Thank you to everyone for reading, and to all those who left such nice reviews! And a special shoutout to quirkapotamus, who helped to make the Eliot/Hardison conversation much more believable and satisfying. Enjoy!

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Chapter 10

When Eliot arrived at Vittori's campaign headquarters the next morning, Nate was waiting.

"Well? Where is he? You said he was coming back with you."

"He had to take care of some things first," Eliot said. "He'll be here later this morning."

"All right," Nate said. "Go see Parker and Hardison. I need you guys to start on those other plans."

Eliot entered the back room he and Nate had spoken in yesterday. Hardison had turned it into a full-blown election center, with screens showing local news stations, poll numbers, and who knows what else. Hardison was sitting at the conference table and Parker was standing, but they were deep in discussion over something.

"I told you, Parker, her name is Gigabyte, since she's a thousand times cuter than my dog Megabyte," Hardison was saying. Then he cooed in a baby voice, "Isn't that right? You're so adorable. Yes you are!"

Eliot heard a bark, and Parker said, "No, you can't name her, because she already has a name. It's Sparky." Another bark. "See, she likes it!"

"What the hell is going on?" Eliot said as he walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

Parker skipped over to him, carrying a brown-black puppy. "Here," she said. "This is Sparky —"

"Gigabyte!" Hardison interjected.

"Sparky," Parker continued. "And you have to take her with you to do the news story."

"A news story? With a puppy? What the …?" Eliot asked, perplexed.

"Yup," Parker chirped. "Hardison has a script. It's about dog-fighting in the courtyard of the presidential palace, and you get to talk about Sparky here." She tried to shove the puppy into Eliot's hands, but he wouldn't take it.

"Why do I have to do it? You like her, you do the story."

"Sophie says it has to be you because hot men with puppies attract more attention," Parker said matter-of-factly, placing the puppy on the floor.

"W-what?"

Hardison chuckled.

"Yeah." Parker became suddenly animated, using different voices for Nate and Sophie in the conversation. "Yeah, Sophie said, 'If Eliot does it, more people will watch, because women love hot men holding puppies,' and Nate was like, 'Really? Eliot? I didn't think you were into that sort of thing.' And Sophie said, 'What sort of thing, Nate? Eliot is objectively a very attractive man,' and Nate said, 'You know, like muscles and that Southern gentleman crap,' and Sophie got all huffy and said, 'Nate, I am attracted to all different types of men, and just because you —'"

"T-that's enough, Parker," Eliot stuttered, eyes wide with horror. He did not need to be hearing how that conversation finished.

Hardison, hard at work typing on his laptop, said bitterly, "Yeah, Parker, I don't really think Eliot needs to hear how attractive he is. I'm sure he hears about it all the time."

Eliot opened his mouth to say something snarky to the hacker, but changed his mind. Hardison was still upset with him about the pool — and he had every right to be — and Eliot needed to be making things right, not aggravating the situation.

Parker said, "Uh, I think Sparky needs to go outside ..."

"Gigabyte," Hardison corrected without looking up from his laptop. "And what makes you say that?"

"Because she's starting to poop on the floor."

"Dammit, Parker, take it outside!" Eliot yelled, and Hardison said, "That's nasty! Woman, take her out to do her business!"

Parker scooped the puppy into her arms and jumped out the window.

"Wha — Parker!" Eliot said, running to the window. Just as he got there, he heard Hardison say, "There's a fire escape there. That's how she came in."

"That girl is crazy!" Eliot said. "Normal people use doors, not windows!" He turned to Hardison, expecting the hacker to agree with him, as he usually did when Parker did something particularly Parker-ish, but Hardison didn't say anything. He just kept typing.

Eliot sighed. If you're waiting for the right moment, Spencer, now's the time. He walked over to where Hardison was sitting and watched him, trying to figure out how to start.

"Hey, Hardison, listen ..."

"Eliot," Hardison said coolly, "I have a lot of work to do, so I don't really have time to talk. Like, at all. And I think you have women to woo by holding a puppy on national television, so ..."

Eliot closed the laptop. Hardison yelped and jerked his hands away. All the screens went off.

"What the hell, man? I got a lot of stuff to finish before the debate tonight —"

"Hardison, we need to talk." Eliot's heart was pounding.

Hardison sat back in his chair, arms folded, and said, "Fine. Talk. I don't have anything to say."

