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: So my computer still has that evil Malware. I'm currently waiting on my new Hard Drive to be shipped in and then installed and partitioned by a friend of mine. I'm being a procrastinator this week and haven't gone to do my testing-don't feel like rolling my ass out of bed, showering and being at the lab for 7 am- so I was able to pound this out. Good thing too because this weekend I'm planning on overhauling my car- it smells like a dirty stall, wet dog, pizza, water mold (my car leaks) and the slight undertones of a watermelon air freshener- to get it ready for… BEACH AND HORSE SHOW SEASON! That and it's going to be in the 60's –heat wave for us- and I have little money…. So I'm going Martha Stewart on my car.

Oh, found this on an IF interview with Kane: A lot of that is [LEVERAGE creator] John Rogers. He came up with that idea and he knows I love superheroes, comic books and Anime and when he wrote that, he had my character in mind. YES! Thank you Mr. Kane, you made my liking Anime totally okay. (not that it wasn't but… yeah)

Okay I'm done rambling, because really? Did you all need to know that? I think not. Onto the fic!

Also, this is Sunday's update early due to the weather being so freaking nice. So, another update will come next Sunday.

Chapter 11: Plan M….

Eliot slept for nearly three days straight, waking only long enough for his glazed eyes to roam over the faces of the team before dropping closed again. Goddard explained that although he opened his eyes and looked around that Eliot might truly not have seen anything, sometimes the human body does things that can't be explained but also relented that it was a good sign, signaling that he was slowly coming back into a lighter stage of sleep. Due to Eliot's inactivity a catheter was put into place and several IV bags carrying needed nutrients were hung on the scones above the bed, making the small guest bedroom in the unassuming apartment seem more like a field hospital room. The team took turns sitting with the Hitter, a schedule that allowed someone to always be in the room while the others caught up on sleep or ran errands.

Nate took the early morning to about nine o'clock, often just sitting by the bedside with a cooling cup of coffee and his thoughts running wild as he listened to the Hitter breathe.

Sophie from nine o'clock till about one in the afternoon, she would talk to the Hitter softly, alternating between reading lines from a playbook she'd been studying for an audition she could care less about and singing softly to fill the silence of the small room.

Parker, who worked diligently on the decorating the cast took after Sophie till about six o'clock. She worked steadily at applying the colors to the bright orange cast, her artistic ability showing in the quality of her work. In place of the simple fiberglass is a perfect rendition of the bones slowly healing beneath the flesh, each bone outlined correctly and shaded to make it look realistic and natural despite the hideous color. Goddard had praised her and even offered one of his books as a reference for the blond thief.

Tara relieved Parker then and while she hadn't been on the team long enough to warrant her keeping watch she thought she owed it to the man. She stayed silent for the most part, flipping the small scrap of paper she'd carried with her all the way from the Hitter's apartment over in her fingers, tapping it on the arm chair.

Hardison relieved the Grifter at about nine thirty, having decided to take the night shift due to his night owl tendencies. The rapid click of fingers on plastic keys filled the silence of the room while Hardison played and worked. Sometimes the shouts and gun reports of a futuristic movie displaced the sleepy silence of the apartment.

They waited and hoped, patiently attending to the injured Hitter's needs while they stayed close by, ready for the moment when the bright, intelligent blue eyes of their friend finally found opened and held their usual clarity and cold fire.

They waited three days.

In the early hours of the morning during Nate's shift the Hitter groaned and shifted on the bed, his body stiff from lack of movement and healing injuries. Nate was on his feet in an instant, watching the younger man's face for signs of his waking. Slowly the eyes blink open and a sharp gasp accompanies their swift closing as one of the man's hand moves agonizingly slow to cover the offended optics.

"Eliot?" Nate asks gently, quickly dimming the light he was using to read the paper. A grunt is his answer and slowly Eliot tries opening his eyes again, this time squinting making the soft light bare able as he works to make sense of the watery shape in front of him. His instincts scream at him to strike out at the unknown blob, strike out and get away but something is stopping him, keeping him from doing so. Something about the watery blob is familiar, non-threatening. That and his mind is screaming at 'don't move damn it!' and the signals of pain, pain, pain, pain, Danger, Danger, Danger swim around in the vortex that's become his thought process.

