A/N: Get ready for another cliffhanger…

Chapter Ten

Nate watched Eliot raise the gun in his right hand. He wasn't aiming it at them. His hair hung loose around his pale face, and Nate could tell that his stance, while imposing and threatening, was a little off. Eliot held up his left hand. "Don't move. Don't speak."

Nate and Flores exchanged a glance.

Eliot wrenched the broken door closed and pushed a filing cabinet in front of it. He never took his eyes off them, but he grunted with the effort and, for a split second, Nate wanted to help him. It was weird. He could see now why Sophie followed him up to the pier and why Parker accidentally called him by name.

The cabinet in place blocking the door, Eliot faced them fully, but he leaned against the piece of furniture to catch his breath. His skin was still pale, but his cheeks reddened. He raised the gun. "Sit down. Put your hands where I can see them."

Nate was about to comply when Flores said, "No. You come into my office waving a gun? What do you want?"

Eliot glared at the general. "Sit. Down."

Flores lowered himself into his seat behind the desk and folded his hands in front of him.

Eliot turned to Nate, and Nate sat down on a chair perpendicular to the desk, avoiding Eliot's eyes and that intense heat.

"Who is this man?" Eliot demanded.

"I'm Nathan Ford."

Eliot trained his gun on Nate, not Flores. Nate didn't like that. Besides the obvious uncomfortable—though familiar—feeling, it didn't make sense. The others were deathly quiet over the com. The tension in the room ratcheted up by his one link to the outside world seemingly cut off.

Eliot turned to Flores. "Who is this man to you?"

"He is my friend."

"Friend?" Eliot scoffed. "Do you trust him?"

"With my life."

Eliot's eyes widened at that. "You're trusting him with mine." He sagged against the cabinet then quickly righted himself. "Okay, Mr. Ford, it seems you're going to have to be trusted."

This was so strange. "What did you have in mind?"

Eliot ignored him and stepped toward the desk, still keeping Nate in his line of sight. "General Flores, Damien Moreau sent me to kill you. You have enemies in high places. You're not safe. Your family isn't safe. Your home, your car, your food isn't safe. Do you have friends you can trust?" He stared at Nate before continuing. "Who have the means to hide you? If you don't, I do."

"That's exactly what he said the first time," Flores said to Nate.

"First time what?" Eliot barked.

"The first time we met, and the first time you said this to me."

"This is the first time we met, and this is the first time I've said this to you."

"Eliot, this isn't necessary," Flores said.

Eliot breathed through his nose. Something seemed to have ticked him off, and he clenched his jaw. "If Moreau finds out I didn't kill you, he'll send more men after you." He jabbed a finger at the blocked door. "And if I can get through your so-called security, anyone can."

Nate snickered. "That is so not true, Eliot."

Eliot took a step toward him and Nate flinched. "Whatever happened to 'Mr. Spencer'? Why does nobody call me 'Mr. Spencer' anymore? I gave you the courtesy of 'Mr. Ford', you think you could do the same for me!"

Nate was shocked.

"See? You slipped up just like I did," Parker whispered.

"Why's he so angry about it?" Hardison asked.

Sophie answered. "He has no control. His whole life has turned upside down. Nate, I'm worried. He sounds about to crack."

She was worried? "Do nothing," he hissed as soft as he could.

"What did you say?" Eliot demanded.

Nate's voice hitched. "It would sound ridiculous to call you Mr. Spencer."

Eliot looked thoroughly confused. "Why?"

Nate shrugged. "Because you're Eliot."

Eliot took another step toward him. "That's not an answer—" Eliot gasped. He blinked a couple of times, staring at Nate in disbelief. "General?"

Flores said, "Yes?"

Eliot's lips moved but he didn't say anything, he just stood in front of Nate.

Nate wanted to run. He swallowed hard and squirmed in the seat.

Eliot bent at the waist, just out of reach, not that Nate would have tried anything. "General Chesler?"

Nate tried to burrow back into his seat, feeling like a rat in a barrel with a large cat glaring at him and reaching his paw in.

"General Chesler. You- you sent me to kill Skipper."

Nate wasn't following, and he didn't know if it was because Eliot wasn't making sense, or because his mind was screaming 'run' and he couldn't focus on much of anything else. He had to see past the panic and keep Eliot calm. "I don't know what you're—"

Eliot lurched forward and jammed his gun to Nate's temple. "You did it! You made me kill her!"

Nate's heart stopped beating.

"Nate, what's going on?" Sophie asked.

Nate's voice came out so soft. "Eliot, nobody can make you kill. Only you can. And I've never told you to kill anybody." Nate gasped as Eliot grabbed him by the hair and pushed the gun harder into his head. Everything grayed as adrenaline flooded his system, but he couldn't move.