Eliot looked at him. Hardison's eyes were bright with anger, and Eliot flinched inside. He stared at the hacker. He had no idea what to say.

Hardison rolled his eyes and went to open his laptop. "Right, great talk, there, man. Glad you showed up."

But Eliot kept his hand on the computer. "I ... "

He couldn't say anything. He didn't know how.

Hardison met Eliot's gaze and wouldn't look away. His eyes grew wider and angrier the longer the silence stretched on, until he looked like he was going to explode.

Then he did.

"Are you fucking serious?" Hardison yelled. He stood up so quickly his chair flipped backwards. "You can't say it, can you? You seriously have nothing to say?"

Eliot's eyes widened momentarily, but then narrowed as his brow furrowed into a deep scowl. His fists clenched; so did his jaw.

"Dammit, Hardison," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm trying …"

"No — dammit, Eliot! You're trying to what? Hmm? You can't even say the word!"

"Apologize!" Eliot snapped. "I'm trying to fucking apologize!"

"Then do it. I'm waiting." Hardison stood with arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

Eliot took a deep breath. "Hardison, I — At the hotel, with Moreau ... You need to understand that I would never have let anything happen to you."

"Wha — I'm sorry, I need to understand? Are you fucking kidding me? No, I do not understand! My best friend led me into the lion's den knowing full well what we'd be up against. He stood by and watched as his former BFF boss pushed me, handcuffed to a chair, into a pool. He didn't even flinch. And when I got out, he hadn't moved! Just made that deal with Moreau like it was nothing! I almost died, Eliot. I had to suck the air out of the chair because you didn't try to save me! So don't tell me that you would never let anything happen to me, because you did!"

A strong wave of nausea washed over Eliot, nearly making him double over. He had always prided himself in one thing: his loyalty to his friends. When he let Hardison struggle at the bottom of the pool, he hadn't just conned Moreau … he had betrayed his best friend. And he hadn't even explained himself. Hardison had no idea the agony Eliot had been in, hearing him splash in panic; how Eliot had counted the seconds, had known exactly how much air Hardison had left, had been prepared to sacrifice himself and the whole damned con to dive into the pool if Moreau's negotiation went one second too long … Why in the hell hadn't he told him that?

"Hardison —"

"When we got in the elevator, you said, 'Stick close to me. This might get messy.'" Hardison said quietly. "Did you know what Moreau would do?"

Eliot looked away. This was the hard part. "Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not exactly what, but ... yes. That's how he does things."

"You're a bastard," Hardison spat, and Eliot flinched. He'd never heard such hate in the hacker's voice.

"Hardison, I didn't have a choice. We had to figure out a way to get into the auction. I knew what Moreau might do, but there was no other way. If I had dived in after you, Moreau would have known something was up, and the con would have been blown."

"Which con? The con on Moreau or the con on us?" Hardison asked. "You're a lot of things, Eliot, but I never expected you to be a fucking hypocrite."

"What?! Hardison, I —"

"You what? You act all high and mighty and get angry when Sophie cons the team to get the Davids. Then, a year later, Nate does the same thing and ends up in prison, and you're pissed at him, too. And now you have the balls to lie to us about your past and walk me into a situation, to risk my life, without telling us the dangers? You're worse than either Nate or Sophie. We could have all been killed."

"We could have all been killed the second that Italian bitch made us start going after Moreau!" Eliot nearly shouted. Hardison jumped back. "There was a difference between what Sophie did and what I did. I was trying to protect the team! I was trying to figure out a way where we didn't have to take down Moreau! Moreau shreds anything and everything that comes into his path! It's my job to make sure the team stays safe, and that's what I was trying to do!"

"Well you sure have a funny way of keeping us safe, taking me in there like that."

"What in the hell was I supposed to do, Hardison? The deadline had moved up, we had to hit Moreau that day. I did the best I could — I used my past with Moreau to get us into the room with him. I needed a client, and he needed to think that you were just a client. You heard him. He said, 'You work alone'. That's what he knew about me. If he had even an inkling that something was different, that I wasn't who or what I said, we were both dead. And then he would have gone after the team. And then he would have sold the bomb to the highest bidder and thousands or maybe millions of people would have died. I was not about to let that happen."

He continued more softly. "Hardison, I would never have let you drown. I need you to believe that. I knew exactly how much air you had left, how many seconds I had to talk with Moreau. And if I couldn't get it done, I was going to dive in and get you, Moreau be damned. I would have gotten you out of there if it was the last thing I did."

