dann_0 | PSL: Sentinel AU

Danny's been sitting there while Eliot talks. He doesn't like what he is hearing but he keeps that to himself. At least for now. The loon on his face says that he has opinions though. God he has so many of them at this. Steve and this guy, attack dogs. No fucking way. He hates that description just as much as he hated it when Steve said Sentinels were just tools. And what bothers him just as much is how many people actually view the as that.

He looks up when Eliot comes closer, meeting his eyes. But the moment Eliot mentions that he put Steve in danger, that they are figuring out who he is, Danny is gripped by panic. He feels like he can't breathe and his eyes are wide, color draining from his face. His mouth is dry so it takes a few tries but finally he manages. "Please don't. Let him be. Please." It is barely a whisper but he is pleading. He glances towards the end of the table. Not towards the gun but the phone. No he would not have time to call Steve and make sure he knew to get out. Fuck. Fuck he messed up hard.

He looks back at Eliot, swallowing. This is the first time since he saw the other Sentinel that he's been terrified, utterly terrified. "Listen, I'll do whatever the fuck you want, just leave him be. Don't tell anyone about him."

Eliot can feel Danny's anxiety and fear increasing as he speaks, even if he couldn't smell it on the air and hear it in the sound of his voice, he can sense it in that strangely compelling way that he's only ever experienced with Guides, and even with them only rarely. The strange part here is how immediate and intimate it is, how completely and utterly incapable he is of blocking it the hell out, despite how hard (and effectively) he's worked at being able to do just that for over fifteen years now.

It's overwhelming enough he has to fight to be able to finish talking, to keep the fine tremors in his hands from being obvious... to keep from fucking whimpering in reaction. He knows Guides are capable of mimicking and projecting emotions they don't actually feel, he's seen it happen, and he knows that his own reaction makes him an unreliable judge, but... there's nothing left in him that can fight the need to trust this man's reactions, especially now, when it's so fucking overwhelming.

His knees nearly buckle as he drops his chin to his chest, sucking in deep breaths through his mouth to try and block out the scent of fear and panic. But it doesn't do anything to block out the staccato beating of Danny's heart, the way his breath has caught in panic, and Eliot can't answer. He can't think. It's too much and he's spiraling into it and for the second time in less than an hour, rushing towards zoning with a speed and inexorability that just increases his own panic. Because this shouldn't be happening. He has better control than this.

Edited 2017-04-11 05:53 (UTC)

When Eliot starts to show the signs of panic as much as Danny does he is drawn back. Fuck. He closes his eyes, trying to remember what anyone ever told him whenever he had to go into a small space had said. Breathe, count the breaths, focus on that sensation. Once he has enough control to speak without letting the panic run away on him again he slides his hand over the table.

"Hi. Sorry. Didn't mean to do that. You're safe. You're just feeling my panic. Easy now. Breathe for me. Deep beaths, count them." He places his hand over Eliot's fist, hoping it will make it a bit easier for him to hear him.

Eliot can't focus on anything beyond the sound of the other man's rabbiting heart, the bellows pump of his lungs, the acrid reek of fear rolling off him in waves, and it's only tightly clenched teeth and a lifetime of hard won habit that keeps him silent. It helps a little, when Danny starts to get his own emotional responses in check, let's Eliot's own breathing and heart rate start to even out, even though he's intentionally controlling neither.

That's not enough to bring him back on its own, though, not even the sound of his voice is this time. Eliot doesn't so much as glance up when he hears it, and his only movement is a almost imperceptible full-body tremor of muscles held too rigidly tight, locked between fight and flight... until Danny's hand settles over his and he explodes into motion. It's so fast it's almost impossible to follow the sequence of movements as he grabs Danny's wrist in an almost (not quite, even this way he can't bring himself to hurt him) bruising grip, side-stepping away from the table and yanking Danny out of his chair and towards him at the same time. Somewhere in there he manages to maneuver the smaller man until he's pressed face-first into the nearest wall, Eliot braced against his back, pinning him in place with still trembling hands as he breathes in great, panicked gasps.

Danny yelps in surprise when he is pinned up against the wall and for a moment his instincts are screaming at him. But there isn't much he manages to do under Eliot's grip rather than squirm rather unhelpfully. It only takes him a second to get them under control now though and he focuses on breathing calmly.

"Hey, listen. It's me, Danny. You're safe, you're in your resturant, we were just talking. Easy now. Calm. Focus on me, on my voice. Breathe for me. They are not going to get you, I got you." He continues talking like that, and focuses on following his own advise and breathe more slowly. The grip makes it so he can't exactly relax, his body all tense under Eliot but he does what he can. "Easy easy easy. It was my fault. You're safe. Nobody is coming after you"

Eliot's actually growling when he first shoves Danny into the wall, a low rumble that vibrates through his chest and sounds disturbingly animalistic--disturbingly feral. But once he gets the smaller man pinned, body pressed tight against him and face slotted in next to his, the scent of him--what's under the lingering stink of panic and fear that's just him--penetrates the fog clouding Eliot's brain and the growl dies away into a confused, questioning sound pressed into the skin behind Danny's ear.

