Eleven: Eliot's Every Breath, Part Deux

Author's note: I nearly lost this chapter twice! So thought it was best to just go ahead and post it while I've got it. And a casting note: In my head, Janvier is played by Michael Vartan.

When she walked into the ballroom, all eyes were on her. He couldn't tell it from the surveillance cameras that Hardison was using. Their span of view was limited.

No, he knew all eyes were on her from experience. It was always that way with her. And especially in that dress. To make matters worse, Sophie had fixed her hair. It was elegant and eye-catching, pulled up on one side and accented with a spray of rhinestones.

He watched them for 90 minutes as they ate, drank, and acted like husband and wife. He listened to the droning music coming from the small orchestra. He listened to their meaningless small talk and their occasional direct comment to Hardison or Nate. He shared their impatience when the clock neared 11:00 and Janvier still hadn't made an appearance.

"This whole thing is ridiculous," Jocelyn said.

Quinn chuckled. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"Mercs and hitters dressed up and pretending this is normal..."

Quinn laughed. "I don't know what kind of ghetto jobs you've been taking, but a majority of my work revolves around events just like this."

"Don't need to know that, Quinn," Nate said.

Now Jocelyn laughed.

"And you had the dress," Quinn said, "So you must have done this kind of thing before."

"I guess that's the thing," she said. "It's one thing to do this as part of a job, but this is supposed to be real life. It doesn't feel right to me in this context."

"Hey! This IS a job," Eliot growled.

Nate, Sophie, Parker and Hardison all turned to look at him. Nate was wearing the hard stare again. An awkward silence filled the comms.

"Man, you are a mood breaker," Quinn said.

"Janvier is on the move," Hardison reported. "Just left his suite."

Eliot practically jumped to his feet, happy to have something to do besides sit and watch Jocelyn slip farther away. "Let's go, Parker."

"Be careful," Nate warned. "I'm running out of back up plans."

"Yeah, got it." He pulled on a sweatshirt, put the hood up over his head, and grabbed the bag of gear near the door.

"You're clear to the elevator," Hardison said. "I'm holding it for you."

They slipped out of the room and moved quickly to the elevator. Hardsion was controlling the video cameras on the floor and in the elevators. Security wouldn't see them.

As the elevator carried them to the penthouse, Eliot could feel her eyes on him.

"Is it hard?" she asked.

"What?"

"Watching Quinn with Loki. I think that would be hard."

Quinn choked and then laughed over the comm.

"Parker!" Eliot growled.

She frowned. "Sorry. I'm not used to having other people on our comms."

"I think you should answer the question," Quinn said.

"How about we all just focus on the jobs at hand?" Nate said.

"Yeah, well this guy is stopping at every table and talking," Quinn said. "We're gonna be here all night."

The elevator doors opened. He dropped the bag of gear and walked toward the penthouse with his head down. Parker waited in the elevator. He knew the location of door and the two guards. His challenge was to get within striking range before they reached for their weapons.

He was halfway there when a man with a French accent spoke. "Sir, you must have the wrong floor."

Eliot lifted his head and pulled the hood off. By the time either man recognized him, he was only five yards away.

"How you doin?" he said and closed the gap in a run.

The guard on his right was younger - he barely looked twenty - and faster. He had his gun pulled free of the holster. The guard on the left, the one that had spoken, was older and slower.

Eliot threw a vicious kick into the older guard as he grabbed the kid's gun arm. He put his hand over the kid's hand and pushed it so he was aiming at the other guard. The kid stepped out into a fighting stance and immediately went for a head kick.

Eliot blocked the kick and grabbed the kid's leg. He held the kid in an awkward yoga-like pose - trying to keep his balance on one leg, the other leg and his gun arm stretched to their limits.

Eliot glanced at the older guy. The kick had sent him stumbling to the side. He must have tripped over his own feet because he was down on his hands and knees.

The kid swung his free hand at Eliot's face, but his arm wasn't long enough to reach and he had no power in the swing. Eliot chuckled, and slammed his knee into the kid's solar plexus. He pulled the gun from the kid's grasp as he hit the wall.

He dropped the clip and tossed the gun in the farthest corner. He turned to face the older man and stepped right into a punch. Fire shot from his eye socket over the back of his skull and he took a step backwards.

The man followed with a hook that connected firmly with his jaw and knocked his head to the side. More pain radiated through his jawbone and wrapped around his neck.

It was a relief to feel something physical instead of all the emotional crap he had been swallowing. The pain was familiar. It was comforting. He smiled as he tasted blood in his mouth.

