Chapter Text
He was back and she was still here. For a little while anyway. He smiled warmly at her as he watched her sleep. In all his years and all his experiences, he’d never met anyone like her before or since. From the beginning she’d been both frustrating and fascinating for him.
Both times Claire came storming into his life he’d been completely blindsided. Not once did he ever see her coming. Definitely not the first time, when he’d overheard her so eloquently telling Chapman to “Fuck off” and then watched her dare him to lay a hand on her. She was all fire and impulse with an inevitable explosion following in her wake. Inevitable. That was a good word for her. He should have known it was inevitable she’d find her way back to him too. But he didn’t. His heart had stopped when Moreau called out her name. He’d told himself she’d gotten away from Moreau and maybe he really believed that or maybe it was a lie he’d convinced himself of so he didn’t have to think about her still there. She was still beautiful, but her fire had dimmed a little and her gaze was more careful and guarded than he’d ever seen it. Had Moreau done that to her? Had the monster tried to smother the flame completely? If he’d had a few more years the bastard may have succeeded.
But he didn’t and she was out now. Safe. For the time being anyway.
She had plans. Eliot knew she did. She wanted freedom and enough room to stretch her legs. He understood that. She’d been caged for far too long, but selfishly he wanted to keep her with him as long as he could. He’d bartered for two weeks and, thankfully, he’d gotten it. She didn’t realize this right now, but the first week with Moreau finally gone would be her hardest. It would hit her sooner or later and then she’d crash. He knew she would. It had happened to him.
He was determined to be there when she hit that wall.
Right now, she was asleep, naked and curled into his side. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but he’d heard her whimper once or twice already and her muscles were tense. That alone told him something was wrong. She whispered something in her sleep and buried her face in his chest before she whimpered again. He ran a hand through her red waves and moved the hair off her neck. She was sweating and it was starting to stick. As he moved her hair he felt something along the hairline at the base of her neck. Several somethings, actually, and he knew exactly what they were. Little round burn scars in easily hidden places, usually indicated a cigarette butt had been there once upon a time. These were too old to be Moreau’s work though. They’d healed too much for that.
He sighed and placed a kiss on her forehead. No wonder she adapted to Moreau’s abuse so easily. She’d been through it before. He heard a sob escape her lips and held her tighter. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Relax,” he whispered against her forehead. Hoping somehow she’d hear him through whatever nightmare she was having. It appeared to work for a moment. The tension in her muscles eased a bit and she snuggled further into him, but a second later she awoke with a startled gasping sob and moved herself as far away from him as possible. He watched her for a moment as she curled into herself on the opposite side of the bed and just listened.
Desperate choking sobs and it sounded like she was having trouble breathing. Was she hyperventilating? Had she hit that wall he’d been dreading since they’d gotten her away from Moreau?
He reached across the bed and pulled her to him. She was still turned away and curled into herself, though. Her hands covered her face and he could feel her shaking. He draped an arm over her middle and pulled her bare back against his chest. “Claire,” he said softly. He’d started to say something else but apparently that was enough because she immediately turned, wrapped her arms around him tightly and buried her face in his chest as she continued to choke out sobs.
“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he said with a gulp. “What’s going on? Did you have a nightmare?”
She nodded against his chest.
“Tell me about it?” He asked gently. “Trust me, if anyone understands nightmares it’s me.”
She did nothing but sob for a few more long moments and he was afraid she was too lost in her fear to hear him. But finally she managed to speak. “There were p-people, s-s-so many people. I couldn’t—I couldn’t—“ she stopped and buried her face into his chest again with her eyes shut tight. She removed her arms from around him and ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. She stuttered a few more times before she could continue but he could barely hear her through her hands. “People piled on top of people. All dead. And I—Oh god, I helped him. I helped him. He moved all of those weapons into the hands of—people died and I helped him.”
And there it was. The Wall.
The sobbing started again and soon her words became nonsense. She was trying to talk but through the shaking and the sobbing he couldn’t understand what she was saying. He did the only thing he knew to do. He held her, stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, let her cry. Nothing else would help at this point. She wasn’t taking in much air, he could feel her struggling for a breath.
“Okay,” he said soothingly. “You gotta breathe, darlin’. You’re gonna make yourself sick.”
“Monsters don’t—“ shuddering breath. “D-deserve to—“ heartwrenching sob. “Breathe.”