Flores stood up. "Eliot, you said you came here to kill me."

"No! I said I was sent here to kill you. After-after you get hidden safely…" Eliot eased off of Nate and stumbled backward. "I can't go on like this. I don't remember who I killed or why."

"It's okay, Eliot." Flores reached a hand out to him.

"It's not okay! I kil—" his voice cracked. "I killed your first lady. I killed her." Eliot snapped his fingers. "Just like that." He stumbled back again and looked at Nate. "I ran over that blonde. Just like that. I stole the file for you."

"I never ordered you to kill anyone."

"You did! You did and then, you were about to tell me to kill the other woman, the witness. She was in your apartment." He squinted in thought. "I just killed Hardison, and that woman sprayed you with mace, but you thought it was water. Wait, that doesn't make sense."

It clicked for Nate. He had posed as General Chesler and he had told Eliot to run Parker over as part of a con. Eliot was remembering bits and pieces of his past.

"Did he just say my name?"

"You remember Hardison, then?" Nate prodded.

"Of course I do. He's my brother."

"His brother? You hear that? Dude is crazy and he thinks Nate's a general, thinks he's killed two of you, he hogtied Sophie, he tasered Parker, but he thinks I'm his brother."

"Hardison," Nate whispered for him to stop.

Eliot sank against the desk, still keeping Nate and Flores in sight, holding the gun loosely in his hand. "He's blue."

"I'm what? What did he just call me?"

"He can't, can't be blue. We were both blue."

Then it made sense to Nate. "When you were cops!"

"Yes! That's…that's right. When we were cops. Cops." He looked at Nate in confusion. "I was never a cop."

"Yeah, Eliot, and you never assassinated Sophie, and you never ran over Parker."

"Who's Sophie? Who's Parker?"

"See y'all? He remembers my name. That's my buddy, right there. Nate, can you bring it home so we can bust down this door and see him?"

Eliot waved the gun around.

"Not a good idea," Nate hissed.

Eliot turned to him. "What did you say?"

"You were injured at the pier and lost your—"

"This whole thing started at the pier. The headaches, the—" he stopped as though he'd given something away. He turned to Flores. "Your first lady was at the pier."

"I know. She's your friend."

"That's sick." Eliot took a steadying breath and straightened his back. He was suddenly very calm. "I came here to save you."

"You did." Flores smiled brightly. "You succeeded."

"Not until I get you someplace safe. Do you have friends?"

Flores leaned toward him in earnest. "Eliot Spencer, you have already saved my life."

"I've only postponed your death unless you get somewhere safe."

"You don't understand. I'm not in danger. You saved my life, and I am forever grateful."

Eliot shrugged, extremely tranquil. "It doesn't really count, sir. I was sent here to kill you, remember?"

"But you didn't. You chose to save my life. Again."

Eliot tilted his head. "If you insist, sir, but it can only really count as a half."

Hardison spoke up again. "That's Eliot! That's my boy!"

Flores rounded the desk. "Can you put the gun down? Can we come up with a plan?"

Eliot's jaw unclenched. His eyes softened as he looked at the general. Nate could see it, Eliot wanted to. He wanted so badly to rest, to let go. To not think. To not have to survive. He saw the soldier in Eliot.

By the time Nate had met him, Eliot had worked alone for so long, he'd forgotten how to work in a group. But this Eliot, missing more than a decade of his life, was much younger and closer to the time he'd served in the military. He wanted to work with them now. He respected General Flores. He remembered Nate as a general when they went after that reporter. His jumbled memories were coming out in connections that he didn't see, and he was putting the pieces together, coming up with the wrong pictures.

Eliot's shoulders slumped, and for the first time Nate noticed they were uneven. At the pier, he'd landed on his back. It must be killing him. No wonder he looked like death warmed over.

Eliot shook his head. "I can't, General. Damien Moreau's out there."

"Right. And you're going to help me. Isn't that so?"

"Well, yes but—"

"Then put the gun away. Let's talk about this plan."

"I can't give up my gun."

Nate spoke softly. "You hate guns."

"I know but—" Eliot straightened up again, back on edge. "How do you know that?"

Nate sighed. It was a risky comment and it backfired. He'd just made things worse—again. And then the strangest thing happened. Eliot's jaw slackened until his mouth hung open. He looked past Nate. Fear shone from his eyes, and he shrank into himself.

Nate fought his curiosity—he wanted to see what was behind him but was afraid to turn his back on Eliot. "What is it, Eliot?"

"I'm haunted." Eliot took a breath and steadied himself. "I deserve it. I'll look her in the eye because she deserves it."