He groans again and risks looking around him, his eyes feeling gritty and heavy. Trying to make sense of everything that's around him but his thoughts scatter just beyond his grasp.

"Wh-where…. A-am.." he tries but his throat constricts painfully, cutting off his words as he chokes on the cotton that someone shoved in his mouth. He coughs, his lungs heaving as his body spasms against the pain it produces. He groans sharply as the pain throbs clearly as he works to breathe.

"Easy, easy." Nate states, hands shaking as he holds a plastic cup of water to the younger man's lips, waiting for him to sip at the tepid liquid. Eliot sucks a small amount out of the cup, the feeling of wet washing away the painfully dry feeling.

"Slowly now, not to much." The swimmy man coos at him as Eliot pulls in more of the liquid, eager to make the itchy dryness go away. He groans when the cup is taken away but doesn't dwell on it, instead he curls away from the swimming blob and closes his eyes tightly, trying to work his way through what's going on and what his body is telling him.

"Eliot?" Nate tries again, worried about the man's reaction and gently touches the trembling shoulder, worried when Eliot jerks away a fraction, his blue eyes snapping open.

"W-who are you…?" he demands breathlessly, his blue eyes widening a fraction before his eyebrows pull down in a V, confusion chasing shock around in the blue eyes. Nate frowns for a moment and seats himself down on the bed, aware of the twitchy response so unlike Eliot.

"Come on Eliot…" he tries but at the sharp confusion and angry set of the other man's mouth Nate can tell something is seriously wrong here.

"My name's not Eliot….." he stops for a moment, eyes clouding for a moment before clearing. Nate watches as the man works through his thoughts, unsure of what to do so he waits, anticipation drying his mouth and twisting his gut.

"Y-yes it is… but I…" he starts and within the blink of an eye the confusion is replaced with the sharp emotion of paranoia, blue eyes darting around the room as his breathing hitches. Nate reacts quickly, aware of the signs of a panic attack and quickly grabs the injured man's face, pulling it back to face him. Careful to avoid the worst of the bruising he grasps the man's face, watching as the eyes twitch each way and his jaw works spasmodically as he tries to draw in air.

"Listen to me… listen. I'm Nate Ford… you work with me and a group of thieves. Your name is Eliot Spencer, you're the Retrieval Specalist hired by Dubenich to steal back some plans that he claimed were stolen by a rival plane designer." Nate states, trying to bring back the Eliot he knows by stating the job that began the team. Eliot's blue eyes focus on him and for a moment the Eliot from before blazes hotly in the icy eyes at the mention of the man who attempted to kill him. But that Eliot is smothered by the confusion once more and his eyes are wildly snapping around the room, focusing on nothing.

"W-where's Wayne?" he breathes and tries to twist away from Nate but his weakness keeps the usually strong man from breaking free.

"Who is Wayne? Eliot? Who is Wayne, maybe I can find him?" Nate offers noting how clearly distressed the younger man is becoming. Eliot struggles for a moment more, his breathing coming in painful gasps. Nate can tell by the trembles that it won't be long until Eliot's over taxed body shuts down, pulling the man back into sleep.

"L-lance Cor—corporal Wayne Morgan… sh-shit. Told 'im ta h-hold his pos-psit-on." Eliot's eyes roll back and his body falls lax, leaving Nate to gently release the man's face. He knew that Eliot's background was military of some sort, but even those facts were hazy at best, kept sealed away inside the government and Eliot's own head. Stepping away from the bed Nate runs a hand over his tired eyes and tries to work through the situation. Goddard had said that Eliot might be confused when he awoke, hazy from the drugs used on him and the effects of the sleep deprivation, so he isn't going to worry too much about the man's inability to recognize him just yet.

