A/N: I don't own any part of Leverage or the characters portrayed within. I write these stories for fun, and make no profit. Reviews make my day, so please read and review. I don't write slash. Rated T for adult themes in later chapters.

Walking back from the Dam, Hardison and Parker were still talking about the bat cave, even though Nate had said they weren't keeping it. Eliot was explaining that the 'cave' really wasn't theirs to keep, having been one of the old subway tunnels, which ran under Boston. Tunnels had run under seaside cities on the East Coast since the days of pirates. Many a hapless patron of the ale houses would imbibe a bit too much, only to pass out and upon waking, find himself with forced passage on a pirate ship, pressed into service for an indeterminate amount of time. There had even been rumors that layout of the old tunnels formed a map that pointed the way to Shangri-la, the floating pirate city, accessible only to pirates and filled to the brim with pirate gold. Eliot broke away from the two younger members of the team, and moved to catch up to Sophie and Nate. Eliot had seen Nate get shot, right before he started fighting with Latimer's man, the one who locked Jimmy Ford in the warehouse.

He was starting to wish he had killed Dubenich when he had the chance. If Sophie hadn't been there, he probably would have done it. Nate would have been angry, but he also would probably be uninjured right now. Eliot wanted to be sure his friend was well, though he thought Sophie would probably have let them all know it if he wasn't. Surprisingly, Sophie fell back a little when she realized Eliot was there, as though she sensed they needed this. In a low voice, Eliot said, "You all right, boss?", while his eyes appraised the bullet wound in Nate's shoulder.

"I'll live. I think I need a drink, to take the edge off," Nate said, a feeble attempt at humor.

Eliot's eyes were serious when he said, "I think you may need two or three. That bullet didn't go all the way through, which means I'm gonna have to retrieve it, unless, of course, you'd rather go to a hospital and probably back to jail."

Nate swallowed hard, imagining exactly what that meant. He tried to say several things, but they got lost on the way to his mouth. Finally, he settled on, "You are the retrieval specialist."

Eliot allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up in a small smile, appreciative of the older man's attempts at levity. They did more to convince him that Nate would be all right than anything else he could have done. He was concerned about the blood loss, but there was nothing he could do until they were back in one of the several places where Eliot kept a fully stocked first aid kit.

They had had to walk into the tunnels, which was part of what made them so perfect for their purposes on the last job. No one could easily sneak up on them. That meant that they would also have to walk out, though, which could be rather painful for Nate, though he didn't seem to be in any immediate danger of bleeding to death. First things first, though. They had to find their way back to Lucille, and make sure it was safe to go back to Nate's apartment. And that was a pretty long drive to make with an injured man. Might be better to hole up somewhere for a while first, and tie up their loose ends, so to speak.

When they finally reached Hardison's van, Sophie spread a couple of blankets out in the back, and helped Nate lie down. Eliot hung back a bit and put a hand on Hardison's shoulder. When Hardison looked at him, he spoke in barely more than a whisper. "We need to lay low somewhere until we can figure out if Nate's place is safe. I need options." With those words, he climbed into the back, and knelt next to Nate on the floor of the van. Hardison, not being squeamish exactly, but also not really wanting to see what was happening in the back, sat in the middle seat, with his laptop open on the seat next to him, furiously typing.

"Hotel?"

"Preferably something a bit more private."

"Safe house it is, then. Let me see what I can find." Hardison clicked some keys on his keyboard and found three houses that might work in their general vicinity. He quickly pulled them up on the screen. Eliot looked over them silently, and then pointed to one of them.

"That one. Easily defensible, only one way in and out, way back off the beaten path. It is perfect."

Hardison clicked a few more keys, and finally said, "Okay. It is done. The house is ours."

Harison gave Sophie directions, and Eliot asked her to stop at a pharmacy on the way. He was in and out in five minutes, with a bag of supplies, which he promptly opened, inventoried, and added to the first aid kit he kept in Hardison's van. Nate couldn't help it. His eyes widened when he saw the supplies Eliot was placing in the kit. Eliot ducked his head, as he bit back a smile, amused at the other man's reaction. He started digging in the pack before him, and drew out a syringe, which he loaded with a local anesthesia. One by one he prepped the rest of the materials he would need, and then packed them back up. Since Nate was in no immediate danger, and didn't seem to be in shock, he preferred to wait until they stopped moving. A man with a gunshot wound could slip into shock awfully easily, so Eliot watched Nate carefully, monitoring his breathing and once in awhile grasping his wrist to take a pulse. When they finally stopped moving, Hardison moved around to help Eliot walk their leader inside, while Sophie and Parker brought along the first aid kit and cleaned up the back of the van. Nate insisted he wasn't hurt badly enough that they needed to help him walk, so Eliot sent Hardison ahead to make a space for them, and he contented himself with walking next to Nate and watching him like a hawk.

They had no way of getting the keys to the house tonight, and didn't want anyone to know they were there, anyway, especially not with an injured man, so Parker worked her magic with the locks, and then she and Hardison disappeared inside. By the time Eliot kicked the door aside so that he and Nate could walk in together, they had made a sort of pallet in one of the bedrooms with the blankets from the back of the van, and spread the tarp Eliot had bought at the drugstore out over the top. Eliot helped Nate remove his shirt, and seated him on the pallet. Quickly donning a pair of surgical gloves, Eliot laid out everything he needed first, so it was all close at hand.

"Look at me, Nate," he said, kneeling next to the mat, and his friend turned his head so he could meet the hitter's eyes.

"I have a sedative I picked up on my last trip to the jungle, if you want it. This is going to hurt like hell, even with the local, and there's no reason for you to stay awake for this. The sedative I have will put you under fast, and keep you dreaming while I am working."

"I don't want those dreams."

"The dreams are better than undergoing the physical and mental stress of having a bullet removed without anesthesia, or even a local."