Eliot got on the first flight that he could get out of Boston when he arrived at the airport. He had tried to ignore the frequent vibrations from his phone, but he finally reached into his pocket and turned it off without bothering to check his messages.

Now, he wedged himself into the seat by the window just over the wing and pulled his shade halfway down. His hood hid his face from the woman that sat beside him, but after he caught her glancing at his torn up knuckles, he pulled his sleeves down over his hands and crossed his arms.

"Nervous flyer?" the woman asked, staring at Eliot's jittery leg.

Eliot glanced over briefly and shook his head. "No," he growled, ensuring the woman didn't talk to him again.

He turned back and stared out the window as they headed down the runway and lifted into the air. The change in pressure didn't affect him like it used to; the torn up feeling in his stomach, and the grogginess in his head were something else entirely. He wanted to sleep. The exhaustion was overwhelming him, but he refused to close his eyes. It was one thing to wake up from his nightmares in the safety of his own bed, it was something else entirely to wake up screaming on a flight full of strangers.

About half an hour into the flight, the flight attendant came by with the drink and snack cart. Eliot realized that he had not eaten anything since early in the day yesterday and his stomach started to grumble. He regretted not packing a sandwich of his own making for the trip. Flight food was terrible. But the thought of food now made him think of his kitchen. And the thought of his kitchen made him think of the gingerbread house that lay scattered on his floor. He shook his head at the attendant and went back to staring out the window. He'd have to take care of his hunger once he got to wherever it was he decided that he was going.

His flight took him just over two hours. The first flight out had put him on a plane to Pearson Airport in Toronto. Luckily, he got through the airport quickly, having no luggage to contend with.

Outside, the air was crisper than back home, and he pulled his jacket tightly around him.

He went to the first taxi he saw sitting at the curb waiting for a passenger. "Luggage?" asked the driver.

Eliot shook his head. "I travel light," he said, getting in the back seat.

"Where to?" the driver asked as he climbed behind the wheel.

Eliot pondered this for a moment. He didn't really have a preference and shrugged before saying, "head east. I don't really have a place in mind."

Back in Boston, the team had been informed of the message that Eliot had sent to Nate's phone.

"So wait, he's just gone?" Parker asked. "We're going to follow him right?"

Nate shook his head. "He asked for a couple of days Parker. He'll be back in his own time." Nate had the Moreau job on his mind and had a feeling he knew why Eliot needed to stay away for awhile. He wasn't keen on letting his team push the hitter into returning too soon. Eliot had put on a good front after the San Lorenzo job was wrapped up, but Nate knew better. He had almost been waiting for the disappearing act.

Parker found the whole thing absurd and unacceptable. After the meeting broke off, she headed to Eliot's apartment. She ignored all possibility of the front door and climbed up the side of the building instead. She opened and slid into his bedroom window easily, manoeuvring with the stealth of a cat as she swung her legs in, clung to the top of the window with her toes, and then let her torso and arms follow until she could place her hands flat on the floor. She let her legs fall gracefully down and turned the handstand into a crouch. Slowly, she pulled the window closed behind her. Before straightening up, she looked around at the scene.

The sheets were still tangled at the edge of his bed, and the bedspread was abandoned in a heap on the floor. Parker knew that this was not the way the hitter normally kept his room. If he had been thinking clearly before he left, everything would be clean and straightened up, leaving no traces that anything was out of the ordinary.

In the hall, she slid open the drawer where she knew he kept his passports. It was empty. "Dammit Eliot, where are you?" she whispered.

The living room air held a chill. Parker wasn't sure if it was from the cool breeze that had slipped in when she came in his window, or if her body was reacting to the scene before her. She looked at the heap of bloodied bandages balled up under his punching bag. They made her wince. Eliot was rough and tumble, but he was also usually very clean. It wasn't like him to leave anything bloody or dirty lying around.

The glance into his kitchen hit her even harder. The remains of her gingerbread house were scattered all over the floor. Her heart sank a little at the sight. She had made the house just for him. Carefully placing every bit of icing and candy, thinking about how the sight might bring a smile to his blue eyes, if not to the curl of his lips. He may not show his jolly side – well – ever, but she had hoped that the gingerbread house would awaken some part of him that had buried a childish happiness, if only for a fleeting moment. She thought her mission was complete when she smelled the gingerbread on his breath in Nate's apartment. She hadn't expected him to taste it. It wasn't exactly 'good food'. So her comment had made him more annoyed than he should have been that day. He didn't want her to know that he had given in to her holiday treat.