Nate didn't tell the others that Eliot had woke up briefly, instead opting to keep the information to himself until he knew for sure if Eliot's confusion was just temporary or not. Throughout the day the Mastermind wondered in and out of the injured man's room, sitting quietly reading the news paper while Parker continues her task at defining the human bones on a canvas of bright orange. The young blond hums to herself as she works on the underside of Eliot's forearm, the scratch of the black pen barely audible as it glides over the material. Nate flips the page of the paper and scans for any news concerning Celik and is happy to note that nothing has some up.

"You know, sitting here won't make him wake up again." Parker suddenly states, her voice loud in the previously silent space. Nate jumps slightly and regards the woman from over the curl of the paper. Parker ignores him, pursing her lips as he studies the diagram depicted in the borrowed medical book before resuming the shading of the neatly defined Ulna bone.

"What do you mean again?" Nate asks, unsure if the woman is fishing or if she had clearly heard something during the night. Parker's eyes flick up briefly and Nate is taken aback by the stark seriousness in the depths.

"I heard-and saw- what happened last night." Her eyes flick to the air vent beneath the small table on the wall beside Nate's chair and Nate groans. He should have figured the lithe blond would have shimmied her way into the duct, standing by to make sure she's there if Eliot needs anything.

He should have figured that the blond had scoped out the apartment's nook and crannies.

Damn her.

"Don't worry, I won't tell the others." She chirps cheerfully, a smile breaking across her face as she turns back to her work. Nate is still shocked silent by the young woman's perception and is about to thank her when Eliot shifts on the bed, making Parker frown and jerk the marker away from the cast so as not to ruin the work. Nate watches for a moment as the Hitter settles once more with a sigh, his facial features relaxing once more from the grimace. Parker gently pats the man's upper arm, her long fingers brushing lightly against the heavy bruising. Nate's taken aback by the gentleness the usually energetic and emotionally harsh woman is showing.

"Thanks Parker." Nate says, nodding his head as the woman shrug, continuing her work with the same insane focus she uses while she picks the locks in her massive box.

"I just want him to get better…. He promised." She says softly with a hint of something in her voice that makes Nate's heart cave in. She had stated that Eliot had promised something to her but there isn't a hint of what that promise is. But it means a lot to the blond criminal, enough to have her sleeping in air ducts – which despite popular belief she doesn't just do.

"What'd he promise you exactly?" Nate asks directly, knowing that beating around the bush with the blunt woman would do little in getting him the answer he was looking for. Parker glances up and that slightly sadistic smirk is back, along with the mischievous glint as she simply states.

"He's going to let me teach him how to fly." Before recapping her marker smartly and practically leaping off the chair, a comment about 'lemons' being her exiting line before disappearing out the door. Nate stares after the crazy but unbelievably sane woman for a moment before chuckling and glancing back to where Eliot rests, oblivious.

"Oh I feel bad for you." He shakes his head and goes back to reading his paper, chuckling at the idea of Eliot 'flying' down the side of a building.

Hardison liked late hours and as a kid his Nana would curse to high heaven about how lazy of a boy he was in the mornings. After striking out of his own and landing feet first into the world of crime Hardison kept his day time activity to a minimum, enjoying the late night hours spent hacking government agencies and wiping out his enemies on the various online games.

That is until he started working with the team.

Now Hardison has a reason to get to sleep before six in the morning while not on a job and a reason to get up, dressed and to the office by ten in the morning. At first it was difficult and he found himself often wearing two different shoes and accumulating speeding tickets-which were wiped out of course- but he slowly got use to it.

He also got use to what he dubbed 'Friday Night Fights' or better known around the apartment as 'Hardison's weekly ass whoopin by Eliot'. It was something he complained, whined and stomped his feet the whole way but still attended the weekly fighting lessons the man provided. In the beginning he and Eliot were always at odds, the Specalists' own lone wolf nature and natural suspicion of people keeping him from wanting to get to close and Hardison's instant dislike of the southern man's brutish mannerisms didn't allow him to enjoy the dry humor hidden beneath the course words and growls.

