This chapter is dedicated to someone I never met and don't actually know much about. What I do know is that he was a good person and deserved far better than what happened to him, and definitely more than a simple dedication from a mere bystander, but this is all I can do to honor him. May he rest in peace.

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W-A-I-T-I-N-G R-O-O-M. wait, ting, groom, wit, win, wig, war, tin, gnaw, nit, moor-

STOP!

Take deep breaths. That's what Hardison said. I don't know why, but I'm trying anyway.

In, out, in out. I do this anyway, why would it make me feel better? When I'm angry or sad or scared I do something about it, breathing just happens by itself. But now I can't do anything, all I can do is stay here as close to Eliot as they'll let me. I could probably get into the restricted area of the hospital, but when I suggested it Nate snapped at me and said to stay in this waiting room. So I'm stuck here, because Nate's the boss (not that that would mean much if I really wanted to go), and he's really afraid of hospitals. He hides it well, he told Hardison he just doesn't like them and that he's worried about Eliot, but I can tell. He's scared. He's really, really afraid, and he's not afraid of much, that I've seen. So I have to stay here, because I don't want to worry him even more. I feel bad for him. So I guess all I really can do right now is breathe.

I look around. This isn't the emergency room's waiting area, with the interesting people who have really weird injuries. There was a little boy who managed to singe off his eyebrows and part of his hair with a firework! But this room is boring. The walls are the dullest shade of blue, the big glowing sign that says 'Waiting Room' flickers annoyingly, and there's NOTHING TO DO!

I'm worrying about Eliot. He never gets hurt. Even when he does, he always plays it down and fights through it. I don't know how to feel now. He's going to be fine, I know that, because he's Eliot and he's always fine. I know that. But my stomach hurts like it does when a job goes bad. I'm scared, and worst of all, I can't run.

I turn my head anxiously. The lack of movement is just making me more worried. When something's wrong, I FIX it. But I'm just sitting here. Nate's just sitting there, taking tiny sips of coffee with his eyes closed; Sophie and Hardison are just sitting there and staring. Why aren't they moving?! Nothing else is moving in this room either. There's a small fish tank in one corner, but I can't see any fish. The clock is moving soooo slowly it must be broken. Why aren't we doing anything? We're just waiting, in this stupid waiting room.

I bounce my leg against the white tile floor, I tap my fingers against the side of the chair, I make clicking noises with my tongue. The little bits of motion aren't calming me down, though. At this point, I'm not sure if jumping off a roof would calm me down. I can't do anything, I can't help him, I can't make the clock move any faster. I'm almost hoping Nate will wake up and give me that confused look he gets whenever he thinks I'm doing something weird, just for a response. But nothing's moving, and I feel trapped in this blank waiting room.

Why do I feel so nervous? Even if Eliot were in trouble, which he's not, why would I care? It's not like it matters. He's just a hitter, another person who thinks I'm crazy that I have to work with. It's not like he's a friend. Hardison said we're a family, and I agreed, but it's not like he meant it. Not like a real family. He just meant… a group. That's it. Because he couldn't have meant a real family. That would explain why my stomach is hurting, and why I dropped everything and ran when I heard the fight sounds through the earpiece. But it's not true, and I just ran because I was… concerned about the job.

I was putting a tracker on the mark's car when the fight started. I wasn't paying attention, but Sophie gasped loudly, like she was actually afraid, and the sound was so unusual from her, so real, that I knew it wasn't fake. Then I heard the sound of a man hitting something hard, and crying out. I dropped the tracker and ran toward the building without a second thought.

As I ran I barely saw the hallways fly by, I was so afraid for Sophie and Eliot. I just wanted to get to them so I could help. Then I heard a gunshot and skidded to a stop.

What was I doing? They didn't need my help. Eliot could take care of himself and Sophie easily, and there were only three guards anyway. Eliot could take them out with a blindfold.

Another gunshot, and another wave of panic. My body jumped forward a few steps further down the hall before I stopped it. Why wasn't I with my team? They needed my help! Why would they need you? I thought, my deepest, unspoken fear coming out when I couldn't control my thoughts. I turned to leave, when a third gunshot rang out, close enough that I could hear it without the coms.

I spun back and raced down the hall, freezing just in front of the door to the conference room. What was I doing? I was running TOWARD the sound of gunfire! Since when was my team more important than my own self-preservation? I breathed hard; my lungs seemed too full of emotion to let the air in.

A fourth gunshot cracked and I jumped forward until I was inches away from the door. My hand was halfway extended toward the handle, frozen by my indecisiveness.

There was a gun inside, danger. If Eliot couldn't handle whatever was happening inside the room, how could I? My instincts screamed at me to run, the best way to avoid getting hurt. My natural response.

But Sophie was gasping, terrified. Nate was asking her what was wrong, what was happening, but she sounded so scared that she couldn't form a sentence. She was whimpering slightly, and all I could make out was "Eliot."

