A/N: Thank you all for the great response to this story. I intend to post a new chapter every Wednesday and Saturday. The story is completed, but I'm running a final check through each chapter before posting. I hope you continue to enjoy Eliot's plight!

Chapter Four

"All right, you know the plan."

Parker pushed Hardison away and adjusted the straps of the halter top she wore under a denim jacket. Ripped jeans and black boots completed the ensemble beautifully. "Yes, yes. I go in there and casually strike up a conversation about a blonde man with a sexy southern accent who's travelled through time."

Hardison fumbled over his words, as though he didn't know which point to pick apart. "Y-y-you think he's sexy?"

Parker made a face at him and wrenched open the van door. "Duh!" She hopped out. "Sophie would be agreeing right now if she could hear us."

"You talk about how sexy Eliot is?"

"Of course. On girl's night. When we paint each other's nails and get our fuzzy slippers and then jump out the window."

"Jump out the window?"

"That's what girls do at sleepovers. I know. I've been to, like, sooooo many. They're really fun."

Hardison squeezed his lips together and tried to nod. He seemed so flustered. He often appeared flustered and confused when they had one of their chats. He just didn't know what it was like to get the old sleeping bag out and head over to a friend's house for hot chocolate and pillow fights. She knew. She imagined exactly how they must be. "Wish me luck."

"May God be with you, and the Force be with you, and, um…"

"The Daleks."

"The Daleks are bad, Parker!"

She waved at him and slammed the door shut. Now she had to concentrate. She couldn't give herself away. Sophie told her not to say anything about Eliot or that she was looking for someone. Yet, she had to steer the conversation in that direction. She also couldn't risk word getting to him if he hadn't been there yet—he already thought Obama was after him. Maybe she'd walk in and Eliot would be there. That would be wonderful, but Nate had cautioned her on that possibility, too. She couldn't scare him or tip him off. She also couldn't call for help. Eliot wouldn't recognize her. She wanted to see that for herself.

Parker would have to wait and see what leads the biker bar had for her, and it didn't matter how long it took to get one, she had all the patience in the world. She'd stay there all night if she had to. Let them kick her out. She'd have conversations, in no hurry with no urgency. She'd wait to hear something, wait until he walked through the door. And if it didn't happen tonight, she'd sleep in the van while Hardison kept watch and be the first in line when they opened tomorrow night and do it all over again.

Eliot might be a boy, but Parker knew he would grab a sleeping bag and watch scary movies and jump out the window and make hot chocolate just like any of the girls in her imaginings. Eliot was one of her best friends and she was going to find him no matter how long it took.

She pushed the door open and made her way to the bar. She attracted the bartender's attention, studying every man in the place. It was dark and loud. She didn't like loud noises. There were so many people in such a small room. Taking a breath to steady herself, she found a seat and settled in for a long night.

"…in San Lorenzo, can you believe it?"

Parker nearly spun off the stool as she whipped around. Two guys played pool behind her; one was huge and the other had green hair.

"Why's he talking 'bout Moreau after all this time?"

"Beats me but I think he was on the hunt. You know how he gets that murderous glint in his eye when someone steps over that line."

"You do not want to be on the receiving end of that glare." The man shivered. He must have been seven foot tall and four hundred pounds. Parker couldn't even guess how he fit through the door.

The green-haired man pulled up his pool cue and patted the big man on the shoulder. "You ask me, he's gone down there to kill him."

"Why? He's better off suffering in that dungeon."

The other man shrugged. "We'll find out in a few days. He's on his way now."

"He don't waste time."

"He never did, did he? Maybe he figures the homicidal tendencies'll wear off."

The big man laughed.

The green-haired man leaned in close to the bigger man, and Parker strained to hear. "You ask me, I like him better helping than hurting. My cousin might need him. I'd have asked him tonight but…he just didn't seem himself."

"That situation gone south?"

"Yup."

"Sorry to hear that, man."

Parker had heard enough. She rushed out of the place before the bartender even made his way to take her order. She ran through the doors and jumped in the passenger seat of the van, scaring Hardison. "Go!" she shouted. "Go!"

Hardison peeled out, breathing hard. "What'd you do? What happened? Who's after us?"

Parker ticked off her fingers. "Nothing. Nothing. No one."

"Why am I running for our lives?"

"I dunno. 'Cause you're dramatic?"

He checked the rearview and slowed the van. "Where are we going, Parker?"

"Get Nate and Sophie back up."

He nodded and they turned their coms on. After a few minutes, Parker heard hers come to life.

"Nate? Sophie? Are you there?"

"Yes, Parker, what is it?" Sophie asked. "Are you out? What happened?"

"I found out where Eliot is going."

Hardison shook his head. "You were in there for all of five minutes."

"And I didn't even stab anyone. I'm getting better at this."

Nate's voice sounded tired. "What'd you find out, Parker?"

"Eliot's gone to San Lorenzo to kill Damien Moreau."