A man and a woman walk into Bridgeport Brewery looking very out of place. Eliot makes them in five seconds. One could probably look at the way they were wildly looking around and dismiss it as looking for someone they’re supposed to meet, but it’s the other things that give them away as bringing trouble in their wake. The tension in their stances, the furtive ways they’re whispering to each other, and the way the woman is gripping her bag so tightly that if she had the strength, she might have torn the strap in half.
Whoever they are, they are a problem, and Eliot isn’t sure he’s here for it today. Placing a finger in his ear, he adjusts his earwig to get his friend’s attention.
“Hardison, I need you to do facial recognition on the two who just walked in.”
“I told you, Eliot, we cannot keep running facial recognition on our customers. It’s bad for business. If we didn’t serve criminals, then we’d never be able to eat.”
Eliot rolls his eyes. “Just do it, Hardison.”
The two glance over in his direction and the woman points to the man. She’s short and slight, with dark hair and an oddly familiar face. The man is a tall, black man who seems like he doesn’t want to be here. There’s brief bickering between the two as they discuss him, before the woman eventually rolls her eyes and strides over, while the man makes hands behind her back before following.
“Excuse me.” The woman comes to a stop next to his table. “Are you Eliot Spencer?”
He lifts his head, eyeing her curiously now that she’s up close. “Depends who’s asking.”
The woman seems like she’s fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “Wyatt Logan sent us. Or, more accurately, he sent us to find Sully, who then told us where to find you.” Which explains the eye roll. Sully likely gave them the same routine. Still, Eliot doesn’t answer her question directly, just crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leans back.
“And you are?”
She seems to take that as an indication that she should sit, so she does, sliding into the booth across from him. “I’m Lucy Preston, and this is Rufus Carlin. We work with Wyatt.”
“Okay, so. Lucy Preston. Former history professor until she went on an indefinite sabbatical for unknown reasons.” Hardison seems almost bored like Lucy is the most cookie-cutter background he’s ever read. “Second guy is in fact Rufus Carlin, who is an engineer for Mason Industries. Also fairly boring.”
That’s good to know, now comes the matter of picking apart their story, because there’s still one red flag that’s to settle. Eliot doesn’t say anything, waiting them both out to see if either of them will crack, but when they don’t, he smirks.
“Wyatt Logan didn’t send you.”
Lucy starts, looking almost offended that at his statement. “Excuse me?”
“See, I know that he didn’t send you because Wyatt Logan wouldn’t have needed to go through Sully to find me since I talked to him last week, and he knows where I am. So I’m going to ask you again – who sent you?”
Both of them gape at him, glancing at each other for any way to handle this when he hears the door of the brewery swing open, and a set of quiet footsteps approach the table. “They’re here because I sent them.” The voice is soft but he knows from experience that just because she happens to be soft-spoken doesn’t mean she can’t command a room. He looks up, takes in her face and nods. That makes more sense.
“Agent Christopher.”
“Mr. Spencer.”
Denise Christopher, DHS agent, hasn’t been a considerable presence in Eliot’s professional career, but she’s been enough of one to know that if she’s coming to his doorstep for help, something might be quite dire. She swallows, before glancing around the room, taking in the cameras and other signs of security.
“Is there a chance we can talk – without your coworkers listening in?”
“Eliot, do not turn off your earwig. Eliot, this seems like a bad idea. Eliot, why is the Department of Homeland Security looking for you? Eliot? Eliot!”
Hardison’s voice fades from his ear as he takes out his earwig and tucks it into his pocket. He then gets to his feet and nods to the door. “We should take a walk.”
Agent Christopher nods and starts to gesture for the rest to follow them, and Eliot then shakes his head again. “Just you.”
“Mr. Spencer …”
“I know you. But I don’t know them. And I’m still waiting to find out why you told them to take Wyatt Logan’s name in vain instead of just coming to me yourself. So until we get all of that cleared up, I think it should be just us.”
Lucy is studying him from the booth, her eyes taking in his stance, before looking to Agent Christopher. “You don’t have to go with him alone.”
The older woman shakes her head. “He won’t hurt me. And even if he was going to kill me, there’s nothing you could do to stop him, so might as well minimize the casualties.”
She’s kidding, but only those who’ve known her long enough could tell from her tone. Lucy seems appeased by it, however, which means she’s clearly in the know. It’s interesting – unless the history professor is more than just a history professor. Still, he doesn’t comment, and the two of them make their way out onto the street. They wander for a while, making small talk until they find a quiet place, away from the crowds of Portland, and he turns to face her again.
