Chapter 13 Re-cap:

He heard her emerge a little while later and he couldn't help but smile into the dimly lit room when she collided with an end table and cussed it up one side and down the other before crawling into bed. It was an unspoken rule that he always slept closest to the door and it was one of the million little things that he did that made her feel safe and he probably didn't even realize it. She let the booze talk her into slipping in behind him and wrapping her arm around his bare torso, feeling the heat of his body against her cooler extremities. She hoped it wouldn't damage his libido too much to be the little spoon but she needed to feel him near her tonight and to hell with letting him make the first move. She kissed him just below his ear his stubble tickling her nose, before snuggling in further she whispered, "Good night, Elliot."

Chapter 14

Over the next couple of months the Spencer's worked to find their new normal. Harley started taking classes and in between that and helping Hardison and Elliot run the Brew Pub she had time for little else. Her advisor was concerned about her getting caught up to the rest of her cohort and the payroll records and invoice documentation for the Brewery were all over the place. The man was fantastic with "creating" financial information, but managing it? Not so much. On more than one occasion Elliot found her fast asleep in the office with her head in her accounting book. Harley felt exhausted in the best way.

Perhaps thought it was Elliot who found it the hardest to adjust. The first few weeks they'd spent every waking moment together but now she was busy and he was busy, separately. Most days he saw her first thing in the morning as she filled her travel mug before heading out the door and then she would appear again after class. He found it hard to be away from her and had finally convinced himself that it would be alright if he sent her a message or two during the day, just to check in of course. They did have a standing dinner date as well, one of them would cook or they would go out or have dinner at the pub with the team when they weren't working.

Elliot was starting to feel practically domestic, especially the day he came home and found her folding his laundry while watching Ellen on her one day off and when he'd asked her about it she said just said something off-handed like, "What? You're busy. The last thing you should have to worry about is clean underwear."

But the day he'd dreaded most finally came when the first out of town job they took was going to be a doozy and Nate thought it would take at least two weeks from start to finish. It had taken Elliot two calls to the LT and a few other calls to contacts he wouldn't call my name before he felt comfortable leaving her behind even overnight. Truly he wasn't even comfortable then but he couldn't argue otherwise, no one was looking for her and it wasn't always safe or convenient for her to tag along on their jobs.

She sat at the work table in the team's office with her chin resting on her folded arms and listened to Elliot's "safety and security" speech for the third time before they left to meet with the client and do preliminaries. He'd already stocked up the fridge, put gas in the car, and changed the batteries in all the smoke detectors before he would pack his bag. She'd tuned out a long time ago but still he insisted on driving home the point.

"And finally, if you see anything out of the ordinary please call me. Even if you think it's nothing I'd rather know. Alright? Please Harley, be careful while we're gone. Only here, school, or home and if you have to go anywhere else or need anything I want to know about it."

"I promise not to stay out late on a school night or put my feet on the furniture and if we run out of milk you'll be the first to know. Anything else?"

Elliot huffed, his eyes rolling upward subconsciously as he closed the space between them and squatted down at the end of the table next to her. He ran his thumb across her cheek and forced her to look at him. "Help me out her will ya? I don't feel good about this and I need to know you'll be safe."

The genuine concern in his eyes and she figured she might as well stop giving him such a hard time. She placed her hand over the one he held against her face and squeezed slightly. "I should be worrying about you. Not the other way around. A paper cut is the worst thing that might happen to me. Come home in one piece."

Elliot felt his heart swell and stutter against his rib cage, as she'd nuzzled her face into his hand at her cheek and all he could think about in that moment was kissing that look of her face. He lay his un-occupied hand on the base of her neck, stroking the spot under ear with his calloused thumb he said softly, "No promises. But I'll try to bring all the pieces back with me at least."

She wasn't sure but it felt like he was leaning it closer to her if only a fraction at a time. She realized she'd been holding her breath when he was about half the distance than before, moving in slower than slow, painfully slow. Harley closed her eyes and waited to feel his lips against hers but the moment never came. He lay his forehead against her now much warmer one before pulling back quickly, his voice full of concern has he lay the back of his hand on her face. "You're awful warm, darlin'. You feelin' alright?"

Harley's eyes flew open at his words, she knew that she must be looking at him strangely but could he really be that dense? Her words and movements were rushed as she pushed to stand and stepped away from the intimate embrace that was heading down hill fast. "I'm fine. You should get goin'."

