Chapter One

Hardison didn't consider himself a violent man. He had never gotten angry enough to punch a wall, and he certainly wasn't the kind of guy that got in knock-down-drag-out fights with others when he was angry. He had always been the scrawny geek that got beat up on the school yard for his lunch money. And he'd never so much as fought back. But then, Parker had always brought out the best and worst in him.

Right now, it just happened to be the worst. Depending on who you asked.

He suspected that, had he not been so very determined to pound Dr. Grant's face in until it was unrecognizable, Eliot would have found the circumstances amusing. Perhaps he would have even been laughing at the irony of the situation, instead of spending the last minute and a half trying to bodily haul Hardison off the man who had slammed his SUV into Parker's tiny compact.

"I'm sorry!" insisted the small man. He was dressed in a polo and a sweater-vest, a pair of giant glasses perched on his nose, and Eliot had decided that he was the biggest dork he'd ever met (and that included Hardison). He had a smear of blood running down the front of his vest, but it was hardly visible against the dark material, and Eliot noted that it must have come from the gash on his forehead. "It was an accident! I didn't even see her until she was right in front of me!" And then, much to everyone's embarrassment, he started sobbing.

"Uuuh," went Hardison in light of this awkward situation, momentarily distracted from his new-found violent streak.

Eliot was just about to say something that might have been "Grow a pair," when a crash sounded from in the direction of what he assumed was the kitchen. All three of them froze; Grant didn't so much as sniffle as the sound of ceramic on tile resounded in the otherwise quiet house.

"You got someone in here with you?" Eliot said, calm and quiet, and very tense. Grant shook his head stiffly, quite tense himself. Eliot was already moving towards the kitchen door. "Stay with the doctor," he told Hardison, all the while wondering at his own logic. He hoped that the techie wouldn't beat the ever loving hell out of the small man while he went to check things out, but if he did then it couldn't be helped. After all, it wasn't like he could stay behind while Hardison went to check it out. And even if the doc did get beat up, well, hopefully that'd teach him not to crash into other cars and then drive away.

Hardison, for his part, was feeling rather conflicted. He was still pissed that Grant had put Parker in the hospital, but it had clearly been an accident. The guy had been scared and in shock; could Hardison really fault him for that? Sure, beating the guy up would feel good (really good), but in the end it wouldn't exactly solve anything—Parker would still be in the hospital, in a coma, unmoving, unresponsive, quiet, inactive…

Alec abruptly cut himself off, feeling his anger spike the more he thought about it. Beating Grant to kingdom come wouldn't solve anything, but damn if it wouldn't make him feel better.

So immersed in his mental debate was Hardison, that he didn't notice the sudden change in the doctor's over-all disposition; his posture was straighter, his face clear of tears, and his expression smug. Hardison was also somewhat oblivious to the gun that Grant was sneaking out of his waistband. At least, right up until a reflective flash of silver caught him in the corner of the eye, and his gaze automatically sought out the source of irritation. His first instinct was to freeze, because that's what people usually do when they're being held at gunpoint. His second instinct was to run, because this guy looked damn serious, and maybe running was a little cowardly, but it hadn't failed him yet.

"Hardison!" came Eliot's hurried and knowing voice, echoing in the kitchen. It was a warning for what the hacker had already found out.

Alec dived to the side then, just as the good doctor fired, and the bullet only grazed his shoulder rather than burying itself between his eyes. He yelped (a very manly yelp) in surprise and pain, scrambling back to his feet as he darted out of the entry way and down the hall. Shots followed him, missing his head and instead imbedding in the hallway wall as he ran passed. In his panic, he accidentally stepped on the loose laces of his converse and lurched forward as he was struck with a sudden unease at the feeling of weightlessness. The entire time he was falling, he was mentally cursing himself for being too lazy to re-tie his shoes. His first thoughts when he hit the ground were about how angry he knew Nana was going to be; she'd always snapped at him when he forgot to properly tie his shoes laces, and he had no doubt that she was going to be pissed if she ever found out about how he died, and for what reasons.

Hardison couldn't bring himself to look back at the footsteps approached. The atmosphere shifted to accommodate another body as someone walked towards him, and he said his prayers as he heard a click that sounded suspiciously like someone drawing back the hammer on a gun.

Note: Been a while, hasn't it? I got a little caught up with homework, but I finished my final project for History today, so I have the week off. After I finished homework earlier, I thought to myself, "Red," because I talk to myself, "you should get online and write that second of chapter of LW that you've been avoiding." And then I went, "You know what, Red," because I answer myself when I talk to myself, "that sounds like a perfect idea."

So I did, and now you guys have a shiny new chapter of LW.

About the Chapter: A short dose of Hacker/Hitter teamwork, with a side of Hardison wumpage, just 'cause I'm into that kind of kink. Also, I know what you're thinking, but that's not Eliot, who has just disarmed Doctor Badass (as I have hence forth dubbed him), and coming to tell Hardison to get his ass up off the floor. Nope, that's the bad guy, about to do some bad stuff.

Also: I almost continued, but decided to cut it off there, 'cause I'm a bitch, and I enjoy making readers suffer with cliff hangers.