Chapter 10

"…I'm not sure which frightens me most,

Letting you in, or the monsters out."

Beau Taplin

AN: I still don't own Leverage.

Ally's cane clicked along the floor of the bar as she maneuvered her way to the elevators. The bar seemed to be busy from the sound of it, so it was slow going as she kept bumping into people and tables. Her heartbeat began to speed up as the claustrophobia set in.

"Of course he's not going to answer your calls Ally," she mumbled irritably, trying to distract herself as she made her way through the crowd of bodies. "It's been two weeks. It serves you right."

She sighed in relief as the elevator doors shut, encasing her in blissful silence. Concentrating on her breathing, she worked to slow her racing heart, fighting back the panic attack. "Focus Ally….calming thoughts," she whispered in a shaky voice.

By the time she arrived on Nate's floor, her heartbeat and breathing had normalized, allowing her to focus on the task at hand. Faint voices inside told her that someone was home, so she knocked on the door and was surprised to find it ajar already. As it opened further, the voices grew louder alerting her to the fact that they were arguing.

"Eliot we really should get you to a hospital."

"I already told you I'll be fine Sophie. Leave it."

"Look man…"

"Save it Hardison. It would have been avoided if you hadn't overplayed your part…again."

"Don't blame me. If you hadn't been so distracted…"

"Uncle Nate? Eliot?" Ally called out, slowly making her way into the main room.

Everyone froze. "Ally? What're you doin' here?" Eliot asked in confusion.

"I tried calling, but you didn't answer," she said, slipping on something wet on the floor. Eliot was at her side in an instant, catching her before she could fall. Nate and Sophie shared a brief look. "Thank you Eliot." Nate's brow rose at the fact his niece knew automatically who had caught her. Sophie couldn't contain her smile.

The hitter tried to silence the hiss that escaped from exacerbating his injuries, but Ally still heard it. "I think you should be sitting, don't you?" He sighed and made his way back to the chair he had been resting on, with Alyson following, her hand having automatically found his elbow. Sophie pulled another chair up beside Eliot's and the hitter directed her into it before collapsing in his. The red head gave him a worried glance. "When I couldn't get the rest of you to answer your phones, I decided to come and see if everything was alright. What happened?"

"Everything's fine Ally," Nate tried.

"Right," she replied in a disbelieving tone. "I may be blind, but I can assure you my other senses work perfectly well. Eliot's bleeding and his breathing is labored, which usually signifies damage to the ribs." When nobody answered, she tried again, "Does this have to do with the employment you lot are so secretive about?"

"We're private investigators Ally, nothing secretive about it," Nate tried.

"How do you know he's bleeding?" Parker asked curiously, only to have Hardison nudge her, shaking his head no.

"Ally, now might not be the best time…"Sophie began, only to have Ally interrupt.

"I know that tone you're using Sophie. It's the one you use when you're trying to convince someone to do something. I've heard you use it on salesmen when we shop." The team looked at each other. "Blood has a copper smell to me, and I suspect it's what I slipped on a minute ago," she explained to Parker.

"I'll be fine. Just got a little roughed up is all. I don't really care for hospitals anyway," the hitter tried to assure her, wincing as he tried to sit up.

"You do know that I can tell when you're lying to me, right?" she asked, turning to face the hitter. Her hands reached out tentatively and found his, and immediately began working upwards, ghosting them over his skin.

"Sorry I didn't answer your call. I didn't mean to make you worry," he admitted as he struggled to hold in the groans from the pain.

"I could care less about you not answering my calls at the moment Eliot," she huffed, as she continued her search. "And I'm way past worrying at this moment." When she got to his shoulder, he hissed in pain at the exact moment she discovered blood and her eyes widened. "Were you shot?!" she exclaimed in disbelief.

"Ally…"

Parker interrupted. "The fourth guy played dirty, he pulled a gun after Eliot kicked his…"

"Fourth?! Four guys attacked you!?"

"Actually it was six, but…"

"Parker, you're not helpin'," the hitter growled out. "Go get the first aid kit in the bathroom."

Her worry only increased however, as her exploratory touches moved across his collarbone and down his side, revealing torn clothing and more blood. "Is that a stab wound?!" she asked, panic now lacing her tone.

"Yeah…" he sighed, knowing there was no way she would believe otherwise.

"Alright, I have no idea why you lie about what you do, or if why you won't go to the hospital has anything to do with that, but I do know that you should be examined by a doctor Eliot."

"He doesn't really care for hospitals sweetie," Sophie tried to explain.

