Alas I don't own anything to do with Leverage I just enjoy writing stories about them.

My sincere apologies for disappearing while in the middle of this story. Several lengthy stays in hospital and hey presto now I'm officially a robot complete with titanium partial spine and remote control for my nerves in the form of a neurostimulator. All that and a new tag name for my muse means that finally we're getting back into the swing of things. I'm picking this story back up, if you have any requests for inputs into this one I'd be more than happy to try work them in. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this story, which is still work in progress. I would like to thank those who have already read and reviewed this piece for their patience and dedicate the remainder of this story to those kind few.

The oppressive air surrounded them on all sides you could barely catch your breath. The fighting had been fierce and while the antagonists were relatively untrained their passion and beliefs made them worthy adversaries on the battlefield and after many hours their lack of stamina exposed, they were finally defeated. Only once the smoke began to clear would the true devastation be revealed to those who had survived the onslaught, soldiers emerging from their fox holes their energies depleted, adrenalin wavering, trudging onwards in a continued forward motion. Intermittent rounds whistled through the trees from Soviet made AK47s, followed by a spluttering of M16 rapid fire which silenced the extant enemy once and for all. This final stance over an eerie silence lay exposed across the battlefield and despite sounds of fires crackling from the village beyond the river, the sound of running water was all that could be heard. As they approached what remained of the village an odour assailed their nostrils, the overwhelming scent of charred wood but with a difference, this particular smell mingled with the unquestionable stench of smouldering flesh and the closer they got the more crushing it became. Flames lit the dirty faces of those soldiers still standing, illuminating their expressions and highlighting the astonished looks they wore. Incredulously each time they surrounded a place to protect it, a different village had been targeted for attack. It was becoming all too evident that all they would ever be able to do was clean up the mess and bury the bodies. The group responsible would leave men to hold off the Army while they moved onto the next village, raping and pillaging as they went.

Eliot was a Sergeant First Class in the United States Army, a Ranger with the 75th. He couldn't quite believe the mess the Serbians were making of their own Country, one that had previously held such promise and beauty. Not this village though, this one had been plundered beyond all recognition courtesy of anarchists intent on claiming back the villages along the West side of Mostar in war torn Croatia; all in the name of religion. The Ranger Unit had been on patrol for seven nights consecutively and each night another village had been hit leaving little more than fires to put out and bodies to bury. If they could get a lead on the group carrying out these raids then at least they could put a stop before another village was wiped out.

Identification was puerile as families were wiped out in their entirety; generations lost all in one day. Photographing the bodies and cataloguing the clothes they wore, alongside any jewellery was the only way that further identification would ever be made. Generations of families all in the one grave, it wasn't how things were supposed to happen. There would be no one left to identify the dead, let alone mourn their tragic passing. Holes were dug in a central place or close to whatever was left of the church and those skilled with their hands crafted crosses. Meanwhile the Padre wrote another sermon to deliver to fatigued and shell shocked soldiers who were fast becoming drenched in the stench of death.

Once the back breaking work was done soldiers took it in turn to rest and eat. Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) issued to each person and areas cleared of debris were quickly set up as rest areas. Some told stories of other missions as they sat around, while others took the chance to shut their tired eyes, attempting to close out the horrific sights that surrounded them.

Eliot awoke suddenly to the sound of Hardison laughing, how could he have been so stupid as to fall asleep inside the van. Lucille wasn't the most comfortable of places nor the most private as it would transpire and now Hardison was chuckling over something, which left Eliot worrying that he might have been the reason.

"Yo man, you talk in your sleep!" Hardison forced out through much laughter, "How is it the World's best Retrieval Specialist talks in his sleep, man how have you never been caught out with this?"

Before Eliot could finish his growl and move towards Alec's throat, Nate's voice came over the comms.

"I hope you two are enjoying yourselves back there," Nate cleared his throat, "There's always plenty more work to do on this job if you have too much time on your hands?"

"Hey man, it wasn't me sleeping on the job!" Hardison whined moving back to his computer as if Nate could somehow see him.

"Won't happen again Nate," growled Eliot, his voice huskier than usual having been asleep for a short while.

Taking his comms out briefly Eliot motioned for Hardison to do the same.

"You should have woken me."

"You looked tired man, you've been all pale and pasty. Sophie said to let you rest. I ain't going to mess with her man." Alec raised both hands in mock surrender. "Now can I get back to work before Nate has my ass?"

Putting his comm back in Eliot growled once more to extend his displeasure but also to shake the reverie from his head. He hadn't thought about that time in Mostar for a long time and all of a sudden he's having nightmares about it and apparently talking in his sleep. He was going to have to be more careful.

"Okay I've got what I need I'm heading to the exit. How are you doing Parker?" Sophie sang quietly into the comm.

"Finished ages ago, been waiting for you lot and listening to Eliot talk in his sleep." Parker replied matter-of-factly while hanging up side down from an elevator shaft.

"Parker!" screamed Eliot, taking his comms out again he swore at Hardison, "I'm goin' kick your ass one of these days."

"Alright, lets move to the exits and clear this one out." Nate tried to remain professional while all the others were poking fun at Eliot. He wasn't going to be amused later at this rate and it would probably be up to Nate to calm Eliot down at the end of the day. "Back to the van then."

Eliot opened the doors to the van and got out, he needed to stretch his legs but also get some fresh air. His nostrils were once again assailed with the scent of burning flesh and the nightmare was feeling all too real today. His sense of smell had never fully recovered from that time and since then he'd always been wary of fire, but most of all he had held a pure hatred for guns and anyone who waved them around in a threatening manner.

Eliot's thoughts were interrupted by the crew returning to the van, after a few wary glances his way they all climbed aboard, Hardison set the wheels in motion and they headed back to Nate's flat, which still doubled as the team's head office. Sophie was first to speak and it wasn't about the job they were working either.

"Eliot you do look awfully pale, are you sure you aren't coming down with something?" Leaning forward as she spoke Sophie attempted to feel Eliot's forehead with the back of her hand, only to have the hitter dodge her and swat at her hand.

"I'm fine," he countered and looking to Nate for help.

"Leave him alone," Nate warned and while Eliot turned to smirk at Parker, Nate winked at Sophie intimating to her that there was more than one way to skin a cat!

One thing was for sure, no one was prepared for what was going to happen next.