Summary: During "The Two-Horse Job," Eliot tells Aimee about his brother's "death."

This is a reference to Lindsey *spoilers* getting shot and presumably dying in the Angel finale. In my verse, it was faked. Obviously...

And while we're on the subject, this is a reminder that this verse is an AU from about mid-Season 4-ish (I still haven't decided when *ahem*) of Leverage, okay? So we're still in Boston, not that this fic has anything to do with that. This is just a reminder, so you don't go, "This author obviously hasn't seen the show. I mean, they covered so-and-so in [cites episode] in Season 5." No. AU, okay?

Warning: Umm, Eliot and Aimee just had sex and they're naked. But other than that, no smut. Feel free to visualize the situation, though, hee!

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Going Home

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Chapter 2: Eliot

Aimee leans back against the stable wall. The pine boards feel rough against her bare back. She hasn't had sex like that for a very long time. Say...eight years?

She laughs breathily. "This, this we were good at. It's all the other stuff...not so much."

Eliot chuckles and puts his arm around her, drawing her close and kissing the top of her head, just like he used to. She missed that. She'd missed him. "Yeah, the other stuff. Never have been too good at that."

Aimee sighs and snuggles closer to his comfortable warmth. "Me neither."

"So it's not just me?" Eliot says, looking down at her in feigned surprise, blue eyes twinkling. "I thought you said that I was a- How didja put it? 'An emotionally-stunted- "

She whacks his chest lightly with her hand. "Stop!" she laughs, "Just stop. I was mad. You were mad. We both said things that we shouldn't have said, and without Lindsey pulling us apart an' puttin' us in our corners, we y'know," she shrugs, "We just kept fightin'."

Eliot snorts. "Lindsey the referee. Always knew he was cut out to be a lawyer, even when we were kids."

She sits up and starts pulling bits of straw out of her hair. The downside of making out in a stable is that it's well, a stable. With straw and horse droppings and all sorts of other unsavory, unromantic elements. At least this stall didn't actually have a horse inside of it.

"You talk to him recently?" she asks, "What's he up to now? We haven't heard from him in a good long time."

Eliot's silent. Should he, or shouldn't he? Would she catch him in the lie, or believe him? Either way, it would hurt her.

"Eliot?"

He makes up his mind. "Lindsey's dead." He doesn't meet Aimee's eyes. It's a tell, looking women in the eye when you lie to them.

She stops looking for her panties. "He- What?!"

Eliot dives in and goes for the prize. "Got shot three years ago."

Aimee covers her mouth. Fat tears well up in her eyes and spill over down her cheeks. "Oh my god. Oh my- I- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Eliot."

He shrugs and keeps his eyes cast downward. "It's okay. I've dealt with it."

"It is not okay!" Aimee exclaims, going straight to anger. She blinks the tears out of her eyes and wipes them off of her cheeks. "He's really dead?"

"Yeah."

"God." She shakes her head and draws an unsteady breath. "I've said it once and I'll say it again, you two are just so much alike. He told me the same thing after he- his accident. He's fine, he's dealt with it, he didn't tell us because there was nothin' we coulda done." She stops, breathing hard, and suddenly, hiccups. "You said it was three years ago? What happened? He said he was involved in some pretty shady stuff back then. Did it have anything to do with that?"

He shrugs, says nothing. He lets his body language tell the lie. It's not really a lie, though. He had thought that Lindsey was dead for a while back then, until he got the call from his stupid brother telling him otherwise. Idiot. The horror and emptiness he had felt for what had seemed like an eternity now flickers in his gut at the memory of it. He lets that show, feeling guilty for the half-truth.

Aimee scoots closer and leans into him, wanting to give him comfort, and seeking it at the same time. "Eliot, I'm sorry. I know how close you were."

"I don't wanna talk about it, Aimee." He doesn't. Say as little as possible, and the lie won't get caught.

"Okay," she nods, "Just one thing: Can you tell me where he is now? I think I wanna go see him an' pay my respects. He was like a brother to me, too, y'know? He was a good friend. Real good listener."

The request takes him by surprise. Lindsey's grave. There isn't one. Obviously. There could have been one, but it would have been too easy for people (or non-people, as the case may be) to dig the coffin up and discover that the corpse is missing.

"I cremated him and scattered his ashes," he says instead. "There's no grave. He wanted it that way."

He has never really asked (the thought of Lindsey dying is an idea which he never, ever entertains), but if he thinks about it, it makes sense. That would be what he'd want. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. No body to desecrate through infection by a demon, or a spell, or any other magical unnaturalness. Lindsey would never want that. Ashes, then gone.

"Oh," Aimee says, slightly discomfited as the news truly gets to her. "I'll pray for him, then. If that's okay with you."

What does one say to that?

"He'd like that," he nods.

Aimee looks at him skeptically.

A dark chuckle breaks loose. "Alright, he'd make fun of ya for it, but he'd appreciate the thought anyway."

She sighs. "Yeah. I'll miss him."

Eliot pulls her closer and closes his eyes. He hates lying to her, but it's all to keep her safe, to keep Lindsey safe. He swallows. He had to. He had to lie.

"Come on," he says, and stands up to pull his jeans on. "We better get goin'. They'll be wonderin' where we got to."

Aimee gives an unladylike snort. "Somethin' tells me they know exactly where we are and what we've been doin'."

"They need to keep their noses outta my business," he growls half under his breath, "They're all a buncha goddamn busybodies."

Aimee pauses in the middle of putting her shirt back on and gives him a knowing look. He returns it with his best scowling poker face, which makes her laugh softly and smile for some strange reason.

He buckles his belt with more force in his movements than strictly necessary. "What?"

"Nothin'. Nothin' at all."

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When the case is over, he calls Lindsey as soon as he's out of sight (and hearing) from the rest of the team.

"Don't go home ta Kentucky," he opens. "I told Aimee you're dead."

He can almost see his brother shrug. "I figured."

"Stalker," he spits out. Just 'cause.

"I'm only keepin' an eye on ya," Lindsey retorts indignantly. "Returning the favor, so to speak."

"Whatever, creep. I told her I cremated you and scattered the ashes," reports Eliot, dutiful big brother that he is. "No grave. She wanted to pray for yer gutter soul anyway."

"Well, dead or not, I could use the prayers." There's a "Thanks, El" in there somewhere, but he doesn't say it. He doesn't need to.

Eliot snorts.

"So...you an' Aimee...?"

Nosy bastard. "Made up, had sex. Twice. Wanna hear about it?"

Eliot just knows what expression is on Lindsey's face right now. "Gross! No! Gods, no! Ewww. Never speak of that again. Please."

Eliot cackles. Aw, Linny. It never fails. "Keep yer nose clean, Linds."

"You, too, El. Later."

"Yeah."

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References:

"This, we were good at. It's all the other stuff...not so much." - direct quote from Supernatural episode "Route 666"

"It's a tell, looking women in the eye when you lie to them." - This was mentioned on Leverage in one of the earlier episodes, but I forgot which one, and I'm too lazy to look it up right now. Sophie said it, and Eliot agreed with a "Oh yeahhhh, definitely" sort of expression.

AN: What do you think? Is Lindsey a salt'n'burn kinda guy, or is he of the proper burial sort? I think Eliot's more of a burial guy, but he probably wouldn't be too picky if his body can't be recovered without risking a lot of lives or something like that...And this is the kind of thing I think about late at night all alone in my room. Creepy?