Tag Archive | collarjob

The Collar Job, Part XIX

This is an ongoing Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

Table of Contents here

Fade in from commercial to find Lord Lorcan the center of attention from the whole room. “I think I have a plan,” he begins. “You see, while the royals of Tír na Cali are as much prisoners in our country as our slaves our on our estates – some might say more so…”

Sophia, Duchess Charlotte Prentiss, is making her goodbyes while her entourage loads the car. “It was so nice of you to let me stay here, Lorcan, and so good to see you again.”

“Lovely to see you as well, Charlotte. You should visit more often, I do so enjoy your company.” He has to stand on his toes to kiss her cheeks, but he does so with no apparent discomfort or embarrassment. “You’re like a breath of fresh air here, and I do get tired of the stagnant ocean breeze.”

Charlotte’s laugh carries, the same way Lorcan’s voice and hers do – by design, without sounding as if they are doing so on purpose. Lorcan is smooth; he could be a grifter himself.

“Oh, Lorcan, you’re so funny. You really should visit me sometime.”

“Oh, I’ll try, but you know how my mother and my grandmum are. They don’t like to let me out of their sight for long.”

“You could tell them I’ll take good care of you, dear.”

“I’m sure they’d believe you, too. Oh,” He makes a moue, “where has my brain gone? I almost forgot my parting gift for you.”

Flash back to Lorcan, who is flipping through images on Lady Anastasia’s laptop – redheaded girl after redheaded girl. “The thing about Californian royalty – well, it’s two things. One. We all look the same. It’s not just dear Ana here and her sisters. We all look the same.”

“Your royals wear collars?” Parker leans forward to study an image – a mug shot, really, a girl in her late teens wearing a steel collar. Her hair is pulled back, and her face is nearly Ana’s.

“Two,” Lorcan answers, without appearing to notice the question, “we tend to fuck our slaves.”

He pretends not to notice the look that Hardison and Parker shoot Eliot.

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The Collar Job, Part XVIII (Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction)

This is an ongoing Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

Table of Contents here

Fade in from commercial. Lady Anastasia has Alec Hardison pinned to the floor, one hand pointing a gun at his chest. Her eyes, however, are on Sophie and Parker.

“You really are a family, aren’t you?”

The two women – and Alec – look to Nate. He clears his throat, and steps forward, commanding Ana’s attention. “We’re a team,” he begins. “We started out as a bunch of professional criminals. The longer we worked together, the more of a team we became.”

“You came here to extract your teammate.” There’s no question at all in her voice. Still on his knees, Eliot rolls his shoulders. “People just don’t get free from a Californian slave collar.”

“We came to steal us an Eliot.” Nate nods, his fingers steepled. “And you caught us out. So the ball is, ah, in your court, Lady Anastasia. What would you have us do?”

“She can’t…” Eliot closes his mouth. Parker stares at him, but the rest of the team appears to be ignoring his presence.

“Whatever we’re doing, can it involve letting me up. Please?” Hardison hasn’t really moved, but he flaps his hands in the direction of Ana.

That, of course, brings her attention back to him. “You pointed a gun at me.”

“And now you’re pointing a gun at me. Can we call it even?”

“What did I tell you about guns?” Eliot’s grumble sounds almost like himself.

“I know, I know, but freaky Californian lady has my friend, what do you want me to do?”

Sophie fields that question, with a much-put out sigh for emphasis. “Ask nicely, Hardison. She seems like a nice, reasonable Lady, doesn’t she?”

“She’s pointing a gun at me.”

“People have tried to kill her before.” Eliot finds his way to his feet. “Hardison isn’t a killer. He barely knows how to use the thing.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Please…”

“Ana.” Lorcan’s voice drops half an octave, and he holds his hands very carefully in front of him. “I swear to you by the Goddess and the Consort that these people are not here to hurt you.”

Ana sits back on her heels. The gun vanishes into the waistband of her pants, and her hands fold on her lap; she is still sitting on Hardison’s legs, but her eyes are on Eliot. “They want their friend back.”