I wrenched the door open before I could think, completely filled with panic. Sophie was standing with her back against the hall next to the door. There was a fallen man in a dark suit a few feet away from her, with blood trickling down a gash in his forehead. Two other men in the same suit were collapsed on the floor, unmoving. I couldn't see Eliot until I took a few more steps toward the table. I would've gasped myself, but I've been a thief for years, and I'm used to stopping any sound before it comes out of my mouth. Nate asked what happened and I talked quietly; I didn't want them to hear that my voice was shaky when I didn't even know why. "Eliot's been shot, he's bleeding a lot." The rhyme didn't even make me giggle like it normally would.

"Sophie!" I called. She didn't move, she only stared at Eliot with her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were huge. "Come on, we've got to get him up!" I ordered when she still didn't move. I snorted. Eliot was lying on the ground, bleeding and she wasn't doing anything?! What was she waiting for? I stood right in front of her, but she didn't respond. Nate asked her what happened again, but she still hadn't moved, so I smacked her cheek. I saw that on TV, it's what you're supposed to do when somebody's in shock. It worked! Sophie finally looked in my eyes, and I dragged her over to where Eliot was lying.

I was really scared for a moment and I froze just like Sophie. There was so much blood. Eliot was bleeding from his chest in two places, his right thigh and his upper arm. The forest green carpet was already saturated with blood and it was still leaking out of him. For a moment I was tempted to put tape or gum over the leaks, but when I got my wrist cut on a rappel line Eliot said tape didn't work. I remembered that. He'd been so gentle that I almost forgot he was Eliot. I remembered him smiling but then I saw him bleeding all over the floor and I made myself move.

"Help me pick him up!" I yelled to Sophie, because she didn't look like she could hear me otherwise. I pulled Eliot up by one arm while she cautiously tugged the other. I was carrying most of his weight, but Sophie looked too shocked to help. When we finally managed to get him standing, I wriggled under his arm and started dragging him toward the exit. Eliot was conscious enough to move his feet, but I was still practically carrying him. I got half-way across the room when I choked out "Could I have some help here Sophie?"

Sophie gasped and ran to the door. I was about to yell at her for running away when she opened the door and held it there, looking at me expectantly. I rolled my eyes, And they think I'm the crazy one! and stumbled toward the door with the dead weight. I mean, I know he was shot and all, but you'd think he could help a little!

Sophie walked alongside us, trying to put pressure on some of Eliot's wounds with her custom-fitted suit jacket. I was a bit surprised, because I'm sure she knows how hard it is to get bloodstains out of fabric, and the jacket was definitely expensive, but I didn't have time to think about Sophie's silly behavior as we lurched down the twisting hallways of the building. It was funny, they didn't seem long when I was running toward the room, but when I was trying to get away while carrying a dying friend- no. Not dying. I struck that thought down and focused on walking without putting too much pressure on Eliot. If I pushed him too hard, more blood would come out, like that thing you use to make icing on cakes. Eliot taught me how to squeeze the top of the bag so the icing comes out the bottom. I blinked away the memory, and the tears that came to my eyes when I thought of it.

I almost sighed in relief when we finally got out of the building, but I caught myself again. Sophie held the door open and kept her jacket over one of the bullet wounds as I staggered toward the van. The doors were open and as soon as we came into view Nate ran toward us faster than I thought he could run. He ducked under Eliot's other arm and took most of the weight off me so we could walk faster. Hardison turned on the van just as we reached it, and Nate helped me lay Eliot on the floor. Sophie pulled the doors closed and Nate found the First-Aid kit and showed a really thorough grasp of battlefield medicine as we sped toward the hospital.

I sniff a bit, taking a quick glance around to make sure nobody saw. I never let anyone see when I cry. I haven't cried much since I was really little, but the rule stuck with me: never let anyone see you when you're vulnerable. That's when they can take advantage of you the most.

Luckily, no one saw. Nate has opened his eyes and he's glaring into his coffee. I wonder what it did wrong. Sophie's still staring at the same spot on the wall. She has the exact same expression as she did when I ran into the conference room. I'm considering smacking her again, but I'm pretty sure she'd just get mad at me. Or hit me back.

Hardison's leaning back in his chair. His eyes are closed and twitching like he's having a bad dream. I feel really anxious all of a sudden. Is he alright? I reach out to shake him awake, but I stop.

Why do I care? Why do I feel afraid for Eliot? Why do I feel bad for Nate because I know he feels terrible being here? Why am I worried about Sophie and Hardison? I've never felt so strongly about other people, and I'm scared. They have so much power over me now, I feel bad whenever they feel bad. It doesn't make sense. I don't actually care about them; I never care about anyone else. They're just people I work with, right?

So why do I care?

