This is an ongoing Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.
Fade in from commercial. Alec Hardison has a pistol aimed at Lady Anastasia. Eliot rolls up on the balls of his feet, shouting.
Ana is already moving. The team watches her move, but she is quick – as quick as Eliot, maybe quicker; she moves like a cheetah, grace and deadly speed.
Eliot, already moving, changes directions mid-stride. “Ana, please!”
“She’s Ana now, is she?” There isn’t time for Sophie to say anything more than that; Ana knocks over Hardison with a tackle and disarms him with a move fast enough that nobody really sees it.
“She’s like… Chick Eliot. Hey!” Parker squirms as Eliot – real Eliot, not chick Eliot – grabs her arm. “She’s got Hardison.”
“I know.” Eliot’s voice is tight. “Hardison, hold still.”
“Not that I really have a choice, man.” Ana is sitting on Hardison’s chest, his gun in her hand, her foot on his right ankle. “Eliot, you know this chick?”
“Ah.” Eliot coughs. “Right now, she owns me. Ana, listen.” He clears his throat violently. “Lady Anastasia, please.”
She doesn’t move. “You know these people.”
“They’re… they’re my friends. My team. That’s, ah-”
“Hardison, I’m guessing. He pointed a gun at me.” Her voice is dripping ice. Her finger twitches on the trigger.
“Whoah, whoah. Please.” He drops, very slowly, to his knees. “My lady, I’m…” He clears his throat again. “I’m begging you.”
“You don’t beg.”
“This is my family, my lady. They thought – they -”
Nate clears his throat. “A member of our team went missing, Lady Anastasia.” The title slides off his tongue without effort. “So, quite naturally, we went looking for him. When we realized that he had been taken by slavers, we realized we were going to have to call in local help-”
Lord Lorcan bows. “And as the Duchess and I are old friends…“ He makes the words sound scandalous. “…naturally I offered to help. Anastasia. You have my word these people are not here to hurt you.”
“They pointed a gun at me, Lorcan.” She hasn’t moved except her finger twitching on a trigger. “They pointed a gun at me.”
“And now you’re pointing a gun at them. They are not assassins.”
“Nope. Definitely not assassins. Thieves, sure. Grifters, yep. Not assassins.”
“Parker, do please don’t help.” Sophie’s snark, even, is more careful than normal.
It makes Ana look at them, though. “They – you really are a family, aren’t you?”
Cut to commercial.
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