“So. What happened to Logan?”
Agent Christopher sighs, before crossing her arms in front of her chest. “He’s been taken by a group we’ve been investigating called Rittenhouse.”
Eliot takes a sip of his coffee before giving the most subtle nod. “I’m familiar.”
“You would be.” She shakes her head. “This isn’t one of your little side projects, Eliot. These people are dangerous, and I’m asking more of you than I probably should, but this is something I can’t trust to just anyone.”
“I didn’t say no, Denise. Just tell me where to find him, and I’ll get him out.”
“It’s not a matter of where. It’s a matter of when.”
He squints at her. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Well. How do you feel about time travel?”
Of all the things he expected to come out of Agent Christopher’s mouth, that’s one he never saw coming.
- - - - - -
Stepping into the bunker and looking up at the small round ball that Mason Industries was claiming to be a time machine, Eliot finds himself a little underwhelmed. He’s not sure what he expected, exactly, but it’s certainly not that.
“That’s your time machine?”
“Why? Do you have a fancier one we could borrow?” Lucy’s voice comes from behind him; arms crossed in front of her chest. He turns to face her and she raises an eyebrow in return. “Because if you’ve got the Mercedes Benz of time machines hanging out somewhere then by all means. I’m sure we’ll be glad to switch it up.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“And yet you feel free to judge it before you’ve even been in it.”
Eliot thinks there are many reasons why she feels the need to be on all cylinders with him, so he decides to stay calm, to see how she reacts. Instead of snapping back, he shrugs, leaning against one of the consoles. “I guess I was expecting more of a police box.”
She squints at him, confused, a long silence stretching between them before she responds. “Is that … a Doctor Who reference?”
He shrugs. “Does that surprise you?”
“You don’t exactly strike me as the sci-fi type.”
“I have a lot of varied interests.”
“Do you?”
He can see the tension resting in her shoulders, the worry in her face. She doesn’t like the idea of going out into the field without Wyatt because Wyatt’s the one who’s earned her trust. He doesn’t begrudge her that. Eliot only hopes that he can convince her to trust him, at least for this one mission. He takes a breath before pushing off the console and taking a step closer. She seems surprised, but she doesn’t step back, determined to stand her ground. He already appreciates that about her.
“I don’t think this is about my taste in television.”
“How astute of you.”
“I think this is about Wyatt.” At that mention, she swallows, looking slightly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t back off. “Look, I know I’m not Wyatt. I’m not trying to be. I’m just here to do for him what he would do for me – get me back, and protect my team.”
Lucy hesitates before nodding again. “Just … make sure we get him back? Please?”
“I won’t make you promises I don’t know I can keep.” He’s been on too many missions that have gone sideways to know that he can’t guarantee anything. “But I’ll do my best.”
Lucy nods again before taking his arm and nodding towards one of the screened areas nearby. “C’mon. We have to get you dressed.”
Eliot doesn’t fight her as she leads him. “So, where are we going?”
“The Grand Canyon,” she replies as she nudges him behind the screen, “in 1916.”
- - - - - - - -
It’s safe to say that time travel is not one of Eliot’s favorite experiences. It’s disorienting and nauseating and has a way of turning everything you know upside down and inside out. But there is something very cool about seeing something like the Grand Canyon, long before tourism managed to get ahold of it. Unfortunately, not all of them appreciate this kind of nature.
“Man, I remember these paths being so much easier to walk.”
Rufus, the one who’s complaining, is quickly becoming the Hardison of this little group. Smartest guy in the room, who feels the need to continually run his mouth, even if he doesn’t need to. In all fairness to Rufus, he isn’t often talking to talk, he’s talking to fill a silence, but it’s still earned him a little bit of fondness as far as Eliot’s concerned all the same.
He’s sandwiched between him and Lucy as they make their way down the side of the canyon, winding over thin paths that only seemed to get narrower as they got closer and closer to the bottom. He probably should be leading, but Lucy’s the one who saw where they took Wyatt, so she’s the one who’s leading the way. Her footwork isn’t half bad either – she’s moving at about half-speed, to catch herself if she lands on the wrong side of the path. And she’s doing it all in a long skirt, so more power to her. Still, Eliot’s keeping half his attention forward and half behind, to be on the safe side.
“That’s because it didn’t become a national park until 1919. Teddy Roosevelt’s been to visit, but nothing’s finalized yet.” Lucy glances back to Rufus with a smirk. “These paths haven’t been worn down by decades of foot traffic yet.”
