Title: The Retrieval Job

Rating: T+

Feedback: welcomed

Summary: The team takes on the hardest job they've ever had, retrieving one of their own. But who do you turn too, when it's your Retrieval Specialist that's in need of rescuing?

Author Note: I have been watching Rescue 77 via some links posted over at the Christian Kane community. A bit on the corny side, lasted only 8 episodes but I kind of like it.

Also has anyone else been attacked by that stupid I heart Vampires Ad? That freaking ad drives me crazy; I hate Vampires with a passion and am one of those people who believe Ann Rice had it right when she wrote Interview with a Vampire. Hands down, the only Vampire movie I will actually willingly watch. I could care so much less about 'Corbin and Lucy and they heart vampires'. Kill. Me. Please. Every story or chapter I click on that Ad comes up, it's fucking ridiculous.


Chapter 8: Like a rock

That song had been stuck in his head for hours now –could have been days, he's been having trouble keeping track- the words replaying over and over in his head. Sometimes he works up the energy and starts to mutter the words.

Like a rock, the sun upon my skin

Like a rock, hard against the wind

Like a rock, I see myself

Like a rock

The first time he heard that song he was twelve years old, sitting in his father's brand new 1986 Chevy Silverado. That was a good year for his family, the year before everything went to hell, leaving his Mama struggling with three kids and no income beyond what she could get turning tricks. His Daddy was sitting beside him, long fingers tapping a beat out on the steering wheel while he sings along as they drove home, the bed of the shiny dark blue truck loaded with plants for Mama's garden.

Eliot allows a smile to split his cracked lips, happy in the memory for just a few moments. He doesn't know why he's been so caught up in memories he swore he'd never look back on the day he left. Eliot chuckles to himself, a sick gurgling in his chest making the man blink dully.

"Seems—a fittin… ta die here." He struggles to say to the darkness, his words melting into the thick nothingness beyond his limited vision. With a groan he shifts a bit, surprised at how little he hurts and Eliot knows that's not a good sign but can't bring himself to care.

"Well, if I die here it'd be a nice fuck you wouldn't it?" he asks himself, thinking about how angry the winning bidder would be when they come to pick him up and find a lifeless carcass. Sad really if one wants to think about it, here he is-Eliot Spencer- well known Retrieval Specialist, his reputation defining him as being a roughneck that'd kick your ass sooner than look at you, a man who has escaped from all types of prisons… dying in a dark, wet cell in some bastard's basement.

Eliot snorts to himself, slightly amused but quickly sobers up again, his mind whirling to all those things he'd wanted to do. He was planning on locating his siblings, his little brother and sister who'd been removed from his care all those years ago, maybe take an actual vacation to a warm island and just relax.

He had planned on finally teaching Hardison to use his whole body in a fight, not just his arms.

Have a rematch with Nate in Pool, maybe allow the Mastermind to win back some of his money.

Show Sophie how to not kill every house plant she comes into contact with and maybe help her build a little garden.

He'd promised Parker…

Eliot stops his mental list, ears straining to hear. The sound was out of place, it wasn't the sound of turning keys in the door to the basement, and it wasn't the sound of footsteps. There was a soft bang and a curse, the sound explosively loud in the silent darkness. Eliot tenses, unsure of what to expect when the creaking of a floorboard announces the presence of a person. Eliot watches the darkness, his eyes straining to locate any movement, aware now that whatever is going on isn't happening with Celik's knowledge. Maybe a buyer-too eager for their revenge- has snuck into his dreary prison. Or Celik himself has become even more sadistic and is doing this to simply torment him.

"Eliot!" a hissing voice calls from the darkness. Eliot frowns, he never knew the darkness had the ability of speech. A single shot of light is moving around, the narrow beam glinting off the metal table and surgical instruments. Eliot's eyes spasm as the too bright light sweeps over his face, a cry coming from the man at the new pain.

"Oh jeez, sorry." The darkness apologizes sheepishly as something lands outside his cell with a dull thump.