Nate watched Eliot, his gun pointed to the floor, and risked everything to glance over his shoulder. Nate's eyes widened in shock. "Oh my God, what are you doing?"

Parker was hanging upside down outside the window, her ponytail bouncing under her. She waved happily.

Eliot held a hand to his forehead. "You see her, too?"

"Unfortunately," Nate breathed.

"She's kind of hard to miss," Flores said.

"Then she's…she's really here?"

"Of course."

"But that's the woman I ran down."

Parker banged on the glass and Eliot flinched, but he stood his ground.

"I'm going to open it." Flores moved to the window.

Nate stayed where he was.

Parker hung outside the window and smiled. "Yes, you did run me down. You did it beautifully. I barely even bruised."

Eliot dropped the gun on the desk. Flores, by the window, looked at Nate. Nate shook his head. Eliot was just as dangerous without a gun, it just wasn't as obvious.

"Who are you?" Eliot asked.

"I'm Parker, silly. And see? I'm upside down."

Eliot nodded at her.

"Don't I look non-threatening upside down?"

"Darlin', you'd look non-threatening in a Sherman tank."

"Eliot, you made a joke!" She climbed in and perched on the windowsill. "That's not like you."

"Of course it's not. None of this is."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It means I'm waiting for Santa Clause to come through the chimney." He sighed, studying the carpet. "And then I can beat the crap out of him again."

A twinge caught Nate in the gut. Eliot was having flashbacks, memories he didn't remember from cons they'd done over the last few years. His brain tried to make sense of them without the knowledge that they were cons or knowing any of the players. It could get so confusing he could easily think he was going insane.

"Silly, Santa lives at the North Pole."

"Course he does, Skipper." Eliot leaned against the desk and folded his arms across his chest. He stared at them.

Parker whispered loudly, "What's he waiting for?"

Nate was in unfamiliar territory. If Eliot thought he was losing his mind, would he come quietly? He was quite calm right now, but if they pressed him, he might fall back on what he knew and fight them. Nate wished he had a tranquilizer dart or a taser or God forbid a rope covered with leaves and mud.

"Eliot," Flores began. "Would you like something to eat?"

"You don't have to eat in dreams."

Nate regarded him carefully. "You think this is a dream?"

"That is so cool!" Parker clapped excitedly. "Can I be a ballerina? I've always wanted to be a ballerina. Or a race car driver."

Nate heard Hardison suck in a breath over the com, but he said nothing.

"Sure darlin', you can be whatever you want."

She danced over to him. "I want to be your friend."

Eliot rolled his eyes. "Oh, brother."

"Is he talking to me?"

"Hardison!" Sophie called.

"You don't really think this is a dream, do you?" Parker asked.

"I wish it was that simple."

"Me, too!" Parker grinned at him.

"Am I really this corny?" Eliot lifted his palms, his arms still crossed over his chest.

"How do you mean?" Parker asked.

"In one dream, you're outside of a hotel, and I run you down. In another, I'm being tortured, and you give me a stuffed toy. That sounds pretty cornball to me."

Parker clapped her hands and bounced onto the desk, deftly moving the gun toward Flores. "Mr. Bunny!"

Eliot tensed. He stared at Parker, threateningly, until she slid off and backed away. He uncrossed his arms. Nate stood from his chair, risking an attack for the distraction. Eliot pushed off the desk, and Parker pulled out her taser and shoved it at his back. Eliot twisted around, snatched it from her hands and jammed it into her torso.

"Parker! Ah!" Nate ripped out his com as it popped in his ear.

Eliot faced him, holding the taser out, defensively. He looked at the ear bud in Nate's hand. Then he whirled on Flores. Flores had the gun. Eliot turned sideways, making himself less of a target. It was a reflex, Nate thought. He didn't even know he was doing it. He was running on adrenaline and instinct.

"I came here to help you." Eliot sounded desperate.

Flores opened a desk drawer, and Eliot braced himself for an attack. Flores dropped the gun in the drawer, shut it, produced a key and locked it.

"Why did you do that?" Eliot asked.

"You're running ragged. You have to trust someone, Eliot, you have to. You trusted your life to me just now. You warned me of Moreau. You warned me of a contract on my life. Can you trust me?"

Eliot glared around the room; from Parker lying on the floor, to Nate, Flores, the door and then the window. "Maybe, but the company you keep…why haven't the guards come in yet?"

"What?" Flores asked, thrown at the change of topic.

Eliot backed up, waving the taser at Nate.

Nate was sure to keep his hands raised.

"You're all in on this. You trapped me in here."

Nate shook his head. "You barged in and blocked the door."

"Don't play your mind games on me, General. I don't work for you. I won't kill for you. Not anymore." And with that, Eliot darted across the room and jumped out the window.