He watched her with his eyebrows quirked upward, wondering what he had missed as he turned for the door. "Ya, okay. I'll see ya." And without a second thought, he was gone.

Over the next week Harley spent most of her time at the brewery, finding Elliot's house too empty without him there. And even worked a couple of nights behind the bar when the schedule had come up shorthanded and she'd enjoyed visiting with the customers. She'd been washing glasses one quiet evening late in the week when a feminine voice cleared behind her in a less than subtle attempt at gain her attention. The woman was an athletically built brunette who looked like she had better things to do with her time.

"Can I help you?" Harley asked, drying her hands on the bar towel as she turned to face the woman and tossing it back onto her right shoulder.

"I'm looking for Elliot." She tugged her blazer tighter around her as she glanced uneasily around the room.

"I'm sorry. He's out of town. Would you like to leave a message? He tends to check in from time to time." Harley stepped closer to the bar and darted her eyes around quickly trying to spot anything that might be making the woman uncomfortable but the pub was relatively quiet this early in the day, only a couple of regulars and staff milling around.

"Hmmm… we'll since he isn't returning calls then I guess that'll have to do." The woman mumbled to herself accepting the pen and small napkin and quickly scribbled her name and digits before returning it. The jaded tone registering with Harley that this woman wasn't a client, she was a girlfriend. Maybe I should start a club or a support group or something.

"Okay, I'll see that he gets this. Anything else I can do for you while you're here? A drink maybe?" She offered but hoped that Carrie, with a heart over the "i", would decline.

"Actually, a martini would be lovely." Carrie climbed onto the barstool nearest to Harley, her posture stone straight and her perfectly powdered face a picture of disappointment as she checked her cell phone and then slid it back down in her clutch.

Me and my big mouth, Harley thought as she skewered two olives and dropped them down in the glass and presented it to her, flipping over a Bridgeport coaster and couple napkins. "It's on me." She said with a lukewarm smile and turned back to dry the sink and worked to appear busy, hoping that the gin and vermouth wouldn't make Carrie gabby, the last thing she wanted to do was become BFF's with Elliot's flavor of the week.

"Have you been working here long? I don't think I've seen you before."

Son of a bitch. "Not long. No." She called over her shoulder, carrying the glasses and mugs from station to station. There was something about the woman's appraisal that made her uncomfortable. It wasn't just that she was seeking out Elliot, it was more about the way she carried herself. Like she held herself above the pub, above sitting at a bar, above her. When Harley came back from the other end of the bar, she had drained her glass and seemed to be in deep contemplation internally weighing whether to ask another question when Hardison called to her from the office door, the look on his face one of distorted awkwardness. Excusing herself she headed around the end of the bar and met the younger man at the threshold.

"I'm not sure if you meant that as a save or not, but thank you anyway." Harley muttered, slipping her palms into the back pockets of her jeans as she shifting her weight from foot to foot, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"Just checking in. You looked uncomfortable." His voice was kept low as he thumbed over his shoulder to his workspace and she could see the security feed of the bar on one of the monitors.

"I'm fine. Anything else?" She spun her wedding rings around and around before glancing back toward the bar when the bell above the door sounded, signaling that the dinner shift was about to begin.

"She's looking for El?" His voice dropped an octave as he watched her squirm under his gaze. Harley knew it wasn't a question but nodded an affirmative anyway. "You alright?" Also not a question but this time she only shrugged, "alright" was relative. She still found relying on him or his team a difficult concept and admitting that she was feeling insecure was more than she was willing to do after only a few weeks. At that moment Harley's stomach flopped, leaving her feeling nauseated and empty, a harsh reminder that she hadn't eaten since breakfast and bringing her back to the task at hand. Which now included a round for Carrie and the friends she must have invited to join her when her earlier mission had crashed and burned. Only a little while later they decided on a table instead of staying at the bar and soon their party was someone else's problem.

For a Thursday night the dinner crowd was raucous, there were three different games on as many monitors that Elliot had insisted they install and fans of varied shape and size filled the tables and booths, an occasional cheer or jeer heard throughout the room. Around sunset the bar was full and so were most of the patrons, including Carrie and her friends. There was even one point when Adam, the bar manager, was pouring drinks and Hardison had come out of hiding to help buss tables when the turn over got out of hand. By the time the games were ending and the crowd began to thin her feet aches as if she had walked 10 miles, all within short trips only the length of the bar. Her blood sugar level had been an issue earlier in the shift when she realized that she hadn't eaten nor would she have time to and began main-lining energy drinks to keep her hands from trembling but the finish line was in sight.