“I am aware of how erosion works, thank you.” Rufus reaches up to grab hold of one of the pieces of brush above them for a handhold and keeps taking tentative steps behind Eliot. “I would have just preferred if it had happened one hundred years sooner.”
Eliot catches the smirk that crosses Lucy’s face as she continues to make her way downwards, each step slow and deliberate. She's so careful, but even she can’t pick out every problem, so when her foot goes down on a lousy rock, sending one foot sliding out from under her and her flailing backward towards the edge of the cliffside.
Eliot’s hand snaps outward, wrapping his hand around her wrist and yanking her back into him, his free hand coming up and wrapping around her waist to keep her close. He leans back, pushing his weight against the rock to keep them balanced, but they’re still in a very precarious position, and if either of them shift the wrong way, they could both go tumbling over. Her hands find their way to his shoulders, and she’s terrified.
“Lucy! Lucy, are you okay?!”
Rufus is not helping.
“Look at me,” Eliot says seriously, and she does, eyes fixed on his for as long as she happens to be eye level. “I’m not going to drop you. Take one step to the right until you find a foothold.” He feels her leg move against his, her foot tapping to the side until she finds solid rock, and she can plant it firmly. He then shifts his weight, giving her some room to move around him. “Now, I’m going to spin you.”
“Spin me?!”
“Spin you. Nice and slow, until you get your foot on the other side. Ready?”
She doesn’t seem ready, but she nods anyway, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes so that she’s not looking down. “Okay. Okay, do it.”
Even if she did look, she wouldn’t be able to see how elegant it was, a full spin that put her back on her feet next to him on the path, though he keeps one hand in hers until she feels steady enough again. When she finally does open her eyes and look back to him, she gives him a small smile.
“Thanks.”
He nods because there’s no need to thank him for doing his job. “You good?” She nods as well. “Then let’s keep going.”
It's another twenty minutes before they make it to the bottom of the path. What they find is a small camp full of armed men. Sitting at an easily defensible position is Wyatt Logan, tied to a chair and looking like he’s had the shit beaten out of him more than once. It only takes a few glances for Eliot to make sense of the scene and have an action plan, as Lucy and Rufus crouch down next to him.
“There he is,” Lucy whispers, stating the obvious. “What do we do now?”
“You two stay here,” Eliot nods. “And I what I do.”
“Just like that?” Rufus frowns. “Don’t you want a gun or something.”
“If I need a gun, I’ll take one.” And before they can offer any further argument, he pushes up and charges into the fray. It’s safe to say, the enemy in question doesn’t see him coming.
still we found a reason to carry on ~ leverage/timeless ~ 3,019 ~ part 1
Whoever they are, they are a problem, and Eliot isn’t sure he’s here for it today. Placing a finger in his ear, he adjusts his earwig to get his friend’s attention.
“Hardison, I need you to do facial recognition on the two who just walked in.”
“I told you, Eliot, we cannot keep running facial recognition on our customers. It’s bad for business. If we didn’t serve criminals, then we’d never be able to eat.”
Eliot rolls his eyes. “Just do it, Hardison.”
The two glance over in his direction and the woman points to the man. She’s short and slight, with dark hair and an oddly familiar face. The man is a tall, black man who seems like he doesn’t want to be here. There’s brief bickering between the two as they discuss him, before the woman eventually rolls her eyes and strides over, while the man makes hands behind her back before following.
“Excuse me.” The woman comes to a stop next to his table. “Are you Eliot Spencer?”
He lifts his head, eyeing her curiously now that she’s up close. “Depends who’s asking.”
The woman seems like she’s fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “Wyatt Logan sent us. Or, more accurately, he sent us to find Sully, who then told us where to find you.” Which explains the eye roll. Sully likely gave them the same routine. Still, Eliot doesn’t answer her question directly, just crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leans back.
“And you are?”
She seems to take that as an indication that she should sit, so she does, sliding into the booth across from him. “I’m Lucy Preston, and this is Rufus Carlin. We work with Wyatt.”
“Okay, so. Lucy Preston. Former history professor until she went on an indefinite sabbatical for unknown reasons.” Hardison seems almost bored like Lucy is the most cookie-cutter background he’s ever read. “Second guy is in fact Rufus Carlin, who is an engineer for Mason Industries. Also fairly boring.”
That’s good to know, now comes the matter of picking apart their story, because there’s still one red flag that’s to settle. Eliot doesn’t say anything, waiting them both out to see if either of them will crack, but when they don’t, he smirks.
“Wyatt Logan didn’t send you.”
Lucy starts, looking almost offended that at his statement. “Excuse me?”