"I'm in Nate. Yes, he's here. Uh-yeah?" Eliot blinks experimentally, worried about his sanity now as the darkness keeps chattering away. His eyes track a flash of blond hair and for a moment the man can only blink, unsure if what he's seeing is really there.

"Parker?" he strains, hope building in his chest. A soft 'got it' is his only response and within minutes the door is open. There's a tense moment with Eliot still in disbelief that someone just opened the door and a huff from the person who did it.

"Well… c'mon." the darkness urges, but when Eliot refuses to move, his mind supplying him with images of the hell he'd catch for falling for such an obvious trick. Just another one of Celik's sick ploys to break him a little bit more by offering him freedom but knowing he's too weak to achieve it. Wearily Eliot rests his head against the floor and closes his eyes, determined to ignore the blatant trick.

"Nate he's not moving." The darkness states again and Eliot shakes his head, not wanting to believe that Nate is out there somewhere, helping Celik with this sick game.

"Okay." Darkness chirps and within seconds booted feet are beside him and someone is crouching beside his head. Eliot's eyes snap open and he flails, trying to put distance between the person and himself. He doesn't get very far when what little strength he has suddenly leaves him, he can only lay on the floor in defeat, heaving for air as the dark blob with the golden hair leans in closer. Something is pressed against his ear and for a second Eliot is convinced it's the muzzle of a gun.

Then it speaks.

"Eliot, can you hear me?" Nate's voice asks across the frequency, voice cracking a bit. Eliot's blue eyes widen a fraction and he makes an affirmative noise, unable to speak.

"We're here to get you out, but you need to help Parker. She's got your exit." He stresses sternly and for the first time in countless days Eliot's mind is clear. He glances up and sees Parker's face, the usually blank look replaced by a sharp frown that doesn't belong on the thief's face.

"Hey darlin'" he drawls softly and Parker's soft, hesitant hand brushes over his bare shoulder. Eliot shivers at the kindness of the contact, having only been on the receiving end of bruising fists and pain.

"Come on sparky, it's time to go home." She smiles nervously and Eliot nods, gathering his strength to move. His body is stiff from lack of movement and cold and he bites back a curse when his strength fails him once more.

"Oh wait, Nate said to give you this- said you'd know what to do with it." Parker states, rummaging around in something and pulling out two sticks. Eliot runs his unbroken fingers over them and determines that they're pre-filled syringes. He gives a wet chuckle and quickly uncaps and jabs the needles into his flesh, hitting the button to dispense. Within minutes the mixture of stimulants and vitamins are coursing through his system, providing him with enough strength to make it to his feet and stay there.

"Alright.. gunna need you." Eliot directs, waving Parker over with his unabused hand. The lithe woman is quickly by his side and waits patiently while the Hitter mentally prepares himself for the task of escaping.

"Under my arms. Don't pull." He orders and slowly brings himself up to his feet, Parker's warm hands searing hot against his icy skin. His legs shake for a few moments but Eliot breathes as deeply as possible, struggling to draw air into his broken and pneumonia ridden lungs. A harsh, wet cough explodes from him, making his balance waver but Parker's hands keep him from keeling over too quickly.

"A-alright." He breathes shallowly and nods his head, indicating to Parker it's alright to stop touching him. He leans against the cell wall, waiting for everything to stabilize a little before attempting to move.

"Hate to rush you, but we gotta go." Parker urges and Eliot nods, gearing himself up. His bare feet slap heavily against the stone floor as he follows Parker slowly to the old service cart shaft. Eliot frowns at the rickety old contraption for a moment, his eyes blinking rapidly.

"Come on." Parker urges.

"I'm not goin ta fit in there Parker." He states in an exhausted mutter. The young thief pauses for a moment before turning to him and grabbing his face. Eliot flinches away and nearly looses his balance on the uneven floor. Her fingers dig into his face as she guides him towards the service elevator.

"Your getting in there." She stresses with a hiss and for a moment Eliot sees the stress lines on the young woman's face and shame clenches his heart. He caused those pinch and frown lines on Parker's usually expressionless face. He's the cause of the exhaustion in Nate's voice. He closes his eyes for a moment and nods his head, feeling Parker's hands ease up.