This time, her voice cracks. Her eyes close for a moment, and it is her turn to swallow hard. “Alessia…”

Lorcan blinks. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then nods. “I think I have a plan…”

Cut to commercial.

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The Collar Job, Part XVII

This is an ongoing Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

Table of Contents here

Fade in from commercial. Alec Hardison has a pistol aimed at Lady Anastasia. Eliot rolls up on the balls of his feet, shouting.

“Hardison, no!”

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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The Collar Job, Part XVI

This is an ongoing Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

Table of Contents here

Fade in from commercial to see Ana and Eliot facing the rest of the team and one small Californian Lord.

“Lord Lorcan.” Ana’s eyes trail over the rest of the team. “I see you brought… friends.” Behind her, Eliot sighs. He shifts his weight, just a bit; Parker’s eyes shoot to him. The rest of the team does a better job of staying nonchalant, but Parker’s eyes are on the collar.

It’s only a moment before Hardison’s eyes follow hers, and it’s Sophie and Nate looking at Ana, and with effort, at that.

Lord Lorcan clears his throat, which doesn’t really help matters. Ana’s eyes don’t move off of him, although her stance is every bit as combat-ready as Eliot’s. Sohpie visibly jumps; Nate’s twitch is a little less obvious.

“He’s wearing a collar.” Parker’s whisper really isn’t a whisper.

“Company,” Lorcan agrees, talking rather hurriedly over Parker. “Yes. This is Charlotte Prentiss, Duchess of Hanover. The others are her entourage; she’s in the country visiting and thought she’d like to meet some of my friends.”

“And you brought her here?” Ana makes an expression which bears some resemblance to a smile, although her bow is entirely genuine. “Duchess. It is a pleasure to meet you, your ladyship. I do hope Lorcan’s only said good things about me.”

“I wouldn’t dare do anything but, you know that.” The little lordling is beginning to babble.

Sophie/Charlotte simply smiles, and returns Ana’s bow with a little head-nod of her own. “Your Ladyship, I’ve heard lovely things about you.” Her accent is thick, almost – almost – over the top. “And Lord Lorcan did say you were a lovely young woman.”

“I’m sure he did.” Ana’s eyes rake over the group. “Was that before or after he offered to help you steal back your friend? Lorcan, you’ve always been a lousy liar and your tells are far too obvious.”

“Oh, fuck this, man.” Hardison brings out a pistol from his computer bag. Everything seems to explode at once.

“Hardison, no!”

Alec levels the gun at Ana; her eyes narrow. Eliot’s shout comes out far too slowly.

Ana moves.

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The Collar Job, Part XV

This is an ongoing Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

Table of Contents here

Fade back in from commercial. Lady Anastasia is sitting on the edge of her bed, a corner of a sheet barely covering her; Eliot is propped up on one elbow, watching her.

A knock sounds on the bedroom door. “Lady Anastasia? You have company.”

Ana slides on a shirt, then swoops up Eliot’s pants with her toes and tosses them at him. “Who is it?”

“The Lord Lorcan ap Malaney, Baron of Red Bluff, and his guest.” There’s a tone to the voice, now, as if the person knocking is quite put out by being asked. Ana sighs.

“One moment, please. If you’ll settle Lord Lorcan and his guest in my sitting room, I’ll be right out.” She opens her dresser and pulls out two weapons holsters – one a knife sheath heavy with blades, the other a cross-draw gun holster.

“As you wish, Lady Anastasia.” Yes, the speaker is definitely put out. “Your guests will be in your sitting room, waiting.”

Ana rolls her eyes as she straps on her holsters, slides home a pistol, and finishes dressing herself. “I think I have…” Her voice has dropped to a murmur. “No better clothes for you yet, sadly.”

“I can live with these.” Eliot’s put on the thin pants while Ana was equipping herself. “You expecting trouble?”

“I always expect trouble.” She rolls her shoulders in something that’s almost a shrug. “It’s saved my life a few times. Here.” She passes him a sheathed knife. “It won’t hide well, but that’s all right.”