Now, there it was, smashed up all over his floor. Parker tiptoed into the kitchen and stooped down beside it. Rationally, she knew it wasn't the house alone that had made him angry enough to take off without warning, but here, stooping among the crumbs with candy bits sticking to her shoes, it sure felt like he had run off because of her. It felt like he deliberately left the crumbled cookie all over the floor for her to find. She could almost hear him growling at her that he didn't want it. That he didn't need her, or want her, to give him anything at all. She wiped her eyes quickly, even though there was no one there to see how glassy they had become.

"Well, if you're going to be like that Eliot, I'm going to be like this," she said as she took out her phone. She texted Hardison. Find out where Eliot went. Check all his alias's if you have to. I'm going after him.

Eliot sat slouched with his arms crossed. By the time they were forty minutes into the drive, the driver had given up trying to make small talk. Still, he didn't want to drive all day with this man in his backseat. "How long you planning on driving?" the man asked.

Eliot was groggy and his head was wobbling against the window. His limbs were beginning to feel like jelly. If he stayed in the cab much longer, his eyes were bound to close. He rubbed them, trying to focus. "Here is as good a spot as any," he said, sitting up straighter in his seat. "Head north until we hit wilderness."

The driver nodded again and got off the highway at the next exit. He picked a road that took him north, away from the bustle of the city still buzzing with sounds of Christmas.

Eliot lobbed his head against the seat, watching out the window. The houses started to spread farther apart, and more trees were towering overhead,. Here, they were more sprinkled with snow than ten minutes before, away from the warmth of far too many engines and city lights.

The driver made a few turns here and there, and Eliot could feel the agitation from the front seat when he still said nothing about leaving the cab behind. "I'm gonna have ta' let you out sooner rather than later, Son. I need to be getting back."

Eliot inhaled hard and pulled himself out of the trance he had fallen into. He focused out the window. The drive had taken them to a neighbourhood embedded in the middle of a forest. He knew the highway wasn't far, but the thick trees provided him with comfort. He nodded. "Sure, anywhere here is fine." He could still see houses between, but this was a space he could lose himself in without worry he was going to hurt anyone.

"Tell you what, there is a little museum not too far from here. Think you might like it. It's bustling today getting ready to ring in the new year."

Eliot frowned. "I'm not really up for a crowd."

"Trust me, Son. This is the place for you. You could use some cheering up."

Eliot nodded, not too keen on the idea of lingering people staring at expensive artwork. The thought of fluorescent lights and sparkling dresses was not what he had in mind. Well, at least he could ditch the building and head for the trees once the driver let him out.

The driver pulled over. Eliot looked around. "What, here?" he asked, staring through a gate at an old red building. To the far right, there was a bubbling creek going underneath a bridge.

The driver nodded. "It's a little pioneer village. I get the idea you want to be off the grid for awhile. You'll fit right in here."

Eliot stared out his window as he dug out some cash to give to the driver. He made sure to include a huge tip for the man's trouble. He handed over the bills absentmindedly. The driver watched Eliot as he got out. He could almost feel a weight being lifted off of the man's shoulders, and he knew he had made the right decision dropping him here.

As Eliot got out of the car, he saw a pair of horses pulling a carriage just inside the gates. A group of families was anxiously waiting for their turn to go on the carriage ride. He started to walk in, but was stopped by an older woman in a long red paisley patterned dress and festive bonnet on her head. "Excuse me Sir," she said in a thick Welsh accent. "Free admission today but I'm sure you wouldn't mind contributing a small donation. Lots of goodies to try. Well worth it."

Eliot dug out a few bills and placed them in the basket she held out.

"Splendid. Enjoy the treats, Dear."

Before Eliot could even enter the gate, a young boy in a grey suit and newsboy cap ran up to him and took him by the hand.

"Come on Mister," the young boy said. The village is up the hill, but I'd wait for a ride. It's so much fun. One of the horses pooped on the road when I was in the carriage. I bet the other one will soon too."

This made Eliot smile. The boy handed him a map of the village and scampered off to a fire pit near the creek where a group was gathered and laughing merrily. He watched the boy tip the brim up his hat and adjust his britches before taking a cup of hot chocolate from a tray a young woman was offering.

Eliot smiled. This place would do just fine.