“See, I know that he didn’t send you because Wyatt Logan wouldn’t have needed to go through Sully to find me since I talked to him last week, and he knows where I am. So I’m going to ask you again – who sent you?”
Both of them gape at him, glancing at each other for any way to handle this when he hears the door of the brewery swing open, and a set of quiet footsteps approach the table. “They’re here because I sent them.” The voice is soft but he knows from experience that just because she happens to be soft-spoken doesn’t mean she can’t command a room. He looks up, takes in her face and nods. That makes more sense.
“Agent Christopher.”
“Mr. Spencer.”
Denise Christopher, DHS agent, hasn’t been a considerable presence in Eliot’s professional career, but she’s been enough of one to know that if she’s coming to his doorstep for help, something might be quite dire. She swallows, before glancing around the room, taking in the cameras and other signs of security.
“Is there a chance we can talk – without your coworkers listening in?”
“Eliot, do not turn off your earwig. Eliot, this seems like a bad idea. Eliot, why is the Department of Homeland Security looking for you? Eliot? Eliot!”
Hardison’s voice fades from his ear as he takes out his earwig and tucks it into his pocket. He then gets to his feet and nods to the door. “We should take a walk.”
Agent Christopher nods and starts to gesture for the rest to follow them, and Eliot then shakes his head again. “Just you.”
“Mr. Spencer …”
“I know you. But I don’t know them. And I’m still waiting to find out why you told them to take Wyatt Logan’s name in vain instead of just coming to me yourself. So until we get all of that cleared up, I think it should be just us.”
Lucy is studying him from the booth, her eyes taking in his stance, before looking to Agent Christopher. “You don’t have to go with him alone.”
The older woman shakes her head. “He won’t hurt me. And even if he was going to kill me, there’s nothing you could do to stop him, so might as well minimize the casualties.”
She’s kidding, but only those who’ve known her long enough could tell from her tone. Lucy seems appeased by it, however, which means she’s clearly in the know. It’s interesting – unless the history professor is more than just a history professor. Still, he doesn’t comment, and the two of them make their way out onto the street. They wander for a while, making small talk until they find a quiet place, away from the crowds of Portland, and he turns to face her again.
“So. What happened to Logan?”
Agent Christopher sighs, before crossing her arms in front of her chest. “He’s been taken by a group we’ve been investigating called Rittenhouse.”
Eliot takes a sip of his coffee before giving the most subtle nod. “I’m familiar.”
“You would be.” She shakes her head. “This isn’t one of your little side projects, Eliot. These people are dangerous, and I’m asking more of you than I probably should, but this is something I can’t trust to just anyone.”
“I didn’t say no, Denise. Just tell me where to find him, and I’ll get him out.”
“It’s not a matter of where. It’s a matter of when.”
He squints at her. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Well. How do you feel about time travel?”
Of all the things he expected to come out of Agent Christopher’s mouth, that’s one he never saw coming.
Stepping into the bunker and looking up at the small round ball that Mason Industries was claiming to be a time machine, Eliot finds himself a little underwhelmed. He’s not sure what he expected, exactly, but it’s certainly not that.
“That’s your time machine?”
“Why? Do you have a fancier one we could borrow?” Lucy’s voice comes from behind him; arms crossed in front of her chest. He turns to face her and she raises an eyebrow in return. “Because if you’ve got the Mercedes Benz of time machines hanging out somewhere then by all means. I’m sure we’ll be glad to switch it up.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“And yet you feel free to judge it before you’ve even been in it.”
Eliot thinks there are many reasons why she feels the need to be on all cylinders with him, so he decides to stay calm, to see how she reacts. Instead of snapping back, he shrugs, leaning against one of the consoles. “I guess I was expecting more of a police box.”
She squints at him, confused, a long silence stretching between them before she responds. “Is that … a Doctor Who reference?”
He shrugs. “Does that surprise you?”
“You don’t exactly strike me as the sci-fi type.”
“I have a lot of varied interests.”
“Do you?”
He can see the tension resting in her shoulders, the worry in her face. She doesn’t like the idea of going out into the field without Wyatt because Wyatt’s the one who’s earned her trust. He doesn’t begrudge her that. Eliot only hopes that he can convince her to trust him, at least for this one mission. He takes a breath before pushing off the console and taking a step closer. She seems surprised, but she doesn’t step back, determined to stand her ground. He already appreciates that about her.
“I don’t think this is about my taste in television.”
“How astute of you.”
“I think this is about Wyatt.” At that mention, she swallows, looking slightly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t back off. “Look, I know I’m not Wyatt. I’m not trying to be. I’m just here to do for him what he would do for me – get me back, and protect my team.”
