Eliot Risks His Hide

by ileatrekkie

Eliot is captured, and boy, is he in trouble! Nate better get there soon...although Eliot might not like his alternative plan. Author's note; this is slightly darker than my other stories, but it's not too graphic. No slash. Rated T for violence. I've never done a story this long on here before, so constructive criticism would be appreciated.

Nate paced anxiously in his apartment as he waited for Eliot to turn his com back on.

"Nate, that's not helping," Hardison finally said from his computer.

"You know what would help; a fix on his position. Do your earbuds have a gps, or don't they?"

"You know they do. You also know that during his little scuffle with security down by the docks, Eliot was pushed into the water. We're lucky his com is working at all."

"We've only been telling you to make them waterproof for the past four years, Hardison."

"Which is why I've been working on it. In fact, my tinkering with them is probably why we're still able to communicate with him, so, you know, you're welcome."

"Yeah, you're a freakin' genius, Hardison," a raspy voice said. Nate stopped in his tracks, and the rest of the team perked up.

"Eliot?"

"Yeah, still here, boss."

"It's been almost two hours…"

"What did they do to you?" Parker interrupted. "Tell me, so that I can do the exact same thing to them."

"Take it easy Parker. It wasn't that bad."

"Okay, even I can tell that he's lying," Parker said to no one in particular.

"You know he's not going to tell us, Parker," Nate said.

"Well, it would kinda defeat the purpose of muting my earbud, now wouldn't it?" Eliot pointed out.

"Do you know where you are right now?" Nate asked.

"I'm back in my cell."

"You said before that you have a cellmate."

"Yeah, but they just separated us. They probably didn't want us to get together to form an escape plan, or something."

"How much does this guy know about us?"

"All he knows is that I have a means to communicate with someone on the outside."

"Why is he down there?"

"I already suspected him of being a mole, Nate, and I already discounted the possibility."

"Care to let me in on your reasoning?"

"He doesn't know why he's here. He said they just snatched him up off the sidewalk, apparently just before I was brought here. A mole would come up with a better cover story, or, at the very least, he'd have been given a better cover story, if he's unimaginative." Nate ran a hand through his hair.

"Okay, Eliot, maybe you can tell me more about your surroundings."

In his cell, Eliot managed to get to his feet, taking stock of his injuries. Broken ribs; nothing new there. A lot of bruises; really nothing new there. Electrical burns; he acknowledged them, but didn't dwell on them, or how they got there. No doubt, that would be added to his nightmares, like they always were. No matter how many times enemies put him through that one, it was still one of the few things that could traumatize him, at least on some level. And the way it was done this time…seriously, even the toughest retrieval specialist could forget about not screaming. He shook it off, and started looking around his cell.

"Well, I'm underground," he reported. There was a pause.

"Are you sure?" Nate asked after a moment.

"Yeah, knew that on the way down here, even though they blindfolded me. There's no windows, cos' why would there be." He gingerly made his way over to the door, tugged on the handle, and gave it a kick. "Door is re-enforced steel."

"Okay, the actual cell doesn't tell you anything. What about the drive up there…"

"Whoa, hold up," Hardison interrupted. "Eliot, don't move."

"Why? What's up?"

"When you moved to the door, I got a signal. Hold on just a minute while I triangulate…" Eliot sighed at the technobabble, but he had every intention of complying with his request to stay put, until the door suddenly opened, and he had to back away as a guard came in.

In Nate's apartment, everyone froze when they heard the door open.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" they heard the guard demand through Eliot's com.

"Take it easy, Walker," Eliot said, obviously having gotten his name already. "I'm just walking it off. If your boss doesn't like it, he can chain me up. I'm assuming that's what the restraints on the wall are for."

"My boss isn't here, and I don't like it, so settle down in here."

"Your boss ain't here? What about his other stooge?"

"Your other jailer isn't needed right now. I can handle some puny little injured conman just fine on my own." The team didn't have to see Eliot's face to know that by now, that crazy smile was plastered on it. Maybe Eliot could get himself out of this one after all. They heard a scuffle, then it sounded like Eliot was shoved back against the wall. There was a pause, then it sounded like something smaller hit the wall, and then there was a scream. Everyone was horrified when they realized it came from Eliot, and not the guard. A couple of seconds later, they heard footsteps approach the apparently newly injured Eliot, and then there was a grunt, followed by a cracking sound, and a second scream.

"You think you're in pain now," the guard, Walker, said, likely standing over Eliot. "Just wait til my boss gets back. He found out who you really are, Eliot Spencer, and he went to get…a little extra help."

"Care to elaborate?" Eliot said through gritted teeth.

"Why not? Nothing you can do about it anyway. Does the name Dennis Davis mean anything to you?" Obviously, there was a response, because Walker started chuckling. "I'll take that as a yes." They heard him finally leave.

"Eliot?" Nate said tentatively after a minute of listening to him breathe shallowly.

"Nate, we're in trouble," he ground out.

"I hate to point this out, bro, but we all fine; it's you that sounds like you're in trouble," Hardison said.

"Quiet, Hardison! They're bringing in someone who has a good chance of breaking me." Everyone gasped at this admission.

"Eliot, do you know this guy?" Nate asked warily.

"Only by reputation. I suggest you all get to a safe house, but don't tell me which one. Nate…I'm going off coms now. Don't expect to hear from me again."

"No, Eliot. No one is giving up now, including you."

"Nate…"

"Dude, you can't go off coms now," Hardison interrupted. "I'm reading your signal." Nate looked at him skeptically, and Hardison gave a small shrug, indicating that wasn't in fact the case. Apparently, Eliot was in too much pain to pick up on the obvious lie.

"Okay. Have Hardison look up the name Dennis Davis so you can see just what you're dealing with…and just give me five minutes."

"Five minutes for what?" Nate asked, a little suspicious.

"Just give me five minutes to myself, Nate. I promise, I'll come back on." Everyone knew that Eliot kept his promises.

"Just tell me one thing, Eliot; what did that guard just do to you?" There was a pause.

"My leg's broken," he finally admitted. Nate had a feeling there was more, but he dropped the matter for the moment.

"Okay, Eliot; five minutes, then maybe we'll have a clearer picture of where you are, and how to get you out."

"Got it," he said before turning off his com, but Nate noted that he didn't sound very hopeful about a rescue.

In his cell, Eliot finally let out the cry of pain he'd been holding in during his conversation with the others. Just outside his cell, he thought he heard the guard chuckle at his misery. He'd remember that, and deliver some misery himself. But right now, he lay on his back, where the goon had left him, keeping his eyes squeezed shut, and panting heavily.

The broken leg wasn't exactly new to him. But seriously, who breaks a leg with his bare hands? A nose, yes, but a leg? Not even I know how to do that, came the random thought. Of course, his left leg hurt, but that was nothing compared to the throbbing, unbearable pain in his right hand…where the guard had thrown his boot knife. He'd been stabbed, in various places, over the years; his hand was a new one. He didn't deal with new very well. It's just one more scar, he told himself, trying to trivialize it. Sure, it'll be inconvenient, since I'm right-handed, but all it really amounts to is it's just one more scar. He hated that it wasn't working.

After just lying there for the full five minutes that he'd requested, he finally sat up, then tore off a piece of his outer shirt, which he knew was going to be torn off him eventually anyway, and wrapped the cloth around his hand before lying back down, and activating his com again.

"Okay, Nate, I'm back," he said, more in control of himself this time. "Do you have the information about Davis?"

"Hardison just found it. It actually wasn't easy; something about hacking FBI files. To be honest, I really don't want to know how he did that. Stand by." Eliot's face became grim as he waited. They were not going to take this well, and he'd just as soon not hear it. Sure enough, a minute later, swear words from multiple sources filled his ear.

"Yep," he agreed blandly when they were done.

"Why would a man like Kenneth Colby use a guy that is known for skinning people alive?" Parker asked in her usual blunt manner. "I mean, maybe if we stole a butt-load of money from the mob, but we stole files from an accountant." Eliot sighed. Both Nate and Sophie had tried throughout this job to explain their mark's motives, but she still didn't understand, and information Parker didn't understand tended to get pushed right out of her mind, as if she hadn't received any explanation at all.

"Parker, those files lead to his client's hidden money. With that information, we can get his client, Gary Foster, in big trouble with the FEDs. Remember what I said about how the government feels about money being kept from them?" he said patiently, explaining things as he would to a child.

"Oh yeah; it makes them feel angry in their special place."

"Right. And if Gary Foster goes down, he'll want to take his accountant down with him…maybe even lay the blame solely on him. You think that's incentive enough to hire a guy like Davis?"

"Yeah, it is, which means we gotta get you out of there right now."

"Hardison, do you really have a fix on my location, or were you just blowing smoke?" he said in a voice that warned the hacker that he'd better not lie to him. The time he took in answering pretty much said it all.

"Well, I was real close, before that guard decided to compensate for his apparently serious inferiority complex."

"Eliot, how long of a drive was it?" Nate asked.

"Forty five minutes. But for all I know, they were just driving around in circles to throw me off."

"Okay, let's all think," Nate said as he started to pace. "There aren't that many places where you can go underground. There's the subway, perhaps in an abandoned tunnel…"

"Would feel the vibrations from the trains, abandoned tunnel or not," Eliot said.

"There's basements. Could it be a basement of a house?"

"Houses don't have elevators, Nate?"

"You used an elevator?"

"Yep."

"Okay, apartments, then?"

"Too many potential witnesses."

"Storm shelter?"

"As someone who grew up in the south, I can tell you, this definitely ain't a storm shelter."

"Okay, Gary Foster is a factory owner. Could you be underneath that? He could have sent the workers home for the day."

"Still too risky to have a cell, or cells, as the case may be, under his factory. Even when the cells aren't occupied, a worker could wander down here and find them, or an inspector, and empty or not, cells only serve one purpose, and they'd call the cops in a heartbeat. Nate…I need to talk to just you for a minute."

At Nate's apartment, he looked at the other team members, who all reached up and turned off their coms. Then Nate went out into the hall.

"We are not just going to leave you behind to get horribly disfigured and brutally killed by this guy, Eliot, so get that thought out of your head right now," Nate said in a low voice, just in case the others were at the door, trying to listen in on his side of the conversation.

"I know you won't. I also know I'm in no position to stop you, and idle threats I can't possibly carry out are just a waste of time." Nate frowned. Eliot's voice sounded different. It took him a moment to realize that this was Eliot Spencer's real voice, not that of the hardened retrieval specialist. If he wasn't so worried, he'd be intrigued.

In his cell, Eliot licked his dry lips, and hesitated. What was it he had told Hardison last year when they'd been taken by a militia, about how acknowledging your fear can help you in battle? Make you less cocky, and less likely to make mistakes? Hardison had no problem admitting his fear. Time to take your own advice, boy, he told himself. He swallowed hard. "Nate…I'm scared," he finally admitted, for once letting his voice waver a little. "I…I've never done this before. I guess even foreign enemies have their standards, at least the ones I've been captured by…" he trailed off when he realized he was babbling now. Maybe this was why Hardison babbled so much; maybe he was scared most of the time.

In the hallway, Nate started pacing again. Eliot was afraid. Those words just didn't go together.

"Eliot, come hell or high water, we will get you out in time. All I need you to do is if Davis comes before we do get you out, stall like you've never stalled before. Send him on a wild goose chase, if you have to."

"Okay, Nate," Eliot agreed, although Nate was disheartened to hear the fear still in his voice. Nate walked back into his apartment. Sure enough, the team scattered away from the door. Nate gave them each a pointed look.

"It's not like we could hear anything you said, man," Hardison pointed out, as if that justified their actions.

"Hardison wouldn't even let us covertly turn our coms back on once you left," Parker grumbled, actually pouting.

"He didn't really need that information, Parker," Sophie told her with some annoyance. Nate rolled his eyes, then stood by Sophie's side.

"Aren't you supposed to set an example here?" he said in her ear. She gave him a side-glance, and raised an eyebrow.

"I don't remember that being a part of the job description. In fact, I'm fairly certain that, given the nature of our job, such a condition couldn't possibly exist," she said just as quietly, but someone still heard them.

"As much as I know how you guys love this witty banter/flirting thing you do, and even though it's mildly entertaining to listen to, would you mind focusing on getting me outta here, please," the voice of the retrieval specialist was back, and Nate had to admit that he preferred it. "Hardison, were you able to get anything at all useful when I was by the door?"

"Afraid not. I have an idea on how to remedy that, but you're not going to like it."

In his cell, Eliot's face became grim again. "You want me to drag myself to the door, don't you?"

"Do you think you can, Eliot?" Nate asked.

"Well, I'll be in a whole lot more pain in the long run if I can't, now won't I?" No one responded to the rhetorical question.

Just don't pass out from the pain, he thought as he braced himself, then he managed to roll onto his stomach. After preventing the screaming pain from his leg from making it to his lips, Eliot focused his blurry vision on the door ahead. Using his good arm, and his good leg, he inched himself forward.

Needless to say, it was slow going. Twice, Eliot felt the need to stop and rest, but then he reminded himself of the greater pain he was in for if he didn't find a way out of there, and the feeling went away.

When he finally reached the door, he was out of breath and trembling. He managed to prop himself against the wall next to the door. "You gettin' anything?" he practically choked out to Hardison.

"Hold on; don't move."

"Was that supposed to be funny, Hardison?" he snapped.

"Uh, no. Seriously, what's funny about the concept of not moving?" he said innocently. Because he sensed that he was being sincere, Eliot backed off.

In Nate's apartment, Hardison frowned at his computer screen.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," he suddenly blurted out. Nate went to where he was sitting, and looked over his shoulder.

"What is it?" Hardison backed his chair away and gestured to the screen with both hands.

"See for yourself." Nate came closer to the screen to get a better look, then he frowned as well.

"What the…" he was too stunned to finish.

"Somebody better give me something more than 'you've got to be kidding', and 'what the'," Eliot said sternly over the coms. "Do you know where I am, or don't you?"

"Eliot, you may not believe this, but apparently, you're in the basement of a prison."

In his cell, Eliot blinked in surprise. "Say again, Nate? I'm where?"

"You're in the basement of a prison," he repeated. Well, that was unexpected.

"Of all the places I could be, that has got to be the one that makes the least amount of sense."

"I agree completely, but I'm looking right at it."

"Could Hardison be mistaken?"

"Doubt it," Nate said before the easily offended hacker could go off on a tangent.

In his cell, Eliot looked around with fresh eyes. It didn't look like the basement of any structure, but then he noticed the possible reason for that could be the suddenly clear remodel the room had obviously undergone. The floor, for example, looked relatively new. That steel door, that wouldn't be standard issue, so it had to be new as well, and thick…to keep people from hearing the screams, came the random thought, and he actually shuddered. Then there were the restraints attached to the wall, which a prison wouldn't have, especially in the basement, but could have easily been added.

"What about the prisoners, the guards, the warden? How could I have been snuck past all of them?"

