Even knowing the outcome, even knowing that Hardison had survived and that he's not in danger anymore, the tightness in her chest still eases a little at Eliot's reassurance. It's what Eliot does. He keeps them safe. He always keeps them safe, even if it doesn't always look that way from the outside.
And they both know about the risks they have to take sometimes. For each other, and for what they do. To stop people like Moreau from hurting anyone else. Hardison might have gotten hurt there, they both might have, but Eliot would never have let him die.
She nods, slowly, the rhythm of her nails tapping the desk slowing until they finally stop. She looks up, and Eliot is looking back at her, his gaze steady and unflinching.
"He was scared, Eliot," she says, her voice small. She doesn't have to have lived the memory from Hardison's perspective to know that. "And so were you."
pls dw
And they both know about the risks they have to take sometimes. For each other, and for what they do. To stop people like Moreau from hurting anyone else. Hardison might have gotten hurt there, they both might have, but Eliot would never have let him die.
She nods, slowly, the rhythm of her nails tapping the desk slowing until they finally stop. She looks up, and Eliot is looking back at her, his gaze steady and unflinching.
"He was scared, Eliot," she says, her voice small. She doesn't have to have lived the memory from Hardison's perspective to know that. "And so were you."