"OK Eliot. Parker's clear, and I'm about 30 seconds from Lucille. What's your position?"

"I'll be coming out the other side. You guys get clear and I'll meet you back at the pub."

"No way man, not leavin' you behind. We'll come around for you."

"Dammit Hardison, I know what I'm doing. I've got a back-up vehicle in place. Trust me; this is the easiest way to deal with this."

"You sure?"

"Hardison!" He could tell Eliot's teeth were clenched, which meant Eliot was pissed off. Not a good state of affairs.

"OK – OK. Chill dude." Parker was already behind the wheel, which was enough concern to keep Hardison distracted. "We're outta here – Parker slow down!"

Eliot leaned back against the wall in the alley, biting down on his lip to keep the gasp of paid from echoing over the comms. They were safe, Parker's driving notwithstanding. Time for stage two.

"Hardison – can you hear me? I'm getting feedback on the comm. Hardison?"

"Yeah man – you're loud and clear."

"No man, you're breaking up." Eliot lied. "Damn whistle driving me nuts. Look, I'm gonna turn this off until I get clear of the building."

"Wait, Eliot. Let me make some adjustments..." The rest of the objection was lost as Eliot removed the device and threw it against the wall to shatter it. He had to be sure they didn't hear him anymore.

Eliot slowly and painfully reached into his jacket pocket, hoping beyond hope his phone hadn't been hit by any of the bullets he'd been struck by. He got it turned on, and speed dialled a number he hadn't used while working for quite some time.

"Please – answer."

Nate's voice sounded a million miles away and Eliot had to force himself to focus. Just a couple more minutes.

"Eliot – thought you were on a job. What's up?"

"Nate – you and Sophie have to get to the pub. Hardison and Parker are gonna to need you."

Hearing the strain in Eliot's voice, Nate went into mastermind mode by instinct. "Where are you – I can have an ambulance there before you know it."

"No point. Don't waste your time. Took 4 in the chest. No time. You gotta get to the pub. Don't let them blame themselves." His voice was so weak Nate could barely hear him. "You gotta take care of…" the sentence was cut off by a fit of coughing that ripped Nate apart almost as much as it did Eliot.

"Dammit Spencer, don't you quit! Where are you?"

"Tell Sophie I kept my promise. You gotta tell…"

"I will Eliot, I will. Where the hell are you? Eliot? ELIOT?

Less than half an hour later Nate and Sophie walked into the pub and straight through to the back offices. Hardison was at the keyboard on his desk, mumbling under his breath about people who didn't feel they needed to follow the protocols on communications. "Damn hard headed fool" seemed to be the favoured phrase. Parker was stowing gear from the job, ignoring both Hardison's rant and the new arrivals.

Nate cleared his throat, causing both of them to glance his way out of curiosity. One look at his face, and at Sophie trying to hold back tears, brought them to attention immediately.

"OK" Hardison spoke as he moved toward them. "Whatever this is ain't good. Eliot should be back in a couple of minutes, assuming he didn't get his damn self in trouble, so let's hang on and you can fill us all in at the same time."

Nate said nothing, not quite able to make eye contact. But he did glance at Sophie when Hardison mentioned Eliot. Parker spotted it immediately.

"Eliot got in trouble –didn't he? That's why he's late."

"Oh Parker." Sophie walked over and took her hands. "Yes, he got into trouble."

Nate hated himself for what he had to say. "He's not coming back."

Hardison shook his head. "No way man, we had him on the comms. He was clear. Said there was a problem with comms, but he was on his way."

"He lied to us." Parker voice was barely above a whisper, but was laced with anger. "How could he lie to us about something like that? He said he was OK!"

"You're wrong. He's not gone. How the hell would you know?"

"I'm sorry Hardison. I wish to God I was wrong. He called me after he broke communications with you. He wanted me to be the one to tell you. He wanted the family together."

"He called you. You heard him…go."

"He asked me to come over here. Gave me a message for Sophie, then…nothing. Couldn't hear him, couldn't hear anything anymore."

"We should have waited for him. We could have got him out. Could have protected him." Parker mumbled.