He dropped his gaze and murmured, "And it probably would have been."

Eliot couldn't decipher the look in Hardison's eyes, but he seemed to be processing what he'd heard. After what seemed like an eternity, Hardison asked, "Why didn't you just tell us?"

That was the hardest question to answer, because Eliot didn't have one. "I don't know ..."

"Bullshit," Hardison said. "You made a choice not to tell us. Why?"

"Because I didn't know how!" Eliot snapped. He looked at the floor and whispered, "I thought if I could figure out a way around it, maybe I wouldn't have to."

Hardison sighed. "Eliot, did you really think we didn't know? You hurt people for a living. You used to be a bad guy. Guns and knives and fighting stances are very distinctive to you. It's not rocket science to put two and two together."

Eliot's fists clenched. "No, Hardison, you don't know. You have no idea the things that I've done… the things that I did for —"

"You used to torture and kill people for money. Am I close?"

Eliot flinched at Hardison's words, and not just because of the brusqueness with which they were said. They stung because Hardison was more than just close. He nailed it. Eliot shut his eyes, and he kept them closed. He couldn't look at his friend.

"E," Hardison said softly, "Sophie's right. You don't have to tell us what you've done. Hell, I don't want to know. But don't think for a second that we're naive enough to believe that you were a fucking Boy Scout. You just told me that you knew exactly how much air I had left. Lemme guess — it's because you've done that sort of thing before? Probably for Moreau?"

Eliot turned away, his eyes still closed. That and much, much worse.

"Eliot." The hacker touched his arm, and he flinched violently.

"Eliot." Hardison's voice was gentle. "What hurts the most is that you didn't trust us. Did you honestly think it would change anything?"

Eliot didn't answer. He couldn't. If he said it out loud, he'd be admitting that it was true.

Hardison sighed. "You really are an idiot, man." His voice sounded annoyed, almost normal.

Surprised, Eliot turned to look at him. Hardison was smirking.

"You just mentioned that Moreau said, 'You work alone.' But you neglected to mention what you said in response. I remember. You said, 'Things change.' Well you know what, they do. You don't work alone anymore, man. We're a team." He paused. "We're a little more than a team," he added, almost to himself. "And if you think that anything from your past could change that, then you're an idiot. I get that you didn't want to tell us what you used to do, or give us the details. But you should have told us about Moreau. We would have been more prepared, and so would you."

Eliot didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He knew Hardison would talk again to fill the void.

And it only took a few seconds. "E, you have saved my life I don't know how many times. More than twice, that's for damned sure." He chuckled. "And you're a good person. I've seen you. Not just with the team, but with other, normal people. And with kids." He paused. "Don't think I haven't seen you interact with kids on our jobs. Remember that hospital job? I know you stepped in to make sure that kid wasn't gonna be abused anymore. And the little girl who was arrested for smuggling artifacts for Keller? You talked to her in some foreign language and made her smile." He grinned. "That's the Eliot Spencer I know. That's the Eliot Spencer that got handcuffed to me in the woods and kept us alive. That's my best friend, and I honestly don't give a damn what he used to do, because he's not that man anymore."

The warmth that Eliot had felt during Hardison's speech turned to ice as Hardison spoke the last phrase. I am still that man.

"Hardison," he choked, voice filled with emotion. He needed to tell someone, and maybe Hardison would understand ...

All of a sudden Hardison embraced him, tightly. Eliot shut his eyes and let his head fall onto Hardison's shoulder as he hugged his friend back. It had a calming effect; his breathing steadied and his heartbeat slowed. The icy feeling thawed, and he relaxed. He didn't ruin it by telling Hardison about the warehouse. That could wait. He just let himself be held by his friend.

"Okay, this is the longest you've ever let me hug you, man," Hardison said as he pulled away. "I'm gonna stop before you realize what's happening."

Eliot smiled at his friend. Then he looked him in the eyes again and said, "I'm sorry, Hardison. I should have told you all before we went to D.C. I'm —"

"I think maybe you should stop," Hardison grinned, holding up a hand. "I only get a few Spencer apologies each decade, and I don't want you using them all up at once." He paused, then he said seriously, "There's just one more question I have: why me?"

"What?"

"You chose to take me to the hotel with you. Why? Why not Parker or Sophie or even Nate? We all know I'm a terrible grifter." He smirked.