He's still trembling, so faintly it's only perceptible by touch, every muscle in his body literally vibrating with tension, but his grip on Danny eases minutely and he drops his head a little, enough to just barely rest it on the smaller man's shoulder. There's no immediate threat, and Danny's breathing and heart rate stay steady, his scent shifting away from fear, and even through the blank haze muffling almost everything else Eliot can feel his calm concern. It's warm and grounding, and even though he can't make out the words at first the sound of his voice is soothing.

Slowly his grip relaxes, until he's less pinning Danny to the wall and more leaning against his back as his panicked gasps slowly ease into a more normal rhythm, and even more slowly sync up with Danny's again. It's not until long after that that the words start to make sense as anything other than soothing white noise, and a few minutes longer, even, before Eliot's settled enough to register where he is or in what position, and then he pushes unsteadily away, staggering a little as he backs off.

"Maybe-" His voice comes out a hoarse croak and he has to stop and swallow hard, licking his lips before trying again. "Maybe you should go," he manages this time. It's still rough, but it's a lot closer to normal... and one of the hardest damn things he's ever said. "I ain't gonna turn you or yours in, no one deserves that shit. But you breathe a word about me t'anyone an' I swear t'god I'll-" He stops, words cutting off abruptly, because he can't even make the threat and it's terrifying. "Just don't. I'll know the second you breathe a word, so don't."

Edited 2017-04-11 08:19 (UTC)

"You'll be alright if I go?" Danny sounds unsure. He turns and looks at Eliot, nothing but concern on his face now. He takes a deep breath. "I'll tell him. But nobody else. I promise." He glances over at the table. He doesn't want to leave, not at all. Not just because he is worried about what Eliot might do. But part of him wants to stay. He might not get the same high that Steve describes but it just feels so damn good to be close to them.

"I am going to go pick up my gun and phone. Alright?" Because considering how Eliot's acted until now. It is best to warn him about something like that. He checks that the gun is alright, before he slides it back into his holster and picks up the badge and phone, stashing them in his pockets. "If you need to talk, I am staying at the hotel half a mile up the road." Not that he is there much. It is a shitty place, but at least it is a bed.

"I've been alright for twenty damn years," he answers, when what he wants to say is no, and beg him to stay. To just let him breathe in the peace of his presence... the peace Eliot hasn't been letting himself experience at all, other than those few minutes when he'd been coming out of zoning out, still too disoriented to move away but coherent enough to simply bask in it.

"Don't put it back together 'til you're well aware from here," Eliot snaps, watching warily--hungrily--as Danny picks it up, along with his badge and phone. He takes another step back and scrubs his hands over his face, then back up into his hair, setting it up in spiky disarray before dropping them. His chest feels like it's being split open, and he has to work not to rub anxiously at his breastbone, at the phantom pain blooming under it. This pain is better than getting fucked over by another Guide, though, or at least that's what he tells himself.

"I don't need anything," he answers, and it's almost mechanical now, his voice inflectionless and his gaze blank as he methodically focuses on his breathing heart rate and forces them into a rhythm that doesn't sync with Danny's. He's been fine on his own all this time, he's not about to let that change now.

"Alright, alright." Danny takes a deep breath. He doesn't want to go either. But he is worried that if he pushes Eliot might snap again or worse zone. He breathes a few times before he moves towards the door. "It was nice meeting you, stay safe." And he means it, utterly and fully. Then he slips from the room. He leaves some money on the bar paying for his food and then leaves. He doesn't feel hungry anymore. He just feels like walking and clearing his head. Hopefully sort out the questions and worry before he calls Steve and asks him.

Eliot meets the last admonition with a derisive snort... that he has to work to keep from turning into something plaintive and broken as Danny makes good on his promise to leave by slipping out of the room. It leaves Eliot standing there, trembling and feeling more lost than he has in over fifteen years, but he can't afford the self-indulgence of falling apart here and now. He has to put Hardison off, both him and Williams and whatever Sentinel he's protecting, and then- Christ, and then he thinks maybe he needs to get really damn far away until he can get his head back on straight, because the way things stand now he just might be a danger. To himself and others. So he waits just until he hears Danny exit the pub itself--and he doesn't twitch involuntarily to follow him, he doesn't--then turns to the back exit from the private dining room, up the stairs to the apartments above and what he knows is going to be a very... uncomfortable conversation with his partners.

PSL: Sentinel AU

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