“Thanks.” The sheath and belt vanish beneath the thin pants, leaving a dark line on his thigh. “Who’s Lord Lorcan, anyway?”

“Small time only child of a Baroness on the other side of the Duchy.”
She puts on a smile that transforms her face, making her look slightly vapid and not at all deadly. “Ready?”

He braces his shoulders. “Ready.”

Ana’s sitting room

“So, why are you helping us again?” Parker is perched on the edge of a chair, stage-whispering into Lord Lorcan’s ear. He doesn’t seem bothered by her at all.

“As I said, I find ‘Charlotte’s’ little games to be very fun, and I haven’t had fun in quite a while. Besides, if I help you, you’re less likely to make a mess of the Duchy, and that benefits all of us.”

“Hunh.” Parker leans back. “How long are they going to…” The door swings open. Lady Anastasia walks out, impeccably suited as if coming out of a business meeting and not her bedroom. Eliot, collared and shirtless, follows. As the door swings closed, the ropes hanging from the bed are clearly visible.

“Lord Lorcan.” Ana’s eyes trail over the rest of the team. “I see you brought… friends.” Behind her, Eliot sighs.

Cut to commercial.

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The Collar Job, Part XIV

This is … *cough* Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

♪♪ I think this line’s mostly filler…♫

Table of Contents here

“It seems like you’re having some trouble with the Alpha Sisters.” Lord Lorcan is every inch the Californian male – sleek and well-groomed and exquisitely dressed, short, slender, and ginger.

“The Alpha Sisters?” Hardison’s voice is flatter than it should be, and his eyes on the little Lord are not kind. “What do you mean?”

“Alessia, Anastasia, Adalia. The Alpha sisters is what we called them when we were growing up. Of course, there were more of them, back then.” The flop Lorcan makes with his hand has to be affected, nobody is quite that… that on their own. But he seemed to be oblivious both to his own mannerisms and to the way it affects Hardison. “So that’s obviously Anastasia up on your screen, but she’s not really the power in the family. Well, I mean – she’s the power but not the power, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, Lorcan, don’t be obscure.” Sophie pats him on the shoulder. “What sort of power isn’t she?”

“She’s not a political power. As far as we can tell, she never wanted it. Did her time in the service, the way we all do – even me, I can see that look, you know – and just stayed for a while.”

“So her sister is the one interested in the power, then? Alessia?” Sophie has gotten her body between Lorcan and Hardison’s monitors, which lets Hardison change the screen to something innocuous. “She’s the oldest, right?”

“She is. The problem is Adalia has as much ambition as Anastasia. It’s a mess, really.” Lorcan’s vapid smile suddenly gets sharp. “So what’s your problem with them, Charlotte? You’ve never been all that interested in Californian politics before – and you’ve never brought a whole team for a little ol’ grift.”

“He knows me so well.” Sophie pats Lorcan’s arm helplessly.

Anastasia’s Rooms

Ana untangles herself from Eliot and from the long snake of sheet wrapped around them. “I could wish that you wanted to stay. But…”

“But?” Eliot props himself up on one elbow. The sheet that half-covers Ana is not up to the task of covering much of Eliot, but neither of them appear to mind. At the moment, neither of them appear to mind much at all.

“But if you were the sort of man who would want to stay here, in my collar, you wouldn’t be the sort of man that was so much fun with.” She pats his bicep gently. “I’ll have to live with a couple weeks.”

A knock sounds at the bedroom door. “Lady Anastasia? You have company.”

Cut to commercial.

Next: Xv

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The Collar Job, Part XIII

Part I (and on LJ), Part II (and on LJ), Part III (and on LJ), Part IV (and on LJ), Part V (and on LJ), Part VI (and on LJ), Part VII (and on LJ), Part VIII (and on LJ), Part IX (and on LJ), Part X (and on LJ), Part XI (and on LJ), Deleted Scene (and on LJ)
Part XII (and on LJ)

This is … *cough* Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

It’s been over a month since I wrote on this, but now it’s back!!