"Yeah, our man's very stubborn," Hardison added, ignoring the glare Eliot sent him.

Nate tried to assure her. "He'll be fine Ally. He's pretty good at patching himself up."

But Ally wasn't paying any attention to them anymore, as she made her way over to the kitchen sink to wash her hands. Once she was finished, she pulled out her cell phone and spoke into it. "Call Leslie Darras". The team looked at each other, before listening back in on the conversation. "Hello, Leslie? This is Allyson. I'm doing well, thank you. How is Kevin doing? That's good to hear. I have a delicate situation and I was hoping you would be willing to make a house call. Discretion is of importance. I can pay your usual fee," she said, to which Eliot tried to interrupt, only earning a hand stopping motion from the red head. "John McRory's bar and grill. Second floor, apartment 2A, elevators are in the back. Fifteen minutes? Thank you Leslie, I'll see you then," she said before hanging up.

"Who was that?" Nate asked.

"A good friend of mine. She used to be an ER doctor, but became an on call physician when her son Kevin was born blind, so she could spend more time caring for him. Her son goes to my school."

"Your school?" Parker asked in confusion.

"I told you I don't need a doctor Ally," Eliot argued, taking the antiseptic wipes Parker offered him from the kit.

"I know what you said, and I respect your decision not to go to the hospital. Which is why I have a doctor coming to you," she retorted. "And just because you can patch yourself up, doesn't mean that you should have to. I could use a spot of tea. Sophie, would you assist me?" she asked, as Eliot stared in silent exasperation at his friend.

A varied range of amused expressions could be found on all but Eliot's face as they witnessed this slip of a woman put one over on their hitter.

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Leslie Darras was a statuesque woman of Egyptian descent, in her late thirties with an openly friendly oval face. The dark wash jeans, casual gold blouse and flats suggested that she had been called on a day off, but the way she carried herself and the sharp gaze that her chocolate eyes examined the hitter's injuries with, dissolved any notion one would have that she was anything less than confident in her ability or lacking of professionalism.

"Mr. Spencer, as this is a house call away from any machines that might be used in an ER setting, I need you to tell me as best as possible what type of damage that was inflicted. The bullet graze to your shoulder and knife wound to your side are obvious, but as it is apparent you were in a major fight, I need to know where you were hit and by what."

The team went silent as their gazes flitted between each other, the doctor and Ally.

"I can assure you my utmost discretion. My only concern is to treat your injuries to the best of my ability," she tried to assure him.

"It's not you Leslie, it's me," Ally spoke up sadly. "I'll wait in the hall," she offered, already standing and extending her cane.

"No…" Eliot barked out, grasping her arm, resulting in a murmured curse word from the pain the movement caused. "You don't have to go," he assured her, sitting back and throwing a glare at the disbelieving looks from his team. Ally nodded as she retook her seat near him.

"I took several heavy punches and kicks to my ribs, a couple punches to my face, a kick to my left knee and I was hit across the head with the butt of a gun. And well, the bullet and knife wounds are obvious," he concluded, turning his head to find Ally looking at him horrified with tears in her eyes.

Dr. Darras simply took a pair of latex gloves out of her bag and began with the knife wound, cleaning it out and then stitching it up expertly, before repeating the same steps with the gun wound. She then prodded gently around his scalp, earning a curse when she found the lump left by the gun hit, before shining a light in his eyes that he followed with no problems. He breathed for her as she listened closely around his lungs, after having explored them with gentle pressure, assessing any damage, and then wrapped them tight. The open cuts on his face were examined and cleaned before she moved on.

"I need to examine your knee."

He nodded and ripped his jeans, exposing it for her to examine.

"Are you able to put weight on it?"

"Yeah, I have full movement. Just hurts a little," he admitted.

She nodded, and after a few moments of prodding and moving his leg in different ways, she took off her latex gloves and began putting her equipment away.

"As a doctor, I must inform you that I strongly suggest getting x-rays on your lungs and an MRI for your head. I didn't hear any fluid in your lungs, but that head wound is pretty serious." She sighed. "But as I was called here, it's obvious that going to hospital is not an option for some reason. If your breathing becomes shallow or abnormal, or if you experience a rapid heart rate or chest pain that lasts for longer than a few minutes, it's an indication of a puncture lung. At which time you need to get to a hospital. Same goes for your head, any nausea, vomiting, changes in your vision or difficulty speaking, those are all symptoms of bleeding. Your knee isn't inflamed and shows no signs of major damage, but if the pain or movement worsens, it will need to be examined further. I'll prescribe you some pain medication and antibiotics for possible infection…"

"No pain meds," he stated gruffly.

