A/N: Thank you to all who have read this story so far, and a special thank you to those who have taken the time to review. Reviews make my day, so please keep them coming. I hope you enjoy this latest installment.

Chapter 2

Eliot didn't have the energy to handle the whole team together, so they visited him one by one. Nate was the last, and it was during his visit that exhaustion once again overtook the hitter, and he faded off to sleep. After a moment, Nate turned to the woman in the room and spoke quietly.

"How is he, Dr. Carrington?"

"Kitty, please. Or Doc. Whichever you prefer. He's still a bit hypothermic, but he's starting to warm up. I think he'll be okay. What was he doing out there, anyway?"

"I was hoping you could answer that question, since we were supposed to be rescuing you."

"Eliot mentioned something about that. I never called for a rescue."

Nate rose and moved over to the other side of the bed, picking up Eliot's muddy jeans where they had been discarded when she cut them off of him. Fishing around in the pockets for a moment, he pulled out a large, round, bronze colored coin and handed it to her. "Is this yours?" he asked.

She looked at it for a moment before nodding. "Yes, that's my special forces medallion. I gave it to a young man, along with a coded message, for delivery to Eliot. I was trying to arrange a meeting with him."

"Why?"

"On a matter private to the two of us. It seems there are bigger problems now, though. Those men who captured him—they were CIA, and they were trying to flush your whole team out. I don't know why, nor do I know any more about all of this than what I've told you."

"How did you know how to contact Eliot? That letter came here to the office."

"We served together for fifteen years. I make it a priority to follow the careers of the men with whom I served. We take care of one another."

"So do we."

"I don't expect you to trust me, but Eliot trusted me once upon a time."

"I still do," said a quiet voice from the direction of the bed.

"So what's our next move?"

"I think it's safe to say I'm burned. The false information from the messenger, and setting you up to rescue me is a sure sign of that, wouldn't you say?"

"Agreed. We will want to talk to you, when you are able to leave Eliot, so we go in with as much information as we can get."

"Of course."

(0o0)

Doc's survival depended upon noticing details about people. So, she was getting a bit frustrated as she tried to remember the details of the two people she had seen. The more she tried to remember, the more the details seemed to slip through her grasp, and the more frustrated she became. She sat with Parker, who had a small sketchpad open on her lap, in the living room area of Nate's apartment. Nate and Sophie sat at the dining room table, watching quietly.

"So you said that one of the men had short, close cropped hair and square features? Do you remember anything else about him?"

"I think he was middle aged. I didn't really get that good a look at him."

Standing up, still looking at her, Nate spoke, "I'll bet you remember more than you think."

"Mr. Ford, with due respect, I am trained to notice details about people. I have bet my life on remembering details of faces, features, sometimes names. You can trust me when I tell you, I can't remember."

"But you're also a doctor, a scientist. So you would be open to an experiment, right?"

She stared at Nate for a moment, and he knew she was weighing what she knew of him against her own instincts, sizing him up. Finally, she asked, "What sort of experiment?"

He hesitated, and her eyes narrowed. He knew, if he wanted to get anywhere with her, he had to tell her the truth. He just didn't know how she would react. Taking a deep breath, he said, "hypnosis."

"Interesting. I've heard of people who could access the subconscious to get details the conscious memory might have overlooked, but I've never seen it done. Tell me, Nathan Ford, who among you has the training to do such as this."

"Close your eyes." She did so, and he began speaking again, in a quiet and soothing voice.

(0o0)

It seemed as though she had just closed her eyes when she opened them again, to Parker holding the sketchpad up with completed drawings of two men, and smiling widely. Kitty wasn't sure how to feel. On the one hand, she was happy that they had been able to get what they needed from her mind, but on the other, she felt a bit awkward that she had no memory of how that had happened. She couldn't deny that it was an interesting experience, though.

Wearing a neutral mask, she said, "Glad I could help. Do you recognize anyone?"

Nate looked at the drawings in shock, but didn't say anything.

"Well. I'd better go check on Eliot." And with that, she turned and disappeared up the stairs. Her hitter friend was still sleeping when she got there. As she pulled the cover back to check on him, a pair of startling blue eyes met hers.

"Hi Sweetheart," he said, giving her the smile that would make most women do just about anything for him.

She smiled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Ain't gonna lie," he grunted. "I'm hurting." She was, perhaps, the only person to whom he would freely admit that. It had always been that way, maybe because she knew him well enough to know when he was telling the truth, and maybe because she was a doctor so he couldn't quite hide it from her.

Just then, Nate came into the room, carrying the drawing. She had her back to him, conversing with her patient.

"Well, you're not in shock anymore. I'll get you some morphine." Nate moved up to the other side of Eliot's bed, just as he spoke up.

"I don't wan—" he started, but she cut him off, with a quick shake of her head.

"You're hurting and you are under my care."

As she dug in her bag for the supplies she needed, Eliot saw the picture in Nate's hand. "Wait, that looks like the CIA dude from that college job, Conrad."

"Agreed. I wanted to see if you thought so, too," Nate said.

Kitty looked up at that point, having found the supplies she needed, and Eliot must have seen something in her face, because a hand shot out and grasped her arm in a grip like iron. He turned her to face him. He gazed at her for a long moment, trying to read her, but Doc Carrington wasn't what she was for nothing, and he couldn't tell what, if anything, was wrong. Finally, he reached up and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, and said, "Nate asked something of you, didn't he?" He spoke to her, but his eyes were burning into Nate. Nate didn't move, he simply stood, watching the exchange.

She didn't answer, she just turned away and started doing something, and he growled. "Damn it, Nate. When I can stand up, we're gonna have a little talk about how I expect this team to treat my friends."

Turning back, with a smile, she laid a hand on his arm and said, "He asked no more than was necessary, and took nothing that wasn't freely offered. I don't have a problem with what was done, I just don't like the way we had to do it. I'll get over it. Now, get some sleep, my friend." With those words, she injected him with the contents of the hypo in her hand, and then sat next to his bed until he faded off to sleep.

"Thank you," Nate said, softly, and then added, "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. It helped, and it was necessary. Besides, despite my discomfort, I found it to be an interesting experiment, though not necessarily one I care to repeat anytime soon. Eliot is protective at the best of times, but he is especially so when he is injured and under the influence of drugs. He knows I can handle myself. He'll come around."