Fade in from commercial. Eliot and the lady Anastasia are naked in bed; Eliot is in the process of untying himself and Ana appears to be asleep.

It doesn’t take long, longer than it would normally because he’s trying not to wake her. She stirs at one point; he freezes. She moans quietly and rolls over, and Eliot waits, counting silently but his lips moving, for a count of twenty.

When she makes no more noise, he finishes getting his last ankle and then, moving very slowly and a bit unevenly, he hurries to the bathroom.

Ana’s eyes open as the bathroom door shuts. She stays where she is, as if she hasn’t woken. When the bathroom door opens again, she closes her eyes and stirs, just a bit.

Eliot pauses at the door. He looks at the “sleeping” Lady, and then at the exit. His hand goes to the collar, just brushing it. His sigh is a full-body thing, frustrated and sad.

He lays back in bed as carefully as he got out of it, and begins tying his ankles as they had been.

“Don’t bother.”

Ana’s voice freezes Eliot. “How long have you been awake?”

“Woke up while you were in the bathroom. You could’ve gotten out of the ropes at any point?”

“Well, not during…” He lays down, carefully, next to her, not quite touching her. “Not when you were watching.”

“Not a very good restraint system then, is it?” She rolls over to look at him; if he was looking at her, he’d see that she was smiling.

His eyes are closed, though, and his body tense. “You could use steel.”

“I could. But you came back. Why?”

He touches the collar, carefully, as if afraid it will bite him. “There’s a tracker in here, and I don’t know how to get the thing off without killing myself.”

“A good reason,” she agrees, although her voice is rather flat. “Well, then. If you’re not going to run away – or kill me – and I’m not going to tie you up, we might as well do something entertaining.”

Now, Eliot turns to look at her. “Like what?”

Duchess Charlotte Prentiss’s rooms

“It’s going to take us a few days. This Barony – Baronessy? – they’re not exactly known for being friendly. Not surprising, with the way they’re dropping like flies. I’m working on building everything we need, but it’s not like we can slip in as slaves. They do everything in-house.” Hardison runs a hand over his short-cropped hair. “Still working, Nate.”

“Anything I can help with?” Lord Lorcan walks into the room, all five foot six and one hundred three exquisitely-dressed pounds of him. “It seems like you’re having some trouble with the Alpha Sisters.”

Cut to commercial.


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The Collar Job, Part XII

Part I (and on LJ), Part II (and on LJ), Part III (and on LJ), Part IV (and on LJ), Part V (and on LJ), Part VI (and on LJ), Part VII (and on LJ), Part VIII (and on LJ), Part IX (and on LJ), Part X (and on LJ), Part XI (and on LJ), Deleted Scene (and on LJ)

This is … *cough* Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

It’s written in an experimental style for me, and, well, it’s fanfic, so pls. be kind.

And now back to the plot

Fade in: Sophie, Hardison, Parker, and Nate are looking at the screens, standing shoulder to shoulder as Hardison flips through files.

“Dead – poisoning. Dead – pet tiger got her. Dead – slipped and fell off a balcony into a pool that happened to have a hair dryer drop into it. Seriously.” Hardison shakes his head. “Dead, assassin.”

“Well, that’s not even trying.” Sophie clucks. “Someone is picking off members of the family line here, aren’t they? This is a little crass even for California.”

“You’re telling me. The thing is – Alessia, Anastasia, and Adalia, they used to be the youngest three sisters.”

“So someone is cleaning up the line of succession.” Nate frowns.

“And there’s nothing saying it isn’t the girl who has our Eliot. Is that her?” Sophie shakes her head. “She looks common.”

“I think she looks pretty.” Parker is frowning. “Too pretty. But look at the way she’s standing, the way her hands are. Thief?”

“Parker, she’s royalty.”

“A moment ago she was common.”

“All right, all right you two. Nate, can’t you-?”

“Don’t look at me.”