"You weren't," Hardison said, back at his computer. "It's abandoned…well, sort of. Someone does own it…and guess who that someone is." Eliot's eyes became hard.

"Gary Foster. He's got enough money both in the bank, and hidden, to buy anything he wants. This room has been altered recently. How long has he owned this prison?"

"Only for three months. He had all the inmates moved to various prisons across the state. No doubt, he has a couple of judges in his pocket. My guess is that he acquired it specifically to deal with people like you," Hardison explained.

"Yeah, lucky me," Eliot said sarcastically.

"Well there is some good news," Nate said. Eliot perked up a little despite himself. "You were right before; they drove around longer than was necessary to throw you off. You're only twenty to twenty-five minutes away." Eliot frowned when he thought he heard a door open.

"Nate, what are you doing?" he said when he heard Nate walking briskly…or possibly running.

"Coming to get you; what else?"

"By yourself? Nate, this guy's got guards, and he's employed a crazy interrogator; you can't just con your way in here."

"Which is why I'll be using the direct approach. He's getting the files back. I'm pulling the plug."

"Nate, they won't risk letting us live to try again. Do what I told you before; get to a safe house, any safe house, the farther away the better, and don't tell me the location…"

"It's not happening, Eliot," he said firmly. "You have to trust me. Don't I always have a plan?"

"Actually, no. A lot of the time, you make it up as you go along."

"Not this time. Just trust me, and don't turn your com off. I might have to mute mine every now and then, but I'll still be able to hear you."

"And what possible good would hearing me beg for death do?" That sentence gave even Eliot chills, and he was the one that said it.

"It won't come to that," Nate insisted, getting chills as well.

"And if it does?" Nate paused.

"Well then, that will be extra motivation for me to get there as quickly as possible, now won't it."

"Nate…" Eliot was trying his best to sound intimidating.

"Can you trust me, Eliot?" Eliot sighed.

"Like I said, I can't stop you…but I don't agree with this, Nate."

"Well, if it works, and you get to keep the skin on your body, maybe you'll see fit to thank me someday." Eliot was glad no one could see his involuntary shudder at the 'keep the skin on your body' part.

"Oh, if you actually pull this off, I'll be thankful, alright; I might be grumpy towards you for a few days for taking such a risk, but I'll be thankful."

Nate smiled as he got in Hardison's van. "I think I can live with that."

In his cell, Eliot closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, figuring he might as well get some rest while he could. Unfortunately, he only got five minutes. His eyes popped open and his heart started thumping hard inside his chest when he heard the door being unlocked.

"Nate…" he said under his breath.

As he drove, Nate was disheartened to hear the voice of the frightened man again. Apparently, Parker noticed it too, because she gave him a horrified look. Nate shot her a warning look to remind her of their deal; she could come with him to help rescue Eliot, but she couldn't let him know about it until it was absolutely necessary, in order not to give Eliot yet one more thing to worry about. He considered telling her to mute her com just in case she forgot, but since this was Parker, there was no guarantee she'd remember to switch it back to normal later, at possibly a critical moment. Besides, Eliot would probably be able to pick up her voice over Nate's com anyway. Fortunately, Parker remained silent.

"Take it easy, Eliot. Remember, you've got to try to stall," Nate instructed. "Also remember, donotturnoffyourcom. If you're moved to where Hardison can't trace you again, perhaps even to another part of the complex, I'll need to know, otherwise I'll be coming in there blind."

In his cell, Eliot nodded, even though no one could see. Then he took a deep breath. You're a soldier, he told himself. You're protecting your friends, and a client. Three men came in. One was Walker, another was a nervous-looking Kenneth Colby, and the other was, of course, Dennis Davis, but Eliot didn't bother looking over at him yet. He wouldn't admit even to himself that it was because he was almost afraid to. Walker looked down at him with a sneer, while the other two men stayed on the sidelines.

"I didn't teach you to stay put the last time?" he growled, then he looked at one of the other men, presumably Davis. "You see this? I left him clear on the other side of the room, with a broken leg, mind you, and he crawled his way to the door. I told you, he's determined to escape."

"And I told you, prematurely mentioning my name tends to only heighten their desire to escape," the newcomer said irritably. "Now, get him away from the door." The guard smirked as he looked down at him, and the sudden gleam in his eye didn't bode well with Eliot. Walker suddenly grabbed hold of Eliot's broken leg, and dragged him back to the wall furthest from the door, causing Eliot to cry out in pain, and Kenneth Colby grimaced. "Hey, did I say to move him like that? What's wrong with you?" Dennis demanded as Eliot lay there visibly shaking from the pain. Walker looked at the interrogator innocently.

"Any way I move a man with a broken leg is going to hurt."

"Then you shouldn't have broken his leg."

"I told you, I had to neutralize him."

"To most in our profession, that usually means restraints…or did you fail to see the ones on the wall there." The guard gave a half-shrug.

"This is Eliot Spencer; the usual won't work on him. We tried the usual, and he gave us nothing, which is why you're here." Eliot heard him take a step toward Walker, and he didn't doubt that the accountant, who clearly didn't have the stomach for this, was cringing again.

"You actually think it's a good idea to talk back to me? Really?" Walker, who Eliot could still see, finally seemed to grow a brain, and looked down at the floor.

"No, sir," he mumbled, like a misbehaving child who's just been scolded. Davis must have looked down at Eliot, and not liked what he saw.

"And just what did you do to his hand?" he demanded.

"I stopped him from escaping," he defended himself. Davis waited for the rest of the explanation…no doubt impatiently. "I pinned his hand to the wall with my boot knife," Walker finally admitted.

"Seriously, what is wrong with you? I can't very well stand him up on a broken leg, or have him hanging by an injured hand, now can I?"

"I don't see why not," Walker actually sulked. "You're going to be hurting him way worse than that anyway." Davis let out something between a growl and a frustrated sigh, and Eliot imagined him putting a hand to his head to unsuccessfully ward off a headache.

"Men like him are trained to handle things like this in certain ways. For example, if he has a serious injury, that's further aggravated by an uncomfortable position he's put into, he can focus on that lesser pain to take his mind off of the greater pain that's being inflicted on him, and if I'm going to succeed, I need all of his attention focused on what I'm doing." Eliot found himself involuntarily shuddering at his words. "Why am I always stuck with the most incompetent morons my employers can find?" Davis continued, clearly talking to himself now. Walker glared at him, obviously not appreciating the name calling. There was a moment of silence, then Eliot heard the unmistakable click of a switchblade, which, by the panicked look on Walker's face, was meant for him. "Go ahead, boy, look at me like you want to smash my face in again, and see what happens," Davis dared him. Walker had the good sense to look back down.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Yeah, you'd better be. Now, sit him up against the wall, then go get some chains for his hands and feet. Thanks to you, I'm going to do this the hard way." Walker hurried to do as he instructed, and Eliot bit down on his lip to keep from crying out at being moved again. "Try to find a table I can somehow secure him to. Oh, and get a proper bandage for his hand," he further instructed. "Now is so not the time for him to bleed out." Eliot finally looked up, and watched Walker hurry out. Davis' back was to him as he faced Kolby.

"Mr. Kolby, you're clearly just going to be a distraction from here on out. I can already tell that you won't even be able to stand hearing this man's screams from a different room. Go on back to Mr. Foster's yacht." The accountant was only too happy to comply. From this brief conversation, Eliot gathered that it wasn't Kolby who hired Davis after all; it had to be Foster. The newcomer knelt in front of Eliot, and he finally got a good look at Dennis Davis.

He wasn't that much taller than Eliot, had an average build, looked to be in his early forties, and had short, light brown hair. He wore slacks, a sports jacket, and a polo shirt, of all things. No doubt, he'd just come off the yacht he mentioned earlier. Eliot kept his composure when he saw he was still holding the knife. Davis suddenly held the switchblade eye level, no doubt to give Eliot a good look at it. It was one of the most jagged, most ominous looking ones he'd ever seen, and that was saying a lot.

"Don't even think about trying to overpower me," he warned, finally speaking directly to him. Eliot smirked.

"Now how would I do that with a broken leg and an injured right hand?"

"I'm not foolish enough to put anything past you, Eliot Spencer. You know who I am?" Eliot nodded. "And I know who you are…in detail, I might add. You used to be a soldier, then you got called to the dark side by the pied piper Damien Moreau, then you struck out on your own doing retrieval work. Now, you're looking for redemption with a new crew that helps people that have been screwed over by greedy corporations." Eliot shook his head at that last sentence.

"There's no redemption for me, just like there isn't any for you." Now, Dennis smirked.

"I'm not looking for redemption, I'm looking for my client's property."

"The files may belong to your client, but the money they lead to doesn't."

"Oh, and you would rather it go to Uncle Sam, because he's been so good to you over the years?"

You're fishing, Davis. But I ain't got nothing to tell you, even if I wanted to…and believe me, with your reputation, I'm actually finding myself wanting to. I may have a crew now, but they're criminals, first and foremost. They no doubt have already gone to a safe house, with no plans of retrieving me. Now, there are several of these safe house in this state alone, but I seriously doubt they'll stay in this state. So, since I could have no possible idea where they are, it's pointless for you to mutilate me so bad, my own Mama wouldn't recognize me."

"Even if I believed this story about your crew, what about your client?" Eliot tensed slightly.

"What about them?"

"Give me the name."

"Now, what would be the point of that?" Dennis scoffed.

"Well now who's fishing…or possibly stalling."

"Oh, and you wouldn't stall if you were in my position?" Eliot said to keep him from focusing on the reason why he'd be stalling him. Dennis actually let out a chuckle.

"You make a good point. Yes, I suppose I would. Look, Mr. Spencer, I don't get some kind of sick satisfaction from this, especially with regards to you. You're good at what you do, whoever you do it for, and I'd hate to destroy a man like you, both physically and mentally, but I can do it, and I will." Eliot refused to let his fear show, smirking again instead.

"Good luck with that. Many have tried, and they all failed. Do you know why? It's not because of any tricks, like you mentioned earlier. People like you can capture my body, but my mind is mine, and mine alone." Davis briefly looked him over.

"You've clearly never done this before, because if you had, and managed to survive, you'd look very different. Skin doesn't grow back the same as it was before, Spencer. So, since you're new at this, I'll enlighten you; I interrogate especially difficult people like you the way I do specifically to get past their mental barriers. You really think I just skin people, and leave the exposed nerves alone? As soon as that guard comes back, all bets are off. The time for talking, for stalling even, will be over. You won't be able to distract me, and you willhavenobarrier that can possibly stand up against what I do. But, if you lead me to the files, your crew, and your client, all of your deaths will be quick, I guarantee it. You won't get another offer like this one, Mr. Spencer. I strongly urge you to take it." Eliot really despised the fact that he even gave it a moment's thought.

"Like I said, Davis; I ain't got nothing to tell ya," he said, his voice as strong as it was before. Dennis held up his hands in surrender.

"Okay, I tried," he said before standing up. Just then, Walker came back, and Dennis' words flooded over him. He had to concentrate very hard to keep himself from hyperventilating. Then he noticed that Walker not only came back with the requested chains, but also with the second guard in tow. Dennis glared at the first one. "Would you mind telling me what took you so long…and where's the bandage for his hand? The wound could get infected, and it's not the time for that, either." Then, he seemed to notice the second guard for the first time. "And why aren't you at your post? You aren't needed here; keep your eye on the other prisoner."

"About the other prisoner, sir…" Walker started to say, then hesitated to finish the sentence, and the second guard began to cower. Dennis glared at the cowering man.

"What did you do?"

"He got out somehow…" Walker began.

"I wasn't speaking to you!" Dennis bellowed, cutting off whatever he was going to say, not taking his eyes off the other one. "You let him escape?! Were you even at your post?" The guard was shaking with fear now.

"I had to…relieve myself. I…I was gone for no more than two minutes, and he must have somehow picked the lock. No one said I couldn't step away for a moment if I absolutely needed to…" he didn't get to finish. Dennis pushed Walker aside, grabbed the cowering guard, and dragged him in all the way, then pinned him to the wall. His face came inches away from the guard's.

"If he's left this building, guess who's going to be taking his place," Dennis growled. "Now, find him!" He let the guard go, and he quickly stumbled out of the cell. Dennis looked at Walker. "Chain him up, then join the manhunt. Make sure he's brought back alive." Walker quickly obeyed, and Eliot managed to resist the urge to scream at his broken leg being jostled yet again. When the guard started to bind his hands in front of him with the second chain, Dennis scowled. "Hey, genius, what's between the two cuffs?" Walker looked at him with confusion.

"Uh, the chain holding them together?"

"That's right, and it's a chain he could use to strangle someone if his hands are placed in front of him like that."

"So, I should put his hands behind him?"

"Ya think? Just hurry up." Walker bent Eliot's upper body forward so he could put his hands behind him. With Dennis' view momentarily obstructed, Walker took the opportunity to purposefully squeeze his injured hand before locking the chains into place. Since he could have no idea it was coming, Eliot couldn't help but make a loud grunt of pain. Dennis caught on, and he pulled Walker away from him. "Knock it off! I'm not here to watch you get your jollies hurting him; I'm here to get information. Do anything like that again, and you'll only live to regret it. Now, get going," he said before shoving him away. Walker quickly followed the second guard out as Dennis regarded Eliot coolly. "Looks like you got a few extra minutes to think over my proposition," he said before following the others and closing the door. Eliot let a small sigh of relief escape.

"Nate, where are you?" he said over the coms.

"About ten minutes away."

"Nate, what if I just tell him that you're coming to give him the files?"

"You're basically the head of security, Eliot; what do you think his response will be?" He thought about it for a moment.

"He might not believe me. He might think it was a stall."

"And if he did believe you?" Eliot became quiet. "Eliot, this isn't one of those trick questions I ask, even though I really have the answer. What will his response be?"

"He'd be ready for you, Nate. You would lose the element of surprise. And he'd know I have a listening device on me. I'd be cut off from you guys. No, I can't tell him." Nate sighed. He'd really been hoping the answer was going to be different.

"Okay, Eliot. Just keep stalling; you're doing great with that."

"I haven't actually been doing much stalling, Nate. Incompetent guards and escaping prisoners have."

"Yeah, I know. Here's hoping our luck holds out." Unfortunately, a moment later, the door started opening again.

"Fat chance," Eliot said to Nate under his breath. But when the door opened, it was the very prisoner Dennis and the guards were off looking for, who introduced himself only as Adam.

"How'd you get in here?" Eliot practically demanded.

"In his haste to find me, Davis forgot to lock the door. Not exactly a smart move on his part. You don't look so good." Eliot's face became hard.

"I'm fine. What are you doing here; you should be long gone."

"He's trying to be the hero…just like I knew he would when I 'accidently' left the door unlocked," Dennis said as he came through the open door, holding a gun to Adam's head. Adam sighed and raised his hands. "You were saying something about not-so-smart moves?"

