Elliot’s eyes track her hand as it settles against the glass, the way her fingers linger there just a second too long. He doesn’t need a badge to read that kind of pause. Evidence. Attachment. Guilt, maybe.
He’s seen it in interrogation rooms, in victims, in his own reflection more times than he’d ever admit out loud. The artifacts don’t pull his attention the way they probably should. Ark of the Covenant, Spear of Destiny… names that should carry weight. But right now, he’s watching her.
Kid’s carrying something heavy. Not just this place. Something older. Something she hasn’t decided if I’m allowed to see yet.
He exhales slowly, one hand settling on his hip while the other brushes absently over his coat like he’s grounding himself back in something familiar. “Yeah,” he mutters, voice low, thoughtful. “Weird I can handle. Seen worse than weird.” His gaze flicks to the spear, then back to her. “It’s the ‘people wanting to kill you for what you protect’ part that sounds like my old job, just with… better props.”
There’s a beat where he studies her again, more openly now. The way she talks about it, like it’s fact. Like she’s already accepted the cost.
“You say that like it doesn’t bother you,” he adds, not accusing, just… steady. “Like it’s already decided.” A slight tilt of his head. “That you don’t have anywhere else to go.”
That’s not something you say unless you’ve already closed the door behind you.
He shifts his weight, shoulders easing just a fraction, tone softening in a way that doesn’t quite match the hard lines of his posture. “Listen… I don’t need the full story. Not today.” He paused for a moment as he thought about it before making a face, shrugging. “Hell, maybe not ever. You get to decide that.” His jaw tightens briefly before relaxing again. “But I’ve spent a long time working with people who think they gotta carry everything alone.”
And I know exactly how that ends.
Elliot steps a little closer, not crowding her, just enough to make it clear he’s not standing on the outside looking in anymore. “You woke up here,” he says, quieter now, more deliberate. “That doesn’t mean this place is all you’ve got. It just means it’s where you landed.”
His eyes flick once more to the case beneath her hand, then back to her face, steady and unflinching.
“And for the record?” he adds, that familiar dry edge creeping back in just enough to keep things from getting too heavy, “I’m starting to think the pay’s not the main selling point here.”
A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, but it doesn’t quite hide the sincerity underneath.
“You’ve got people here,” he says. “That counts for more than whatever’s in that glass box.”
And if nobody’s told you that yet… they should have.
He straightens slightly, rolling one shoulder like he’s settling into the role whether he fully believes in it or not. “As for enemies?” a small huff of breath. “Good. Means I know what I’m doing.” His gaze sharpens, something protective locking into place like muscle memory.
“You keep worrying about the flying horses and ancient history,” Elliot adds, voice steady, grounded. “I’ll handle the people who think they can take a shot at you.”
Then, softer, almost an afterthought: “You don’t have to figure all of it out right now, Addy.”
You don’t have to earn your place just to keep it.