“Right. So, she could be a thief, Parker, because we don’t know much at all about her. She did her mandatory two years in the service – “

“What, like Israel?”

“Pretty much exactly, except that their royals get a pass, they all do their FBI-like Agency. So there’s nothing about her service, anywhere. It’s all redacted. Everything.”

“What about the Agency servers?”

“Girl, you think I can just waltz into their secure servers?”


“Well, good because I did. And there’s nothing there, either.”

“So, this girl, that owns – oh, I hate that word – that owns our Eliot right now, she’s a cipher, a blank page.”

“Does that mean we can scribble on her?” Parker smiles.

Sophie’s smile in return is unkind. “Oh, yes. We are going to scribble in all of her margins.”


Eliot wakes tied to Anastasia’s bed; the petite redhead is curled on top of him, her head on his shoulder, the curve of her body figleafing both of them. He twitches, but she’s got him bound pretty well. “Ana,” he whispers, and then, a little louder, “Anastasia.”

He twitches against the ropes when she doesn’t wake, and says her name a little louder. “Ana… your Ladyship.” Her shoulder twitches but she says nothing. “Damnit…” He twists until he can see the ropes binding his wrists and then, with a soft grunt and trying not to move much, he starts to twist out of the bindings.

Ana’s eyes open, but she says nothing; she watches him for a moment and then closes her eyes as Eliot manages to finish untying his first wrist.

Cut to commercial.

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The Collar Job, Deleted Scene

Part I (and on LJ), Part II (and on LJ), Part III (and on LJ), Part IV (and on LJ), Part V (and on LJ), Part VI (and on LJ), Part VII (and on LJ), Part VIII (and on LJ), Part IX (and on LJ), Part X (and on LJ), Part XI (and on LJ).

This is … *cough* Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

It’s written in an experimental style for me, and, well, it’s fanfic, so pls. be kind.

(this one is a Deleted scene between parts XI and XII. It is far less prime-time safe than the rest of the fic)

~~ Deleted Scene ~~

Lady Anastasia stands, her feet spread shoulder-width apart, her hands loose at her sides, knees slightly bent. In contrast to Lady Alessia, she’s wearing loose pants and a cami; her hair is in a loose ponytail.

She’s looking at Eliot, who hasn’t moved from his chair since she changed his collar, replacing the shock collar with something light and gold. He’s looking at her. His hands are loose in his lap, his feet flat on the ground.

“Tie me up.” When he speaks, it’s sudden and harsh; she rolls forward on her toes.

“What?” Her hands tighten and loosen, not quite making fists. “I just took the cuffs off.

“Look…” He rolls his head and tries again. “Look… Lady Anastasia… I make you nervous. I get that. So tie me up.”

“How am I going to tie a specialist like you so that you can’t just use it as a weapon?” She’s rolling forward on her feet again: thinking about something.

“Tie me to your bed.” Eliot holds his hands out, baring his wrists. “If it’s that thing over there, I can’t break it.”

“Why?” She steps forward, stops again. “I just got the shock collar and the cuffs off. You fought them the whole time.” With his wrists up, the chafe marks are obvious.

“That wasn’t the cuffs. That was her.“ He steps up, and Lady Anastasia lands back abruptly onto her heels. “You’re being nice. Polite. I like it. And you’re frightened of me.”

“If I tie you to my bed…” She smirks at him. “It’s going to raise different issues.”

Eliot smiles. “You were straddling me a minute ago.”

“That I was.” She watches him as her smile slides back off her face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I’m always serious. Are you?”

She licks her lips, and then, reaching a decision, takes a step back and gestures at the bed. “You first.”

He doesn’t say anything, letting his actions speak for him.

Her bed is a monstrosity of wrought-iron, metal shaped like trees twisting up to the ceiling. Nobody makes her bed; the sheets are tossed near the footboard, and the pillows are in disarray.

Eliot lays down on the bed, shifting until he’s comfortable, and reaches over his head, grabbing the headboard with both hands. “Looks like it’s made for it.”

