Title: Boston

Summary: A different take on Eliot's Christmas. Sequel to Havana.

Disclaimer: I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

Author's Note: Alright guys, this is the last of it! Thank you sooo much to everyone who read this and I hope you all thoroughly enjoyed it. Your kind words truly have meant so much to me. And don't worry, there will be more Eliot and Natalia very soon. Thanks again everyone!

Chapter 14

December 27th

It was 7:03 am. The sun hadn't yet risen, but soft blue light filtered in through the sheers, creating a silhouette of her sleeping figure before him. Today was the day he never wanted to face. When she left, everything would revert to the norm. Soon the team would have to face a future against Moreau, and he would have to face his past.

He knew she would be alright. She always was. 'I can take care of myself Eliot,' is what she would tell him. She was the best at what she did, but there was always that fear in the back of his mind. The one that dreaded her going away, and never coming back again. His eyes darted away in order to compose himself.

As if to reassure him, she shifted from her position on her side to snuggle against his chest, He kissed her forehead and held her, content for now to wait until the morning light to face goodbye.

Hours later he found her in the kitchen, peeling a grapefruit. Her duffel bag and backpack were already by the door and she was dressed in a black tank, jeans and a colored scarf, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"You know it's 19 degrees outside," he pulled his hair back and secured it with a tie from his wrist.

"That's what the blazer is for," she casually pointed to her blazer draped over a dining chair. Eliot leaned against the opposite side of the kitchen counter, arms crossed smiling at her. "And I do own a jacket you know," she teased.

"Where are you off to?"

"The Dominican Republic. Where it's warm. Hence the tank," she bit into a slice of the pink fruit while looking him straight in the eye.

"Don't do that."

"Do what," she pressed another slice to her lips before taking a bite.

"You know exactly what I mean," his voice was rough now and she knew she was getting to him.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," she licked a drop of juice off of her skin as it ran down her thumb. He growled at her and she smiled before finishing her fruit and rinsing her hands. He closed the space between them, pressing his chest to her back, nose buried in her neck, taking in her scent while he still could.

"Ready?" He rumbled low in her ear.

"Never," she whispered, turning her face until their noses just brushed. She almost lost it.

The car ride to the restaurant was spent in silence, save for the humming of the Charger's engine and Eliot's heart hammering in his ears. He stole a glance over at her, chin resting in her palm, gaze directed out of the window at the tourists along the sidewalk. The sunlight through the buildings caught the diamonds on her finger and the tear on her cheek. Eliot pretended not to notice, but she knew he had seen. She didn't care.

They spent lunch with Parker and Hardison with smiles on their faces, but inside, they were breaking. Hellos and goodbyes passed too quickly, the space between them disappearing before it had even begun. Their last moments together were racing toward them with a momentum that couldn't be stopped.

He found himself standing in front of the security line when she slipped her hand from his and turned to face him.

"We've never been good at this," she whispered.

Eliot wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her lips to his in a hard and desperate kiss; his unspoken plea for something he knew wouldn't come. When he finally released her she opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her by brushing his thumb over her lips. "Go." He barely managed to choke out the word. She gave his waist one last squeeze before picking up her duffel bag, turning on her heel, and walking through to Security.

Letting go of him was like ripping out a piece of her very being. Some kind of vital organ was now missing and she couldn't go back for it. This was different. Leaving him had never felt like this. For these past few days that she had been a part of his regular life…she slept in his bed, made his coffee, drank with his friends, fucked on his dining table…this was the normal she wanted deep down and now she was leaving it. She had half a mind to say fuck it all to hell. The job, the guns, the whirlwind lifestyle. She wanted Eliot. But still, she had to let go.

As he stared at her there in the line, his head screamed at him. Don't let her go through that line. Don't let her walk to that gate. Don't let her on that plane. Whatever you do, don't lose her. He nearly got down on his knees and begged. She didn't need to work for money; he had enough for the both of them. That was all that mattered, right? Him and her and enough money to last them five lifetimes. He needed her. He couldn't let her go. But there she was, glancing back at him one last time, mouthing an "I love you" before disappearing into the fray. Just like that, she was gone.

He stood there, for how long he didn't know. But Eliot stood there, hands in the pockets of his jeans, life playing at full speed around him; families saying goodbye, others welcoming loved ones with open arms. He didn't know when he turned around and drove home and stuck the key into the lock on his door before tossing them onto the dining room table, beside a piece of paper that he hadn't put there. He unfolded it, knowing full well who had.

Clean this before you invite anyone over, Cowboy.

He couldn't help but laugh. He knew he'd hold her again. Soon enough, somewhere, they would be back together. It wouldn't be long. He'd make damn sure of it.