It was not as bad as he had imagined.
Of course, a gigantic hammer drumming down on his whole body, smashing his lungs, turning his legs to jelly and breaking his eyesight to streams of blood.
When his fingers reached the rough carpet of the trunk he felt daggers slicing his back. Parker. Was she hurting him because of Hardison?
The thought hit harder than the bullets. Eliot knew he deserved to die, knew a death this quick was more than he could have hoped for. All the people he had threatened, wounded, betrayed,… slaughtered.
He had been waiting for his own death, for the punishment that would release him of his guilt. Working with Nate had made it possible to accept that he was alive while so many others weren't, to face the man he had become. But it was never easy.
He deserved this.
Eliot felt something hot on his lips, and through the clouds in his vision he realized that Parker was kneeling over him, actually crying.
Would she cry for him? Or would she only… his mouth was filled with blood, heavy and thick, but she had to read the question in his eyes, she had to… he needed to know. He needed to know that Hardison had made it, whatever his crimes were, he had to survive –
the craziest, and truest brother he had ever had. The only man that was unbroken by life, at peace with himself, as far away from Eliot's world as possible. There was, luckily, no way Alec Hardison would ever understand what Eliot had done, and still he had not condemned him. He had believed in Eliot to make it better, to be better.
To be good.
All his years spent with the team, Eliot had tried to serve this purpose, to become what Hardison, and in some ways Sophie and Nate, too, seemed to see in him.
Now, he realized, it didn't matter. He would give all their friendship and live alone, die alone, become Moreau's pet again if only Hardison made it through. There was no justice, no ideals in this world worth his friend's death.
"Did Eliot make it?"
The blood erupted out of his mouth in a shaking laughter. Hardison. He was alive. Parker's eyes moved away from Eliot to the figure at her other side, murmuring something, her voice so much gentler than usual that Eliot didn't understand the words.
Didn't matter, anyway.
He had made it. Both of them – Hardison to life, where he and Parker would have a wonderful crazy little family of their own.
And he had done something good. Not enough, but it was okay. It had to.
Slowly, Eliot reached out and blindly grasped the hacker's hand. It was beautiful that his hand, for so long only hitting and strangling people, should reassure a friend in its last deed.
"Age of the nerds, brother."
Hardison laughing weakly. Tires screaming. Blood. Tears. Bodies in the sand, in the dust, in the ice. Aimee on horseback, her hair flying, flying, Sophie kissing Nate, Nate smiling at her, smiling at him, at them, Parker screaming at him, laughing at him, hugging Hardison. Hardison beaming with joy and pride, taking his Hand, saying it's okay, brother. We're here. You're good.
Eliot smiled as the darkness flooded around him.
He was good.