salute [h.s]

the one where louis meets eleanor

Eleanor tried not to show on her face how deeply those words cut because she didn't want to give this wanker the satisfaction. It hurt though, more than she thought it would. Hearing his name — especially tonight on the one year anniversary of when they first met, of when she first thought she'd fallen in love at the sight of him — was like a knife to the chest. Thankfully, the agent released her and she was able to turn away before he could see the heartache on her face. "Happy Christmas, bitch," he sneered before storming off.

She turned to face the table, staring down at the stupid dancing reindeer on the tablecloth. It was taking everything in her not to start crying or, worse, start throwing things. She was Eleanor Calder, member of the Joint Intelligence Committee, liaison to the Secret Intelligence Service. She was running a black ops duo with two of the best agents in the business right now. She had the head of MI6 on speed dial. She couldn't afford to have a temper tantrum, not here. Despite how much she wanted to release all of this darkness and anger inside of her, this wasn't the place or the time.

"Staring at it isn't going to make it any less ugly." Eleanor looked back over her shoulder at the voice that had interrupted her, narrowing her eyes at the man standing there. "The tablecloth," he rushed to see when he saw the displeasure on her face. "I meant the tablecloth."

"Is there something you wanted?" Eleanor snapped back at him as she surreptitiously wiped at her wet eyes, hoping the guy hadn't noticed that she was on the verge of crying. She sniffled subtly and then turned to face him properly.

She was surprised by what she found. He wasn't much taller than her and was sort of slim in his build, unlike the numerous other agents that had dared to approach her that night. His hair was sort of a mess and he could have shaved for the evening, but his eyes were bright and so was his smile. Something shifted in Eleanor just the tiniest bit. The tension ebbed from her shoulders. She managed to take a full breath. Everything just felt easier and she didn't know how or why but it felt really good.

"Saw you talking to Westley," he said as he frowned in the direction of a group of senior agents standing in the corner. The man who had just accosted her was among them and they all seemed to be looking in their direction, snickering about something or other. Eleanor tried not to care, tried not to let it bother her, but she was only human. "I thought you could use a little cheering up after that experience."

Eleanor almost fell for it... almost. But she'd learned to be more careful than that since Aiden and she wasn't taking any chances. "Nice line but I'd prefer to be alone."

"It wasn't a line," the man said, his eyes shifting off to the side nervously. He seemed a bit unsettled by her behaviour which, granted, wasn't completely off base. She was acting like a lunatic. She just wanted to be by herself right now. "I, uh, I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"So you could make your move?"

"No," the man said hurriedly, shaking his head. "No, not at all. I didn't — I wasn't —"

"Then what did you want?" Eleanor asked curtly. She stuck her hands on her hips for emphasis, staring the man down. She was trying to be tough and stern, trying to show this guy that she wasn't someone to be messed with. She hoped he couldn't see the way her hands shook where they were resting on her sides.

The man gave her a gentle smile, one filled with sadness and empathy. She wanted to look away from those vibrant blue eyes because it felt like he could see right through her but she couldn't tear her eyes off him. He just had this sort of magnetism to him that she couldn't explain.

"I just wanted to give you this." He held out a box wrapped in beautiful gold paper and tied with a big red ribbon. "I'm your Secret Santa."

"Do you not understand the concept of secret Santa? You're not supposed to tell me it was from you."