"Alright, get in." she instructs and as quickly as Eliot can force his body to bend into the cramped service elevator Parker joins him.

"We're in. Take us up." She orders into the com and within seconds the metal contraption is chugging it's way up the shaft.

To freedom.


He doesn't remember how exactly he ended up in the van, all he knows is that Nate's concerned face swims into focus and a soft blanket is draped over his shivering form. Hardison's long fingers seek his own out, gently saying that he's there while Parker chatters away about how undignified and boring escaping through an unused service cart would look on her criminal resume.

Eliot blinks, since when did she start keeping one of those?

"S-sophie?" he croaks out, amazed at how soft and strained his voice sounds as Nate kneels beside him.

"She'll be joining us in a minute, don't worry." He assures but there's something in the Mastermind's voice that strikes through Eliot's struggling mind, the hint of a smile on the man's face. He groans and shifts but cries out as his broken arm spasms.

"Nate, w-what'd ya do?" he slurs, realizing quickly he's not going to be able to keep his eyes open. The injections did their job and gave his strained body just enough to get up and get out, but now the exhaustion and sickness is winning. Eliot blinks, straining to see the Mastermind clearly but the man's face swims like a Picasso painting.

Heh. Picasso.. what a fucked up bastard that man was.

His eyes slid shut and somewhere in the back of his mind Bob Seger is singing Like a Rock and he's sitting beside his Daddy once more in that '86 Chevy.


Nate frowns as Eliot relaxes further back into the seat, his dazed blue eyes dropping closed with a soft sigh. He stares down at the Hitter, taking stock of the injuries littering his narrow frame. Just a few weeks ago the Hitter was the picture of health, his tanned skin and bulk adding to the image. But now, after weeks of confinement and torment his skin is pale and clammy and the muscles seem to have whittled away to nothing. Nate knows it won't take the Hitter long to get back into shape, but it's not his body Nate's worried about.

It's the state of his mind.

There would be no telling how much damage the man took to his psyche after this capture until he was recovered enough to be lucid, which judging by the injuries and the sick rattle in his chest, won't be for a while. Although knowing Eliot he'll be up and insisting he's fine within a few days.

Nate smiles grimly to himself, who would have ever thought he'd be looking foreword to bickering again with Eliot Spencer- the man who lead him on a two year chase across China and Russia. With a gentle hand Nate reaches out and brushes the dingy hair away from the man's clammy face, a sad frown cutting his features.

"We got him back man." Hardison supplies, watching the action from his place closer to the cab, laptop perched on his lap. Nate glances over at the Hacker and nods his head, removing his hand from the Hitter and surrendering him to the care of Parker –under strict orders to call to Nate should something happen- before moving to the driver's seat. Headlights cut through the darkness of the old winery roads and within seconds a town car is pulling to a stop beside the black van. Sophie and Tara get out, the blond woman stopping to pay the driver with an impressive wad of cash for his silence before moving towards the van.

"We good?" Sophie asks, glancing into the backseat and giving a relieved sigh upon finding the missing Hitter there, wrapped in a thick blanket. Tara shares a smile with the older Grifter and with Hardison's help climbs into the back of the van. Nate glances around the cab at his team and nods to himself.

Everyone is present… but not entirely whole.


Author Note: So, I was getting bored with torturing Eliot, so I decided it was time for him to be rescued. As a kid my mother owned a 1986 Chevy pick up and one of my earliest memories is the song Like a Rock by Bob Seger playing while driving through town, so I guess that was a bit of an homage to my love for Chevy's (yeah yeah I know, 'but Fords are sooooo much better' whatever, I'm a chevy girl.) That and I think Like a Rock goes well with Eliot. Anyway, review if you deem it worthy, I'm sure people are confused with the con, that will be explained in later chapters.

Working on a Rescue 77/Leverage crossover on my Ipod (yes I write on my ipod, should have seen all the ideas on the last one before it went through the washer) but it won't be started until this one is finished. But, there is a story up on my LJ which is a small crossover. So, look again this Sunday for another TRJ update.