Eliot paused. He owed Hardison the truth. "It couldn't be Nate for obvious reasons. And Parker and Sophie ..." He felt the bile rise in his throat. "Moreau and his men treat women ... differently. You they threw into the pool ... I wasn't sure what they'd do to Parker or Sophie, but I sure as hell didn't want to find out."

Hardison's eyes widened in horrified understanding. After a pause, he said, "If you had told me that from the beginning, I would have gladly almost drowned in that pool."

Eliot smiled sadly. "Yes, you would have." You're a good person, Hardison. "But I didn't want you to have to worry about that. Better to be pissed at me than imagine ... that."

Hardison gave a small smile, but it suddenly faded as he righted his chair and sat back down. He fiddled with his hands, as if he was trying to figure something out.

"Eliot," he whispered. His eyes were filled with a fear that ripped Eliot's heart in two. "What — What'll Moreau do, if we fail?"

Eliot gripped the table so hard his knuckles turned white. That was exactly the thing he'd been trying not to think about since they'd arrived in San Lorenzo.

"Nothing," he rasped, "Because we won't fail. And even if we do ... I'd never let that happen … I'd never let him …"I'd kill you before he could do anything. And it would be the last thing I ever did. The bile rose in his throat at the thought, and he felt tears sting his eyes. He had to take several seconds to regain control. "I know you probably still don't trust me right now, but believe me when I tell you I will never let Moreau touch any of you."

"Any of us, Eliot," Hardison corrected softly.

No, any of you.

He smiled and said, "Exactly. High five. For morale."

Hardison smirked and they high-fived, just as Parker climbed through the window again, holding the puppy.

"Oh good," she said. "Are you guys better now? Because I waited outside for like half an hour, but Sparky was getting tired of it, so that's why I came back."

Hardison smiled. "Yeah, Mama, we're good. Though you didn't have to wait outside, you could've —"

"Man, I'm starving!" Parker said, ignoring Hardison's comments. She shoved Sparky/Gigabyte into Eliot's hands and said, "I really want some pretzels."

Hardison started to say something, but he didn't get the chance before she said, "I'm gonna go get some. See you guys later," and skipped out the window again.

Hardison frowned. "Okay, wrong pretzels."

Eliot shuddered, thinking of the balcony. "Come up with a better code word, all right? I don't think I'll be able to eat pretzels again without thinking of your kinky ..." He shuddered again.

Hardison cocked an eyebrow. "Kinky ... ? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I heard you guys on the balcony the other night, talking about being out of breath and motion sensors and wiggling..."

The hacker's jaw dropped. "What the hell, man? You shouldn't have been eavesdropping —"

His eyes suddenly grew wide as he took in the rest of what Eliot had said. "Wait, you thought ... ?" Eliot could have sworn the hacker actually blushed. Hardison looked sheepish and said, "Nah, we didn't ... we haven't ..."

For a second Eliot saw Pete sitting there, talking about Sarah; a second later Hardison was back, stuttering and not meeting Eliot's eyes.

"If you haven't ... then what the hell does pretzels mean?" Eliot asked.

Hardison sighed. "You're gonna think it's stupid ..."

"Hardison, I'm holding a puppy right now, and soon I'm gonna be on national television with it. Stupid is pretty relative."

Hardison chuckled awkwardly. "Well, remember that job we did at the pharmaceutical company?"

"The client who literally ran into us on the street?" Eliot said. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, she was, you know ..."

"Flirting with you like crazy? Yeah, I noticed." Eliot smirked.

"Really? Oh ... yeah, well apparently Parker wasn't too happy about that, and she —"

"Got insanely jealous? Yeah, caught that, too." Eliot's smirk grew wider.

"Jeez, really? Was it that obvious? Man, why didn't you say anything?"

"Why would I? It's none of my damned business. Plus, Sophie's usually got that crap more than covered."

Hardison rolled his eyes. "Yeah, she did with this, too. Parker had apparently been talking to her and when I came up she did her way-too-obvious-for-a-professional-grifter exit. I asked Parker what was wrong, and she told me she was starting to have feelings for ... pretzels, because there was a bowl in front of us on the bar. So I told her, 'They're here, when you're ready.'"

Eliot smiled. "That's pretty smooth, Hardison." Hardison grinned like that was the biggest compliment he'd ever gotten, and Eliot was once again reminded of Pete. He pushed the memories away. "So I'm assuming she told you she wants pretzels now?"

