BANG! BANG!
A gunshot rang.
A good man went down.
A lonely tear was shed.
A single man survived, to never tell the tale.
Blame fell on Eliot, for letting himself get distracted by the hyper-chatting geek at his side.
Shame fell on the hitter for freezing in the face of danger.
Guilt fell on Spencer, for putting his friend into the line of fire.
Hit. Scream. Run.
Eliot's mind blanked out for a moment, his reflexes taking over, carrying them to a safe place.
He called for help but to no avail, there were no coms in their ears, just empty spaces where they should have been.
Damn it Hardison! Too easy to lose them.
"Eliot…" his friend's weak slur pulled him out of his thoughts, back into reality.
"Hold on, I got ya", Eliot assured, holding him even tighter and pressing the piece of cloth even firmer to his wound.
Where came the cloth from? He didn't care, he was too out of it.
"It hurts", wheezed Hardison, pulling off a weak smile.
"Of course it hurts", Eliot yelled softly, a single tear running down his dirt stained face, leaving a big smudge behind.
"You were fucking shot Hardison."
There was no anger in his voice, only self-centered blame and shame – regret and pain.
His eyes fluttered shut for a moment.
"Come on man stay with me. Hardison!" Begging, pleading he prayed for the hacker to fight.
"Alec!"
"Eliot…?"
Weak eyes fluttered open, blinking rapidly against an unseen blinding light.
"I'm here." Behind the calm façade, a quivering voice betrayed his wrecked state.
Hardison had to smile. A big goddamn smile, laughing death in the face to see another day.
"For a hitter… you make a decent geek, man."
Eliot couldn't help but chuckle himself, a broken sound between a giggle and a sob.
"For a nerdy geek, you have some serious guts."
With last efforts Hardison raised one week fist.
"Age of the geek, baby."
Shaking his head in bemusement, Eliot bumped fists with the bleeding geek in his arms.
Their fists barely connected, when Hardison's entire body went limp, his head rolling loosely back.
No breath wheezing in, nor whine coming out, no life staring up at Eliot.
"Age of the geek, baby", Eliot whispered, placing a soft kiss on his forehead, closing his best friends empty eyes.
"Age of the geek."
Resolved he stood, leaving the dead body behind, walking grim faced into the depths of a warehouse's hell.
Bruised, bleeding and limping ever so slightly, he arrived back at their HQ after what felt like ages.
"Where is Hardison?" - "What happened?"
Voices... questions – his mind ignored them.
Eliot walked simply past.
Not a glance spared, not a word spoken not a single emotion betraying his pain. His hand already on the doorknob he finally spoke, not turning, not looking.
A robot on autopilot - numb.
"It's taken care of."