I'm still debating the point in my mind when the door swings open. I look up out of reflex; I have every single time since the blonde woman brought us here. She's back, and I sit up straighter. I'm holding my breath, and I say 'Yes!' quietly when she calls out Eliot's fake name.

I look to Hardison. Since he made the IDs and the cover story, Nate said he would be the one to talk to the doctors, just in case he needed to explain something. Nate gave me a strange look when he said it, and Hardison said 'Okay!' really loudly. I had a feeling there was something he wasn't saying, but I couldn't figure it out.

Hardison is still sleeping, and the nurse is looking around. She seems confused. I panic and poke Hardison on the cheek. He flails a bit, but seems to understand when I point at the nurse. Hardison walked over to the door, but motioned toward Nate. I knew he was trying to tell me something, but I'm not really good at that. I think I'm supposed to hug Nate. But why?

I stare at Nate for a few minutes. Usual people get uncomfortable when I do that, but he doesn't seem to notice. He's breathing pretty hard. It doesn't seem healthy. I go to poke him on the cheek, but Hardison didn't like that. I pat his shoulder instead.

Nate flinches and nearly spills his coffee. "Jesus, Parker! What are you doing?"

I don't move. I'm used to this. "Do you want a hug?" I ask.

He looks at me like I'm crazy. I'm used to that too. "Wha- why?... I- Parker, what?"

Nate talks weird sometimes. Usually it's with me, but sometimes with Sophie too. I wonder why?

"You look sad." Sophie told me I shouldn't just say things, I should ease them into the conversation, but how am I supposed to say something if I can't just say it?

Nate gapes at me for a moment, then smiles. It looks weird. "I'm fine, Parker."

I don't believe him, and I start to hug him anyway. He yelps a bit and shoves me away. "Parker!" He gasps, looking at me with his eyes wide. I lean away from him, confused and a bit stung. Did I offend him by trying to hug him?

"What?"

"You- you've got-that's-" he's stuttering again and pointing at me. I look down. I'm wearing the same clothes I've been wearing all day. "What's the matter?" I ask.

"You've got blood all over you!"

"So?" I knew I had blood on me, what's the big deal?

He's looking at me like he thinks I'm crazy. I used to this, but I still don't like it. "So get those clothes off, now!"

"You want me to take my clothes off?" That's a bit weird coming from Nate, but he's smart and he usually has a reason for everything. Plus, he looks almost frantic, so I think it's best to do what he says, before he gives himself a heart attack or something. I shrug and start pulling my shirt over my head.

Nate chokes a bit and grabs my arms, forcing my shirt back down. He glances around at the other people in the room, but nobody looked up. They really don't seem to be paying attention to anything around them. "Not here!" He hisses. His eyes are practically bugging out of his head. It looks funny. "Go ask a nurse to find you some clothes, okay?"

It looks like he's calmed down a bit, but he's still looking at me like I did something wrong. It makes me feel… almost shy, or nervous. And sad, like I want to apologize. But I didn't do anything wrong! "Okay."

I walk toward the door, looking back to see if he's still giving me that look. He's not. His eyes are closed and he has one hand over his face. His face is screwed up, like he's trying not to cry, but he's not because he's Nate. He never cries, he's the leader. The dad.

I leave the room, thinking about what I'm going to say to the nurse to avoid thinking about the thought I just thought. I'm just about to turn the corner toward the nurse's station when I hear Hardison's voice. I stop. He sounds like he's crying.

"But…" he sniffles, "he'll be okay, right?" His voice is wobbly like jello. For a second I want to help him, because he sounds so sad, but I freeze. Where are all these weird impulses coming from? Usually if I get the urge to do something it's just to jump off a building or steal something. But these weird feelings are serious.

"We don't know." I recognize that voice. It's the blonde nurse! "One of the bullets tore his aorta and he's lost a lot of blood. There's a chance that he might crash before we can replace the fluids."

"Okay. Thanks." Hardison's voice sounds like he has a stuffy nose. "Can you tell me if sumthin' changes?"

"Of course," the nurse replies, and I can hear her high heels click as she walks away. What kind of nurse wears high heels anyway?

I can hear Hardison breathing. He doesn't move for a minute or so, and for some reason I don't move either. Then he starts walking around the corner, and I duck behind a medical cart just in time. He walks right past me. His face is shinier than usual, and he wipes away the tears before he goes in. I notice that he glares at the neon blue 'Waiting Room' sign before he goes in. Does he hate it too?

I continue down the hall until I see a woman in green scrubs. I tap her lightly on the shoulder, hoping she won't respond the way Nate did. She turns around and smiles at me instead, and I'm a bit relieved inside my head. "Can I help you?" She asks.

I don't know why she's smiling. I can't even imagine smiling right now. Hardison was crying and Nate was sad and Sophie hasn't spoken a word since we got here and Eliot might crash, and why do I feel like crying now, too?

