There was a job, another corporate loser trying to get away with fraud and embezzlement or whatever. She wasn't even sure what the company did. There had been so many jobs lately, one after another of these dirty sleazebags; she had been through dozens of names and costumes and nights without sleep, jumped off countless buildings and watched countless people cry with joy at seeing the results of her work.

So why Parker would wake up to find herself tied to a chair, her chest searing from the obvious discomfort of several cracked ribs, was a complete mystery to her. She recognized a few of the henchmen she had slipped past only seconds ago leaning over her with a flashlight in her eyes, and blinked furiously.

"What do you want with me?"

Talking hurt. She would keep that in mind from now on. Slowly the events of the past few minutes became clearer in her mind. Someone had come up from behind as she worked the locks on the office door, knocking her against the wall. She had felt him kicking her, yelling, and then dragging her down the hall to the bleach-scented utility closet where she was currently being held.

"You've been a very naughty girl," one of the henchmen, a shorter man with a crooked nose, said in a thick Eastern-European accent. Parker couldn't quite place it through the haze of her concussion. Sophie would know, she thought, but thinking about Sophie made her realize how much she could have screwed up the job. If she had been caught, the team's cover had been blown. The bad guys could be picking them up any minute. To make matters worse, her com was gone, probably smashed by the Russians, or Bulgarians, or whoever they were.

Parker's head throbbed and she fought the urge to slip back into unconsciousness, instead deciding to occupy her mind with something that never failed to keep her interest. Escape. She could make it out of the rope easily enough, it was an amateur job to be fair, but the guards were the real problem. If she could get one of them close enough to take his gun….

"Please," she whispered, barely loudly enough to be heard. "I'll tell you everything." She felt the men leaning in and five minutes later, she was sprinting down the hall to the giant glass window overlooking where the rest of the team was camped out. She had swiped the incriminating flash drive from one of the dead guards. Parker clipped her carabiner onto the chain of a heavy-looking chandelier, kicked through the window, and leapt, holding her breath against the pain.

The rope ended a few feet from the ground and Parker unclipped herself, letting herself fall. She yelled in pain as she hit the pavement, curling in on herself. Hardison's van was only a few cars away and he jumped out, running towards her.

"Aww God no, what happened? Parker! Are you okay?"

She gasped, her breaths painful, and held out the flashdrive. "Take it. Tell the others we're blown. You gotta leave now. Just leave me here."

He knelt next to her, scanning the lot for any sign of the others before looking down at her and trying to gauge the severity of her injuries. "Not happening. No. Come on, baby, hold on."

Nate's voice over the com, whose dealings with the mark Hardison had tuned out, suddenly became serious and low. "Hardison! What's going on over there? Is everything okay?"

"Nah, man, we're blown, we gotta leave now—"

"Okay then, everyone back to the van, Sophie, Elliot, Parker—"

Hardison looked down at the young thief, whose head had slumped to the side, her eyes closed. "Parker's here… she's hurt. Like really hurt. I dunno what to do, she can't walk, I dunno if she's gonna be okay…"

Eliot's voice cut in. "I'll be right there. Did you get what we needed?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Okay, you an' the others, run. Get that to the police. I'll take Parker to the hospital."

When Eliot arrived, Parker had slipped back into consciousness, awoken by the sharp pains in her side. He knelt beside her, lifting her into a sitting position with his broad, warm arms.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he said. "We're gonna get you some help, okay? I came to take you to the hospital."

"No!" she exclaimed, fighting weakly against Eliot's firm grip around her shoulders before slumping back against his chest in fatigue.

"Easy, girl," he said, trying to disguise his concern.

"I can't. They'll recognize me. I don't wanna be caught, not on something like this… it's just a concussion and a few cracked ribs. Take me to headquarters. Please." Her eyes became glossy with tears. Eliot was definitely not used to seeing Parker cry, or even close to crying.

He frowned, surveying the nasty cut on her forehead and deciding against lifting up her shirt to check there. There was no telling what she might interpret from that. "Alright. Can you stand?"

She made a feeble attempt before responding, "I don't think so." Wordlessly, he reached his other arm through the bend of her knees and lifted her, pulling her broken body gently against him. He made it to the car easily and balanced her on one arm while he opened the door of his pick-up and laid Parker inside. She blinked blearily as he took his place in the driver's seat and pulled out of the parking lot, and then her eyes slid closed.