He tried not to wince as the full force of her words hit his ears, but he couldn’t help it. He knew exactly what she was feeling. He felt it himself nearly every day. He kissed her forehead again and then tucked his hand under her chin to force her to look at him. “Sit up. Stay here. And, please, breathe. I’m going to get you some water. Okay?”
She nodded and reluctantly released him. He waited until she was sitting up with her back against the headboard before he left for the kitchen. He came back a short moment later with a bottled water and placed it in her hands.
“Drink it slowly,” he told her. “And then we’ll talk about it.”
She did as he asked and after a couple of sips she surprised him by reaching out and lacing her fingers through his. She clutched at his hand like a lifeline. He’d never seen her like this before but then she’d been through some pretty tough shit in the last five years they were apart. And, he thought, probably in the 19 years leading up to their meeting as well. Though, she’d never disclosed any of that to him just as he’d never disclosed any of his past to her. It was a silent agreement they’d fallen into. Don’t ask, don’t tell.
“Hey,” he said softly as he squeezed her hand to get her attention. She turned an empty gaze on him and he stroked her hand with his thumb in an attempt at a comforting gesture. He met her eyes and gave her a meaningful look. “You did what you had to…to survive.”
She let out a short sob that almost sounded like a chuckle and spoke in a hollow tone. “It wasn’t worth it. I’m not—I’m not worth it.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” Eliot told her quickly. He knew where this was heading and it was a dangerous place. One he needed to make sure she stayed away from.
“Then who does?” She asked. “Because whoever chooses, chose wrong. I should have let myself die. I mean I’d resigned myself to it anyway. I knew he would end up killing me. I knew it. Why am I not dead, Eliot? I should be. Everything I did for them. Everything I helped them accomplish.”
His brow furrowed. Them? She was talking about more than one person now. What exactly did she do before Moreau that led her to where she was now? She clearly wasn’t proud of it. “I don’t know who chooses, but you’re still here for a reason, Claire. You just have to find it.”
“I’m not you. There’s no happy little found family waiting for me out there. It’s just me. It’s always just me,” Claire told him as tears streaked down her cheeks. She wasn’t sobbing anymore, he decided to take that as a good sign.
He squeezed her hand again. “It’s not just you. Not anymore. You may not want me around all the time and I get that, but I’m here. All you gotta do is call and I’m there. Where ever you are, if you need me, I’ll find you.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and her tears fell freely before she looked at him with confused questioning eyes. “Why?”
“Because if anyone knows what this is, this feeling you have of guilt and loss and worthlessness, it’s me. I’m the person who understands that best. You got bodies and screaming faces in your dreams, I got ‘em in mine too. Only I can promise you mine are a lot louder and a lot bloodier. You got things to atone for, so do I. I dealt with this same thing, years ago, but unlike you I didn’t have anyone to tell,” he said honestly. “Why do you think I only sleep an hour and a half a night? You think I want to do that? No, sweetheart, I don’t get a choice. That’s the hand I played. I know I’m going to hell. I have no doubts. I just figure I should do a little good with whatever time I got left.”
She gasped softly and then set the water bottle down on the bedside table. He started to ask her if everything was okay, but she curled herself into him and pressed a kiss on his neck. She sniffled before she spoke again. “I used to tell myself that same thing every morning. That exact thing.”
“See?” Eliot said with a bitter half smile. “Not just you.” He kissed her temple and wrapped an arm around her.
“How do you deal with it? With…everything?” She asked in a hushed tone. Almost as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“One day at a time,” he answered.
She shuddered and he pulled the covers around them. Though, he wasn’t sure she was actually cold. “Does it ever get easier?” She asked.
“Eventually,” he told her. “It might take a while.” He paused thoughtfully before he continued. “It’s better when you’ve got other people around.” He knew she wanted to leave and he understood why, but he couldn’t resist trying to persuade her to stay.
She let out a soggy chuckle at him. “Good try, Spencer, but no dice.”
Of course, she saw right through that. He should know better than to try and fool a grifter, he supposed. But the chuckle was a good sign. It was a welcome sound after listening to her sobbing and gasping for air. “At least I made you laugh,” he said with a grin as he rubbed her arm comfortingly.
She chuckled again and rested a hand on his chest, over his heart. “At least.” She turned further toward him until she could comfortably rest her chin on his chest. “Thank you,” she said as her red eyes met his. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so vulnerable. She was raw and bare and had just revealed her darkest thoughts to him. It spoke volumes about how she felt about him. He knew that, even if she didn’t.