"Let him go, Davis," Eliot said firmly, the need to protect someone else overriding his earlier fear. "I don't know why you kidnapped a random citizen off the street, but I'm the one with the information you want." Dennis looked at him in surprise, then he actually started laughing as the guards returned.

"Is that what he told you?" he said as he continued to laugh. "Oh, Adam, Adam, Adam! Tsk, tsk; you shouldn't lie to your only ally like that." Adam looked at Eliot apologetically. His confused face became grim.

"I'm sorry, I was worried you might be a mole, or something." Eliot smirked.

"Actually, that thought crossed my mind about you, too. You should have gotten out of here instead of coming back for me."

"Yes, Adam, you really should have," Dennis said, becoming smug as he started circling the young man. Then he looked at Eliot. "Allow me to tell you of your new friend's real history. He was a security guard for another client of mine…in short, what you would consider a bad guy. He had no problem kidnapping people like you, giving them a beatdown, no doubt along with whatever else you've been subjected to thusfar, then eventually killing them…"

"For the record, I always had a problem with it," Adam interrupted.

"But not enough to quit."

"Like that really was an option. I chose to 'get fired' instead," Adam said with a sly smile.

"Is that what you call it? That's cute. The rest of us called it betrayal. At any rate, you had a change of heart when I was hired to deal with another traitorous, and rather stubborn individual, who refused to tell his employer, and my client, what he'd been telling the cops about said employer's illegal activities. Beatdowns and killings were one thing, but my method he couldn't stomach," Dennis continued, addressing Eliot again. "He broke the prisoner out, which led to my client's arrest, the loss of my payday, and my having to lay low, not taking any new jobs, for nearly six months, thus costing me even more money." He looked back at Adam, and resumed his circling. "You tried to slip away, to hide, to keep moving from place to place, in the hopes that I would just forget about you."

"Well, it has been three years, after all," Adam said rather lightly. "Just how long can you hold a grudge, anyway?" Dennis smirked.

"My personal best was ten years. The point is, I found you."

"I'll take him back to his cell, sir, and watch him myself," Walker said before moving toward Adam. But Dennis held up a hand, then looked at Eliot thoughtfully, as though just realizing something.

"No, I have a better idea. Call it a hunch." He looked back at Walker without elaborating, then gave a barely perceivable nod, and Walker nodded back before fading into the background. Eliot watched nervously.

"Let me guess; my punishment is going to be to watch what you're going to do to him," Adam said grimly.

"Business before punishment, Adam; I've always believed that."

"Thought it was business before pleasure," Eliot couldn't help pointing out.

"I already told you, Eliot; I don't enjoy this. The chance I gave you is the chance I give to all of them." He looked back at Adam. "Now, you may not know this, but Eliot here was a special ops soldier…and Damien Moreau's right hand man. Needless to say, he and his body have been through a lot. And while I know that he's never faced my tactics before, I also know that he's not going to make this easy, and it could take days to break him." Eliot looked at him suspiciously. Now what was he getting at? "But he's a lot like you, Adam. At his core, he's a protector, despite his previous…activities; that much became clear when he showed concern for you. So, to answer your question, this will not be about punishing you, but about giving him incentive." He stopped circling him, then patted his shoulder. "Up you go," then he abruptly stepped away.

Suddenly, a chain that was already looped at the end dropped from the ceiling, forming a nearly perfect circle at his feet. Eliot saw Walker in the corner of the cell, standing by a lever. When he maneuvered the lever, the chain automatically tightened around Adam's ankles, and hoisted him up in the air, almost like a rope trap. Adam gave a surprised yelp, while Eliot, figuring out what was happening, automatically began struggling against the chains around his wrists. This caused him pain in his injured hand, but he pushed it aside.

"I already told you, I'm the one with the information; deal with me, Davis," he growled in his low, dangerous voice.

"I am dealing with you, Eliot. I just explained that." Eliot's heart felt like a lead weight it his chest when Dennis took out a knife. This one was different than the other one. This one had a curve to it, the blade looked larger, and sharper. How could he even fit such a knife into his jacket without cutting himself, Eliot had to wonder.

"Eliot, I'm five minutes away," Nate's voice finally came over the coms. "Just stall for a little while longer." Eliot's panic rose when Dennis grabbed hold of the upside-down Adam's arm, and brought the inside of the knife to it, clearly intending to run the sharp blade along his skin, which would take a large chunk off.

"Davis, this isn't gonna change anything; my team is gone, I already told you that. I can't just magically make them reappear," Eliot tried. Dennis paused, and looked at him.

"And I told you, even if I believed what you say about your team, you can still give me the name and location of your client."

"There's no point. They don't have the files, and they have no idea where my team is."

"Then I'll use them as bait to draw your team out. The media can be helpful when they want to be, especially when it comes to a kidnapping." Eliot grew silent, desperately thinking of another way to stall. Dennis, misinterpreting this to mean he was having second thoughts about withholding information, left Adam to once again kneel in front of him. The knife was mysteriously gone. How did he do that? Did he put it in his jacket without me seeing? He knew he didn't have a concussion that made him miss it, but he figured it really didn't matter; he had bigger problems to deal with. "You are about to be the cause of a lot of suffering, because if you still haven't told me what I need to know by the time I'm done with Adam, I'll have to go do some hunting…you know, find people they know, allies, your own friends, who may know where their hiding. And when I do find them, there will still be the matter of punishment. Surely you can understand a man of my position can't let this kind of stubborn resistance and unwillingness to be helpful go unpunished, can't you?" Eliot scoffed, and he ignored the burning tears in his eyes.

"Is that some kind of sick trick question?"

"No, I don't do trick questions…they make interrogating rather unproductive. The point is, you can end this before it even starts." Eliot chuckled humorlessly.

"Even if I told you what you want to know, you'll punish Adam anyway for betraying you. Like you said, a man of your position can't let him go unpunished. And if I lead you to our client, you'll subject them to your tactics to make sure they have nothing else on your employer besides those files. And as for my team…I could give you the location to every single safe house we have in the U.S., and maybe your employer has enough men to simultaneously check them all, which will probably be the only way you'll catch them, but by the time you do catch them, they'll already have put the files to good use, and you'll either use your tactics to try to find out what they did with them, or to punish them for succeeding. So, my giving into you now doesn't ensure anyone's safety, it'll just begin your reign of terror sooner rather than later." Now, Dennis chuckled.

"My reign of terror? That's a new one. It may have a nice ring to it, but it's not entirely an accurate description."

"Isn't it?"

"Come on, Eliot, you must remember how this works."

"I was a lot of things back in the day, Davis, but I never employed the methods you do. I never even worked with someone who employed the methods you do."

"No, you just killed a mark and his family. How old were those twins, Eliot? It was a boy and a girl, wasn't it?" Eliot's eyes widened slightly, and he bit his lip to keep it from quivering at this painful reminder. "I make it a point to try to leave kids out of it completely," Dennis persisted. "I'll bet you didn't even argue for their lives…or so much as hesitate to carry out Moreau's order." The memory his words were evoking cut Eliot too deep for him to recognize something about that statement, but it didn't escape Nate's notice.

In the van, Nate shot a look at Parker to make sure she didn't let out an involuntary gasp at the revelation, but she didn't look surprised; she looked angry. Knowing that an angry Parker couldn't possibly keep her mouth shut, he motioned for her to silence her com, then he did the same.

"Parker, you know he's not that man anymore…" he began, but Parker didn't seem to be listening.

"How dare that little maggot bring that up!" she spat out. Needless to say, Nate was surprised by her declaration, and a little confused. "Nate, when I get a hold of him, I'm going to tear him apart!"

"Wait, are you talking about Davis?" Parker turned to him and frowned.

"Of course I am; who else?" Either Eliot had finally told her what he'd done, like he had told Nate several months ago, which was highly unlikely, or she was more perceptive than anyone gave her credit for, and she had figured it out on her own.

"Parker, Eliot wouldn't want you to do that," was all he said as he drove into the parking lot before turning his com back on. Parker sat fuming. Sure enough, she'd forgotten to turn hers back on, so, silently getting her attention, he pointed to his earbud, then put a finger to his lips to remind her both to turn hers back on, and to not give her presence away to Eliot by talking. Fortunately, she complied on both accounts. "Stall, Eliot," he reminded the stunned hitter. "He just opened the door; as much as I hate doing this to you, I think you should go through it."

Nate, you'd better have enough sense to tell the others to mute their coms for this, Eliot thought to himself before giving Dennis a hard look. "You obviously don't have the whole story, Davis. How about this time, I enlighten you? I did the only thing I could for them back then. Moreau wanted one of his own men killed because he'd become a double agent for the cops, along with his wife, and their twins. To answer your earlier question, Davis, they were ten years old, and yes, it was a boy and a girl. And as a matter of fact, I did hesitate, at first…until Moreau raised my pay…" Eliot paused, and swallowed down the pain of having to relive what he'd done, who he'd done it for, and why he'd done it. "But he didn't leave the method for their extermination to my discretion, like he usually did. No, he wanted to send a message that no one could betray him and get away with it. I was supposed to make it look like a drug deal gone bad…really bad. Like he had messed with the Columbians bad."

"So, what did you do?" Dennis said, actually getting hooked into the story.

"I snuck in there at night, while they were all sleeping, and then I made a rookie mistake, despite all my experience. I started looking around at their personal affects; their books, movies, the children's toys and games…birthday and Christmas cards, happy family photos. I couldn't do it. But I couldn't just disobey Moreau, and let them live, either. I rigged a gas leak…they all died in their sleep, without ever knowing I was there. So, like I said, Davis; I've never employed the methods you do." Dennis smirked.

"This is my job; nothing more, nothing less," he said. "And although I'm self-employed, and I choose my clients, I don't abandon them for anything or anyone, and I don't deviate from their wishes. Call it…a part of my work ethic. But I'll tell you what I will do, just because I respect you. You tell me what I need to know, and I promise, Adam, and all the others you've expressed concern for, won't suffer; their deaths will be quick, whether their hiding information or not."

"And I should believe you why?"

"Eliot, I'm here, I'm in the building. Hardison is guiding me to the basement you're in right now. You're doing great. Just keep it up," he heard Nate say over the coms. Considering that his plan was absolutely crazy, Eliot didn't know whether to be relieved or not.

"Well, you really don't have a choice, since there's no way for me to convince you that I'm telling the truth," Dennis continued.

"This is a big decision; a lot of people to consider. I need some time to think about it." Dennis shook his head as he stood.

"Now, that's the one thing I make it a policy not to give." Eliot started panicking internally again when Dennis took out his knife for the second time.

"Why not?" he asked, trying to at least keep his outer appearance of calm.

"Because it's a stall tactic, and a stall tactic always leads to some attempt at escape. True, most attempts fail, and even though you appear subdued right now, I would never underestimate a man of your abilities." Eliot's outer calm faltered when he started for Adam again.

"Thirty seconds," he blurted out, grasping at straws. "Give me thirty seconds. You can stay right here. I just…I just need a moment to think." He was a little relieved when Dennis turned to him again. Nate, where are you? he thought anxiously.

"What is there to think about?" Dennis said a little irritably. Your choices are simple. Either you take my once in a lifetime offer, and just trust that I'll hold up my end, or you watch your new friend suffer, right here and now, and eventually, your whole team." Eliot was running out of stalls. Dennis sighed. "You think I'm bluffing, don't you? I'll have to show you that I'm not. No more talk," Dennis said with determination. Eliot started breathing faster, too afraid for Adam to care about the pain in his ribs.

"Don't!" he found himself shouting, almost pleading. Come on, Nate!

"Eliot, just give him what he wants, whatever it is!" Adam suddenly started panicking, seeing Dennis' determination. "I have kids!" Dennis looked at Eliot again, but didn't let go of Adam's arm this time.

"Ah yes, I forgot about his kids," he said when he saw the absolute horror on Eliot's face. "He's got two of them; they're young, too. Oh, and Adam here is a widower. His wife died about five years ago, I believe. Now, you were right before, no matter what happens, I'll have to kill him, so they unfortunately will lose a Father either way…but how they find the condition of his body is up to you. Also, who finds his body is up to you." A sort of pitying look crossed his face. "I feel bad for you, Eliot; I really do. Clearly, you're feeling conflicted. I'm trying to make this decision easier for you. Either his body will turn up at the morgue, and it will appear that he died of a heart attack, or he'll be found on the steps of his house, not even recognizable as a human, by his children, ages 4 and 6. Now, if that doesn't scar them for life, nothing will. What will you do then, Eliot, hmm? If you manage to get out of this, will you go to poor Adam's funeral? Will you have the guts to look those children in the eyes, offer your condolences, then admit this was done to their Father all because of you?" Eliot never thought words could hurt him so much more than any blow, or even electrocution. He felt himself wearing down, ready to tell this contemptable man everything, and his shoulders sagged in defeat.

"You know, when I hear a threat like that, from a guy like you, made against kids…well, it makes me not want to give you your client's files," a calm voice said from the door they'd still neglected to close. The guards pointed their guns at Nate, and Dennis lowered the knife as Eliot looked relieved.

"I just threatened their psyche, not them physically." Nate tilted his head at him thoughtfully.

"No yet, but you would have, wouldn't you?"

"I might have, but I wouldn't have necessarily meant it. I try to keep kids out of this sordid business, but unfortunately, some stubborn individuals make that impossible." Nate smirked, seeing that his earlier observation, the one Eliot had missed, was right.

"You're all heart, Mr. Davis," he said sarcastically. Dennis raised an eyebrow.

"So, you know my name. And yours is…"

"Ford."

"Is that a first name, or a last name?"

"It's the only one you're getting."

"And just how did you find us, Ford?"

"Doesn't really matter. What matters is that I have the files you've been 'requesting.' Now we can talk about the terms for surrendering said files."
"The terms? I could just have you shot, and take them off your corpse."

"You could. But you want more than these files. You want to make sure your client is protected, that his ill-gotten gain is protected."

"You're very perceptive," Dennis said before eyeing Eliot suspiciously.

"Not really," Nate said quickly in an effort to get him to forget about checking Eliot for a listening device. "I've just dealt with people like yourself far too often. Call it a job hazard." Dennis smirked.

"Yes, I could call it that…but I could also call it a result of a listening device." He nodded to Eliot as Nate's face became grim. "Check him for a wire, or a microphone, or something," he told Walker, who quickly stalked over to Eliot. He found the earbud in a few seconds, then he threw it on the ground, and stepped on it. He made like he was going to return to the place he'd been standing, when he suddenly turned back to Eliot, and kicked him hard in already broken ribs. Eliot let out a loud grunt, and Walker gave him a look of mock sympathy.

"Ooh, that sounded like a crack. How many broken ribs does that make now?"

"Four," Eliot said through gritted teeth. "Which is way less than what you'll have, Walker." Walker smirked, then he put his left foot down on Eliot's broken leg, and started applying pressure, until he was practically standing on it.