Her brows arched. "Alright, just the antibiotics then," she stated, pulling some paperwork out of her bag. "This is an AMA form, it states that you waive your right to a hospital as advised by your attending physician, absolving me from fault should your symptoms worsen." She handed him a pen as well, and wrote out his prescription. "You need to have someone with you for the next twelve hours. After that, someone should check in on you for the next twenty four hours."

"There's no need…"

"I'll make sure of it Leslie," Ally stated, stopping the hitter.

Doctor Darras handed Eliot the prescription and took her pen and the signed paper, packed everything up, then turned to give Allyson a hug before leaving and closing the door behind her.

"Where is the nearest pharmacy?" Ally asked suddenly.

"Ally you don't have to…" Eliot began, only to be interrupted by a smiling Hardison.

"There's one around the corner. Parker and I will go get it filled," he declared, snatching the prescription from the growling hitter's hand almost giddily.

"It's almost seven o'clock. I'll order some food from that Italian restaurant we like and have it delivered. Do you want your usual order Alyson?" Sophie asked.

"That sounds great," the red head replied. "I haven't eaten since this morning."

"Lovely. Nate and I will head downstairs and wait in the bar for the food," she stated, taking his arm and leading him out the door.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

"Not very subtle are they," Eliot gruffed.

"They mean well," she smiled. "It does lessen my embarrassment though."

"Why would you be embarrassed?"

"Apologizing is usually an embarrassing situation; at least for the person doing so."

Eliot sighed. "Ally, you don't have to…"

"Yes I do. It was rude and intrusive for me to push you to share something that you obviously aren't comfortable sharing. I just get…carried away sometimes. It's no excuse, I know, but I get so eager to know my friends better that I just push and push until I reach their breaking point. You'll have to ask Olive one day how many times we've gotten into arguments over that very thing," she grinned.

"Then I should apologize too," he countered.

"Why is that?"

"I did the exact same thing. I felt cornered and handled it badly. I forced you into sharing something that causes you pain. I don't like hurtin' my friends. Well….Hardison on occasion…" he trailed off with a smirk.

A faint smile ghosted across her features before disappearing. "You only spoke the truth. I do purposely keep myself busy so I don't have to deal with reality. I've done it since my mom died." She paused before continuing. "I heard Alec say you were distracted. Were you injured because of our fight?" she asked softly.

"Don't do that," Eliot immediately replied. "You are not gonna blame yourself for my lack of concentration."

"But if we hadn't argued…"

"I'm a grown man, and as a professional I know better than to let my personal life interfere with my job. That's on me. Now what have you been up to?" he asked, telling her that the subject was not open for further argument.

"A few days after our… quarrel, I told my dad about my school, the clinic, all the organizations I'm a part of…everything."

"That's good. How'd it go?"

"He was sad that I had hidden it from him, but he was also happy. Apparently he had been worried that his over protectiveness had kept me from finding things that made me happy. That I was keeping myself from doing anything truly productive with my life; which was the main reason he kept pushing me to work for the company. Then I told him I was quitting and moving out."

Eliot was surprised by this information.

"Needless to say, it did not go well, we got into a big fight. The first we've ever really had. He blamed you for putting ideas into my head, but I told him that it was my choice. I explained how my decisions have been motivated by my guilt. And then I told him about what happened the day of the accident."

"And?"

"And he hugged me and told me how he wished I would have confessed years ago so he could have told me sooner that there was no blame on my part."

"He's right."

"Maybe…but she also wouldn't have been driving on an icy road if I hadn't pushed her to take me," she whispered.

Eliot was at a loss on how to comfort her; he couldn't make her see what was obvious to him and now her dad.

"My dad suggested that maybe talking to someone objective would help me come to terms with things; a therapist for example."

"Sounds like a good idea," he agreed.

"I thought so as well….after a couple of days. I already have an appointment scheduled for next week."

"So you're gettin' your own place?"

"Yes. Daddy is definitely not thrilled about it, but we came to a compromise."

"What kind of compromise?"

"That I call him every other day and agree to Felicia working for me three days a week, to clean and help with anything else I might need," she chuckled softly.

Considering how protective he had come to know Patrick to be, the terms were actually reasonable.

He glanced at her fidgeting hands. "Why are you so nervous?"

"How do you…" she sighed. "I've never lived alone before. It's scary," she admitted.