"Really – you think he would have wanted that. To put you in danger. Why do you think he took the comms out? Why do you think he called me but wouldn't tell me where he was?"

"THAT WASN'T HIS CALL!" Hardison threw an empty cup across the room. "We're supposed to be a team! He had no right to shut himself off."

Parker raised her head slowly, and they were surprised to see her glaring at Sophie.

"His message to you – it was about that damn promise wasn't it. You never should have asked him. He'd be alive if you hadn't made him promise to take care of us."

Sophie looked like she'd been slapped, and the guilt she'd been harbouring for that very reason surfaced quickly. She couldn't speak, but didn't have a chance to anyway as Nate leapt to her defense.

"That's not fair Parker, and you know it. Sophie never wanted Eliot hurt. And do you really think he needed to be asked? It's what he had done for us from day one."

Hardison smiled. "Yeah, He pulled my ass out of that warehouse when Dubenich tried to kill us on the first job, and he didn't even like me then. Parker, Eliot made that promise to himself long before Sophie said anything."

Parker ran over to Sophie and wrapped her in a hug. "I know – I'm so sorry. I'm just – I just need to blame someone. I need to yell at someone. I need to yell at him for leaving us. He isn't supposed to do that. Family doesn't leave."

"I know sweetie. I know."

"Nate, what do we do now? We gotta get his body. If he's still inside how do we get him back?"

"It sounded like he might have been outside. I'm pretty sure there was traffic in the background. Where was the job?"

"Slater Building. There is an alley behind it. He said he was going out that way."

"Come on. We might as well check it ourselves. If he's there we can call the cops and let them investigate it as-" he hesitated do steady his voice – "as a homicide. Let's go bring him home."

A few minutes later, after a drive that seemed to take forever, they arrived at the back of the building. Dusk had fallen, but there was enough light left, when added to the headlights, to show clear to fence the end of the alley way. Garbage cans, dumpsters, flats and boxes were scattered over the length. Hardison took a deep breath, put his shoulders back and got out of the van. Nate followed a moment later. It had taken some doing, but they convinced the women to wait at the office. Nate convinced them that Eliot would not want to be found by them, and Sophie had quickly accepted that excuse. Parker wasn't certain of what to think, but was convinced Sophie shouldn't have to wait alone.

The men walked slowly toward the far wall. Near the door to the building, Nate forced himself to look a little harder. This was likely where they would find him. Sure enough, a moment later he spotted a running shoe, Eliot's shoe, sticking out from beside a dumpster. He grabbed Hardison's arm, and pointed mutely. They both froze, unwilling to take those few extra steps to get the full view.

"We're not really going to call the in cops on this, are we." Hardison made it a statement, not a question. "I mean, explaining it will be impossible without involving ourselves. Besides, we owe Eliot to make sure this is done right."

"You really think he'd want us going after these guys. Hell, they took him down! What chance do you think we'd have without a hitter? We couldn't even do it with one!" He wasn't surprised by how easily this had become "we" and "us" again. Getting justice for Eliot was a family project. He looked over at the dumpster, preparing himself to go to his friend one last time.

"I don't know man. It all just feels wrong. No matter what we do, it feels wrong."

When Nate didn't answer him, Hardison looked up at him. He was staring down at Eliot's foot, and Hardison followed the line of vision. The foot was moving. After a few seconds of shocked paralysis both leapt around the dumpster to Elliot's side.

"Thought you guys were never going to get here" he gasped faintly.

"Why did you stop talking to me? The phone call just ended."

"Battery died."

"Seriously?"

Hardison found his voice long enough to place a call and was giving directions to the 911 operator. "No arguing Eliot – hospital."

"No kidding."

They sat stunned on either side of their friend, holding on to him, encouraging him, until the paramedics pried them away. As he drifted off again they heard one final word – "Sorry."