“It probably was.” Anastasia straddles his stomach; somewhere between her sitting room and her bed she’s gotten a looped length of blue nylon rope. “You will tell me if anything is unpleasant, uncomfortable, or unwanted.”

He smirks at her. “Yes, Lady Anastasia.”

It gets an embarrassed chuckle, which it was supposed to, and gets her moving with the rope, which it was also supposed to.

She pulls his pants off before she ties his ankles, leaving him spread-eagled across her white sheets. She hesitates for a moment when he’s tied, a bandanna in her hands.

“Do it.” He leans forward, straining against the ropes. “Go ahead.” He winces. “…Lady Anastasia.”

“How long did my sister have you?” She folds the bandanna carefully and ties it over his eyes.

“I don’t know. A week?” He can’t shrug, tied as he is, but he moves against the ropes. The bedframe doesn’t move.

“Mmm. Let me make it up to you?” She reaches over and turns off the lamp.

“Whatever you want.”
~~ End Deleted Scene ~~

Part the next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/700738.html

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The Collar Job, Part XI

Part I (and on LJ)

Part II (and on LJ)

Part III (and on LJ)

Part IV (and on LJ)

Part V (and on LJ)

Part VI (and on LJ)

Part VII (and on LJ)

Part VIII (and on LJ)

Part IX (and on LJ)

Part X (and on LJ)

This is … what happens when you let me watch an entire season of Leverage in a week and a half. *cough* Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

It’s written in an experimental style for me, and, well, it’s fanfic, so pls. be kind.

(this appears to be at least a two-parter at this point, in terms of TV episodes.)

Fade in from commercial.

“They’re going to do something stupid.” Eliot is holding Lady Anastasia’s cell phone and looking – affectionately frustrated. She, in turn, looks a little bemused.

“These friends of yours…”

“Team. They’re my team.”

“Special forces?” Her shoulders tense, just a little bit.

“No. Different sort of team.” He looks up at her, clearly weighing what he’s going to say. “We being overheard?”

“Not as long as the phone is off. My apartment is bug-free, at least.”

Eliot looks at the phone, turns it off, and hands it over to Anastasia. His movements are very careful, slow, and deliberate; even so, hers are every bit as cautious as she takes the phone from him and backs – backs – towards the other side of her room.

Eliot tracks her movement. “I’m not going to attack you.” It’s more of a grumble than would really be reassuring, but it gets her attention.

“I didn’t live this long turning my back on warriors.”

“Look, I -” His hands go to the collar around his neck. There’s a twitch that seems to move his entire body. “Look, your Ladyship, I belong to you. Yeah? That’s how it works?”

“That’s how it works.” She is watching him like a rabbit watching a snake. “That doesn’t mean you won’t snap my neck.”

“You’re going to have to turn your back on me eventually. It’s either that or put me back in chains.”

“If you’re as good as I think you are, chains would just irritate you.”

“Enough chains might slow me down.”

“They might. But that would bring its own problems.”

Eliot doesn’t say anything for a minute. His jaw is working but no sound is coming out.

“Tie me up.”


“All right, I’ve got them. This isn’t going to be easy, Nate-”

“It’s never easy. When it’s easy, then everything goes wrong. What do you have?”

“Relax, would you? Look, we’re all stressed about Eliot.” Hardison’s voice is sharper than the words would suggest.

They are sitting around their suite – Nate and Hardison, alone – Nate looking through piles of papers and Hardison manipulating computer networks through a bank of monitors that look entirely out of place.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” There is a glass next to Nate’s elbow; it is empty. He looks at it, looks at the bottle of whisky, and looks back at Hardison. “What do you have?”

“All right, so this family has three sisters, right? Alessia, Anastasia, and Adalia. Pretty common for Tír na Crazy here, except, one, none of them are twins – “

“That’s uncommon?”

“Man, where you been? They have all the twins, the more royal, the more twin. And secondly, there used to be seven of them.”

Cut to commercial.

Next: Deleted Scene – http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/700461.html

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