"You'll be fine," he promised. "Your dad will be nearby and I'm sure Kieran and Josh will come if you need them. Then there's me and the team. You can call us if you need anything."

"Thank you. I was actually going to talk to you about something."

"What's that?"

"I found a place. Uncle Nate helped me do research to make sure the area was safe enough."

"That was quick."

"Tell a realtor that you have cash ready and it's amazing how fast they can work," she grinned.

"What do you need?"

"The apartment won't be ready for another two weeks. Alec has already volunteered to install what he claims to be a 'kick ass' security system, and Sophie agreed, quite eagerly I may add, to assist me with decorating and furniture shopping. I was hoping you would help supervise the furniture delivery. I don't feel…comfortable alone with strangers."

"Shouldn't be a problem; I don't see Nate takin' on any new..." he stopped himself out of habit before finishing the sentence.

Her face closed off of any emotion. "Like I mentioned, it won't be for another two weeks. It should give you some time to recover a bit more," she assured him.

"Ally, look…"

"Have no fear, your medicine is here!" Hardison declared, busting through the front door.

"Now you won't die of a knife or gun disease," Parker added, making Eliot close his eyes and sigh.

"There's no such thing as knife or gun disease," he told her calmly.

"Then why would the doctor give you antibiotics?"

"So I won't get an infection."

"From bacteria, right?"

"Yes," the hitter drawled out slowly.

"That could have been on the knife or gun?"

"Yes Parker, there could have been bacteria on the knife or gun," he agreed.

"And bacteria cause disease."

Eliot closed his eyes. He now had a headache. "Yes Parker," he growled out.

"So knife or gun disease," she concluded, perching on the back of the couch facing them. The hacker couldn't stop grinning.

He could have sworn he heard Ally giggle.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

When Eliot woke up, it was dark, and his alarm told him it was two am. He tried to shift his position to get more comfortable, but realized that something or someone was holding his hand.

Ally had stayed.

He couldn't see her face as it was covered by her hair, but judging by her breathing, she had fallen asleep on the edge of his bed, propping her head on her arm. It had been a long time since someone had stayed by his bedside for so long when he was injured.

By the time they had finished dinner earlier, it was already nine in the evening. Before Eliot could even drum up an argument, Hardison had offered to take him home, Ally in tow to watch over him.

He had missed her easy smile that had the ability to make him grin no matter how shitty his day had been. The way she always made him feel like listening to his venting was the most important thing to her, soothing his frayed nerves without even trying, and making him forget for a short while why he was angry all the time. But more importantly, he had simply missed…..her.

Knowing that there was no way that she could be comfortable in the position she was in, he pulled back the sheets, slowly reached over, hooked his hands under her arms, and ignoring the pain from his ribs, carefully pulled her up to lie on the bed next to him.

"Eliot?" she asked sleepily. "What are you doing?"

"You'll be more comfortable on the bed. Go back to sleep," he told her softly.

"Need to be more careful with your ribs," she murmured, "What's two plus two?" she asked him, already drifting back to sleep.

It warmed him deeply that even asleep, she was still concerned about his wellbeing. "I'll be fine. And the answer is four."

And then before his eyes could drift close, she turned on her side and curled against him. "I missed you," she whispered, so softly he almost missed it.

Without even thinking, he stretched his arm under her head and pulled her closer. "I missed you too sweetheart." And then quickly fell to sleep.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The first thing Eliot noticed when he woke up the next morning was that Ally was missing. He only had to wonder for a moment where she was, when he heard an Irish lilt hiss out what suspiciously sounded like a cuss word from his kitchen. It was mildly surprising considering he had never heard her do so before and didn't think she knew how.

Not even bothering with a shirt, he slowly sat up and ran his hands through his hair before carefully standing up and making his way towards the smell of eggs. Only to stop short in the doorway and hold back a laugh as he watched Ally on her tip toes, trying to reach the top shelf of one of his cabinets for glasses.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered. "I know he can't be much taller than me. Why are they so damn far up?" By this point, Eliot had silently made his way to her.

"I'll get them," he offered, enjoying her startled jump as he reached around her for two glasses.

"How are you and Parker so quiet?" she asked in frustration, as he hissed in pain. "You shouldn't be putting strain on your ribs like that," she admonished worriedly.

"I think I'll live," he chuffed, taking a look at the scrambled eggs on the stove, the small bowl of mixed fruit on the counter, and buttered toast on a plate already on the table. "How long have you been at this?"

"What time is it?"

"Seven thirty."