Two weeks later Eliot was ready to leave get out of the torture chamber that was his hospital room. The cops had been convinced he'd been shot because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, complete innocent bystander, so they had little more interest in him. He wasn't sure exactly what kind of magic the Hacker had done to accomplish this, but whatever it was worked. He'd had more than enough of the hospital, with the surgeries, tubes, pills, bad meals and sponge baths from a nurse named George. He was ready to go home. Unfortunately, that wasn't the destination. The only way to get out was to agree to babysitters. And even if he had skipped out on the team, he was fairly certain Hardison had enough tracking devices set up to follow him anywhere he ran.

He hated being fussed over, but couldn't figure out a way to avoid it. As it was, at least one of them had been with him almost non-stop at the hospital. He had thought that they would ease off when he got out of intensive care, but it got worse instead. They were tag teaming him, not leaving until the relief sitter arrived. He finally figured out they were trying to keep him from bolting on them. Where they thought he'd be going was a mystery to him. Even now, he knew Nate was out in the hallway, giving him a few minutes of privacy to get dressed. One of them was undoubtedly waiting outside the window below as well, although not being Parker he had no intention of trying to scale down from a fourth floor window. Especially when he still had enough stitches in him to pass for one of his mother's quilts.

The fussing was really the least of his concerns. He knew what was waiting at home. Lectures. Unending lectures. Self-worth, value to the team, part of the family. He'd heard them all before. And he had finally come to believe them. He knew they cared. He knew he was more than a hitter to them. He knew they were family. He knew what he had done this time pissed them off – royally. For the last two weeks they were too worried, and then relieved, to be angry. But a day or two from now, when the reality of his recovery registered, there was going to be hell to pay.

He had it coming. He knew he'd be homicidal if any of them had tried what he did. Of course, when he'd called Nate he really did think he was dying. Still couldn't figure out why he hadn't. The damage was bad, he'd lost enough blood to satisfy a vampire feeding frenzy, and he could feel himself fading from the moment the first bullet hit. It was sheer dumb luck these guys used small calibre loads, smaller guns being less obvious. So slugs that should have ripped him apart did damage that was repairable. Not bleeding out in the alley was beyond his comprehension, but apparently it just wasn't meant to be that day. None of that mitigated the fact he had cut himself off from the others, sacrificing himself. Yup – there was a serious set of lectures heading his way.

Nate opened the door pushing a wheelchair into the room. "Don't argue – not my rule."

"I know – I've been here before." Eliot reached for his bag but was cut off by Nate getting to it first. "No lifting – remember?"

"Right. No lifting, driving, bending. No stairs, no walking any distance, no workouts, no anything. Sleep and rest is my world."

"We could let you stay here for a few more days. I'm sure George wouldn't mind."

Eliot glared and sat in the chair. "Get me outta here."

"We set up a room for you at the offices. Easiest way to be on hand for you." Eliot didn't respond. "Just because you are there does not mean you are working. Or cooking." Still no response. "We made a schedule, so you won't be alone for the first few days. If you need anything, or you start feeling pain or even discomfort, one of us will be there."

Eliot sighed quietly, but said nothing. He knew this was the price he had to pay, and while he didn't like it, complaining took more energy that he was willing to waste right now. Once settled in the car, he leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes.

A moment later, he was surprised to have his door opened for him. "Home, sweet home man" Hardison was there to help Eliot out. He wasn't used to falling asleep that easily. "We have everything set for you." Eliot pulled his arm away from Hardison's grasp, only to feel himself weaving slightly off balance. He steadied himself, looked at his friend and reluctantly allowed himself to be assisted into the office. They had come in through the back to avoid the staff and customers of the pub, but he could hear the activity out front. It sounded good – familiar.

Sophie and Parker were both grinning at him like kids on Christmas morning. They could scarcely stand still they were so thrilled, but tried to contain themselves so as to not overwhelm him. It took just a few moments to have him settled on a couch that had moved into the office for him. "We have a proper room set up for you as well – converted a pantry and switched the door to be on the office side instead of the kitchen. We thought you might like to be in the office for a few minutes first. Get re-familiarized with everything." Parker hadn't taken a breath throughout her speech.

