attention away from the man, finding Nate standing beside the door, his face impassive.

“Come on Eliot, it’s time to go.” Parker insists, pulling gently on the man’s arm which tightens reflectively before allowing himself to be pulled away.

“Fifteen years Parker. It’s been fifteen years since I last saw him before yesterday. I never got to truly say good-bye and sorry for walking away all those years ago.” He says softly and for a moment Parker’s at a loss of what to say, fervently wishing it was Sophie standing here in the cold beside the emotionally wrought man.

But she wasn’t, Parker was.

“I think he knew Eliot. I mean, most parents love their children even when they screw up right?” she asks, half wanting to know for herself and half trying to help the man. For a moment Eliot is silent before he nods and a small smile breaks his face, not reaching his eyes but Parker can see the meaning behind it.

“He never approved you know? Was mad as hell when he had to come and pick me up out of jail for stealing and general mischief… tried to beat it out of me.” He laughs softly as he reveals a bit of his life to the thief, her blue eyes watching him intently.

“He use to tell me how I shamed the Carpenter name and how I will forever be a disgrace. But whenever I needed help he was there, until I walked away. I walked away and never looked back.” He finishes and Parker pipes up, the grip on his arm still tight

“Until yesterday.” She clarifies and the specialist nods and smiles

“Until yesterday.” He agrees and with a final look at the plot he turns on his heel, his head held high as he walks back to the car. Parker, still hooked to Eliot’s arm walks with him but stops as they reach the large car

“Wait… your name is Carpenter?” she asks and Eliot pauses for a moment before nodding, his icy blue eyes never leaving her face. Parker gives a giggle and smiles madly.

“I like Carpenter… Spencer never suited you.” She smiles at the man before opening the door and climbing into the warmth of the car, leaving Eliot to ponder her words a moment. With a final look at the burial plot three rows away from the road Eliot sighs

“I never liked it either.” He says softly before getting in and slamming the door. Sophie leans foreword and hugs him once more before Hardison holds out his fist for a bump that Eliot gives whole heartedly. Parker sits beside him, smiling sheepishly before nudging his shoulder while Nate pours a toast of brandy for every. With glasses in hand he commences a toast while the car rambles on to the airport

“To family.” He says and Eliot nods, clinking glasses and downs the brandy with determination to start a fresh page of his life today, with a whole new family that had come to fill the hole left by the parting of ways with his own father.

End.