He reached up and ran a hand through her long red waves. He didn’t miss the slight wince when he reached her hairline. He wasn’t sure now was the right time to tell her he’d seen the burns. But he must have given himself away because she sighed and smiled sadly at him.
“You found them, didn’t you? The burns?” She asked.
“Wasn’t looking for ‘em or anything, I was just moving your hair out of the way,” He said calmly as his thumb brushed against one of the burns. “They’re too old to come from Moreau,” he told her.
“You’re too good at spotting old wounds. I don’t want to know how you earned that skill, okay?” She told him with a slightly teasing glare. Her tone sounded light but he felt her tense next to him.
“When you have as many injuries as I do you learn to spot the signs,” He told her. She still didn’t relax so he continued. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. I don’t expect you to.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and gave him a grateful look. “I don’t doubt I’ll tell you eventually, Eliot, but just…not tonight. I’m a little too emotionally exhausted to go down that road right now.”
He didn’t blame her for that. He wasn’t exactly eager to divulge his past to her, no matter how much he trusted her. And he did trust her. More than he thought possible. He was very aware just how dangerous that was. It would probably lead to trouble, for both of them.
He felt her shift next to him and looked down to find her cuddling into him and finally closing her eyes again. Her head rested against his chest and her breathing deepened. He rubbed a hand up and down her back soothingly. She placed a featherlight kiss to his chest before she slowly relaxed against him and drifted off to sleep again. He used the hand that wasn’t on her back to move the curtain of red hair off her face and watched her for a moment.
Okay, not probably. It would definitely lead to trouble. But, he thought, any trouble that followed them would be worth it. Completely worth it.
In the morning Eliot was careful not to wake Claire. He decided to let her sleep as long as her body would let her. He didn’t know what she would be up for when she woke but he knew she needed to get out of this apartment. They hadn’t talked much but based on her expanded wardrobe he had a feeling Tara took her out at some point, but a shopping trip wasn’t really freedom in his opinion.
There was no one chasing her now. There was no one Claire needed to hide from, at least not in the states as far as he knew. She’d once mentioned a couple of warrants in Italy but she didn’t seem too worried about it and so neither was he. She was free to explore Boston and he thought, maybe, he could show her around. After everything Moreau put her through she deserved it.
He stepped out into his living room and sighed. He forgot that Claire was, to put it bluntly, a slob. Her clothes and shoes were everywhere. At least she kept his kitchen clean. That was probably more out of respect for him than her own personal need, he thought with an amused grin. She knew how protective he was over a good kitchen. He started to straighten up by picking up some of the things she’d left lying around and when he picked up the clutch she’d left on his coffee table a passport fell out. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop and Claire never left things out in the open that she didn’t want found so he didn’t see the harm in flipping through it.
It was a fresh, stamped once, New Zealand passport. Too new to be one she would have kept in her go bag and the ID had her picture but the first name Isla. He smirked and shook his head. So, that was who she would run off to be after their two weeks were up. It figured she’d have that plan worked out already. He didn’t blame her either. After being trapped for so long the need to run was only natural. He put the passport in the clutch and dropped it off with her clothes in the guest room. He realized, suddenly, that he was about to see a different Claire than he’d ever known before. A truly free Claire. One who could fly away at any moment if she wanted to. He was curious what that Claire would be like. He’d never known that Claire. Though, to be fair, she never really acted as if she were trapped before. She may have felt it and thought it but she disguised it with sarcasm and flirtation and an air of confidence that drew in entire rooms of people.
She was something else, and he only knew a small part of her. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about the rest. About her past before Moreau. But he knew what asking her about that would mean, it would mean he’d have to share his own past in return. That was something he’d rather avoid reliving if at all possible so he left it alone. And, to be honest, he wasn’t planning on opening up that door any time soon. She knew about what he’d done while working for Moreau, that was bad enough. He’d rather she not know the rest.
“Do you really only sleep an hour and a half a night?” Claire’s voice asked from his bedroom doorway. “I mean it makes sense when I think about it. I’ve never ever woken up before you. Not once.”
He turned to find her leaning against the doorframe in a flannel button down of his and took a long moment to breathe her in. Petite curvy frame with fiery red hair and challenging blue eyes met by an understanding smile. He made a note to himself to remember how she looked at that moment. Her hair wasn’t straight like she normally kept it and her make up had been washed away. Just long frizzy waves and fair freckled skin remained. Only the essentials, the way he liked her best.
He nodded to answer her question. “On average, yes. Some nights I’ll sleep a little longer, but typically I only need an hour and a half.”