"Parker, slow down." Eliot begged. "You're tiring me out just listening to you." He smiled at her, and was relieved to see her grin back at him. He settled back into the pillows, trying not to show the little stabs of pain he could still feel around some of the deeper incisions. He didn't quite succeed, but the team refrained from reacting. They knew him well enough to know how much he hated this, and were trying to reign in their protective impulses.

"So, if we are going to talk about work, let's deal with the obvious. What about the guys that shot me?"

"Didn't say we were talking about work." Hardison corrected. "Just said we thought you might like to be in office."

"OK – so not work. What happened to the guys that shot me?" Eliot didn't shift his gaze. "Tell me you don't plan to go after them before I'm ready."

"We aren't going after them at all."

"Really? You expect me to believe you're just going to let this slide? I wasn't hit in the head Hardison."

"This time" Parker said under her breath.

"Heard that!' He scowled at her.

"Relax Eliot. They got what was coming to them. Seems our bad guys had gotten on the wrong side of a few other folks along the way. When ballistics from your" – Hardison hesitated a moment – "injuries came in I hacked some records and found out they matched ones from a warehouse shooting a couple of months back. A few discretely dropped tips to the other side, and presto – retaliation. Cops have accepted it as a turf war, and we are out of it. Not quite as satisfying as taking them down ourselves, but much neater and safer. And safety is our new middle name."

Here it comes, he thought. Lecture time. He mentally braced himself for the barrage that didn't come.

"So, are you ready for a bit of lunch, or would you rather get some rest first? Doc said you'd likely be pretty tired after moving around so much."

"Uh – not hungry right now. Thanks. Maybe a little later. Think I'll take a short nap." He was tired, and a little confused. Maybe they were just waiting for him to get his strength back a bit.

Next thing Eliot knew it was dark out, and much quieter than it had been.

"Welcome back handsome." Sophie's voice cut through the last fog of sleep. "Quite a little nap you took there."

"Where is everyone? Why is it so quiet?"

"Place is closed. It's after midnight" Nate answered.

Eliot raised an eyebrow, although the action was barely noticeable due to the hair in his face. He swept it back in a familiar gesture that made Nate smile.

"Yes, you slept over 11 hours. Parker and Hardison got tired of watching you after a couple."

"Watching me sleep – seriously? Isn't that just a little – creepy?"

"I think they still aren't entirely certain you're really here. Give them time to accept how lucky they are."

"So you two just here to stare at me too?"

"Well, we figure Leverage Inc. might need a bit of temporary help until full staffing is resumed. Didn't really have much else planned right now, so it keeps us out of trouble."

"Sparky awake?" Parker's voice came from the balcony above.

"Why does she have to call me that? Makes me sound like the family pet!"

"Really – after all these years it gets to you now?" Hardison laughed. "We expected you to blow up over that one ages ago."

"Yeah – well, it bugs me now" he replied, with no conviction whatsoever in his voice.

He looked at them smiling at him, and was getting very unnerved by the attention.

"Look, can we get this over with? You're pissed with me for getting shot and not letting you help. I'm more than just a hitter. I'm family, I have to fit in. I can't keep taking stupid chances. I'm not supposed to die for you. I screwed up – again. That cover it all?"

No one spoke – they just continued to grin. Eliot was beginning to think this was all a dream. Maybe he had died, and this was some kind of bizarre purgatory.

"What – did I forget something?"

Sophie spoke. "We surrender Eliot."

"You what?"

"We surrender. We get it."

"Well I don't. What the hell are you talking about?"

Nate sat down across from him. "Something Hardison said on the day I came here to tell they you'd been shot – when we believed you were dead. He said that protecting us was a promise you had made to yourself long before you ever made it to Sophie, or to any of us. We finally get it. It IS what you do. Not because you're just the Hitter. Because you're the protector. For us to ask you to do anything less is to ask you not to be true to yourself. We never had any right to do that."

"Now you understand" Parker joined in, "this doesn't mean was stop worrying about you, or yelling at you when we think you are taking stupid chances. We will still fuss over you when you're hurt, and work our asses off to come up with plans where you don't get hurt, but we will stop – we will TRY to stop, asking you to be less than what you are."