"Almost an hour then. Spent the first twenty minutes maybe, familiarizing myself with your kitchen. It's nothing fancy, and I didn't season anything because…well…you don't use braille labels," she finished with a sheepish grin.

"This is plenty. You didn't even need to do this," he told her as he opened the fridge.

"We had to eat. And you need to take it easy. So I cooked," she explained simply, as she began loading two plates with food.

Eliot shook his head. "Orange, Apple or Milk?"

"Orange," she answered. "Napkins?"

"I'll get them," he answered, reaching around her for them.

Without even trying, they flowed around each other perfectly as if they had been performing the routine of preparing breakfast together for years. It wasn't until they were sitting at the table that Eliot realized the last time he had sat down and ate breakfast with a woman was with his mom before she had died ten years ago.

What was it about her that made things seem so damn effortless?

"So…what would you like to do today?" she asked in between bites of fruit.

His expression turned to irritation. "I don't need you to stay here." It ended up sounding harsher than he had intended.

"Oh…okay. I could call Alec or Parker to come check on you instead."

The words and hurt in her tone gave him a start. She thought he didn't want her there.

"It's not you. I just don't like feelin' like I'm bein' babysat."

"Everyone needs help every once in a while Eliot."

He was silent for a moment. "Don't offer to help me in the bathroom and don't fluff any pillows I'm sitting against and we're good."

She chuckled softly, "I can do that. Or not do that," she grinned. "So….movies?" she suggested, as if nothing had happened.

He really had missed her.

"Have you ever done any gardening?"

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"So you dance," he commented casually, picking a cucumber and placing it in his basket.

"I don't," she answered quickly. "At least, not since the accident," she finished quietly.

He didn't need to ask why.

"So why dancing?"

A soft smile touched her lips. "For my sixth birthday, my mom and dad took me to see Swan Lake. I was entranced. The dancers were so graceful and elegant. Their movements were an extension of themselves, the way they spun and flowed with the music. I wanted to be like them."

"Were you good at it?"

"According to my instructor I was. I would hear her telling my mother that with serious practice she could easily see me having a career in ballet if that was what I wanted."

"You should start again."

An amused chuckled escaped her lips. "Yes, with my lack of vision and balance I imagine that would go over very well."

"That's no excuse," he argued. "You have good spatial recognition, which would allow you to easily familiarize yourself with any dancing area, and your balance could be improved with practice."

"I don't know….maybe someday. Have I picked enough tomatoes" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, that should be enough for now. You ever made margarita chicken wings?"

"No, why?"

"I thought you could help me make it for dinner. If we get the chicken marinating now, it should be ready to cook by seven."

"Alright," she agreed. "It's not quite lunch yet. Are you interested in a game or movie? I could make us something to eat afterwards."

"I can put us together some sandwiches."

Her eyes widened in excitement. "Really? That would be…Oh, but you've already exerted yourself far more than you should."

"I'm fine."

"You have a cracked rib, a moderate concussion, and two wounds with stitches. Not to mention that your breathing has been strained for the last fifteen minutes; so no, you are not fine."

There was that warm feeling again.

He didn't even bother asking how she recognized the pained sounds he was making, he was fully aware of how observant she was. "How about I sit at the table and give you directions?"

He smirked as she brightened again, "Deal. It's been too long since I've had a Spencer Special," she declared as she stood and waited for him.

"I made you one three weeks ago," he replied in amusement as he slowly stood.

"Exactly, much too long." she said, taking his arm and heading back towards the stairway.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"What do you mean how do you eat them? Haven't you ever had wings before?"

"Well obviously not; otherwise I wouldn't be asking you how to eat them," she retorted, her cheeks coloring in embarrassment.

"Just eat them with your hands like fried chicken," he told her, watching as her expression turned more sheepish. "You've never had fried chicken?" he concluded in disbelief.

"My mom was a health nut and daddy doesn't eat fried foods, so…" At his silence she looked toward him with a smile. "Why do you think there are so many 'junk' foods on my list? So this will be messy then?" she quipped, picking up a wing.

"Some of the best things are," he smirked, digging in to his own plate.

Ally all but moaned as she took her first bite. "This is absolutely delicious."

He wondered if he realized how provocative she sounded when she ate something she enjoyed.

"I'm glad you like it. So, about not knowing anything about me," he began.

"Eliot, I already told you that you don't have to tell me anything if you're not comfortable."

"I like to read poetry," he admitted, taking a drink of his beer.

The wing froze halfway to her mouth for a brief second before she recovered. "Do you have a favorite poet or poem?"