"Hey, tough guy," Nate called, unable to see the look of pure agony on Eliot's face any longer. "The person you want to try that with is the one that's actually in a position to defend himself. Now, I realize those might not seem like fair odds to a bully like yourself, but if it makes you feel better, I'm older, and almost always drunk…" Of course, this angered Walker, and he left Eliot alone to charge at Nate. But as he started to pass Dennis, the interrogator stopped him by holding up his knife to his throat. He did so without moving anything but his arm, and without turning away from Nate. Walker froze in mid-step.

"I do believe I warned you that if you continued with this behavior, you'd regret it," he said without looking at him. "Why does everyone here think I believe in making idle threats? Since when did my reputation stop proceeding me?"

"You have an unusual set of ethics for someone in your line of work, Mr. Davis," Nate observed.

"I don't believe in doing anything that compromises business."

"Well then, let's get down to business. You can deal with your…internal affairs afterward." Dennis lowered his arm, and the guard wisely backed away.

"Give me the files, the names and location of your team and your client, and I'll end this."

"You mean you'll kill us all," Nate concluded. Dennis nodded.

"Quickly. That's the best someone in your position could hope for." Nate started chuckling, much to everyone's surprise.

"Hardly, Mr. Davis. Here's the real deal. I give you the files, you forget about my team, and you let Eliot go." Now, Dennis chuckled.

"I was under the impression that you wanted to have a serious discussion, Ford. Why would I ever agree to those terms?"

"Because you get to kill me," Nate blurted out. Eliot tensed. "Once I'm dead, they'll no longer be a threat," Nate explained. "I'm the leader. If you cut off the head of a snake, the body dies. Everyone knows that."

"True. But when people are killed, other people tend to seek revenge, and that's what I'm dealing with; people, not snakes."

"Trust me, this crew can't function without their leader. They proved that by begging me to stay when I wanted out…twice."

"Nate, what are you doing?" Eliot finally spoke directly to him, but the mastermind kept his focus on Dennis.

"And Adam? What do you expect me to do with him?"

"Well, I'd prefer that no one be put through what you seemed determined to put him through, but since I don't know him, it's not a deal breaker. You can do what you want with him; just leave his kids out of it. Now, do we have a deal?" Dennis nodded after a moment.

"Set the files on the floor, though," he said as Nat began to hand them over. Nate shrugged, then dropped them on the floor in between them, and the second guard picked them up.

"Nate…" Eliot started to object as Dennis turned his back to scan the files. Nate finally looked him in the eye.

"Don't worry, Eliot," he said calmly. "You and the team will be fine now."

"Yes, Eliot, you will be," Dennis said, his back still facing Nate. "Thanks to your boss' wise decision…and ultimate sacrifice." He suddenly spun around, and shot Nate in the chest with the gun he snuck out of the holster hidden by his jacket. Eliot watched him go down with wide-eyed disbelief.

"Shall I release the prisoners?" Walker asked.

"Just Eliot," Dennis said before looking at Adam. "Since our business is done, and since my deal with this poor sap, whose first name was apparently Nate, didn't include you, we're back to the previous punishment for your past misdeeds, I'm afraid."

"Don't sound too broken up about it," Adam said sarcastically from his precarious position. "I believe he said he'd prefer that you leave me alone, but since he left that up to you, of course you're not going to do it. Don't get some kind of sick pleasure out of this my foot."

"You may perhaps be the one and only exception to that, Adam. But try not to be too down; I'll be leaving your kids completely out of it. Your body won't even be found. You'll simply disappear." As they argued, Walker moved to release Eliot. But Eliot snarled at him as he approached, causing him to halt in his tracks, and causing Dennis to look at him.

"See, Walker, the 'fun' you've been having at his expense has made him wary of you." He looked at the second guard and nodded, but he was met with the same snarl.

"If you release me…" Eliot started to say, but Dennis interrupted him.

"Now, now, Eliot; I realize that you're upset, but let's not hastily say anything that will make your mentor's sacrifice be in vain…" Just then, there was a series of loud pops outside, and when they turned to the door, they saw smoke coming from the hall. Smoke bombs, Eliot recognized dully, not really caring. "Now what?" Dennis grumbled.

"You want us to check it out, sir?" the second one finally spoke again, no doubt eager to get on the dangerous man's good side. Dennis looked at him skeptically.

"All three of us are going to check it out, because I don't trust you not to mess things up again, and you," he turned to Walker, "I am not about to leave you here alone with him," he said, referring to Eliot. He took his gun out again. All three of them callously stepped over Nate's body, which partially blocked the door, without so much as a glance.

After a few seconds, Eliot heard a familiar sound, then his eyes automatically went to the air duct on the opposite side of the room. Sure enough, Parker silently slid out, put a finger to her lips to silence the confused Adam, then she gave a reassuring smile to Eliot, that only caused him to be filled with dread. She won't be smiling once she sees Nate's body, he thought dismally as she moved to the door. She stopped when she saw Nate's body, but then she cocked her head curiously.

"Excuse me, Nate," she said to him quietly as she stepped over him. Great, she's in denial.

He suddenly heard what sounded like three electrical charges, followed by three yelps, then three bodies hitting the floor. She really is enjoying stunning people too much, Eliot noted.

When she came back, she was stuffing the files she retrieved from Davis into her jacket, minus the folders, because they wouldn't fit, then she looked back down at Nate.

"Aren't you up yet?" she asked. When he didn't respond, she nudged him with her foot. Eliot bit back a sharp reprimand, knowing she didn't understand what was going on.

"He can't get up, Parker," he told her sadly. She looked at him in confusion, and he really hoped she'd be able to figure it out on her own. After a moment, something did seem to dawn on her, but instead of reacting in sadness, or even anger, she put her hands on her hips, and sighed in annoyance.

"Nate, get up; you're confusing poor Eliot." Eliot felt his heart sink even further, seeing that she still didn't get it.

Suddenly, Nate opened his eyes, and smiled at Parker before sitting up. He propped himself on his elbow, put a hand to his chest, and winced a little.

"Sorry…a little winded," he told Parker as she stepped away to get Adam down.

"Why? Didn't it work?" Parker asked over her shoulder. Nate had to smile.

"If it hadn't worked, I'd be dead right now, Parker. But it's a bulletproof vest, not an impenetrable shield. I'm naturally going to feel something on impact; it probably even left a bruise that won't be pleasant."

"Why didn't Eliot know what was going on?" she asked, glossing over his discomfort as she freed Adam's legs from the chain still wrapped around them. Nate sat up all the way, and looked at Eliot apologetically, who looked as though he were in shock.

"They discovered his earbud at precisely the wrong moment," he said as he finally dragged himself up. He glanced at the understandably rattled Adam, who was now sitting down, and leaning up against the wall directly opposite of where Eliot was. "You and I are going to have a long conversation later," he told him. Adam just nodded, like he had some idea of what that conversation was going to be about. Nate stumbled over to Eliot's side, where Parker already was.

"Nate, don't you ever, ever do that to me again," Eliot said, his voice shaking with emotion at seeing his boss…his friend, who he thought was killed right in front of him, suddenly alive.

"I'm sorry about that, Eliot. Hardison was going to tell you the plan the second Davis agreed to the deal…which unfortunately happened after he figured out you must have had a listening device on you, something that Hardison believes is somehow my fault. Something about being too perceptive, or too obvious. Seriously, he hasn't stopped yelling at me about it since…even after I 'died.'" Nate rolled his eyes. "Hardison, for the love of God, and my sanity, please shut up!" he said over his com. Eliot couldn't help chuckling despite his earlier anger as Parker picked the lock of the chains around his wrists.

"Where'd you get the bulletproof vest?" Now, Nate grinned.

"You'd be surprised to know what Sophie keeps in my closet." Nate's face grew serious when he saw Eliot's right hand. "I knew you were withholding information. You and that psycho guard said something about four broken ribs?" Eliot nodded. Seeing that the makeshift bandage was completely soaked, and therefore useless, Eliot removed it. Nate winced.

"Looks like it went straight through."

"It most certainly did," Eliot said gruffly.

"Any other injuries you want to tell me about?"

"That can wait til we get outta here."

"Which leg did psycho guard break?" Parker asked.

"Left one."

"He wrapped this chain tight around his legs, more than once. I can pick that lock off in a matter of seconds, but getting it unwrapped that quickly is a different matter."

"If you're trying to find a way of removing it without jostling the leg, I appreciate the thought, but it's not possible."

"Nate can help with the chain in order to unravel it faster. The faster it's done, the less time you'll be in pain." Eliot couldn't help but smile as he looked at her.

"Again, appreciate the thought, but after you free me, you'll have to get me out of here; in other words, you're going to have to move me, and that's gonna hurt…more than removing the chain."

"Maybe so, but we're kind of in a hurry, seeing as how your new 'friends' have to wake up sometime, and your injuries, especially that hand, need to be treated sooner rather than later. Maybe we should do this Parker's way," Nate said. Eliot thought about it a moment before nodding.

Parker's way took only a minute, no more than a minute and a half, and Eliot had to admit, as he sat there trembling with the effort not to scream, he was glad the process hadn't been dragged out.

"Okay, we gotta go," Nate said once Eliot was completely free.

"What about Davis and his two little minions?" Parker asked. Eliot let out a weak laugh.

"You've been hanging out with Hardison too much lately. They're called bodyguards, or goons. Minions are what comic book nerds call bad guys…or bad guy sidekicks, I'm not sure which."

"And thank you very much for getting him worked up again," Nate muttered. "Hardison, if you don't chill out, I'm going to deactivate my com, and let you find out if we've make it out safely if and when we return." Nate suddenly looked pleased with himself, so Eliot assumed his threat finally shut the hacker up.

"Sorry about that; I forgot he was still listening," Eliot said, sounding a little confused. Nate frowned.

"You've lost quite a bit of blood. We need to get you to a hospital."

Now, Eliot frowned.

"Neither one of us deals well with hospitals, Nate. Besides, not all of my injuries can easily be explained away as due to some kind of accident." Oh, Nate really didn't like the sound of that at all. "Nate, I'll be fine once we get back to HQ…although my place might be better…more medical supplies." Nate nodded.

"Hardison, you and Sophie meet us at Eliot's."

"We can't just let Davis go," Parker insisted. "He hurts people on a regular basis. Granted, they're usually bad guys, but nobody deserves to be subjected to that…with the possibility of Davis himself…"

"Is it just me, or is she rambling?" Eliot interrupted.

"No, she's rambling. She's been a little off since Davis brought up a…sensitive subject." Eliot frowned as Nate turned to Parker. "Parker, I know you'd really like to tear this guy a new one, and quite frankly, I don't blame you, but Eliot needs medical attention…"

"I'm not suggesting we string them up and give them a taste of their own medicine, Nate, I'm just saying we should make sure they can't escape until the authorities can take him into custody." Nate nodded, suddenly getting an idea.

"Okay, you stay with Eliot; Eliot, please do me a favor, and don't bleed out while I'm gone." Eliot smirked.

"I'll try my best, boss." Nate stood and started for the door. He paused in front of Adam. "Care to make yourself useful?" he asked him. Eliot could tell that he was trying to keep his voice neutral, but there was a slight edge to it. Eliot was in too much pain to try to figure out why Nate had a problem with Adam at the moment, but he had a feeling he'd have to figure it out soon. Adam seemed to understand what he didn't, however, and simply nodded.

Once the two men had left, Eliot looked at Parker, who sat in front of him.

"That sensitive subject Nate mentioned…what was he talking about? Did Davis say something to you before you tasered him?" Parker started biting her thumbnail nervously.

"No," she said in a small voice. Eliot had a bad feeling about this.

"Come on, Parker; just tell me," he said as gently as he could.

"I just got upset when Davis brought up the worst thing you've ever done," she blurted out. To say that Eliot was upset at this revelation was an understatement. He swore, and pounded his good fist on the ground. Parker responded by scurrying away from him a few feet.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"What are you sorry about? Nate shouldn't have let you and the others hear that. I thought he had more sense than that. I suppose the others heard as well?" Parker nodded.

"Did Nate already know?"

"Well, he asked. I told ya'll I tell anyone who asked." She nodded again.

"I'm sorry that I figured it out." Eliot's expression became puzzled.

"Okay, now you've lost me." He sighed when he saw Parker was keeping her distance. He held out his good hand to her and softened his face. "Come on, darlin', you know you don't have to be afraid of me, and you know you can talk to me." Parker took his hand, and sat by him. "Now, what do you mean you figured it out?"

"I was mad that Davis said what he did because I knew it would upset you. He didn't say anything I hadn't already figured out. Nate seemed just as surprised as you are that I figured it out. People underestimate me." Eliot smiled slightly despite how difficult this conversation was for him.

"Yeah. Maybe we need to fix that," he said, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze. "So, when did you figure it out?"

"I guess on the plane ride back from San Lorenzo. I just thought more about what you said at the park. I didn't know the details…until just now, of course. The others didn't know, I don't think…" she listened for a moment. "Oh, Sophie had a feeling it was something like that," she reported. "Hardison had no idea, but he says that he's hardly one to judge anyone about anything. We'd all like to know, Eliot…what was Moreau's response when he found out?" Eliot smirked.

"He was furious. At first, he wanted to have me whipped within an inch of my life, until I argued that dead was dead; the man would no longer pose a threat to him. I also told him that he didn't have to pay me for the job, an offer he took…there may have also been a veiled threat in there somewhere that if he did punish me, I'd return the favor, unless he killed me, and I knew he didn't want to kill me. So, we parted ways more or less amicably." He eyed her. "Nate said something about you being a little off. Mind clarifying for me?" She gave him a sheepish look.

"I may have expressed a desire to tear that maggot, as I referred to him, apart for bringing it up." Eliot couldn't help chuckling as he put an arm around her. "It doesn't surprise any of us that you were merciful with that family, Eliot," she continued. Eliot got a pained look on his face.

"Yeah, Nate said something similar," he said, just as Nate and Adam returned with Walker in tow. After dumping him on the ground, Nate dismissed Adam, and looked at Eliot sadly as he spoke. "I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told him; that doesn't excuse what I did."

"And what I said to that still stands, Eliot; you're doing a good job of punishing yourself for it all on your own, something that's likely to continue til the day you die. That's something we have in common." Everyone recognized he was talking about his own guilty feeling over Sam. Since they'd already had this argument about it not being the same months ago, Eliot didn't respond. Nate looked down at Walker. "Make sure he stays unconscious," he told them before leaving again.

"Well, this should be an interesting solution," Eliot noted. Then he leaned his head against the wall with a sigh, suddenly feeling very tired. After a minute, he felt Parker rest her head against his chest, and he held her a little tighter.

After nearly three minutes, he opened his eyes again, and glanced down at his hand. A pool of blood was starting to form on the ground underneath. No wonder he was feeling so tired and weak.

