I always felt that in the episode "The Big Bang Job," when Moreau almost drowns Hardison, that there was a missing scene between Eliot and Hardison afterward. I mean, Hardison was pissed. I would have been. I mean, objectively, I understand why Eliot didn't go in and get him, but... still. I tried to write this so that it would make a little more sense why Hardison was okay with Eliot after the discussion in the park.

I've read a lot of other fics about a missing scene for this and they're AWESOME. I had to take a crack at my own ;)

Thanks for reading!

~cosette141

Hardison was shaking.

Fear, adrenaline, fury, betrayal, a swarm of all the emotions together blurred his vision.

He almost drowned.

Almost drowned. D-R-O-W-N, drowned. Handcuffed to a chair, lying at the bottom of Moreau's pool, suffocating and seeing black by the time the handcuff keys caught his eye.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't think.

He'd been more terrified in that moment than he had been in his whole damn life.

But that wasn't what was clawing inside of him, threatening to rip out of his chest or tear him apart itself. He was okay with the fact that he almost died. He was okay with the fact that Moreau almost had him killed.

What he wasn't okay with was the fact that Eliot had let him.

Through narrowed eyes and a haze of red, Hardison glared at Eliot. Eliot, who was standing before them in the park, explaining to Nate just exactly the type of grade-A asshole he was.

The entire walk from the hotel to the park was silent. It was thick and heavy and constricting and Hardison had felt like he was drowning all over again. He had waited for an explanation, waited for his so-called friend, teammate, and someone Hardison had damn near considered a brother to explain to him why he had sat back and said nothing, did nothing to save him.

Like he meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

"You think you know what I've done?"

Hardison had flinched. He glared at Eliot, who had yet to look him in the eye, and wondered who the hell the man even was.

The furious haze shattered at the shards of the conversation, and Hardison gathered enough to realize Eliot was going to have to kill a governor.

"But… you can't," said Sophie from miles away. "You're not that man anymore."

Hardison almost laughed.

"Well," said Nate finitely, the tell-tale tone of voice he used when he'd made up his mind and wasn't going to change it. "Looks like he's gonna have to be."

Eliot made no move to disagree. The hitter still avoided meeting Hardison's eyes. Even looking in his direction.

That was it.

Hardison stood, his arm moving of its own accord, and he lashed out to hit Eliot across the face.

Sane judgement would have warned him of the stupid move but he was furious and angry and hurt and that blotted out all sorts of common sense. His fist didn't even make it within a foot of Eliot's face before, without even looking, the hitter's stance shifted in a split second and Hardison's fist was caught in Eliot's iron-hard grip.

Someone exclaimed his name but he ignored it. Hardison froze, caught in the hitter's grip, glaring daggers into his so-called friend's eyes. Eliot met his gaze this time, his face only a hard, blank canvas, his eyes clouded and dark and empty. Something flickered in those eyes, and Hardison gave a growl that sounded nothing like him and the grip on his fist loosened.

Fury taking the wheel he lashed out again and Eliot made no move to avoid it. His fist snapped Eliot's face to the side, and the hitter rolled with the punch, looking as if Hardison had only flicked him.

"Hardison!" cried Sophie, but he ignored her, his chest heaving.

"Tell them, Eliot!" growled Hardison, glaring at the hitter who still had his head down where the punch left him, still hadn't raised his eyes. "Tell them what you did!" When Eliot still made no move to speak, Hardison's hands clenched into fists. "Fine! If you're gonna be a fricken coward about it-Eliot sat back and let Moreau fricken' drown me!" His voice was cracking all over the place but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd been under that water, he could see the blurry figure of the hitter. The blurry figure that didn't even flinch.

"I was down there for minutes, man!" exclaimed Hardison. "Handcuffed to a damned chair and I was drowning!" Eliot's hair shielded his face, guarding his expression. He didn't move. It only seemed to make Hardison angrier. "You know what? You're right. We don't know you. Because if you could just sit back and let me die like you didn't care, like you didn't give a damned shit about me then I don't even want to know what the worst thing you coulda done was! Because from where I'm standing, you just did it!"

"Three seconds!" exploded Eliot, his head whipping up, his eyes narrowed into slits and fury coating his entire being.

Hardison's eyes twitched. "What-"

"Three damned seconds, Hardison!" roared the hitter. "If he had left you under there for three more seconds I would have gone in! All right? I was counting! You were three seconds away from blacking out! And no, I didn't know you could breathe from the chair!" growled Eliot, his fury rooting Hardison to the spot.

Hardison was still panting, his emotions stuttering. "But you didn't even flinch."

"Of course I didn't flinch!" Eliot shouted. "If Moreau thought I even so much as liked your shirt he woulda known you meant more to me than just a business deal!" Moisture gleaned in Eliot's eyes, threatening tears that would never fall. "He was testing me, Hardison! So, no, I didn't flinch. You'd better be happy I didn't fricken flinch because if I did then drowning would have been the least of your worries!" Now Eliot's chest was heaving, his face twisted in anger and irritation and…

Hurt.

"Dammit Hardison," snapped Eliot, his voice still rough and angry but lacking the power behind it. "If I thought for one second you were down there too long I would have gone in even if it was the last thing I did." Hardison and Eliot held a hard gaze, the silence in the park unwavering. "Do you really think, after everything this team has been through, I'd let you die for a job?" Eliot asked, almost inaudibly, holding his gaze and Hardison felt his anger evaporate. Eliot wasn't angry anymore, either. The blankness of his face was gone now, replaced with something raw. Something… hurt and pained and… broken. "Making sure you don't die is my job."

Hardison and Eliot held the gaze, silence stretching. Hardison finally took a breath and sank back down to bench. Eliot blinked and the mask reappeared, breaking their eye contact and he turned to Nate.

The three others had waited during their argument but now Nate, albeit a bit awkwardly, clapped his hands together and forced a smile. "Okay… where were we?"

The team continued where they left off, and Hardison reached for the iPad in Sophie's hands. He briefly looked up at the hitter, who was looking at him. The air still feeling thick and uncomfortable, Hardison slightly inclined his head, giving a silent we're okay.

He saw it in Eliot's eyes then-a flash of something akin to gratefulness. To relief. But it was so quick he almost missed it.

Eliot… cared.

Despite everything, the ghost of a smile flitted across Hardison's face.

Even if it didn't seem like he did, even if it didn't show it, even if it was hidden behind that rigid mask he built to hide himself, it was there and would always be there.

Just under the surface.