"Are you alright?" The nurse asks. She's still smiling, but she looks a bit concerned.

"I need new clothes." I try to smile at her, because it seems to be what she wants, but she gives me that same look, like I'm crazy. She nods. "Sure. Come with me."

I follow her to a supply closet and she hands me some blue scrubs and points toward a bathroom before hurrying away, giving me that strange look again. I go to the bathroom and lock the door.

I look in the mirror in shock. I really am covered in blood. This shirt used to be blue, but not it's almost completely some crusty brown-red color. I guess nobody noticed before because if I didn't know it used to be blue I never would have guessed. My black pants are stiff.

I take the clothes off and stare at my reflection. The blood soaked through my clothes and I try to wash it off with soap and water and some paper towels, but there's still a pink tint to my skin. I scrub at it, but I can't seem to get it off, and it makes me nervous. It feels like it's trying to eat through my skin. I've had blood on me before, but this feels worse.

I put on the scrubs, and it covers the worst of the blood, but I can still see it on my shirt and pants. There's so much blood… the nurse said he might crash because of the blood loss. My clothes soaked up the blood. Does that mean I helped the blood run away? Is this my fault? For stopping outside the door, and thinking he didn't need my help?

I leave the bathroom and throw the blood-filled clothes in a red bio-hazard bin. I don't know what to do now. I can't go back to the Waiting Room, I know that. I can't sit there and try not to move and try not to cry and sit next to Hardison and Sophie and Nate when this could be my fault. And I can't leave, because Eliot's not awake yet. I decide to wait with him instead. If- when- he wakes up, I can apologize.

I wait to a few minutes by the nurse's station until the blonde nurse comes back, and I steal a look at her clipboard when she sets it down for a minute. There it is- Conner Elliot- Rm. 212. I walk away quickly before anyone even notices I was there.

Room 212 is smallish. There's a bed and two chairs and a few monitors and Eliot. There's a window next to the door, and the bed's right across the room from it, facing the window. I can see his face, and he's pale. Really pale. He's always tan, but now he looks like Sophie when she acts on a stage, with all the extra make-up. I wonder if the nurses put make-up on him. He'd be really mad.

I'm staring at him. Eliot always knows when I'm staring at him, which I do sometimes. He's interesting. So are Nate and Sophie and Hardison. When I stare at Nate or Sophie, they say it's not nice to stare, and when I stare at Hardison he either laughs or gives me that weird look. But Eliot just asks me if I need anything, and when I say no he continues what he's doing and lets me stare.

He's not looking up now. I know if I stare at him long enough, he's going to open his eyes and ask if I need anything, just like always. But he's not. I feel cold and my stomach hurts again, and I don't know why. It's not like I'm sad that he's not waking up. It's not like I'm scared that the nurse said he might crash (I don't know what they means, but it sounds like a car crash and Eliot doesn't need to get hurt any more). It's not like I feel like running to that nurse and telling her she'd better DO something and not just wait for him to wake up. It's not like I care.

"Parker?" I turn, finally looking away from Eliot. It's Nate. "Are you okay?"

He isn't looking at me like I'm crazy now. He's looking at me like he cares. I realize there are tears running down my face for the first time in years. I shake my head. If I talk, I know my voice will wobble just like Hardison's, and I don't want him to see how vulnerable I am.

Nate comes closer and pulls me into a hug. I start sobbing, and Nate's whispering in my ear, it's okay, I've got you. It almost makes me feel better, even though my stomach is hurting so much right now.

Because Hardison's sad and I hate to see him sad. Because Sophie hasn't spoken a word since we got here and even though I'm not good with people I can tell she's in shock, and I hate to see her scared. Because Nate can't stand hospitals and he's staying here even though it hurts, and I hate to see him in pain. Because Eliot might die, and there's nothing I can do, and I hate feeling helpless.

I guess I do care.

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This is waaaaay longer than the first chapter! I have no idea why, but, I'm not complaining!

I am not sure how I feel about this at all. This chapter represents the first time I've written from Parker's point of view, and the first time I've ever written first person, and the first time I've ever written in the present tense (it's surprisingly tough!), so don't chew me out too bad! Just kidding, be honest! If it sucks, tell me. I can take it. *squeaks* I hope! :)

I completely skipped over the medical stuff, because I missed the ER rerun the day I typed it, so I don't have anything to copy- I mean use as inspiration. ;) So please don't get mad if it's messed up.

Please review! I'm really afraid of how this is going to be taken, so give me some feedback! Plus, I start school tomorrow and the class schedule is ridiculous, so I don't know how often I'm going to be able to write. Reviews always make me feel guilty about not writing, so press that button if you want to make the writer feel guilty! (Yes, that's the prize. There might also be some brownies in it for you! Crap, now I want brownies!)