Lyn Thorne-Alder (aldersprig) wrote,
Lyn Thorne-Alder

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

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)

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.

Luck of the draw pulled it up twice on my list in a day, after being off rotation for over a week!

Fade in from commercial to Eliot’s face and the back of Anastasia. Her red hair is in a loose ponytail that hangs all the way down her very-straight spine, and her hands are tight at her sides.

“Before you kill me, there’s something you should know.”

Eliot looks up at her, his hair falling in his face yet again. “Who says I’m going to kill you... my Lady?” His eyes drop to her bare hands as he tacks on the honorific.

Her voice is soft as she answers, and rushed, but each word is clipped off with military precision. “You’re an angry black ops operative my darling sister gifted me. There’s only one reason to do that.”

“You can’t know I’m black ops.” His feet shift.

“It’s a very distinctive stance.” She smirks faintly. “So - before we get to my rooms. Before you kill me, you need to know that my will does not, as Alessia believes and probably told you, leave everything to her. Any slaves in my possession are willed to the Agency.”

Eliot stills. “Assuming I was here to kill you - I’m not saying I am - why would that stop me?”

“Because if my sister convinced you to put on a collar so that you could get close to me, she probably told you that you’d go free when the job was done. And you won’t.”

Despite everything, Eliot laughs. “Lady, your sister couldn’t convince me of anything.”

She doesn’t shift much, but she does manage a little bit of a smile. “Then we have something in common. Let’s get to my room where we’re less likely to be overheard.”

The Airport

“Charlotte Prentiss, Duchess of Hanover.” Sophie is dressed to the nines, the very picture of a travelling Duchess. Behind her, the remaining members of the team appear to be her retinue; Hardison and Parker in well-tailored suits, presumably her bodyguards, Nate as her secretary. Nate passes over the paperwork to the customs agent. “I’m here to visit my good friend Lord Lorcan ap Malaney, Baron of Red Bluff. These are my... assistants.”

Flash back to the office

“The problem with running a con in Tír na Cali - well, there’s a lot of problems, for one.” Hardison looks as if he’s neither bathed nor shaved in days. “Start with the nearly - I did say nearly - unhackable computer systems, then add on their secure borders and top it off with they do not like Americans and we don’t like them. This is not difficult, this is impossible.”

“Lucky for us.” Sophie’s accent has already begun to shift to something more urbane and aristocratic. “We are not Americans.”

Cut to Commercial

Part VIII -

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Tags: fanficreally?, leverage, verse: tirnacali

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