"Parker, help me get this outer shirt off, so I can tear it up some more to make another bandage." Parker did as he asked, then tore off another piece herself. She was wrapping it around his injured hand when Nate and Adam returned, dragging in Davis.

"Where's the second guard?" Eliot asked as they started to gather up the chains that had been used to shackle Eliot and Adam.

"The second guard didn't seem as smart as the first; I don't think he'll be able to get himself out of that second cell they were keeping Adam in," Nate explained. Eliot and Parker watched as Nate and Adam lay the two unconscious men on their sides, back to back, then they bound their arms and midsections together with the first two chains, then they bound their legs together with the third one, which was longer than the other two, it being the one they'd used to dangle Adam from the ceiling. They wrapped the entire length of the chain around their legs. When they woke up, there'd be no way they'd be able to so much as twitch them.

When they were done, they were about to drag them to a corner farthest away from the door, when Nate spotted the hook they had apparently used to attach the third chain, lying on the ground, no doubt from when Parker had lowered Adam down. He looked up, and sure enough, there was a pulley system that the lever on the wall obviously controlled.

"Huh. Well, isn't that considerate of them," he said to no one in particular, before smiling slyly and looking at Parker. "Parker, how difficult would it be for you to refit the hook to that pulley system?"

"For me? Not difficult at all. But there's no more chain left to hang them from, if that's your intention."

"It is, and I have an idea about that. Just set it up." Parker shrugged, and got up. This she had to see.

Five minutes later, once the pulley system and hook were all set, Nate directed Parker to wait by the lever on the wall. Then he literally rolled the still unconscious men over to where the hook was with his foot.

"Kind of resembles that sport where people roll logs on the water," Adam noted cheerfully, rather enjoying the sight of their heads hitting the hard ground. Nate nodded.

"All we need is someone to stand on them," he added. "I would, but I lack that kind of balance."

"A shame; I do, too," Adam said, a little disappointed.

"They're gonna have headaches when they wake up," Parker said with a giggle.

"Aw, that's a downright shame," Nate said sarcastically as he attached a link of the chain around their feet to the hook. "Take them up, Parker." Parker obeyed enthusiastically. "Higher," Nate instructed when she'd stopped about halfway up. Parker complied. "Keep going until I say when," he said when Parker stopped a second time. "Okay, and…when," he told her once their feet were practically touching the ceiling. "Perfect. Boy, it's a lot higher up than it looks at first glance. Hope neither of them are afraid of heights." He looked back at Parker. "If they so much as try to swing themselves off that hook, I'd say the distance, along with falling head first, would likely break their necks. I think it's safe to assume they won't even make the attempt." Parker clapped her hands and jumped up and down gleefully before returning to Eliot's side.

"I would say you all seem to be enjoying this a little too much, but considering the long and difficult walk we have ahead of us just to get me outta here, it seems justified," Eliot told them as Nate knelt in front of him.

"You sure you can do it?" he asked seriously.

"Don't really have a choice if I wanna get out of here…and I really do want to get out of here, boss." Nate nodded, then he got on one side of Eliot, while Parker stayed on the other. Eliot put his arms around their shoulders, and they hoisted him up until he stood in between them on his good leg. Eliot clamped his jaw shut, and focused on a point on the wall until the pain had subsided somewhat.

"Adam? What about Adam?" he asked, his voice strained.

"He and I have already discussed it. Until we figure out what to do with him, he'll be coming with us…that is, if you trust him enough to bring him to your place." There's that voice again, Eliot noted.

"Completely," he said without hesitation, his eyes never leaving Adam, who seemed to appreciate the show of trust.

Getting Eliot to the van was indeed a challenge. He had to stop and rest twice. By the time they made it outside, they were practically carrying him. When Eliot saw the van, he frowned.

"Hardison let you drive Lucille? Without him?" he asked Nate.

"Well, my corvette would hardly be appropriate in this situation, and only you have the keys to your van, car, and truck."

"You'd better believe it," Eliot muttered, becoming harder to understand. Nate leaned him up against the van as Parker got in the driver's seat. Nate felt his forehead.

"You have a fever. Your hand was left untreated for too long; you have an infection. Do you have medicine to fight it at your place?" Eliot nodded slowly. "Of course you do. Do I want to know how you acquired it?" He shook his head.

After Adam opened the back door, he and Nate helped Eliot in, and laid him down on the van floor.

"Don't drive too crazy, Parker," Nate warned before she started the car as he got the first aid kit stored under the back seat. Returning to Eliot's side, he took out some gauze and rubbing alcohol, then removed the makeshift bandage before glancing at Adam. "Hold him steady; this is going to hurt him." Adam nodded, and took hold of his shoulders.

Eliot made a guttural sound as soon as he felt the sting of the rubbing alcohol on his injured hand, and his back automatically arched a little off of the van floor. He tried to ride out the burning sensation, and to control his breathing so he could spare his ribs, but needless to say, it wasn't working. He began to thrash around, and even tried to move his hand away from the as Nate wrapped it with the gauze, but Adam held him steady.

"Davis said you were in the army, too. That true?" Adam asked him.

"Yeah," he ground out, recognizing the attempt to distract him from the pain. "You?"

"I was a field medic."

"Well, Davis was right about one thing; we have a lot in common."

"You were too?"

"For a while. Most of my 'medical training' came from solo missions though, where I had to patch myself up." Adam nodded in understanding.

"That explains why you have medical supplies, and apparently prescription drugs, at your place." Eliot smiled weakly, seeming to relax a little bit. Just then, the van picked the absolutely wrong time to find a pothole. Eliot couldn't hold in his cry of agony as his broken leg was bounced around, and his broken ribs were jostled.

"I said don't drive crazy, Parker!" Nate snapped, mostly out of worry for Eliot. Parker didn't know the difference, though.

"I'm sorry! Blame the stupid city for not fixing these potholes. Geez!" she snapped back before hitting the steering wheel with her hand in frustration. Eliot grabbed hold of Nate's arm with his good hand to get his attention.

"Take it easy on her, Nate. She's doing the best she can," he said in a shaky voice. "Look on the bright side; at least a got to keep the skin on my body, huh?" Nate smirked.

"Don't forget to see fit to thank me one day. Not now, of course; maybe sometime when we're both good and drunk…"

"Thanks, Nate. Still can't believe that crazy plan of yours worked…but thanks."

"Is this your first thank you, Eliot?" Eliot smiled weakly again.

Once they arrived at Eliot's apartment, Nate and Adam helped him out of the van, while Parker, already out of the driver's seat, held the door open for them. They hurried as quickly as they could to the elevator before anyone could spot them, and took it to the fourth floor.

Sophie must have been standing at the peephole waiting for them, because the door flew open before anyone could knock, and she ushered them in. Nate and Adam took Eliot to the backroom where the medical supplies were kept, with Parker closely following. The backroom was attached to Eliot's bedroom. Parker took Nate's spot, and she and Adam helped Eliot into bed while Nate rummaged through the drawers in the other room.

"Get some more rolls of gauze in the third drawer to the left of the largest cabinet in there," Eliot called to him through the open door that connected the two rooms. "In the drawer under that, you should find a needle and thread to stitch up my hand. And you'll find a leg brace which should do to immobilize my leg on the open top shelf."

"And the medicine?" Nate called back.

"In the largest cabinet; Amoxicillin." He looked at Parker. "Go on and wait with the others," he told her. She frowned.

"You seriously think only two people can hold you down, if that becomes necessary?"

"Then get Hardison."

"I don't think the man who nearly passes out when he gets so much as a splinter would be an appropriate choice. Eliot, I want to help. I can handle this." Eliot's face softened slightly.

"I know you can, darlin', but to be honest, I can't handle you or Sophie watching this. Call me old fashioned."

"Okay; you're old fashioned." Eliot had to smile at that.

"Yeah, I know. Please, Parker? The 3 of us will do just fine, okay?" Parker sighed, but nodded, then gave him an affectionate kiss on the forehead. She left just as Nate came in. Eliot managed to remove his tank top on his own once she was gone. Nate held in his gasp at what he saw underneath, and Adam averted his eyes. "Electrical burns," Eliot explained, again trying not to give them much thought. "There's a few on my back, too."

"They're a little large and oddly shaped, for electrical burns," Nate said in a neutral voice as he set the things he got from the other room down on the nightstand.

"That guard, Walker, decided to put a new twist to it; something he says he does for only the most stubborn prisoners. Paddles." Nate frowned.

"Like the kind hospitals use to restart a person's heart?" Eliot nodded. "Wouldn't that hurt more?" Eliot swallowed hard, and nodded again.

"Kinda the point, Nate," he said in a hollow voice. Nate's frown became a scowl as the professional detachment faded away for once.

"Well, let's hope that you'll be as good as new real soon, because you may just have to keep me from killing someone this time," he said in a barely controlled voice.

"I think you know better than to even joke about that, man," Eliot said seriously.

"Not joking. Not even a little bit. I'm pissed off."

"Nate, this isn't the worst I've ever had, and it isn't the worst I could have gotten, in case you're forgetting."

"Really don't care, Eliot."

"Don't you think we should take care of that hand?" Adam finally interrupted.

"I take it you know how to do that?" Eliot said as he looked at him. Adam nodded. "Okay, go ahead."

"Get a local anesthetic first," Nate put in before Adam could thread the needle. Eliot frowned, and Adam looked back and forth between them.

"I don't need it, Nate."

"Eliot, if you want to reduce the probability of me going back to that building and putting a bullet in that psycho guard's head, or worse, before the cops are called in, I suggest you make treating your wounds as painless as possible," Nate said in a firm voice. Eliot studied him for a moment, then sighed, looked back at Adam, and nodded.

"I'm going to assumed there's more than one kind of local in there. Which one do you want?" Adam asked.

"Doesn't matter. Surprise me." Adam nodded, then went into the other room. Eliot looked at Nate again. "You're lucky I'm too tired to argue with you right now, Nate."

"Funny, I don't feel particularly lucky right now. As a matter of fact, I'd prefer it if you could yell at me; at least that would let me know that you'll be okay."

"I will be okay," he insisted.

"Physically, you probably will be."

"Thought that was what we were going for here, boss."

"As the mastermind, I have to worry about the psychological as well, Eliot."

"I told you; I've had worse." But Nate was too perceptive to be fooled.

"And that was how long ago, Eliot?" Nate asked gently. Eliot looked at the ceiling, and didn't answer, refusing to acknowledge that in was, indeed, a long time ago, and that he was now…out of practice, you could say. Just then, Adam returned, not only with the local, but also with an IV bag.

"Oh yeah; I forgot about that. Good thinking," Eliot told Adam as he set it up. "I'm not exactly firing on all cylinders right now."

"Maybe replacing some of the blood you lost with fluid will help," Adam said before picking up the local. Eliot winced a little when he used it on his hand. While they waited for it to kick in, Adam gave him two pills from the prescription bottle. "I'll get you some water."

"No need," Eliot said before swallowing the pills dry. "Although I don't know how much they'll help at this point; it's already infected." Adam smiled good-naturedly.

"But you don't want the infection to get worse. In fact, I'm going to assume that'd you'd like it to get better, and sooner rather than later." Eliot frowned slightly.

"Now see, I should have known that. Seriously, not firing on all cylinders."

"Are you ever firing on all cylinders, man?" came a quip from the bedroom doorway. Eliot scowled at Hardison.

"Go on and wait with the girls," he barked, covering himself with a blanket so he couldn't see the electrical burns. "I don't need no comedy relief right now, and you don't do well at the sight of blood." Hardison rolled his eyes.

"The girls sent me to check on you, you're sending me back…man, if ya'll want me to leave the premises, just say so," he complained as he started to leave. Eliot sighed, suddenly feeling bad for snapping at his friend.

"Hardison," he called him back. "Maybe you should take the girls out for a while; you know, distract them."

"You know full well that I got as much chance of convincing them to leave as you do of becoming a Star Trek fan, or dare I say, a comic book nerd." Eliot did know, so he looked to Nate for help.

"You don't need me for this, right?" he asked Adam, who shook his head. "Okay, I'll go convince them…somehow." He followed Hardison out. Adam looked back at Eliot.

"That hand numb yet?" Eliot nodded, so Adam started to stitch it up.

Except for Eliot himself, Adam was the quickest at stitching wounds that he'd ever seen. He was done in under ten minutes. Just then, Nate returned as Adam was wrapping up his hand, and a few seconds later, they heard the front door close.

"It really took you that long to get them to leave?" Eliot asked.

"Correction; it really took both Hardison and me that long to convince them to leave. To say their nerves are frayed would be an understatement. Pretty sure Sophie finally suggested they all go get drunk…that is what snockered means, isn't it?" Eliot didn't look amused.

"Did you tell them to quit worrying?" he asked irritably.

"Nope."

Why not?"

"It wouldn't have done any good, and it would have been the pot calling the kettle black, as I'm sure they would have pointed out."

"Okay, the five of us are going to have a long talk about what it is I do…again," Eliot grumbled.

"Yes, we will, but as always, I'm sure it's not going to be the same long talk that you have in mind. How's your hand?"

"Numb and stitched up. Now you two are going to have to wrap up my broken ribs." Adam picked up the second roll of gauze to do just that, while Eliot sat up and leaned forward with Nate's help. Eliot stared straight ahead and focused on keeping his breathing even so as not to make the job harder on Adam. After that, they did what they could for the electrical burns.

"I have to admit, these are some of the worst I've ever seen, and unfortunately, I've seen them a lot," Adam said as he did his best to tend to them. Eliot let out a humorless chuckle.

"Yeah, and these are some of the worst I've ever gotten…and unfortunately, I've gotten a lot." He winced and hissed when Adam found a particularly bad one on his back.

"Obviously, neither of you have ever dealt with burns from jump starter cables," Nate said in an effort to distract Eliot from the pain. It worked, and Eliot gave him an incredulous look.

"Now how on earth could you possibly know that?" he asked. Nate smirked.

"You'd be surprised by the things insurance investigators see." He was going to just leave it there, but when Eliot stiffened and hissed again, he continued. "There was this guy, late thirties, maybe early forties, who once tried to scam IYS by saying that he'd been robbed by sadistic gang members who did that to him to try to find out where he kept the money at the mechanic shop he owned; he showed me the burns and everything. Said they must have figured he was dead when he passed out from the pain, and took off, not wanting a murder rap. I discovered early in the investigation that his little shop hadn't been making much money as of late. He'd even had to let some employees go. Anyway, long story short, he finally confessed that he made the whole thing up…and had gone so far as to give himself those burns. The only thing true about his story was that he really did pass out after doing it. When I asked him why he was so dumb as to use jumper cables, he told me he thought all electrical burns were the same, they all felt the same, and he had once been shocked by faulty wiring as a kid, so he thought he could handle it, and he used what was readily available. The man ended up with 3rd degree burns on his chest, scars for life, and no money from the agency to show for it." Eliot was trying his best not to laugh at the story, forgetting about his injuries for the moment.