"Tennyson's The Charge of the Light Brigade."

"Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns!' he said.

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred."

He shouldn't have been surprised that she knew the poem. "So you like poetry too?"

She smiled. "Have you not seen the book shelves at my apartment? Well, my dad's apartment. Tennyson made wonderful use of imagery, I love Summer Night. But in the end, I'm partial to Dickenson myself."

"Do you have a favorite?"

""Hope" is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –

And sore must be the storm –

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm –

I've heard it in the chillest land –

And on the strangest Sea –

Yet – never – in Extremity,

It asked a crumb – of me."

"That's a good one," he agreed. "One of her best."

"I love how it speaks about…" she began to explain, only to be interrupted by her phone. "Hello?" Eliot knew who it was immediately by her smile. "Well hello sweetheart, this is a pleasant surprise. Yes, I know, no nicknames, my apologies." Eliot's brow furrowed as he continued to eat, trying to give her some semblance of privacy. "Yes, I stayed the night here…" Her voice lowered, "I've told you that you have nothing to worry about. I did try to call you, but you didn't answer, I left you a message. We're having dinner at the moment. He's injured Josh, he required someone to watch over him during the night. Can we please discuss this later? Alright, I love you."

"Everything alright?"

"It will be," she assured him. "Josh is just being overprotective as usual."

They finished their dinner, the conversation flowing back to Eliot's revelation of his love of poetry at the age of twenty. And once the dishes were cleaned and put away, they moved into the living room, drinks in hand, continuing their conversation until her watch told her it was nine o'clock.

"Well, that marks the twenty four hour mark," she told him, turning the alarm off. "I believe I've forced myself on you long enough," she grinned.

"You're hardly the worst person I can think of to spend time with," he teased.

Ally chuckled. "Well that's good to know. Roger should be here to pick me up shortly, if he's not already down there waiting," she told him, standing up and making her way over to her purse and cane.

"I'll walk you down," he offered, standing up and making his way to the door.

"You don't have to do that Eliot. Besides, it would contradict your need to take it easy, wouldn't it?"

He already had his hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the apartment. "Takin' an elevator two floors down is hardly gonna injure me any more than I already am," he concluded.

"There you are!" a familiar voice exclaimed as they walked out the front door of the building. "Much longer and I was going to call you to see what was taking you so long."

Her brows furrowed. "Josh? What are you doing here? How did you even know the address?"

"I don't see you for two days and the first thing you say when you see me is what am I doing here? Some welcome," he joked, even though Eliot could hear the forced tone. "And I called the car company to find out the address they sent your driver to. I've already sent him off so I could give you a ride home," he told her, pulling her away from Eliot's side.

"You called the car company to track me down?" she repeated, her voice eerily calm. "I told you we would talk later, this is not alright Josh."

"A guy can't surprise his girlfriend? I thought we would grab a quick bite to eat."

"I told you on the phone that we were eating dinner."

"Dessert then…I know a quaint little…"

"I'm not in the mood for dessert Josh."

Eliot gave the blonde a dark look before turning his attention back to Ally. "I can call you a cab," he offered.

Her head jerked toward him and her eyes widened. "No! That's not…that's not necessary."

"Now listen here," Josh began, only to be stopped by Ally's hand on his arm.

"Could you wait by the car? I'll be right there."

"Allyson, I don't know what's gotten into you, or why you're acting like you are, but I did not come out to…." he looked up and down the street in distaste, "this part of town just to have you treat me so rudely."

"Josh, please…I'll be there shortly, then you can take me home and we'll talk."

He seemed to deliberate in his head for a moment, looking between her and the hitter, before turning and walking towards his Porsche.

"I could call Hardison," Eliot offered, trying to give her another option.

She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "There's no need for that. If you start experiencing any of the symptoms Leslie mentioned, promise me you'll call Alec or Uncle Nate."

"I don't need…"

"I understand that it's your job in the group to be the one that protects everyone else," she began. "But the others care about you too much to think any less of you, or believe that you would be any less apt at your job if you asked them for help."

He felt like he had been struck.

"Promise me?"

"Okay. I promise," he found himself answering.

"That's a relief," she smiled, squeezing his arm before letting go. "I'll give you a call tomorrow to see how you're feeling," she told him, before turning and walking toward the car door Josh held open for her.

The blonde and he shared a look before the younger man smirked and got behind the wheel and drove away.

"No one would ever know," he muttered darkly as he walked back in the building.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The poems aren't mine either.