She was on glass washing duty for the third or fourth time that evening when the front bell chimed and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, sending a chill down her spine. At the moment Harley thought maybe the air was turning colder and did not give the comings or goings of the patrons pause even when she felt a warm hand wrap firmly around her bicep and tug at her slightly. Harley was so deep in work mode that she didn't even turn to look before speaking, "Almost done. Just a second." She glanced to the side as she spoke and the bright crimson shirt he wore caught her eye, it was his favorite after all.

Her eyes traveled up, landing on the pearl snaps at the pockets and further up to the scratches that were visible around his collar and the dark circles that highlighted those icy blue orbs she prayed to get lost in at least twice a day. When her eyes finally settled on his face his features softened, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly to an almost grin. "You look like crap. What'd you do? Walk back?" She squeaked, trying to dampen down her alarm and the mild panic she felt at his rough appearance.

Elliot rolled his eyes up and shook his head slightly, until the motion caused his shirt to rub coarsely against the abrasions on his neck and chest as he chuckled down at her. "Somethin' like that." The job seemed to have gone wrong from the start and when they were able to wrap up days earlier than planned it seemed like a blessing. Even the beating he'd taken at the hands of the CEO's goons was a small price to pay to be back…home. He hadn't wanted to ask or rely on Hardison to tell him where she was, but his young friend was smart enough to offer the information just inside the city limits seeming to read Elliot's mood. Nate had barely put the van in park when he unceremoniously jumped out and made a b-line for the front door. There would be time to unpack later, but right now he had something much more important to tend to.

"Elliot?..." A determined voice called from behind and Harley couldn't contain the huffed sound she made, her eyebrows only rising a fraction but kept the rest of her expression neutral, giving nothing else away and safe in the knowledge that Carrie would have seen him come in. His eyes widened as the voice registered and by the look on Harley's face he could tell that the two had become somewhat acquainted already. When she turned away and headed off to the farthest end of the bar with an arm full of mugs and a half assed attempt at making herself scares he sighed before screwing on a smile and turned to face the firing squad. A little warning would have been nice. Dammit, Hardison.

When the lock engaged and the open sign had been turned to "Sorry we missed you" Harley breathed a short lived sigh of relief before turning back to the table of weary Grifters who had taken up residence at a small table near the bar to start clearing glasses when Elliot returned from his extended conversation with Carrie. Her internal monologue told her that it was none of her business, but the apologetic look he kept flashing her wasn't exactly helping. She was making short work of the front of the house trash when the team began to scatter, each looking worse for the wear when Elliot approached her, hands digging down in the pockets of his dark jeans.

"Hey."

"Hey." She kept working, knowing that at this rate she'd still be trying to get done when they re-opened.

"I gotta take care of a couple things upstairs. When you get done come up will ya? I could use your help with somethin'." He ran a palm against the base of his neck as he spoke, keeping his voice low for only her to hear.

"Yep. Just give me five." He was in her bubble now, keeping her from ignoring him but she still couldn't look at him. She didn't want him to see the inner turmoil that raged within her. Harley wasn't even sure what she was feeling, how was she supposed to explain it?

Elliot huffed at her dismissal but didn't figure that now was the time to throw a temper tantrum about it and walked away without another word. Although she'd been busy all evening it was erratic, the kind of busy for the sake of being busy. But right now there were more important matters at hand, he thought as he took the stairs two at a time. He tried to keep the sleeve of his favorite shirt separate from the bandage that had long ago soaked through. Earlier in the day Nate had helped him bandage the area on the underside of his bicep citing a need for stitches that he promptly ignored. But now the thought of stitching it himself, left handed, while looking in a mirror no longer appealed to him. Especially at eleven o'clock at night when he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept.

All the necessary items were in place on the table when he heard booted footfall on the stairs. He wondered if he should have just asked Parker or Nate to take care of it. After all, he was about to blindside her with the news that he had six inch gaping knife wound that required attention and she was the woman for the job. It wasn't fair but she needed to know the score; that this is what his life was really like. A hundred times out of a hundred he came home looking like hell, beat up, broken and sore. There was absolutely nothing normal about it, but it was better than the old life he'd lived. He was trying to scare her away, he was wimp and he knew it. But he had to be sure that she knew what she was getting into when she bet on black.