"Was he arrested for fraud?" he asked. Nate smirked.

"Even my cold-hearted bosses couldn't do that to the poor idiot, so we just let him be." Eliot started chuckling, then hissed when it aggravated his ribs.

"You're gonna have to tell me that story again when I can laugh properly, man," he told him. Nate smiled slightly, noting that Adam was done with the burns.

"Deal."

"Okay, all we have to do now is set the broken leg," Adam announced. Both men groaned internally at the thought. This was in no way going to be pleasant.

"You make it sound like it's actually an easy thing to do," Eliot attempted to joke as he laid back down with their assistance. Adam winced a little.

"Sorry. I need to work on my bedside manner, I guess." Eliot gave his shoulder a pat.

"Nah, you're doing fine. I just clearly need to work on my jokes." Then Eliot glanced up at Nate, who was on his left side, prepared to keep him from thrashing too much…or hitting someone out of instinct. "Just to warn you, I might pass out," he admitted.

"Yeah, you might; but the way this day's been going, I have a feeling you're not going to be that lucky," Nate said dryly, prompting a weak smile from Eliot. Then, he took a deep breath, as deep as his broken ribs would allow, stared at the ceiling, and braced himself.

At the count of three, Adam jerked Eliot's leg upward to reset the bone. Eliot squeezed his eyes shut, and clamped down on his jaw, determined not to scream, but then his back automatically arched in response, which only served to aggravate his ribs. It was finally too much. His eyes popped open, he threw his head back, and cried out in agony. He began to thrash when all that filled his mind was the pain, looking desperate to hit whatever was causing it, and as Adam secured his leg with the brace, Nate gave up on trying to hold him down, then suddenly took hold of his left hand, and gripped it tightly.

"He's almost done, Eliot, and then you can sleep," he whispered reassuringly to him. Eliot, not used to receiving any kind of comfort in this type of situation, looked at him with a mixture of confusion and gratitude. It was enough to keep him relatively still, although his head still tossed from side to side. After immobilizing the leg, Adam elevated it above his heart as best as he could with pillows.

By the time he was done, Nate's hand felt numb, and Eliot was breathing shallowly, which only irritated his ribs further. Everything was hurting, and Eliot was horrified to find himself whimpering, moaning and shaking. Adam bent over him, while Nate still clung to his hand.

"Eliot, I'm going to give you something for the pain," Adam said, but Eliot started shaking his head adamantly. "I know, you would probably prefer to keep your mind focused and alert, mostly out of habit, since you're in no condition to ward off any attack that's probably not coming, but if you don't rest those ribs, they'll never heal, and you don't want to come down with pneumonia on top of everything else. Don't worry, soldier, we'll watch your back." After taking his words in, Eliot finally nodded his consent. As he went back into the other room, Eliot looked at Nate. They still had one piece of unfinished business.

"You don't trust him," he said in a pain-filled voice. "Even after he literally risked his hide to try to rescue me. Come to think of it, he did rescue me. He inadvertently helped me stall Davis until you could get to me." Nate looked almost apologetic before even giving his answer.

"He used to work for people like Foster, Eliot. He's killed people. For all we know, he could be a wanted man." Eliot smirked.

"All that applies to me, Nate…and then some."

"The only difference is, you've changed. Even before you became a part of this team, you stopped killing. But we don't know what he does now. He could still be part of the criminal underworld, just with those that don't use people like Davis." Eliot mulled this over.

"Find out if that's the case, then…before you turn him over to the cops." Nate smirked slightly.

"Now how did you know I was considering that possibility?"

"It's part of my job." Nate smiled slightly, and shook his head.

"You were right before, Eliot; we are going to have to have a talk about what all your job entails. I mean, I know you're a man of many talents, but being able to read your boss' mind borders on overkill, don't you think?" Eliot gave a small chuckle, but even that was enough to agitate his ribs, and prompt a coughing fit. Agony rippled through his body as all his injuries were jostled, and his grip on Nate's hand tightened again as he screwed his eyes shut, struggling not to give into the urge to arch his back. "Adam, care to speed it up?" Nate called into the other room, seeing that the pain was becoming unbearable for him.

A moment later, Adam hurried in, and injected something into Eliot's IV. Eliot's tension eased almost immediately. A look of profound relief crossed his face, one Nate was sure he wasn't even aware of. Another moment later, he finally lost consciousness. Nate let out a sigh of relief, then let go of his limp hand, resting it gently at his side. Then he pulled the blanket up around him, almost like a protective parent. Maybe that's what he'd become. Then he glanced at Adam, and nodded to the door. Adam took the hint, and followed him out.

Nate stopped short when he saw the team sitting in the living room, causing Adam to nearly run into him. They were sipping on various alcoholic beverages.

"There's a liquor store two blocks from here," Hardison said by way of explanation. Nate gave each of them a hard look. "We got back five minutes ago."

"Seriously?" he addressed all of them.

"They said they were coming back here with or without me, man," Hardison defended himself.

"You didn't specify how long we were supposed to be gone," Sophie said. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You are just determined not to be helpful today, aren't you," he said, then instantly regretted it. Sophie responded by downing the wine in her glass, then reaching for a beer on the coffee table in front of the couch where they all were sitting.

"How's he doing?" Hardison asked, pointedly ignoring the sudden tension.

"We heard yelling," Parker immediately followed up with.

"That happens when you set a broken bone, Parker, and he's going to be very upset to learn that you all heard that."

"Well, my helpful suggestion is to not tell him," Sophie said pointedly. Oh, it's going to be a long night, Nate thought, and possibly a lonely one, by the looks of it.

"We've given him a sedative and he's asleep right now. We're going to have to keep an eye on the infection in his hand, but I think he's going to be okay." The team looked relieved.

"You want me to call the cops to pick up Davis and his boys now?" Hardison asked.

"Not yet. But call our client, and update her. Adam and I will be out in the hall." Hardison eyed Adam, then nodded as he watched them walk out.

"What was that all about? Is there a problem with Adam?" Parker asked.

"I don't know; but Nate just asked me to find out," Hardison said before putting his earbud in and taking out his laptop. Parker frowned.

"When did he…"

"I'll explain later, Parker," Sophie interrupted, knowing that Hardison had to be able to hear what the two men were saying. "I have to call our client. Why don't you go sit with Eliot. Let us know if he wakes up, or if his fever gets worse." Parker still looked confused, but she just nodded, and went to the other room.

In the hall, Nate made sure no neighbors were around before looking at Adam, who folded him arms.

"I know you don't trust me…Nate, is it?"

"You may call me Mr. Ford. Only my friends call me Nate." Adam's face became grim.

"Subtle. Care to tell me why I'm not a friend, considering I risked my life to help Eliot, who does trust me, by the way."

"I know next to nothing about you…including your last name."

"And I know absolutely nothing about you…including what Davis' client wanted with you."

"First thing's first. I told you my last name. You have anything to tell me?"

"Well, of course you told me; you obviously don't have any kids whose safety may be compromised by giving me that information." Nate tensed.

"No, I don't…anymore." This sudden admission, and the implication, clearly took Adam aback.

"It's Harris," he said when he'd recovered. "And whatever happened to your child, however long ago it was, I'm sorry. Now, what was your business with Davis' client?"

While Nate explained the objective of Leverage, and Hardison looked up the name Adam Harris, Parker nervously watched Eliot sleep rather fitfully, his head tossing from side to side as he moaned softly. She couldn't tell if he was having a bad dream, or if it was due to the fever. Either way, she knew she couldn't wake him. Eliot himself had warned her never to surprise him, either by sneaking up on him, or by waking him from a sound sleep; his reaction might be instinctively violent. So she bit her fingernails, continued to stare at him, and hoped whatever the problem was would pass on its own.

"Alright, Mr. Harris; I've told you what we're about."

"But not what you've been trying to do for your newest client."

"This is a give-and-take situation, Mr. Harris. I've given you information; now it's your turn."

"I was under the impression that you listened in while we were at that prison, so you would have already heard that I was kidnapped, and why. What more do you need to know?"

"Let's start with your current occupation."

"I have two jobs that help me care for my daughters; a janitor at their school, and a mechanic on the weekends, and during summer vacation. In other words, honest work…technically more honest than yours, Mr. Ford." Nate smirked. He had him there.

"Why were you a part of that violent life before, since you, as you told Davis, 'always had a problem with it?'"

"It was right after my wife died, five years ago, when she gave birth to our youngest child. I was desperate for work…"

"Let me guess; with very few options, you turned to a life of crime."

"Would you care to finish my story, Mr. Ford?" Adam said impatiently.

"Continue."

"I had very few options, so I became a 'mall cop.'" That, of course, was not what Nate expected, but he didn't let his surprise show. "A few months later, a customer offered me a job as a member of his personal security detail after witnessing how well I handled a shoplifter that became violent when confronted by an employee. I naïvely excepted. Once I realized just what the job entailed, I tried to quit, but then he threatened my girls. You've already heard the rest. Now, Mr. Ford; your client?"

"She used to work for Mr. Colby, the accountant of Davis' client,

Mr. Foster. She was fired when she discovered discrepancies that pointed to Mr. Foster hiding money from the government. She was then threatened when she wanted to go to the cops. The files we stole expose Mr. Foster and

Mr. Colby, who had set up the offshore accounts in exchange for a cut of the profits. Also, my hacker can no doubt find a legal loophole that will allow us to give some of the recovered money to our client, like he always does, which should hold her over until she finds another job. As far as Davis goes…a witness might be needed to get him thrown in jail for the rest of his life."

"And the only two that you know of that are living are me and Eliot," Adam concluded. "And you can't guarantee that if one, or both of us, testify, we won't be incarcerated ourselves for our past crimes."

"That's the problem. I may have a way around it, though; a couple of allies I can talk to. The question is, can you trust me?"

"What would I need to do?"

"Go home to your kids, act like it was just another day, and wait til you hear from me."

"You expect me to believe that you won't have me followed, so you can lead the cops right to me, possibly to exchange my freedom for Eliot's?"

"That won't happen."

"Why should I trust you?" Nate sighed.

"Because, Mr. Harris, my weakness, other than alcohol and the welfare of my team, are kids, and your arrest would upset them, possibly even leave them to the mercies of foster care. Parker, the girl who helped rescue you, would be the first to point out that they have a tendency not to be so merciful, by the way. Seriously, even if I wanted to have you arrested, and see your kids placed elsewhere, which I don't, she'd scream bloody murder, along with every curse word she knows at me, which is surprisingly a lot, then she'd steal those kids back for you, and probably bust you out of jail." Adam raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Nate gave a casual shrug. "The girl's really not a fan of foster care," he added. "Do we have a deal?" Adam finally nodded in agreement.

"Hardison, does his story check out?" Nate said once Adam had left, and he entered the apartment again.

"Let's see…deceased wife, two kids, check. Worked as a 'mall cop', check. Stayed for only a few months, quit because he got another job offer, yes and yes. He's never been arrested, but the FEDS have been keeping tabs on him. Guess they've never had any solid evidence on his past criminal activity. Looks like that 'new employer' that discovered his knack for providing excellent security was a bookie named Ronald Taylor." Nate's face became grim.

"A very old bookie. My Dad worked with him on occasion. I met him once or twice. He's not a real fan of kids…overheard him telling my Dad that the only thing they're good for is as incentive to get someone to pay their debts. To my Dad's credit, he stopped associating with him after that. He has mob connections."

"Sounds like our boy Adam is telling the truth, then. So, now what?" Hardison asked. He and Sophie watched him pace for a minute.

"Okay, Soph, call Detective Bonano. Tell him as much as you can without mentioning Adam by name." Sophie nodded. "Where's Parker?"

"I'm having her keeping an eye on Eliot," Sophie answered as she got her phone out. Nate looked at her curiously.

"Busy work?"

"Let's just say she was going to be too vocal at a crucial moment." Nate nodded, figuring out when that moment must have been.

"Parker!" he called to her. A moment later, Parker hurried out. "Parker, I need you to call Agent McSweetin using your FBI cover. Mention the name Dennis Davis. See what he has to say about him, and any witnesses to his crimes that they may have, but leave Adam out of it completely."

"Okay, but Nate, Eliot's not doing so good. At first, I thought maybe he was having bad dreams, but now, I think he's sick."

"The infection, most likely. I'll go take care of Eliot, you just make that call." Parker nodded, and Nate hurried past her to Eliot's room.

Eliot was still sleeping, but now he was shivering, even though he was sweating. Nate went to the medical supply room, and found a thermometer, the kind you stick in a patient's ear. He went back to the bedroom, and took Eliot's temperature. When he saw what it was, he let out a string of curse words. It was already up to 100.9*.

Nate found a washcloth, and got Sophie to fill a bowl with cold water.

"How bad is it?" she asked worriedly as she brought the bowl in and set it on the nightstand.

"It's already up to 100.9*."

"He was given medication to counteract the infection, yes?" Nate nodded, then picked up the prescription bottle that was still on the nightstand.

"It says to give him one every four hours until the fever goes down."

"And if he can't take it because he's unconscious?"

"Then maybe I should see if he has a liquid form that can be put in his IV…what am I saying? This is Eliot; of course he'd have it. I'll be right back," he said before getting up and going back to the medical supply room.

Meanwhile, Sophie sat in the chair Nate had just vacated by the bed, dipped the washcloth in the cold water, and dabbed it across Eliot's forehead. He flinched at her touch at first, then settled back down. A minute later, Nate returned.

"He really does have enough medicine in there to stock an entire hospital for at least a year. Remind me never to ask how or where he acquired any of them," he said as he set the new bottle on the nightstand. Sophie smiled sadly. Nate watched her for a moment, then rested his hand on her shoulder. "Maybe you should let me take over now."

"I'm not going to bloody well fall apart sitting here, Nate," she snapped a little. "I can worry just as well in her as I can out there, but at least in here, I'm doing something. Isn't that what you wanted; for me to be helpful?" Nate winced.

"I shouldn't have said that; I was frustrated. But if he wakes up and sees you here…"

"Then I'll explain to him that it's high time he realized that it's all right for friends to worry about him, especially once a job is finished." Nate didn't know what to say to that, so he just shrugged.

"Well, I'm going to round up all the fans I can find, see if making it cooler in here helps. Meanwhile, I'll just open this up," he said as he went to the window and opened it, letting the cool night air in before leaving.

Sophie was surprised when he returned fifteen minutes later with no fans, and even more surprised to see that something else was missing.

"I figured that if you didn't come back with fans, you'd at least come back with a glass of whiskey."

"He doesn't have any fans of any kind," he said, avoiding the subject of liquor all together. "No air conditioner either."

"Not exactly surprising, considering we live in Boston."

"I still own a fan."

"Well, since Eliot doesn't, we'll just have to hope that the open window and this cold water is enough."

"No we won't. I already sent Hardison out to buy fans."

"Fans? Plural?"

