A Broken Man.

Summary. . . . . . . . . How do you break a man, when pain is an everyday occurrence and can be controlled? Eliot and the team are about to find out, when an easy con turns out to be anything but.

Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Not mine, no money is being made; I'm just testing the waters of a new fandom.

A.N. . . . . . . . . . . As always thanks to everyone who had taken time out to read, review, or add to their favs, this story so far, I'm glad you're enjoying the ride. Without further ado, here's chapter 8. Peanut x


The dirt and grit kept tumbling in, creeping up his torso until it covered his chest, pushing down, constricting, and crushing all air from his body. He tried to move his head, tried to lift it up, tried to gasp in fresh breaths, but the dirt just kept rising; drowning out sound as it filled his ears; drying out his mouth as it trickled past lips as he screamed, making him choke and cough in lungful's of the desiccated earth; clogging up his nostrils, and soaking up all moisture from his eyes, covering him, coating him, consuming him.

His screams, and bumps and crashes, alerted the team to his awakening, Nate and Hardison the first to react, racing for the door to Sophie's bedroom, Nate's outstretched arm stopping the younger man in his tracks as they push open further, the door they had left ajar, and the Hitter comes into view.

"Hardison stop." The Mastermind cried out, before adding. "We can't rush in there, this is Eliot. He's confused, and scared, and weak, but he could still be deadly."

"Nate, man, can you see him? He needs our help." Hardison replied, but Nate's arm held firm.

The older man looked over to the corner where their Hitter now cowered; long, lank, tangled strands of his hair covering his face, his harsh breathing blowing the brown locks like curtains in the wind, showing for mere moments eyes that darted from man to man. Eyes that were still slightly feral, and glinted with a hint of the dangerous man Eliot could be, but at the same time shone mostly with confusion and fear. Deciding to take a chance, Nate inched closer. Seeing Eliot's hands clench and unclench at his movements, he began speaking softly.

"Eliot, its Nate, I'm your friend. You know me, I would never hurt you. You're safe now, you're home."

He watched as the younger man tried to take in his words, could see the confusion grow within him as he tried to get his fractured mind to grasp them and make sense of them. Watched as cracked and chapped lips opened and closed as he tried to form words, only for nothing to come out but a growled "no" as all lucidity seemed to drain from his eyes, memories returning and taking him back to his hell. Nate turned to the others and pleaded.

"Someone go and get a glass of water. He's still dehydrated, he needs to get his strength back up, and we need to try and get him lucid."

It was Parker who returned mere seconds later, a tall glass hanging loosely from her fingers; she passed it quickly to the older man then retreated back to the safety of the doorway.

Nate inched closer yet again, his arm extended, the glass held so that the Hitter could grasp it if he wanted to; his eyes fixed on Eliot's, his body ready to move at the slightest indication from the younger man that he was about to strike; his heart sinking as he watched the savageness leave the man's eyes, Eliot shrinking back, crushing himself even further into the corner, and he realized that strike wasn't about to come, that the Hitter was bracing himself for more punishment.

He tried talking to the younger man once again. "Eliot, Eliot, look at me. Please Eliot, look at me. We only want to help, you need to drink this, you need to get some fluids inside you, it'll help you think more clearly." He was pleased when the Hitter's eyes briefly glanced at glass before they turned his way, only for his good spirits to turn sour as the brown eyes quickly and submissively turned away once again. Eliot's usually powerful arms looking anything but as they wrapped around his bare legs, mumblings falling from his lips, mumblings that Nate could just make out. "No, please don't make me. I don't want no more."

The Mastermind couldn't help the defeat, he felt rising, from showing as his head drooped to his chest. He didn't know whether he was qualified to do this, whether he was good enough to do this, whether he was the right man to do this. Deep down he knew he could, but he also knew he that he would need to find the strength from the bottom of a bottle of whiskey first. He jumped slightly as a hand descended upon his shoulder, and turned to the body that had crept beside him.

"You don't need a drink. You can do this Nate. He trusts you. More than any of us, he trusts you. Believe in yourself, and he will too." Sophie's accented voice whispered into his ear, as always attuned to what he was thinking.

They were just the right words he needed to hear, boosting his confidence, and encouraging him to try once more. His brilliant mind began to work, thinking back over everything that had happened, thinking back over everything they now knew, mentally slapping himself when he realized his mistake.

"Sophie, take this away and bring me a bottle that hasn't been opened. I should have realized he wouldn't trust anything that could have been tainted." Nate waited for her to return with the requested item, before turning back to Eliot and trying again. "Eliot, Eliot, look at me. You can trust me; I promise you I won't hurt you." Eyes turned his way, barely visible through the curtain of chestnut locks. "That's good, that's a start. I brought you a bottle of water. It's not been open I promise. It's safe Eliot; you can drink it if you want to." He moved forward to place the bottle closer, dismayed once again when the younger man once more cowered away from contact. "Hey, it's okay, it's alright, I told you, I promised you, I will not hurt you. I'll just leave it right here and when you're ready you can take it, is that okay?"

He waited for a response, prayed for one, as some sort of sign he was getting through; but when it came, on a whispered breath, he was unsure of how to take it.

"Too noisy, too loud, make the noises stop." Eliot pleaded, his hands releasing ahold of his legs and clamping down over his ears.

Nate turned to the others, hoping that they had some idea, but gaining nothing but confused looks from all three.

"I'll go over the footage again; see if there's anything we missed." Hardison eventually stammered out, the need to get away from seeing his friend so damaged growing by the second. Eliot was the strong one, the one the others relied on to get them out of fixes, he wasn't supposed to look like this, cringing and begging and cowering on the floor like some scared and kicked puppy. He turned away, feeling guilty for not staying, yet knowing there was nothing he could do to help in that room, but out here, out here he had cyberspace, and in cyberspace he ruled; he would find answers, and at the same time start looking. Start looking for the man who had hurt his friend, his Brother, and once he found him, he would make Eliot's life a little easier by taking away that threat.


A.N. . . . . . . . . . . As always I hope that you enjoyed, will be back soon with more. Peanut x