A/N:

AU aspects:

Ellen & Jo still alive
Jo's b-day changed from April 7, 1985 to April 7, 1987 (to provide adequate time for Jamie to come to be)
Bobby still alive
Roadhouse still there
Eliot is a retired hunter
... and I'm sure there's more, but none are coming right to mind.
Post 10x06 "Ask Jeeves" - everything before that point is mostly canon, with the addition of Jamie.
Post series for Leverage

Chapter 1: Desperation

Jamie had a white-knuckled grip on her steering wheel with one hand, and an equally white-knuckled grip on her phone with the other.

She muttered under her breath, "Come on, pick up your damn phone…"

Seconds later she heard Bobby's gruff voice, "What?"

She would've laughed if she wasn't in so much pain, "Nice to hear your voice too, old man."

"Jamie?"

"The one and only."

"Where the hell are you, girl?"

"Oregon."

"What in the blazes are you doing in Oregon?"

Jamie was beginning to feel light-headed, "At the moment, trying not to bleed out."

"Balls! Girl you know better than –"

"Can you lecture me later?" she cut him off, "I need someone to patch me up. We got anyone up this way?"

"Where exactly are you?"

"Few miles outside Portland."

She heard the sound of papers shuffling, the clacking of a keyboard, and Bobby cursing in the background before his voice came back on the line, full of anxiety, "Ain't another hunter for about 100 miles."

"Shit! I'm gonna be lucky if I make it 10. There's gotta be someone closer."

"You could always go to a hospital."

Jamie didn't even answer, just tightened her grip hard enough that she felt her phone start to crack and her steering wheel creaked.

Bobby cursed again, "Fine… look, there's a guy I can send you to. I'll text you the address. You'll want the second floor."

Jamie took a steadying breath, struggling to maintain her focus, "Thanks."

Parker came to a dead stop so fast that Hardison plowed right into her and Eliot barely avoided plowing into Hardison.

"Damn it, Hardison! What the hell?" Eliot growled.

"Hey! Blame Parker!" Hardsion defended himself.

"Uh, Eliot?" Parker ventured instead of explaining.

"What?" Eliot snapped, side-stepping the still frozen couple.

"Why is there a dead person on our floor?"

Eliot whipped his head around to follow her gaze, and sure enough, there was a bloody, human-shaped lump sprawled just inside an open window he was sure he'd closed before they left. Eliot quickly scanned the room with his eyes, and only once he was satisfied the woman on the floor was the only uninvited guest, he made his way over to crouch next to her. That's when he noticed the squawking phone in her limp grasp. He grabbed it and lifted it to his ear.

"Who is this?" he demanded.

The voice paused, "Eliot?"

"Bobby?!" Eliot asked in shock.

"Thank God! Please tell me she's still alive."

Eliot tucked the phone into his shoulder and rolled the woman over onto her back before checking her weak pulse. Noticing the poorly bandaged, gaping, still bleeding wounds in her side, he shrugged off his flannel button-up and held it against her ribs with as much pressure as he could.

He turned his attention partially back to the phone, "Yeah, she's alive, but just barely. How long since she stopped responding?"

Bobby's voice was strained, "About three minutes."

Eliot carefully lifted his shirt to get a better look at her wounds. He cursed silently. He grunted, "I gotta drop the phone. I'll call you back later." He snapped the phone shut and shoved it in his pocket before glancing up at Hardison and Parker, who were now hovering above him, "Parker, go get the black tote from under my bathroom sink. Hardison, help me move her to a bed."

About two and half hours later, picked up the phone again.

Bobby answered on the first ring, "Eliot?"

"She's alive for now. The wounds were deep. She lost too much blood. I'm sure there's a lot of internal bruising. She's got a couple cracked ribs. I doubt she'll be waking up any time soon, if at all."

Bobby made a strangled sound, "Please tell me there's some good news."

Eliot sighed, "She's breathing on her own, and it doesn't sound too labored, so it's unlikely any of the broken ribs pierced a lung. And she hasn't started convulsing or anything, so I'm pretty sure there's no internal bleeding."

Bobby sighed, "Is there anything else you can do for her?"

Eliot scrubbed a hand across his face, "If I knew her blood type, I might be able to hook her up to a bag. Could improve her chances."

"A negative." Bobby answered without hesitation.

That caused Eliot to pause, "Bobby, who is she?"

Bobby's voice came back choked, "Her name is Jamie."

Eliot paled, "She mean something to you?"

Bobby hesitated, "Yeah."

"Damn it! I… shit, man. I might not have been such an insensitive dick if I knew that."

"I'd rather know the truth, boy. Just… let me know if I need to be there."

Eliot shook his head before remembering he was on the phone, "No. Let me try the blood first. If that doesn't work, I'll call you."

"Alright. Just… take care of her."

"Of course."

Eliot hung up and stuck his head out into the hall, "Parker!"

The thief came flying down on a harness from the ceiling just above his head, "Is she dead?"

"No."

"Good. That would be… I don't know. But not good."

"I have a job for you."

Parker flipped right-side up and dropped to her feet, unhooking her harness, "Do I get to steal something?"

Eliot nodded, "Blood."

Parker headed toward the door, "Interesting."

Eliot glanced back toward the bed, "And morphine!" he called after the little blonde thief.