"Three actually. Figured we could use all the help we can get." He glanced down at Eliot. "You know, he might be more comfortable with his hair pulled back."

"Perhaps, but that's easier said than done right now, isn't it?"

"I'll sit him up, you get one of his hair bands."

"Is it really that important?"

"Might help to cool him down faster. If nothing else, it'll make it easier to take his temperature. Seriously, it's close to impossible to find his ear under all that mass of hair." Sophie tried to suppress a giggle, but a snicker still came out.

"Sorry, I just had a mental image of such an attempt," she told him before getting up and leaving the room. Once she was gone, the first thing Nate did was to find a tank top in one of his drawers. Fever or not, he knew Eliot would prefer not to be that bare around the women of their team. Sitting him up didn't prove as difficult as he thought it would be, neither was putting the shirt on someone that was unconscious. It reminded him of when Sam was very little, and he had to dress him while he was sleeping. When he was out, that boy was impossible to wake up for anything, not even school or his doctor's appointments…Nate pushed the thought aside.

When Sophie returned, she found that Nate had taken her spot by the bed, trying to cool Eliot down the way she had been. When he saw her, he sat Eliot up again, and held him up as she pulled his hair back. She raised her eyebrow at the tank top.

"If you were trying to hide all those marks on his chest and torso, you're too late," she remarked as Nate settled back down. He looked at her in surprise.

"Actually, I was only concerned about his sense of modesty," he said as he took the seat by the bed again.

"How did he get those, Nate? They looked pretty nasty."

"You really don't want to know, Soph…and he wouldn't want you to know either."

"Nate, I already saw them; there's no reason to hide how they got there from me, and I promise I won't tell the others about them."

"Let's just say that it's actually a good thing that he turned his com off for those two hours he was unaccounted for, and just leave it at that." He looked up at her. "Please, Soph," he added. Sophie sighed. Now how could she possibly say no to that?

Fourteen minutes later, Hardison came back with the 3 fans. Nate helped him put them together and set them up in the room, while Sophie took Eliot's temperature again. It had gone up 0.3 degrees, to 101.2 They pointed every fan at him, and left the window open.

The night was long for everyone. Eliot didn't wake up, but he slept fitfully, moaning in his sleep. Everyone took shifts in trying to reduce his fever, which got as high as 102*.

When Eliot finally woke up, it was still early enough for it to be dark outside; 6 a.m., according to the clock on his nightstand. He glanced around the room, and saw his team sleeping in various locations…all except for Nate, who was nowhere to be found.

Just then, Nate came in with another bowl of cold water, then he stopped short when he saw that Eliot was awake. After recovering from the unexpected sight, he set the bowl down, and noticed Eliot's parched lips.

"Thirsty?" he asked quietly, so as not to wake the others. He nodded weakly. "I'll get you some water," he said, going back out again. He returned a minute later, and handed him a glass, placing it in his left hand, but the hand was shaking so badly, Nate ended up holding onto it while Eliot drank. "Better?" Eliot nodded again.

"It's warm in here," he said in a raw, scratchy voice.

"It's not the room, Eliot; it's you. You have a 102.5* fever." He checked his watch, then picked up the liquid Amoxicillin. "Time for another dose," he said before injecting some more into his IV.

"Have you been up all night, Nate?" He gave a half shrug.

"I got about an hour of sleep earlier," he said as he brought one of the standing fans closer to his bed, and turned it up a notch. Eliot gave a small sigh of relief. "How's the hand?"

"It hurts. Quite frankly, everything hurts."

"On a scale of one to ten?"

"Seven."

"Time for more pain killers."

"Not just yet, Nate. Give it another hour…don't want to become too dependent on it, or anything." Eliot glanced at him, and took note of his disheveled appearance. 'Get some sleep, Nate."

"If I do that, I'll have to wake one of the others. We've been taking turns trying to reduce your fever."

"Doesn't really look like you've been taking your turn."

"I have been, but an hour's sleep was all I could get."

"You're worrying too much. The fever will pass."

"Yes, it will…sooner rather than later, if I have anything to say about it."

"Maybe a drink or three can help knock you out. As a matter of fact, I'm surprised you aren't holding a glass of my whiskey right now."

"Trust me, Eliot, not even getting drunk would alleviate my worry, or sleepless nights. Besides, I don't tend to fevers drunk…never have, or did you forget that I have some experience in that area." Now Eliot was worried.

"Nate, you really should take care of yourself…"

"I'll be fine once you're fine, Eliot," he said firmly, in a tone that brokered no argument. "And the best way for that to happen is for you to try to get as much rest as possible. Let me know when you want more pain killers." Eliot sighed.

"On that scale of 1 to 10, 10 is when I usually take pain killers, Nate."

"I don't doubt it."

"But since you clearly can't rest until I'm resting…go ahead." Nate kept himself from smiling.

"That's very considerate of you, Eliot," he said with a straight face as he administered the drug.

"But if I end up hooked on this stuff, getting enough rest will be the least of your problems," he said before becoming unconscious again. Nate smiled, knowing it was an empty threat, and doubting that having to take pain killers for two, maybe even three days could have any real lasting effect.

The next time Eliot woke up, he was confused. It was so hot, and he was in pain. His hand hurt, his ribs hurt, his very skin hurt. Why was he hurting so much? He'd been captured. That had to be it. He kept his eyes closed and feigned sleep when he sensed that someone, no doubt his kidnapper, was in the room with him. But who had him?

Davis, now he remembered. Or maybe it was that psycho guard…Walker, that was his name. He felt a hand on his forehead. Rookie mistake, he thought. Never believe that your enemy is actually unconscious in a situation like this…even if he really is. Eliot grabbed hold of the wrist, and twisted it, producing a surprised squeak. Wait, psycho guards didn't squeak, no matter how cowardly they were. He let go of the wrist and opened his eyes.

Whoever had been touching him had scurried out of his line of vision once he had released them. He sat up despite the pain he was in, and summoned every ounce of strength he was sure he didn't actually possess at the moment to do battle. But instead of seeing Davis or Walker, he saw Nate, standing a few feet away from the bed, holding his hands up to show that he posed no threat. Adam stood beside him. Eliot blinked a couple of times to clear his head.

"Take it easy, Eliot," Nate spoke calmly. "Adam is just here to help us get your fever down." Eliot frowned in confusion. Was it Adam that he hurt? He looked at the young man, but he seemed all right.

"I'm just going to put some Tylenol into your IV, Eliot," he said, holding up a vial. "Is that okay?" Eliot nodded, and Adam approached him. "How about you open your hand, and let me see if you popped any stitches," he said, nodded to his right hand as he put the medicine in his IV. Eliot glanced down, and saw that his injured hand had his sheets in a death grip, so much so that his knuckles were white. He unclenched his fist so Adam could examine the stitches, gasping a little at the pain the action caused him. "Good, it looks okay. Sophie, could you go see if he has a cooling blanket, please?" he called over his shoulder.

Eliot looked around the room, slightly disoriented. Sophie was here? He saw a wisp of ebony hair as she turned her back to him and hurried to the medical supply room. Was it her he'd just injured?

"Sit back and relax now, Eliot. You're safe," Nate reassured him kindly. Eliot did as he requested.

"My hand hurts," he muttered as Sophie came back with the blanket.

"I'll bet," Adam said as he and Sophie spread the blanket over him. He practically buried himself in it, relishing it's coolness. "Your grip on both the sheet and the hand was pretty tight, from what I saw," Adam continued. "The fever is making you a little delirious. It's up to 104*." Eliot eyed Sophie warily. He was about to ask her if she was okay, when another voice spoke up from the corner of the room.

"Did I hurt him?" the small, childlike voice asked. Eliot's eyes widened slightly, and he started breathing faster. No, not Parker. He picked his head up as Adam, Nate, and Sophie parted the way for him. In the far corner of the room, he saw both Hardison and Parker. Hardison had an arm around Parker, as though he was comforting her, and Parker was holding her wrist, as though it had been injured.

"No, Parker, you didn't hurt him," Nate was the one who answered.

"You should do something about his hand that he says is hurting," she said to Adam after a moment. Eliot couldn't have hated himself more at that moment even if he tried. He'd hurt Parker, and she was showing concern for him?

"The Tylenol should help take the edge off," Adam said, then he looked down at Eliot. "Unless you want something stronger?" He shook his head.

"Parker, let me look at your wrist," Eliot called her over, but she didn't move. Eliot was determined to see exactly what he'd done to her, however, and the pain of moving was nothing compared to the pain of her being afraid of him, so he struggled to sit up, then looked down at the floor, as though he was contemplating actually standing up, and hobbling over to her.

"Parker, maybe you'd better come over; doesn't look like he'll settle down otherwise." Parker, at the thought of Eliot re-injuring himself, suddenly came to life, hurrying over to him. After Sophie propped him up on several pillows, he gently took Parker's hand in his non-injured one. Her wrist already had a bruise around it, like a nearly continuous, thick band.

"Can you move it?" he asked, his voice emotionless despite the anxiety he was feeling. If he'd actually broken it, he'd never forgive himself.

"Yeah," she said before demonstrating, wincing a little as she did so, which Eliot noticed.

"It might be a little sprained. Go put some ice on it," he said, still trying to maintain at least the appearance of professional detachment. Parker seemed hesitant to leave.

"I'm sorry," she practically whispered. Eliot frowned.

"For what?" She bit her lip nervously.

"You're obviously mad at me, but I wasn't trying to wake you, I swear! I…I was only checking on your fever, because you told me never to surprise you, especially when you're asleep and/or injured…" she was rambling now, but it was clear to everyone that she couldn't help it. Sophie was about to pull her away to get her to do as Eliot had instructed, when suddenly, and with very little effort at all, Eliot found the strength to sit up and pull her into a hug in one fluid motion.

"Stop," he whispered in her ear, the thought of her apologizing to him hurting more than her being afraid of him. He swallowed hard. "I am so, so very sorry, Parker," he continued, his voice uncharacteristically filled with emotion. "You know I would never, ever intentionally hurt you, right?" He felt her nod. After another minute, he broke away, but kept her close, looking into her eyes to make sure she really understood.

"So, you're not mad at me?" she asked. What came out in response was something somewhere in between a sniffle and a chuckle.

"No, crazy girl; I'm not mad at ya." She lit up at this, obviously relieved, then she gave him a quick, light hug so as to not hurt him, before she practically skipped off with Sophie to tend to her wrist. Eliot shook his head in amusement, then suddenly groaned.

"I guess sitting up so suddenly was a bad idea," he concluded, laying back down.

"I'm surprised you stayed up as long as you did," Adam said before covering him up again with the cooling blanket that had been tossed aside. "Now, try to keep still, before you end up killing yourself," he admonished. Eliot gave a half smile.

"If I had a nickel for every time I heard that, I could've retired by the time I was thirty. But I promise I'll settle down now, if I could talk to Nate for a moment. Adam nodded, then he and Hardison left. Nate approached the bed.

"You actually want to talk to me, or were you just looking to get rid of them?" he asked. Eliot smiled slightly.

"A little bit of both, I guess."

"So, what is it?" he said as he sat down.

"Davis and his goons, also Foster and Colby; what's their status?"

"Oh, where to start? Well, clearly we were able to leave Adam out of it, otherwise he wouldn't be here. The F.B.I. were only too happy to take Foster into custody. Colby immediately had a change of heart upon arrest, and agreed…well, actually offered, to testify against him, in exchange for a reduced sentence of 25 years in prison. The two guards are wanted by the Boston police for several crimes. The second one, the one that seemed less experienced, is wanted for a string of burglaries and a couple of assaults."

"And Walker?" Nate actually smiled.

"Several assaults, one armed robbery. Banono also said that they suspect him of sexually assaulting a fifteen year old girl, but they don't have any evidence, the poor girl doesn't want to even testify, so he can't be charged with that. Upon hearing about what he did to you, however…well, he may have let it slip to some trusted guards at the prison he'll be sitting in awaiting trial that there's a sexual predator in their midst. These guards may know how to get that kind of information out to the inmates, and I'm sure Walker will become quite popular over there. Bonano says get well soon, by the way." Eliot suppressed a smile.

"And just how did he find out about my condition, Nate?"

"Well, it's better than my original plan for him, isn't it?"

"And what about Davis?" Eliot asked, still suppressing a smile.

"Ah, yes; I saved the best for last. Turns out, good ol' Davis is on the ten most wanted list. You and Adam aren't the only survivors/witnesses. They got a whole slew of them, from 3 different countries, lined up to testify against him. The prosecutor intends to seek the death penalty."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer group of people," Eliot said with a satisfied smirk. Nate studied him for a moment.

"So, what's wrong, Eliot? Aside from being injured, I mean?" Eliot looked at him in surprise, then he frowned.

"Nothing's wrong, man. Why?"

"You've been muttering in your sleep. At first, I thought it was the fever."

"No doubt, that's what it was, then."

"But then I caught some of what you were saying. So, what's wrong?" Eliot sighed.

"You tell me, boss. I have no idea what I was saying."

"You don't remember any bad dreams?"

"From the past couple of days, or like, all the ones I've had since getting out of the military?" Nate waited patiently, and Eliot sighed again. "I don't remember any from the past couple of days, Nate. I've been pretty out of it."

"You seemed to think you did something wrong during this job." Eliot tensed, then his face became hard.

"Of course I did, I got caught, didn't I? That's the definition of doing something wrong."

"Well, now, you wouldn't be apologizing to me and the team in your sleep if that's all it was." Eliot frowned.

"I did?" Nate nodded, and Eliot swore. "It's nothing, Nate."

"Now, don't give me that," he said sternly, but without shouting. Eliot let out a growl of frustration. He honestly didn't remember any dream. Nate, seeing this, decided to refresh his memory some more. "You apologized to us, and then you started yelling at someone…Davis, by the sound of it." Eliot took a sharp intake of breath, then closed his eyes.

"I really coulda done without the reminder of that particular bad dream, Nate."

"I wasn't exaggerating before; you're our security. If one of us messes up on a con, and it endangers others, you speak up and let us know what it is, so we don't do it again. Now, you seem to think that you endangered us, and we need to talk about it, just like we always do." Eliot had to admit, it sounded reasonable, even though he knew that wasn't the real reason Nate wanted to talk about it.

"He promised your deaths would be quick if I told him. You heard him say so, right?" Nate nodded. "Only in my dream, he didn't keep his promise. I am aware that's not what really happened…but it could have, if you hadn't showed up when you did. I, uh, was on the verge of giving up, Nate. I almost told him everything, about you coming with the files, and some crazy plan to get us out alive, who our client was…even where the rest of the team was." He sighed wearily. "You were right, Nate, it's been too long since I've had to face anything like this. I'm going soft."