"Yeah, after we blew up the bomb and we were on that whole we-just-saved-the-world high, she turned to me and said, 'You know what I'm in the mood for? Pretzels!'"

Eliot frowned. "So what the hell does that mean if it's not sex?"

Hardison smiled as he shrugged. "It means whatever Parker wants it to mean. I'm just glad pretzels are on the menu, you know?"

"So why in the hell were you guys all outta breath on the balcony the other night? She was talking about motion sensors and things being just as fun as stealing ..."

Hardison laughed. "That? I guess that would sound like sex if you didn't know what we were talking about. She wanted to see the city, but Nate said no stealing, so I went with her to keep an eye on her. Apparently it's not just the stealing that gives her the high, it's the getting in and out undetected. So we went to the museum and just looked at the art and kinda snuck around. She made us hide in a blind spot for too long, and I got itchy and started wiggling. We set off the motion sensors and had to high-tail it outta there. It was fun, though."

"First date?" Eliot asked. "Did you kiss her at the end?"

Hardison looked embarrassed again. "Nah, I don't think she's ready for that yet ..."

"Yeah, probably not." There was an awkward pause as Eliot thought about how stupid he'd been to think that Hardison and Parker's relationship had already progressed to sex. Hardison blushed just thinking about kissing her.

The wriggling puppy in his hands brought him back to the present. "Okay, well, I guess I have to give an interview on dog-fighting ... while holding a puppy." He looked down at the dog. She was adorable.

Hardison sighed dramatically. "Yeah, man, I'm really sorry about that. You know, Sophie wanted me to do it originally — hot men and puppies and all that —" He grinned. "But, you know, I'm busy with the campaign and stuff, so I need to stay here. So you're the next best thing, I guess."

Eliot rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. Anything else I need to know?"

Hardison turned back to his computer and the screens lit up again. "It'll be right outside the presidential palace. Just look for the news crews."

"Thanks," Eliot said. He turned to leave, but paused. "Oh, and Hardison?"

"Yeah?" He was back to typing.

"If you break her heart, I'll break every single bone in your body."

Hardison looked up and grinned. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

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Eliot smiled as he returned to campaign HQ with the puppy. Sophie was definitely right: puppies and babies were the biggest chick magnets.

He walked into the back room to see the whole team watching the screens filled with his interview, and Hardison saying, "Oh man, this is my favorite part!" and playing the video again.

"... puppies as young as this one right here." Eliot was saying on the screen. "This adorable little thing right here. Hi." On-screen Eliot kissed the puppy.

Hardison clapped his hands together in excitement and turned to Eliot. "Man, that was inspired — so much blackmail material! And Gigabyte played her part perfectly."

"Sparky," Parker corrected as she swiped the dog from Eliot's arms.

"I dunno, I think she looks more like an Emma, don't you?" Eliot asked. Just to annoy them, of course — he had definitely not been thinking about a name for the puppy on his way back. Absolutely not.

Both Hardison and Parker looked horrified at the suggestion. Sophie beamed at him, and Nate gave him one of the grins that always made Eliot want to punch him.

"So man, how many women hit on you on your way back?" Hardison asked with a smirk.

"Seven," Eliot grinned. "Including the reporter."

Sophie turned to Nate and said, "Told you. Attractive men and puppies." As she turned back to smile at him again, Eliot suddenly felt very uncomfortable, remembering Parker's version of their conversation.

"This is a hit, Nate," Hardison said. "It's already up on YouTube and it's gone viral. Retweets, shares, likes, already several hundred thousand views ... Hold on ..."

"What?" Nate asked, and Eliot saw a brief flash of worry cross his face.

"Huh," Hardison said. "There's another interview that's even more popular than Eliot's, but I don't know who this woman is."

A video began playing on the screen. In it a woman was saying, "My father is currently being imprisoned for trying to bring democracy back to San Lorenzo. I, for one, will not let Ribera win this easily. My father greatly admires Michael Vittori, and I know he would want all of his supporters to vote for this great man. For those of you who are still undecided, I encourage you to watch the debate tonight. It will be enlightening."

Maria Flores was several years older and nine months pregnant, but her eyes sparkled with a fire Eliot knew well.

"Who the hell is this?" Nate demanded.

"That, Mr. Ford," said a smiling voice from the doorway, "would be my wife."