“And you can still function like a human?” She asked with a quirked brow. “I’m impressed.”
He didn’t bring up the previous night as she approached him. He didn’t need to. She’d never shied away from talking to him before so he knew she’d bring it up if she wanted to talk. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled fondly at him.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For last night. I’m glad you were there.”
He gave her a half smile and nodded once. “I may not be there when you want me but I’m always there when you need me.”
“Ditto,” she answered with a grin. “So,” she said as she changed the subject and effectively closed the book on her emotional night. “Your two weeks officially starts today. What are you gonna do with it, Spencer?”
“For starters,” he said as he brushed a stray hair out of her face. “I’m getting you out of this apartment. If only so you don’t make a mess of it again.”
She chuckled at him and shook her head. “I’m a slob and you love it. For a hitter you’re surprisingly domestic and can’t resist cleaning up after me. Admit it, it makes you feel needed.”
He smirked and poked her side playfully. She let out a small yelping laugh and squirmed before he answered her. “Domestic ain’t a word most folks would use to describe me, you know.”
“Most folks don’t really know you that well. Do they?” She said in her Eliot voice that she’d nearly perfected years ago.
“Or they don’t know me at all,” he told her. “I keep it that way. Everybody stays safe when I do.”
“So then why me?” She asked him seriously. “All those years ago, why’d you let me in?”
He probably shouldn’t have let her in. She might have been better off if he hadn’t, but even years later he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. She was probably the first thing that made him want to have a life again and to be something more than what he was. He couldn’t regret her. “You were different,” he said briefly.
When he didn’t continue she rolled her eyes at him and chuckled teasingly. “Thanks. That explains everything. No need to continue,” she told him with a sarcastic grin.
He shook his head at her. “You know I’m not—I don’t know, I’m not too good at this stuff.”
She smiled warmly at him and nodded. “So, don’t tell me what you felt. Tell me what you thought. What you honestly thought when this all first started.”
“You were…alive,” he said finally. “Vibrant. You stood out and made the world seem like a place to live, not just a place to bide my time. I hadn’t felt that in a very long time. Plus, you were annoying as hell.”
She feigned an offended look before she laughed loudly. “You weren’t much better, Grumpy.”
“Yeah, well, somebody had to keep you from jumping in to those cons head first and trying to coast by on luck. Sometimes I think you don’t have a tactical bone in your body,” he said with a teasing smirk.
“Having a plan is over rated. Sometimes you just have to rely on your gut,” she told him stubbornly. “I still believe that. The Italian hated it. She had plans to back up her back up plans.”
“Remind me to never let you ask Nate about his back up plans,” Eliot told her. “That’s an argument that would never end.”
“Back up plans? Plural?” She asked in disbelief. “How many plans does he have on a regular job by job basis?”
“He never says really, but I figure 26. One for every letter of the alphabet,” Eliot said with a smirk. “Typically, Hardison dies around plan M.”
It was music to his ears when she laughed loud and long at that. He hadn’t heard her laugh that hard since long before he’d left Moreau’s crew five years ago. She rested her head against his shoulder as she laughed and then grinned back up at him. “So, Hardison dies first, huh?”
Eliot nodded. “Usually.”
“Makes sense,” she said lightly. “He seems like the panicky type.”
This time it was Eliot’s turn to laugh. He let out a short laugh at that. “Barely met him twice and you’ve already got him pegged.”
She smirked and shrugged. “I’m a quick study.”
“That’s good to know,” Eliot said with a grin.
“Why’s that?” She asked warily.
“Because I think I know what we’re going to do today. You buy any work out clothes with all those cocktail dresses?” He asked her teasingly.
“I don’t like the sound of this,” she said as she gave him a suspicious glance. “You know I don’t do well with exercise.”
“C’mon, Lanier,” Eliot said with a chuckle. “Live a little.”
She smiled slowly and sinfully at him. “Oh trust me, Spencer, I got a lot of livin’ left to do and I’m just gettin’ started.”
“Easy, Darlin’, your troublemakin’ southerner is showing,” he said with a slow smile of his own. The longer she talked the more her accent slipped back into her speech. She probably didn’t even notice it.
“Let her, I owe her a little fun,” Claire said with a wink. “You win. Let me get changed.”
She slowly released him and then sauntered away toward his guest room. He knew his eyes were on her the whole time, but he didn’t think any man could resist watching Claire Lanier walk away. She had power in that walk and she knew it.