Eliot groaned and hissed in pain as the limousine's movement rocked him against the seat.

"Take it easy!" Nate called out to Sophie. "Take it easy," he repeated, this time whispering to Eliot.

Nate took a look around the back of the limo, looking for anything that might help. After placing Eliot's hands on top of his jacket to hold the pressure on the wound, he scooted across the compartment to the cabinet containing the limo's portable bar. He found a stack of paper cocktail napkins, and thought to use them as dressings.

"If you find any good whiskey in there… I'll take some," Eliot told him, the tone of his voice giving away how much he wanted something to dull the pain.

Nate looked back over at Eliot. "Somehow I don't think that would be too good of an idea, Eliot," he told him. "I don't need you puking on me." I've already got your blood on my hands, he thought to himself.

He returned to Eliot's side with the stack of napkins. Eliot moved his hands away, allowing Nate to lift his coat off of the wound, wiping it gently as he did to get a better look.

After seeing the bruised, jagged puncture and not liking the sight one bit, Nate put some of the napkins over it, pressing a little more gently this time. Eliot's hands covered his and their eyes met briefly before Eliot closed his, pain obviously shooting through him.

"Thanks, Nate," he whispered after a few moments and loosened his grip on Nate's hands.

"So you've had worse?" Nate asked, hoping to distract Eliot, and needing something other than awkward silence.

"Once or twice. That… that time with the monkey…"

Nate nodded and smiled, letting out a little huff of a laugh. He knew all about that job. It was a couple of years before his first dealings with Eliot, and he had heard about it through the various channels and circles of people in his former line of work. It was one that truly caught Nate's interest – and the main reason Eliot was now part of the Leverage team.

"… swore those guys… were gonna…"

Nate waited for the rest of the story, but no words came, only gasps for air and a low, painful keening.

"Eliot?"

Nate saw that Eliot was really starting to have difficulty breathing. What had been occasional gentle coughs and gasps coupled with small whimpers of pain were no more.

"Can't… catch…" Eliot gasped painfully

Nate caught hold of Eliot's arms as they began flaying out, trying to grab onto the top of the seat.

"Easy, Eliot," he tried to soothe. "Come on. You need to lay still."

"Up!" Eliot yelled. "Sit me up!"

Realizing that Eliot probably had more emergency medical knowledge than he did, Nate quickly maneuvered behind him, grabbed him under his armpits, and as gently as he could, lifted him up, to a semi-sitting position.

By the time Eliot was satisfied, though, after cursing, gasping and nearly bruising Nate's supportive arms, Nate found himself shoved into the corner of the seat, against the door, with Eliot's back to his chest.

Eliot's head fell back against his shoulder, exhaustion showing, breathing labored and quick. Nate did the only thing he could do – held onto Eliot for all he was worth, keeping pressure on the still bleeding wound and keeping him upright.

"Better?" he asked after a few minutes, after Eliot finally seemed to have settled.

Eliot just nodded his head.

"Sophie?" he called. "How much longer?"

He looked forward through the window at Sophie when she didn't reply. He realized she was talking to someone else. He listened to her side of her conversation with Hardison, who must have been relaying directions as she drove.

When she finally stopped talking to Hardison, she called back, "How is he?" But when she met Nate's gaze in the rearview mirror, she saw his answer.

"Alec and Parker are going to meet us at the hospital," she told him. "Alec has already called the state police – to explain the speeding limousine on the roadways and maybe even give us a police escort there."

"Which… means… they'll be there… too," Eliot rasped, so low that only Nate heard him.

But Sophie saw the worried look in Nate's eyes. "They'll be posing as federal agents handling the attempted assault on an international diplomat," she said, briefly explaining their plan. "Good thing your bodyguard/chauffeur saved your life," she added.

"Yes, he did," Nate replied quietly.

He felt a gentle squeeze on his hands and looked down at Eliot.

"Not your… fault… Boss," Eliot whispered back.

I beg to differ, Eliot, Nate thought. He leaned his head back against the side of the car and sighed. He thought about their first job together, when they were all sent to the hospital after the explosion. They'd been lucky that mild concussions were the worst of their injuries. They all knew the job was potentially dangerous. Hell, Serbia proved that, when they unknowingly ran into those arms dealers. But no one had been hurt. Nothing as serious as this. Nate began to reconsider his team. Could he knowingly put one of them into danger again? What if some other small detail gets overlooked? What if instead of a mad brother-in-law with a boot knife, they meet up with someone seriously deranged? Someone who shoots first and doesn't even bother with the questions? Are the lives of his team worth risking? No matter what the payoff?

Nate's inner musings were stopped short at the sound of a police siren behind the limo.

"He wants me to pull over!" Sophie called back.

"Do it!" Nate ordered. "All it'll take is one look in the back here and we'll be back on the road."

Sophie slowed the limousine down and pulled off onto the side of the road. The shoulder dropped steeply and jostled the two passengers in the back. Even she heard the cry of pain it caused Eliot to voice.

"Sorry!"

She rolled down the side windows of the limo, hoping to expedite things.

The officer approached the limo cautiously and peered inside the rear window. She met Nate's gaze and saw the condition of the man he held in front of him.

"Please, we're trying to get to the hospital," Nate said.

The officer nodded to him and then looked at Sophie, who was leaning out the window, a painful plea on her face, as well.

"Follow me," the officer ordered and rushed back to her patrol car.

The windows were rolled back up and Sophie waited for the police officer to get past the limo before pulling back onto the roadway. She quickly accelerated to match the officer's speed.

"Sophie, if she doesn't go the same way Hardison says to go…" Nate called to her.

"I know," she replied, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. "I'll get us there, Nate," she added. She looked into the rearview mirror again, glimpsing her teammates and friends. I'll do my job, Nate. You do yours.