He sensed another punch coming. An uppercut aimed at his chin again. Eliot threw out and X-block, captured the man's arm and pushed it upwards until his ribs were exposed.

The man threw a weak punch with his other hand, but Eliot easily blocked it with half-assed crescent kick. Then he turned his foot over and buried it in man's ribs.

The man cried out in pain and fell sideways. Eliot followed him and connected his right fist to the man's face. As he waited for the man to hit the floor, he checked on the kid. He was still in the fetal position on the floor sucking for air.

The older guy hit the floor and didn't move. Eliot turned to the kid. Eliot waited while the kid struggled to his feet. He was still sucking air and couldn't stand up straight.

"You know who I am?" Eliot asked.

The kid just stared at him. Eliot asked again in French.

"Oui."

Eliot continued speaking in French, "Tell your boss I'm in town for the convention and I want to meet."

Once the kid nodded in understanding, Eliot delivered another knock-out punch.

He checked the older man one last time and then turned and walked back to the elevator. He stepped into the car and waited for Hardison's okay. Hardison had to control the video surveillance so that it looked like Eliot left.

"What took you so long?" Parker asked.

"So long?!" he snapped.

"Yeah, Eliot, what took you so long?" Quinn quipped.

Eliot growled. "Don't you have something to be doing, Quinn?"

"Oh, right..." Quinn murmured. "Hello, gorgeous..."

Eliot heard them kissing and his stomach tightened. He tried to focus on the pain in his head and blood in his mouth.

Parker was staring at him. "That's hard, right?"

"You're good to go," Hardison said.

He grabbed the bag and followed Parker back to the penthouse door. Parker used a card lock pick to get into the suite.

"Just moved up your timetable, Quinn," Nate said. "Janvier is on his way to you."

Parker headed directly for the desk at the far end of the living area. Eliot scanned for places to hide the tiny bombs Dexter had supplied.

Someone was pointedly clearing their throat. Then Eliot heard Janvier, "Melissa! How wonderful to see you."

Small talk. He hated small talk. As tucked bombs under tables and countertops, he had to listen to the man who wanted him dead make small talk with the woman he loved. The only positive was that Janvier didn't give Quinn much room to say anything.

By the time he returned to the living area, Parker was disconnecting from Janvier's laptop.

"I insist that you treat us to a song, ma cherie," Janvier said.

Eliot stopped and stared at Parker.

"Loki sings?"

"No, Didier," she said, and Eliot could hear the stress in her voice. "It's been too long."

"What's he doing?" Hardison asked.

"It's a power play," Eliot said.

"But I so enjoyed the last time you sang for me," Janvier said. "I think of it all the time."

"I don't get it," Parker said.

"He's exerting power by making her do something she doesn't want to," Nate said.

"No means no," Quinn said, anger set in his voice.

"Nonsense," Janvier said. "She loves to perform."

The droning orchestra music stopped suddenly.

"Don't let him get to you, Jocelyn," he said softly. "You can kick him in the balls and walk away. It's okay."

There was a moment of silence over the comms. Then Jocelyn laughed.

"You're right, of course," Jocelyn said. "Nothing I love more than everybody watching me."

There were sounds of a piano. A few chords. A couple of arpeggios. And then she started singing. A sexy, confident alto.

Eliot had heard her sing the song before. It was a supposed love song that he had always found depressing. But he still loved hearing her sing it.

If.

"If a picture paints a thousand words then why can't I paint you…?"

There was silence on the comms until she finished. He didn't even hear Hardison typing.

After a round of enthusiastic applause, Janvier was the first to speak. "That was..."

But Quinn cut him off. "Amazing, love," Quinn said, his voice filled with convincing emotion.

"Get her away from him, Quinn," Eliot said.

"She hasn't gotten to the contract yet," Nate said.

"I don't care," Eliot said.

The background music started again. "First a song, and now a dance," Janvier said.

"There's no one dancing, Didier," Jocelyn said.

"Quinn!" Eliot snapped.

"Well, it is the founder's ball," Janvier said.

"We've had a long day," Quinn tried. "And we are still newlyweds..."

"Just one dance, Monsieur Quinn. I will be a perfect gentleman, I promise," Janvier said.

"It's okay, Nick," Jocelyn said. "This will give Didier and me a chance to talk."

"Just remember, I'm a jealous man, love," Quinn said.

Eliot wasn't happy about having to watch her with Quinn or listen to Janvier try and force himself on her. He wasn't happy about having to stay on the sidelines while the rest of the team was taking the hits.

Eliot wasn't happy about what was going on, but he was unexpectedly satisfied that Quinn would take care of her.