Lucy hesitates before nodding again. “Just … make sure we get him back? Please?”
“I won’t make you promises I don’t know I can keep.” He’s been on too many missions that have gone sideways to know that he can’t guarantee anything. “But I’ll do my best.”
Lucy nods again before taking his arm and nodding towards one of the screened areas nearby. “C’mon. We have to get you dressed.”
Eliot doesn’t fight her as she leads him. “So, where are we going?”
“The Grand Canyon,” she replies as she nudges him behind the screen, “in 1916.”
It’s safe to say that time travel is not one of Eliot’s favorite experiences. It’s disorienting and nauseating and has a way of turning everything you know upside down and inside out. But there is something very cool about seeing something like the Grand Canyon, long before tourism managed to get ahold of it. Unfortunately, not all of them appreciate this kind of nature.
“Man, I remember these paths being so much easier to walk.”
Rufus, the one who’s complaining, is quickly becoming the Hardison of this little group. Smartest guy in the room, who feels the need to continually run his mouth, even if he doesn’t need to. In all fairness to Rufus, he isn’t often talking to talk, he’s talking to fill a silence, but it’s still earned him a little bit of fondness as far as Eliot’s concerned all the same.
He’s sandwiched between him and Lucy as they make their way down the side of the canyon, winding over thin paths that only seemed to get narrower as they got closer and closer to the bottom. He probably should be leading, but Lucy’s the one who saw where they took Wyatt, so she’s the one who’s leading the way. Her footwork isn’t half bad either – she’s moving at about half-speed, to catch herself if she lands on the wrong side of the path. And she’s doing it all in a long skirt, so more power to her. Still, Eliot’s keeping half his attention forward and half behind, to be on the safe side.
“That’s because it didn’t become a national park until 1919. Teddy Roosevelt’s been to visit, but nothing’s finalized yet.” Lucy glances back to Rufus with a smirk. “These paths haven’t been worn down by decades of foot traffic yet.”
“I am aware of how erosion works, thank you.” Rufus reaches up to grab hold of one of the pieces of brush above them for a handhold and keeps taking tentative steps behind Eliot. “I would have just preferred if it had happened one hundred years sooner.”
Eliot catches the smirk that crosses Lucy’s face as she continues to make her way downwards, each step slow and deliberate. She's so careful, but even she can’t pick out every problem, so when her foot goes down on a lousy rock, sending one foot sliding out from under her and her flailing backward towards the edge of the cliffside.
Eliot’s hand snaps outward, wrapping his hand around her wrist and yanking her back into him, his free hand coming up and wrapping around her waist to keep her close. He leans back, pushing his weight against the rock to keep them balanced, but they’re still in a very precarious position, and if either of them shift the wrong way, they could both go tumbling over. Her hands find their way to his shoulders, and she’s terrified.
“Lucy! Lucy, are you okay?!”
Rufus is not helping.
“Look at me,” Eliot says seriously, and she does, eyes fixed on his for as long as she happens to be eye level. “I’m not going to drop you. Take one step to the right until you find a foothold.” He feels her leg move against his, her foot tapping to the side until she finds solid rock, and she can plant it firmly. He then shifts his weight, giving her some room to move around him. “Now, I’m going to spin you.”
“Spin me?!”
“Spin you. Nice and slow, until you get your foot on the other side. Ready?”
She doesn’t seem ready, but she nods anyway, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes so that she’s not looking down. “Okay. Okay, do it.”
Even if she did look, she wouldn’t be able to see how elegant it was, a full spin that put her back on her feet next to him on the path, though he keeps one hand in hers until she feels steady enough again. When she finally does open her eyes and look back to him, she gives him a small smile.
“Thanks.”
He nods because there’s no need to thank him for doing his job. “You good?” She nods as well. “Then let’s keep going.”
It's another twenty minutes before they make it to the bottom of the path. What they find is a small camp full of armed men. Sitting at an easily defensible position is Wyatt Logan, tied to a chair and looking like he’s had the shit beaten out of him more than once. It only takes a few glances for Eliot to make sense of the scene and have an action plan, as Lucy and Rufus crouch down next to him.
“There he is,” Lucy whispers, stating the obvious. “What do we do now?”
“You two stay here,” Eliot nods. “And I what I do.”
“Just like that?” Rufus frowns. “Don’t you want a gun or something.”
“If I need a gun, I’ll take one.” And before they can offer any further argument, he pushes up and charges into the fray. It’s safe to say, the enemy in question doesn’t see him coming.