Parker didn't believe Nate when he told her. She expected him to just start laughing or add a "Just kidding!" shortly after. He was creepier when he was sober. But no, there was no creepy laughter, just a faraway look in his eyes. "Hardison is dead." Nate repeated, almost like he didn't believe it himself. She swore she saw a tear run down his cheek before he turned and walked into his kitchen, probably to get himself a drink. But Parker still didn't believe him. She had lost her earbud when diving off a roof so Parker didn't hear the gunshots or the yelling or the mayhem. All she knew is that Eliot was missing and that Nate and Sophie were playing a mean trick on her.
Parker went up the spiral staircase and into Nate's room. Hardison lay still on Nate's bed where they had carried him to when they got home. The sheets were soaked through with blood and the hacker was sitting just too still. Parker walked up to him and poked him, expecting him to wake up and hug her or maybe press his lips against her forehead. She didn't know what it meant when he did that, but it felt good and it made her happy. She thought it made him happy as well and that made her happier still.
She sat on the end of the bed, patiently, for what seemed like hours, just waiting for the man to move. But he didn't. It seemed like he wasn't even breathing. She heard the door open slowly behind her. It was Sophie, not Nate. She could tell by the footsteps. Too quiet and delicate to be Nate. Parker turned to Sophie, tears forming in the latter's eyes. "Parker..." She started. Parker knew Sophie was just going to try to play the same trick that Nate had.
"No! He's not dead! He's just sick and I need to get him something to make him feel better!" She announced before running back out of the room. One salty tear hit the floor.
"Nate, she needs to accept his death. We can't just sit around here. Please, just talk to Parker. Or help me find Eliot. He'll know what to say to her." Sophie pleaded to Nate, minutes later. She and Nate had each taken a seat in front of the mastermind's TV, which remained off. Nate knew Sophie was right. They couldn't sit around, mourn and drink. One of their own was missing, one was dead, and the other was refusing to believe anything they said. Nate nodded his head solemnly and took another sip of his whiskey. They needed to do this, now. Before something worse happened.
"We need to find Eliot first." He said, praying that they hadn't lost two friends today. One was bad enough. It was downright horrible. The older man got up and walked over to the laptop, leaving his drink on the coffee table near where Sophie still sat. Her hand replaced his on the glass of whiskey and she took a drink. As Nate sat down in the hacker's old, leather chair, Parker strolled in. She was carrying an old, battered, stuffed bunny, a liter of Hardison's favorite orange soda, and a bag of gummy frogs. She practically skipped up the stairs and back into the room where the hacker laid.
"Still asleep?" She questioned when she walked in. Taking the silence as a yes, she placed the plastic bottle and bag on the table next to the bed and tried to tuck Bunny into Hardison's arms. When her hand touched his skin, she flinched. He was too cold. Her heart skipped a beat or six. She shook her head, thinking her hands were just warm, and smiled before regaining her spot on the end of the bloodied bed, waiting for her hacker to wake up, get out of bed, and give her a nice, warm hug.
~•~•~•~•~
Eliot woke up in what looked and smelled like a makeshift jail cell. He was on a thin mattress that just lay upon a cold, concrete floor. There were no windows and the walls weren't painted. There was no other furniture. A door was across from the mattress and it had a small window about eye level. Eliot pulled himself into a sitting position and leaned against the cold, hard wall.
Rubbing his temples, he tried to recall what had happened to him. He knew he had been on his way to save the sarcastic hacker's sorry ass when he had been ambushed. He knew his ambushers had injected him with something, probably some sort of sedative, that had knocked him out in seconds. He didn't even have time to react. He didn't even see his attackers. He didn't know who had been shot. What he did hear were the gunshots and the screaming. Eliot moved his hand from his temple to his right ear to check for the earbud. It was gone.
Silently swearing, he tried to stand up. He was dizzy and his legs felt like they were made of cement. Not succeeding, Eliot pulled himself into the closest corner of the cell. With a hand on each wall, he forced himself to his feet. Pushing himself against one wall for support, Eliot inched closer to the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of his captors through the tiny window. He leaned against it and stared through, hoping to see someone on the other side.
But no one was there.