Two days ago

At first Sophie had thought Jerome Valdez was exceedingly lucky that his wife had decided to stand by him, all things considered. Now she wondered if the woman just wanted to get her hands on him first.

Not that she blamed her.

Donna Valdez had the pinched look of someone who was all out of tears and confusion, but had discovered angry and liked it; you could do a lot with a person like that, but all Sophie wanted to do right now was coax the rest of the story out of her before the woman convinced herself this was a bad idea.

She smiled. "It's all right, Donna. Go on."

Donna's answering smile was brittle. "So there was more money. But he said he was working overtime and he was never there, so I thought…" Her mouth twisted, "I trusted him."

Sophie nodded sharply, giving vindication to that spark of outrage to keep her talking.

"So it turns out he's been doing these runs and then – I don't know, something happens and the cops are kicking down the door, scaring the hell out the kids and dragging Jerome out. And there's all Marcone's people testifying against him saying it was Jerome's crew and he called the shots."

Sophie nodded more slowly. "They made him the fall guy." Forgetting herself, she gave a nostalgic smile. "Classic."

"Classic?" The wariness returned to Donna's expression.

Sophie quickly adopted a sympathetic, sober tone. "Yes, a classic set up and, obviously, terrible. Awful. How can we help?" Somewhere, she was sure, Nathan Bloody Ford was laughing and he didn't know why.

Donna sighed and lost some of her rigid posture. "Look, I know he's done- he's not innocent, just stupid. But they're trying to put murders on him; Jerome can't even look a raw steak in the eye." Worry began to creep over the anger as she went on, "He's trying to cut a deal, but he doesn't really know anything."

"So he needs something to give the DA's office, and you think we can help him get it."

Donna's eyes tracked to the door and then resolutely back. "Can you?"

Sophie warmed her smile and reached forward to pat the woman on the hand.

-o-

"Okay, there's your target." Hardison nodded towards an older woman who shuffled unsteadily behind a walker: slow moving, large purse and probably not armed. With anything high caliber. .28, max.

She looked about hundred and he felt a little bad about it, but at this time of night the neighborhood was all out of shoppers and down to the dealers, some tired looking hookers and a few baby gangsters.

It wasn't like Eliot was really stealing her purse, or like he'd hurt her, but Alec couldn't shake the bad taste.

Eliot glanced at the woman and then withdrew back into the alley that they'd claimed as their very own.

Alec followed him. "You see something I didn't? Some kind of … sword walker?" He smiled at the mental image. "That would be pretty cool. You'd be all 'Give me the purse' and then, stab-stab-stab-stab."

He mimed happily and then caught Eliot's expression. "Or not. Not cool at all."

Eliot shoved the hair back out of his face, Alec thought he recognized the signs and decided to let him rant it out. Instead, the other man's shoulders slumped.

"This is embarrassing, is what it is." Eliot looked about as depressed as Alec had ever seen him, and Alec had seen him after The Sewer Job. Man couldn't admit he didn't feel good about it - that was okay, Alec could read between the lines. "Hey, it's no big deal. You been picked up before, right? Hell, Nate got you, what, three times? You should be used to it."

Eliot stared at him. "Never try and make anyone feel better. About anything. Ever again."

Alec considered and then acknowledged, "No, that's fair."

"And, for the record? Nate caught me once. For maybe five minutes. And he was lucky. Ask him." He looked back at the suggested target, slowly making her way towards their alley, and started forward.

Alec began to relax and then tensed right back up again as Eliot aborted after a couple of inches and turned back around.

"Besides, you get caught because someone is just better, that's okay. You get caught 'cause you're stealing a purse?" Eliot frowned pensively. "And she's really old, what happens if she has a heart attack and dies, huh? I'm going kill someone's gran'ma. You don't live that kind of thing down."

Hardison kept his face straight like his life depended on it. "Right, I get it, all the other retrieval specialists will laugh at you." He nodded to a young woman who had just walked into view on the other side of the street. "Her?"

Eliot shook his head. "Too young, that's even worse. I don't steal candy from babies."

"C'mon, it's her or someone's Nana. You're not stealing anything, I'm gonna catch you before you've gone ten yards. And you know I can. "

Eliot's laugh was low and, frankly, way too amused.

"One of the really important parts of stealing? You have to take something," said Parker.

Hardison started and spun around before his brain took over and he looked up. Parker smiled down from the top of the fire-escape.

Eliot craned his head up, managing to look unimpressed on a whole new level. "There's anaudience now? What're you doing here?"

Parker laughed and her head disappeared back behind the cover of the roof.

Eliot made a break for the fire escape; Alec reached out and caught him at the shoulder. "Uh uh, no leaving the crime scene before we even got it started."

He risked another look out of the alley and saw they were out of options now, anyway – grandma had gone on a block and that just left the teenager.

"Okay, go." Hardison gave him a nudge towards the sidewalk.

"I'm going, I'm going." Eliot hesitated in the mouth of the alley.

Hardison gave him a couple seconds worth of dramatic timing allowance and then said, "Your going looks a hella lot like staying."

Eliot gave a low growl as Hardison resorted to pushing him out of the alley. He walked a few steps towards the girl and then slowed and looked back. Alec made shooing motions with his hands. "Go! Retrieve!"

Finally, Eliot jogged the last few feet to his target, reached out and took the purse from unresisting hands. He offered an embarrassed smile and muttered an apology, then turned and ran.

The girl stared after him in mute shock; Hardison rolled his eyes and yelled. "Thief! Look, he stole her purse! That guy there!"

"Not so loud," hissed Eliot as he went by, like "Retrievers Monthly" or whatever was watching. Alec let him run past and then bought his cell up and squinted in the viewfinder, making sure to capture the Kodak moment.

Two seconds after that, when Eliot ducked around a cop like he wasn't there, Alec realized he was going to make it a chase and that was just vindictive, was what it was. With a heartfelt, "maaaaan", Alec ran after him.

-o-

Nate was enjoying a moment of quiet contemplation – and, coincidentally, a finger of bourbon – when the door opened under a ball of Hardison, Parker, tissues and blood. Nate stayed where he was, Sophie started to her feet.

"My God, what happened?" She smoothly inserted herself between Parker and Alec; the other women stepped back and wandered towards the kitchen.

Sophie settled Hardison in a chair and gently made him lean forward, then repositioned his fingers deftly until he was pinching his nose in the right place.

Parker returned with a bundle of cloth-wrapped ice and a Popsicle. Sophie took the former and held it at the back of Hardison's neck.

When he could speak – more or less – Alec said, "He b'oke by dose."

Nate blinked. "What happened?" He couldn't honestly say he was sure he wanted to know.

Hardison gestured pointedly at his face. "He b'oke by-"

Sophie shook her head. "It's not broken, sweetheart. Here." She moved the cold press from his neck to his nose; a vivid red immediately began to spread over the cloth.

Hardison grumbled under his breath. "'eels b'oken."

Nate pinched the top of his own nose and reached for his glass; it had mysteriously disappeared. He sighed. "Someone else. Parker?"

Parker carefully removed the Popsicle from her mouth, drew a breath and began a monotone report that was disturbingly similar to a school report. "Eliot stole a purse and Hardison caught him. Then Eliot hit him." As an afterthought – clearly only in the interests of full disclosure - she added, "And someone's grandmother tasered Eliot. It was very funny. The end."

Nate nodded; it was about the only option he had. "That was ... succinct, thank you." He looked to Sophie. "How long until they print him?"

She absently picked up a wastebasket and swept the tissues on the table into it. "They've probably done it already, the outstanding warrants Hardison gave his file will have him inside LAC within a couple of hours."