Now though, now Hardison sits beside the injured man's bedside, plugging away on his computer to keep him mind from thinking about what the outcome of his captivity could have been if the team didn't get there in time. He'd hacked into the missing persons database and read over all the case files-the ones they don't release to the public- and read over the numbers of those unsolved disappearances that have been chalked up to human trafficking. Young girls, far from home on spring break poached by scalpers looking to make their money off of human flesh, sold off to foreign brothels as exotic slaves. Young collage men, auctioned off as cattle to whoever will pay for them and then use them however they please.

He's read the case files of those who had been found.

And lost his appetite for over a day.

He keeps telling himself Eliot is different, that Eliot is a survivor. But the words from the night before their rescue of the Hitter keep coming back to haunt him. 'From what I saw tonight there is nothing left for Eliot to hold onto, he's been beaten into a submission so low that not even he can drag himself back up' words spoken by a man who had seen it all before. Anxiously Hardison's gaze shifts to the still man on the bed, his chest rising and falling with the natural way. His skin is still pale, contrasting sharply against the pale purple of the comforter and the florescent orange-but nicely decorated- cast. Hardison turns back to his computer, logging into one of the numerous MMORPG's he's signed on when suddenly he's thrown foreword, noise and his own alarmed cry filling the apartment as Hardison struggles to make sense of the weight that's just crushed into him, an arm tight like a steel band locking around his throat. Hardison gasps and tries to roll the weight off him, using one of the many techniques taught to him by the Specialist but nothing it working as he croaks out an alarm.

"Ha-Help!" he shouts in a croaking gasp, thankful that the door to the room is open. The bicep tightens, the taut and bulky muscle putting pressure on his adam's apple and his wind pipe, effectively cutting off his ability to barely breathe let alone speak.

There's the sound of pounding feet and blurrily he sees the grate on the wall flying across the room and a blond blur slipping out. Within moments there's a crowd of people clogging up the entrance to the room, eyes wide. Hardison gasps at the growl, that familiar-feral and low growl.

"Back off!" he snarls, jerking Hardison back with him back into the corner between the bed and the wall, his movements jerky with what Hardison can only assume is pain and stiffness.

"Parker.." Nate softly states and the blond thief quickly falls back, her eyes wide as she stares. Hardison chokes in a breath, his long fingers clutching at Eliot's taut forearm, desperately working to loosen the choke hold while he gasps and chokes. His back is pressed against Eliot's own bare chest and dimly Hardison can feel the trembling in the fighter's body, his chest heavily for air and the feel of his rapid exhale on his neck.

"Who are you people?" he growls out and Hardison's eyes widen, searching for Nate and finds the man in a state of shock. Parker's head is cocked to the side while Tara and Sophie share a look. Hardison would have groaned if not for the fact that's he's being held hostage by a man who can probably snap his neck with his forearm alone.

"Who are you- make me ask again and I'll snap his neck." Eliot snaps, giving Hardison a forceful jerk to prove that he actually could do it.

Aw hell. Welcome to plan M everyone.

What happens in plan M?

Oh yeah, Hardison dies in plan M.

Author Note: Oh don't you guys hate me now? Amnesia is fucking great and I'm looking foreword to this part. It's not going to be complete amnesia, he'll remember some stuff but discovering a little more about him will be the best part I think. Anyway I hope this made up for the short chapters, it's about seven pages long I believe and has Hardison getting beaten up. Don't get me wrong, I adore Hardison –not as much as Mr. Kane though- but I'm a fan of his getting beaten up or threatened by Eliot. They make such a great team on the show and add just the right amount of comedy to keep it from being overly dramatic. Does that even make sense?

Also, I have made 2 backgrounds and they are on my DA for anyone interested. Eliot and Nate, I am working on Parker and Hardison as a request for someone over on LJ but like I said… New computer Hard drive + 2 ½ hour Adobe Install + ½ hour crack time = don't hold ya breath for anything quick.

Thanks so much for reading this story! I appreciate it and enjoy hearing from those who review.