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phantismaFandom: Leverage
Title: The Whip Lash Job (Part 5)
Charcater: Eliot, Parker
Rating: NC-17 (for theme if nothing else)
Word Count: 710
Summary: While Eliot is off working a solo job, Nate & the crew bite off a bit more than they can chew.
A/Ns & Warnings: So that second card for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
angst_bingo Yeah...![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
badfalcon picked the Leverage fandom for five prompts from that card. This is the fifth of those five prompts. Written for my second card for angst_bingo.
The cold water slammed against him as he did his best to protect his dislocated shoulder and keep Parker in reach. Gunshots rang out, but in the dark they were just tiny dots on a dark ocean. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t be followed. Just that they had a little time to get further away before they managed to get boats in the water.
Beside him, Parker surfaced, sputtering. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her, but he knew the salt water couldn’t be helping the pain. He’d seen the blood, the fear in her eyes.
He held his right arm close to his body and pulled her close. “Parker, we need to swim.”
She nodded, looking around them. “That way.”
They moved slowly, hampered by the cold and their injuries and the constant checking behind them…but eventually they made it to the buoy and the jetski he’d called in a favor to get tethered there for them.
It wasn’t long after that they made the shore, climbing up onto the docks. Eliot rolled onto his back on the wood, panting. They couldn’t stop moving, not until they were well away and hiding someplace safe.
Parker shivered as he rolled to his feet, pulling her up with his good hand. “Come on.” She was fading fast, but he had a car stashed nearby with dry clothes and a place they could hole up for a few days, recover.
All he had to do was get them there.
The car was where he’d left it and he pulled the key from the hiding spot, opening the trunk and pointing Parker to the towels and dry clothes. He needed to get his shoulder popped back in. He found a pillar and leaned against it for a moment, then gritted his teeth and threw his shoulder into it, yelling as the pain lanced through him and the joint adjusted itself.
He hissed through his teeth as he crossed back to the car, peeling off his wet clothes as he went. Parker had her pants on, her back to him. He stopped her from putting the shirt on with his good hand on her shoulder. “Let me look.” His voice was dark and raspy from the choking and she shivered. Her back was a mess of welts and bruises and open wounds from a whip or more likely a cat o’nine tails.
Her head was bowed and she was trembling. “Get dressed. I’ll look at it when we’re safe.” He dressed quickly, helping Parker into the car before climbing in. He fished his phone from the glove box and got them moving. His finger pressed the button for Hardison. “You scatter?”
He didn’t have time for Hardison’s rambling and he cut through it with a harsh, “Hardison.”
“Yeah, man. We’re gone.”
“Good. Lay low. I’ve got Parker. I’ll find you when it’s safe.”
He tore through the industrial area and headed toward the south end of Boston. Parker shivered beside him, all huddled into herself, eyes staring vacantly out the window.
He knew he hadn’t gotten to her soon enough. He knew she’d been touched, violated. It was his fault because he couldn’t find a better way in than to let himself get taken and then fight his way out.
He also knew he had more to deal with than just the lacerations on her back and her emotional state, which with Parker could be strangely precarious on the best of days. There was his own physical condition, which might be worse than hers, considering. The wound in his side was bleeding again, broken open by the exertion in the water and getting up the ladder, and the broken ribs were worrying him a little.
Still, he got them to the small apartment he had kept hidden, got them inside and locked the door. They would shower the salt off of them, and he would tend her wounds, then his own. They would lay low a couple of days, then switch cars and head south and west.
He would help her get past what happened to her and they would maybe rejoin the others in a few weeks or months.
Then, maybe, they would go after the bastard. The right way this time.
Title: The Whip Lash Job (Part 5)
Charcater: Eliot, Parker
Rating: NC-17 (for theme if nothing else)
Word Count: 710
Summary: While Eliot is off working a solo job, Nate & the crew bite off a bit more than they can chew.
A/Ns & Warnings: So that second card for
angst_bingo Yeah...badfalcon picked the Leverage fandom for five prompts from that card. This is the fifth of those five prompts. Written for my second card for angst_bingo.The cold water slammed against him as he did his best to protect his dislocated shoulder and keep Parker in reach. Gunshots rang out, but in the dark they were just tiny dots on a dark ocean. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t be followed. Just that they had a little time to get further away before they managed to get boats in the water.
Beside him, Parker surfaced, sputtering. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her, but he knew the salt water couldn’t be helping the pain. He’d seen the blood, the fear in her eyes.
He held his right arm close to his body and pulled her close. “Parker, we need to swim.”
She nodded, looking around them. “That way.”
They moved slowly, hampered by the cold and their injuries and the constant checking behind them…but eventually they made it to the buoy and the jetski he’d called in a favor to get tethered there for them.
It wasn’t long after that they made the shore, climbing up onto the docks. Eliot rolled onto his back on the wood, panting. They couldn’t stop moving, not until they were well away and hiding someplace safe.
Parker shivered as he rolled to his feet, pulling her up with his good hand. “Come on.” She was fading fast, but he had a car stashed nearby with dry clothes and a place they could hole up for a few days, recover.
All he had to do was get them there.
The car was where he’d left it and he pulled the key from the hiding spot, opening the trunk and pointing Parker to the towels and dry clothes. He needed to get his shoulder popped back in. He found a pillar and leaned against it for a moment, then gritted his teeth and threw his shoulder into it, yelling as the pain lanced through him and the joint adjusted itself.
He hissed through his teeth as he crossed back to the car, peeling off his wet clothes as he went. Parker had her pants on, her back to him. He stopped her from putting the shirt on with his good hand on her shoulder. “Let me look.” His voice was dark and raspy from the choking and she shivered. Her back was a mess of welts and bruises and open wounds from a whip or more likely a cat o’nine tails.
Her head was bowed and she was trembling. “Get dressed. I’ll look at it when we’re safe.” He dressed quickly, helping Parker into the car before climbing in. He fished his phone from the glove box and got them moving. His finger pressed the button for Hardison. “You scatter?”
He didn’t have time for Hardison’s rambling and he cut through it with a harsh, “Hardison.”
“Yeah, man. We’re gone.”
“Good. Lay low. I’ve got Parker. I’ll find you when it’s safe.”
He tore through the industrial area and headed toward the south end of Boston. Parker shivered beside him, all huddled into herself, eyes staring vacantly out the window.
He knew he hadn’t gotten to her soon enough. He knew she’d been touched, violated. It was his fault because he couldn’t find a better way in than to let himself get taken and then fight his way out.
He also knew he had more to deal with than just the lacerations on her back and her emotional state, which with Parker could be strangely precarious on the best of days. There was his own physical condition, which might be worse than hers, considering. The wound in his side was bleeding again, broken open by the exertion in the water and getting up the ladder, and the broken ribs were worrying him a little.
Still, he got them to the small apartment he had kept hidden, got them inside and locked the door. They would shower the salt off of them, and he would tend her wounds, then his own. They would lay low a couple of days, then switch cars and head south and west.
He would help her get past what happened to her and they would maybe rejoin the others in a few weeks or months.
Then, maybe, they would go after the bastard. The right way this time.
