Healing Sideways 1/1

[mangacat201]

Title: Healing Sideways

Author: Mangacat(201)
Pairing/Characters: Eliot, Parker (friendship)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~700

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don’t own the Leverage crew and I do not earn any money for this work of fanfiction.

Warnings/Spoilers: slight spoilers for season 3X17. Written for the hc_bingo  prompt: Counseling/Therapy.

 

Summary: Eliot has no idea when the black vest with white spots turned into a white vest with black spots. He deals with it in his own way.

 

 

His steps ring loud and clear through the shadowed room, boots scuffing slightly on the concrete until he reaches the last step and flicks the switch with a dismissive swap of his hand. The snick is deafeningly loud for a moment, when the rest of the room is still shrouded in silence.

 

It takes a few moments for the electricity to cause the reaction but then the lights flare, sudden and unrepentend, flooding the whole room with glaring brightness. Not that there is much there to be illumenated – bare concrete walls, much like the stairs, a punching bag swinging listlessly in the corner, a few barbells lying about that don’t look like they get much use.

 

He doesn’t resort to those kind of toys often, his own body has always been his most formidable opponent anyway. The muscles moving under his skin in a sensuous dance, bending and straining his limbs to his every whim, reacting faster than his mind can form a thought – that kind of mastery doesn’t just stem from natural disposition or practice. It comes with the defiance of ones own will, the strength to think in one direction and move into another.

 

As he slowly sheds his clothes save for the loose fitting pants that don’t impair his movement, he thinks about the pride he took in this ability, the distortion of self that made him such a powerful disciple in the art of war and a terrifying weapon. Now, and ever since he found a family and purpose and righteousness, it stopped just being about the movement of his body and mind, but also that of his heart. And the things he finds buried deep inside become sharp and prominent once more, unearthed.

 

The routine comes to him as easy as breathing, going through the motions of an age old dance that isn’t designed to maim and kill, but to clear the mind of the unnecessary, the burdening, the doubt. The stark truth of what he’s done – unblinking, uncaring, unpardonable – hurts more with each step he takes. The ache settles in his bones, in his mind, in his heart and with each second he wishes more to never have found this righteous noble life that changed his existence.

 

When the familiar steps carry him close to a wall and his arm shoots out in a practiced movement, there’s only a split second for him to decide not to stop. Going against all his instincts, he pulls through and his fist meets the concrete with a thundering crack, skin splitting open, a tremor running up his bones with the frightening pain racing on its heels, up the shoulder, lacing into his neck, his skull, blooming behind his eyes. He can take pain well enough, but the punches he bags in a fight are sidelined, they barely register until the aftermath. Now the sensation is immediate and shaking and he marvels at the feeling. It washes over him like a blaze, drowning out the labouring breath in his lungs, the sweat dripping down his back and the blood sliding over his knuckles.

 

A cool slight hand closes over his clenched fist and he flinches for the first time in a long time, barely keeping himself from lashing out at her right were she standing, stepping to his side out of thin air. She takes his injury in and tuts, tugging his arm to her until she deems him in a fit position to be treated for his own stupidity. Her dabbing at the split skin and wrapping the wounds with little bedside manner but surprising tenderness endears her to him in a way he cannot try to describe. When she feels his eyes on her, she flicks him a look of mischief, exasperation and acceptance.

“I’m not asking.”

 

And suddenly he knows that she understands. They all had a life before this and they all feel they owe some kind of penance. But that’s okay, they’re dealing. Together.