"You're leaving some things out, Eliot. You didn't almost tell him everything because of the risk to yourself, but because Adam was being threatened, and so was the psyche of those young kids. He threatened them, and after bringing up your past. It was a lowdown, underhanded, evil thing to do, but in the end, you still did your job, regardless of what was going through your mind at the time. You kept everyone safe by stalling until I got there, just like I asked you to. I don't think you need to give it another moment's thought, Eliot." Eliot was nodding, but Nate noticed that his face was a blank; his mask was up. He sighed, knowing this matter wasn't settled. "How's the hand?" he changed the subject.

"It's a little better; more manageable," he said, his eyes drooping a little. Nate allowed a small smile to be seen.

"Are you actually going to sleep without the aid of pharmaceuticals?" Eliot smirked sleepily.

"Yeah, funny how easy that is when you're not trying to guilt me into taking them, huh." Nate got up just as he was about to drift off. "No, wait…you don't have to go just yet." This naturally surprised Nate; not wanting to be alone, especially when injured, was very unlike Eliot, but he sat back down nonetheless.

Over the next couple of days, Eliot's fever kept going down, and Adam had even put a real cast on his broken leg. Once they were sure that his recovery was heading in the right direction, Adam was ready to leave Eliot's apartment for the last time.

"Thank you for saving him," Parker said as he was about to leave.

"Mama, I'm not sure he can breathe with you wrapped around him like that," Hardison noted, taking in the sight of the usually closed off young woman with her arms wrapped around Adam's neck tightly in a hug. Adam, in turn, looked over her head at Eliot, who was standing nearby with the aid of crutches.

"Is she always this…friendly?" he asked the hitter. Eliot couldn't help but grin as he shook his head in answer.

"Parker, come on, let the man go," he said gruffly, despite the grin still on his face. Parker begrudgingly let him go, then promptly stuck her tongue out at Eliot, who rolled his eyes.

"There really is something wrong with you, crazy girl," he said with a chuckle before shaking Adam's hand. "Thanks, man. Don't be a stranger." Hardison gave a standard high five as his farewell, and Sophie gave him a kiss on the cheek. One by one, they moved away, until it was just Nate and Adam.

Nate gave him an almost scrutinizing look, before surprising him by extending his hand. After a moment, Adam shook it. Nate then simply nodded his head as a thank you.

"Mr. Ford," Adam bid him farewell as he let go. Nate leaned over to open the door for him, smiling slyly.

"It's Nate," he said in the young man's ear. Adam smiled as well, nodded in understanding, and then he was off.

After a week of just hanging out at Eliot's apartment, Eliot kindly but firmly kicked his team out, insisting that he could handle his own recovery now.

Two weeks after the incident, Eliot started working out again, cast and all, mainly by lifting weights. Parker admitted that it was a remarkable sight one night over dinner at Nate's. When Eliot gruffly asked how she could possibly know this, since his gym was in his home, she simply smiled and said she had her ways.

By the third week, Eliot removed his own cast, and insisted he was ready to return to work. He seemed to be in top form, with the hard retrieval mask firmly in place, but after discussing it, the 'parents' of the team noted that something still seemed off about the younger man. He seemed fatigued, yet jumpy at the same time, and even though Eliot insisted that he was fine, Nate was worried he was still having nightmares, and not sleeping enough. He decided he should monitor the next job from the van with Hardison, have him ease into it.

Everyone expected Eliot to grumble about Nate's decision throughout the next job, which was relatively simple, lasting only two days, but he didn't. Even when Hardison yammered like he usually did, Eliot didn't snap at him. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

Later that evening, they all returned to Nate's apartment, talking about the job.

"Did you see the look on the mark's face when he found out his money was gone?" Hardison was saying as he grabbed a cold bottle of orange soda from Nate's refrigerator.

"That was nothing to the look on his face as he was getting arrested," Parker chimed in.

"Yeah, Mr. Stone was a real piece of work," Nate agreed, referring to the mark, before glancing at Eliot. "I'm just sorry you didn't get a chance to dent his face in a little bit, Eliot. Maybe next time." But Eliot seemed distracted.

"Yeah, next time," he repeated, looking at his watch, then glancing out the window. "Look, I'm gonna head home…maybe catch a little sleep." Everyone looked dumbfounded by that simple statement.

"Ah, Eliot, I'm not exactly sure how you internal clock really works, but I know you don't get your 90 minutes of sleep, or whatever, this early in the day. The sun doesn't go down for another hour or so," Hardison ventured to say.

"There's a first time for everything," was Eliot's only response.

"But what about dinner? You always cook after a successful job," Parker said with a pout.

"Well, I suggest you order Chinese food, just this one time, okay? How often do I head home early? Geez," he said, a little bit of an edge in his voice. Parker practically deflated down into the couch.

"Okay," she said in a small voice, peeking over the couch at him. Eliot left without another word…despite how bad he felt for snapping at Parker.

"I was expecting him to gripe about not having anything to do on this job, but that behavior was downright childish," Hardison said with a huff.

"Yes," Nate agreed absent-mindedly, staring after him.

"And not like Eliot at all," Sophie added.

"No, it wasn't; which in and of itself is cause for concern."

"What's wrong with him?" Parker asked. Nate focused his attention on the rest of the team.

"What say we find out," he said, a little too chipper.

"And just how do you propose we do that?" Sophie asked him warily.

"Simple. We're going to invade his privacy." Parker perked up.

"All of us?"

"Yep." Parker clapped her hands excitedly.

"Nate, you know how much he hates it when we do that," Sophie warned.

"It's for his own good. It's not my fault that after four years together, the boy doesn't know how to tell us when something is wrong, now is it?"

"We are so dead," Hardison muttered just before getting up and following Nate out.

Ten minutes later, they were outside Eliot's place talking when Parker shushed them.

"He's a real light sleeper, and he really hates intruders…has a security alarm and everything." The team frowned at her as she set about picking the lock.

"Okay, do you really not see why you having that knowledge would be disturbing?" Hardison asked as quietly as he could, which wasn't very quiet.

"Shh!" was Parker's response. As soon as they entered, Parker shut off the alarm by punching in a code. Hardison gave Nate a look that said his point had just been made.

"Just how many times do you sneak in here, Parker?" Nate whispered. She gave a casual shrug.

"No more than I do all of your places," she whispered back. "Don't worry, Eliot knows I come here sometimes, even if he pretends he doesn't." Before they even had a chance to respond, there was a sudden, loud, anguished cry that came from the bedroom. Nate sighed.

"I was afraid he was still having nightmares," he said, almost to himself.

"Still? Any reason you didn't clue us in?" Sophie asked, looking horrified at the sounds their friend was making.

"It's Eliot. You know he has a thing about not showing weakness." After the second cry, three team members rushed in, despite Nate's warning not to. He sighed again, then followed, entering the room cautiously.

The blinds were open, letting in the sunlight. It kind of reminded Nate of how Sam always wanted some kind of light whenever he had a bad dream, as though the light could chase it away. But Eliot wasn't a kid, and nightmares weren't anything new to him…he must be pretty desperate for some sleep. Unfortunately, it wasn't working. Eliot was tossing and turning, and he actually seemed to be in pain. Nate turned to the rest of the team.

"Okay, I'm going to wake him up, and he doesn't need an audience for that. In fact, I'm pretty sure an audience will…" Too late. Eliot opened his eyes, and bolted up in bed. "Freak him out," Nate finished his thought, before holding up both hands, much like he had when Eliot was disoriented with his fever. Instead of striking out, Eliot scurried off the bed, and into the corner by the window, wide-eyed and breathing heavily. "Eliot, it's just us." But he didn't seem to hear him. He was staring down at himself in horror, and Nate had a sudden feeling of dread. "Eliot, what are you seeing right now?" Eliot wrapped his arms around himself, and started rocking back and forth.

"Hurts! It hurts! Oh God! Nate, somebody, please make him stop!" Nate couldn't take it anymore, and his professional detachment broke again for the second time since this started. He knelt down in front of Eliot, and took hold of his shoulders.

"Eliot, wake up; you're safe!" he all but ordered, giving him a little shake.

"Davis…"

"Look at me, Eliot. It's not real. You're safe." Eliot started blinking rapidly, and then he looked around, finally waking up. He looked at Nate with confusion.

"Nate?" his voice still sounded lost and afraid, not like Eliot at all.

"Yeah, Eliot, it's me, Nate. You're safe now, okay?" Eliot nodded slowly, and looked around again. He was safe, in his bedroom…wait a minute. He looked at his teammates, and Nate sighed, then stood up. This was not going to be pleasant. "Nate, why are ya'll in my room?" Being upfront with Eliot was always the best way to go. It would still lead to anger, but at least the direct approach didn't leave him much time to simmer.

"Oh, we invaded your privacy when you started acting strangely." And there was the angry glare, which he turned on Parker, but one look at the tears running down her face, and that glare softened immediately.

"You let them in," he said. It wasn't an accusation, just a statement of fact. Parker nodded. Eliot sighed and rested his forehead on his knees. "Parker, please stop being so afraid of me; it's very unsettling."

"Not afraid of you, Eliot," she said with a sniff. "That was some bad dream you were having just now, by the sounds of it." That's when Eliot figured out that he must have been talking, or rather yelling, in his sleep, and his team…Parker…heard him. He closed his eyes.

"Well, I'm awake now, Parker, and I'm okay. You can stop worrying," he said wearily, knowing that she wouldn't, but it was the only thing he could think to say.

"Okay, everybody, can you give us a minute?' Nate said. Everyone looked reluctant to leave. They all looked at Eliot, who nodded. They finally trudged out, dragging their feet all the way. Once they were gone, Eliot finally stood up, only to plop down on his bed. He looked up at Nate. Was that fatherly concern he was seeing on his face? He was surprised that he wasn't surprised. Guess we've become more of a family than I realized. "I take it this has been going on for a while, yes?" Nate interrupted his thoughts.

"They had stopped after those first couple of nights."

"When did they start up again?"

"A few days after I told you all I could handle my own recovery. I didn't think any dream could be worse than watching all of you…but this one was worse. This one…may very well be the worst one I've ever had in my life, and that's saying something," he said with a shudder. "I thought maybe sleeping during the day would help. Sometimes if I know I'm gonna wake up to a naturally bright room, it keeps the nightmares at bay. Didn't work this time, don't know why."

"So, what happened in this dream?" Eliot looked away.

"Most definitely not talking about it, Nate," he said harshly. "Won't change anything anyway."

"No, it won't; so why not tell me? Or were you planning on getting some more sleep?"

"Absolutely not," he said quickly. Nate studied him for a moment.

"Okay, how about I tell you what I think it was about, based off of what I heard, and you tell me if I'm right, kinda like the last time."

"Why?"

"Do you trust me, Eliot?" Eliot swore to himself, but he nodded. "Davis had you again, and only you this time, right?" Eliot looked at an invisible spot on his blanket, then nodded again. "There was no rescue, though, was there?" Eliot shuddered again, and wrapped his arms around his midsection. "And not even Adam was there this time. His attention was solely focused on you." Eliot drew in a sharp breath. Nate decided to wait for him to speak, even though it took a few minutes.

"I actually felt it…my leg was still broken, my hand was still messed up, he had found a table…and I couldn't do anything," he practically whispered. "How could I possibly have felt it…it never happened…" he trailed off.

"Imagination is a powerful thing, Eliot," Nate said sadly. "It can…fill in the blanks pretty well."

"Like I told you before, Nate, this was new…and I don't handle new very well," he said before running a hand through his hair. Nate was at just the right angle to see a lone tear fall down his cheek, but he pretended that he didn't. "But I bet you figured that much out, huh? That's why you've been so worried?" Eliot continued with a tired sigh. He glanced up at him, and Nate nodded.

"Why did you tell me everything was fine before this latest job?" Eliot smirked a little.

"Because I'm always fine, Nate." Nate gave him his best disappointed Father look.

"We've talked about this tough guy nonsense before, Eliot…"

"It's not nonsense, and it's not even about being tough. The others, Hardison and Parker especially, they think I'm invincible…they need to think I'm invincible. You saw how scared Parker was just now…"

"Scared for you, not scared of you, not scared that you can't do a job…"

"Then why was I taken off a job, hmm? Because you were scared I couldn't do the job."

"Because you weren't telling me what was wrong," he corrected. "All I knew was that you were acting off. I didn't know if you've been sleeping, or still having nightmares, or what, but I knew you were not ready. You were bottling it up, like you always do. Your psyche and your body can only take so much, Eliot. Even you need sleep."

"And my telling you my problems ain't gonna give me that sleep," he argued, getting off the bed, then looked at his watch. "With all this invading of my privacy going on, I'll bet none of you have eaten, have you?" And the mask was back up. He wasn't going to get anywhere now.

"No, we haven't." Eliot nodded, then left the room without saying another word. Nate followed. In Eliot's living room, the rest of the team looked at Nate with concern as Eliot passed them to get to the kitchen. All he could do was shrug, then he frowned. Someone was missing.

"Where's Parker?" he asked no one in particular. The question brought Eliot out of the kitchen again.

"Um, she said she had something to do, and she'll see us later," Hardison said.

"I didn't even notice that she left," Sophie said.

"Well, it's Parker," was Hardison's explanation. Nate looked at Eliot, who wore an 'I told you so' look before going back into the kitchen.

An hour later, Eliot called to everyone that dinner was ready, and when he turned to the table, he nearly dropped the food on the floor when he saw Parker sitting there. As the others came, they all looked surprised to see her.

"When did you get back, Mama?" Hardison asked. She just gave a half shrug as Eliot put the plate he'd been carrying down, and studied her carefully. Parker noticed, and stared right back at him.

"Do I look like an oil painting? We gonna eat, or what?" Eliot shook his head a little as everyone sat down.

After dinner, they decided to watch a movie on the tv that Eliot finally got last year. They decided on Twister. As the lights were turned off, Parker sat next to Eliot, holding something fluffy. Eliot frowned, then realized it was her bunny from the warehouse. She went home to get that and bring it here? Before he could tell her to stop being creepy, or weird, or whatever she was doing, she held it out to him.

"Bunny helps me when I have bad dreams," she whispered to him, so no one else could hear. "You can borrow him. Keep him as long as you need." Eliot knew this was no simple gesture on Parker's part; she suffered from nightmares almost as much as he did. Her bunny helped calm her when she woke up from them, made her feel safe. That she was willing to part with him, and for more than one night…Eliot was unexpectedly and deeply moved. He smiled at her, and ruffled her hair a little bit.

"That's okay, sweetheart, I don't think I'll need it now. You keep him." Parker shrugged, then put her bunny under the coffee table, and snuggled up to him. He actually let her. Five minutes into the movie, Parker noted that Eliot was fast asleep, his arm wrapped around her. She gave Hardison a knowing smile, which he returned. Both were relieved that her little plan worked.

Of course, Nate noticed this, and of course, it got his mind going. A plan was formed in less than ten seconds. "Looks like we'll all be eating here and having movie night a few more times," he whispered to Sophie, then he nodded at Eliot, sound asleep snuggled up to Parker. She smiled, looked back at Nate, and nodded.

The End