Chapter Twelve: Resolution

"What the hell were you thinking?" Eliot asked her in a raised voice once they were back in her truck and on their way home. She'd never heard him yell until now. It made her wince.

They'd stayed for the cops and made their statements as had the elderly couple. Henderson had been taken away in handcuffs but he wouldn't be held for long. He'd already been demanding his lawyer as the deputy had placed him in the back seat.

"I was thinking that getting him to act out would make him more eager to take matters into his own hands," Claire explained. "We push him to betray himself to the people in town and he gets so unreasonably furious that he can't stand the thought of hiring someone else to run us out of town. It's personal now for him, Eliot. That was what I was supposed to do, wasn't it? Push his buttons."

They'd both turned their comms off after they'd gotten into the truck and Claire was glad for that.

"Yes, push his buttons not incite violence. Do you realize what could have happened if that couple hadn't been there? There was no one else in the parking lot and I was across the street. If they hadn't been there to stop him at one slap, Lanier, he could have killed you. As a man with a few anger issues myself, I recognized the body language. He was prepared to keep going. The slap was just the beginning!" Eliot yelled with a shake of his head. "That whole interaction was reckless and I knew it would be. I should have gone with you."

"No, you shouldn't have. Because you would have been the one beating him had you done that, Spencer. You'd be the one in handcuffs right now. The way he spoke to me would have provoked you into action. We both know it," Claire said with a sigh.

"Is this how you were on that mysterious job with Shelley? Did you throw yourself into the fight with him too?" Eliot asked as he avoided looking at her. He didn't acknowledge she was right. He didn't need to.

"Shelley, trusts my opinions on what I can and can't handle unlike some people," she muttered in an irritated tone. "You know, you were right across the street, Eliot. I knew that. You were watching and waiting. You were on your way over as soon as that slap started. If that couple hadn't walked up I would have been fine. I knew you had my back. You were there impossibly fast as it was anyway."

"Yeah, but Claire, we don't work together all the time," he said in a softer voice. "I'm worried this had nothing to do with you knowing I was across the street, that I had your back. I'm worried that you did that for the rush, for the win, and if that's the case—what happens when you're on your next job and your risk for the victory backfires? What happens if Shelley can't get to you in time?"

"What happens if you're not there?" She asked him knowingly.

"I know, you want to do this on your own and you don't want me become too involved but, darlin, when you do things like this it terrifies me," he admitted. "I know you well enough to anticipate when you might do it, but Tara and Shelley…I'm not trying to be over protective and control you when I worry like this. You know that, don't you? You're impulsive, and competitive, and damn it if you don't get joy out of ticking people off and while I admire those things about you a majority of the time the rest of the time they scare me to death. You promised me you'd come back to me and I just want to make sure you can keep that promise. Does that make sense?" He asked with a furrowed brow as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. Emotions and urges like this were foreign to him. They weren't once upon a time, when he was a kid. But after years of inflicting violence and pain, concern on this level was practically brand new. He worried about his crew, yes, but the worry he felt for Claire was almost too much.

They were almost back to the cottage and the roads had become less populated two lane roads with farmland on either side. Silence fell over them and he thought that would be the end of the conversation. Until Claire spoke up softly.

"Pull over," she told him.

"What?" He asked. He wasn't quite sure he heard her correctly.

"Pull over," she repeated. He gave her a questioning glance but did as she asked and pulled over into the field to his right.

He parked the car and started to ask Claire just what she was doing when suddenly she was straddling him. It couldn't have been comfortable, he thought, but she was doing it. She kissed him deeply and slowly but it wasn't a kiss of need or passion and it wasn't one that was going to go much further. But he could feel her remorse in it. He could feel her own concern for him and even more than that, he could feel how deeply she cared about him. It seemed impossible but there it was. One kiss became two and then three and he sunk into it and let his hands rest on her hips. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and she had leaned most of her weight against him. His hands then moved from her waist to her thighs, that were mostly bare thanks to the tiny sorts she'd put on that morning. And then her hands moved to cup the sides of his face. Finally, she pulled away and met his eyes.

"You're right," she admitted. "I went too far. I know I did. But I don't think you really understand…violence has been a part of my life since mom and I left this town. Abuse in almost every form found me constantly. I'd come close to escaping it but I never really would. It sought me out. Moreau broke bones, you know that, but he wasn't the first. In all of those cases, it damaged me permanently. It caused pain and hurt and—" she stopped talking to blink back tears that had pooled in her eyes. "It made me selfish and callous and weak. This was all before Moreau even touched me, before you. It's the last thing I would ever want anyone else to experience. I wouldn't wish any of my scarring on another person. I adapted, yes. I internalized and used it. But not every one can do that. Not everyone can let themselves become someone else to escape it."

"You don't have to live with that anymore," Eliot told her. Thinking maybe she believed the violence had become a part of her the way he did.

"If my living with it, prevents someone else from being scarred by it then yes, I do. I'd rather take a beating for the purpose of exposing the truth than risk an innocent person taking that beating instead. If I can take on the pain for those who don't deserve it then I will," she told him. "I'm used to it. I have a tolerance. Someone else might not. So, while I know it drives you crazy and I know it causes you to worry it's probably not going to stop. I have these scars already, Eliot. I might as well use them. If that's too much for you, then I get it. I really do. When I came back to Boston that one weekend to the sight of you so thoroughly beaten I felt like I'm sure you do now. I didn't want to leave you. I didn't want you out of my sight and for a brief time I resented your crew for letting that happen. While I was here and you were with them I worried all the time, it's why I didn't contact you as much as you probably wanted. The less I knew about your jobs, the better. My imagination would run wild anytime you talked about it."

She was right, he hadn't understood. She removed her hands from his face and placed them on his chest. She placed both just over his heart and then smiled warmly at him.

"I love you, Eliot, you're the only person, other than my uncle and grandparents, who's ever made me feel that I'm more, that I'm a person and not property and that my value doesn't lie in how attractive I am. You make me feel like it matters who I want to be. You make me feel…cared for and, as much as I complain about it, protected. Without you, I really don't know what I would do. If you're feeling any tiny bit of that right now then I understand and I'm sorry if I scared you. I just want to make sure that when we take this guy down, he stays down." Those last three words had been said with such fire and determination that Eliot had a feeling it was more of a promise than a statement. Her eyes were still watery with unshed tears and he felt her breathing heavier than normal. Both signs that she was barely holding back her sadness and desperation. He could hear it in the emotion in her voice, she was begging him to understand.

And now that she explained herself, he found he did.

Eliot brought a hand to her cheek and gently caressed the side of her face that had been hit twice in one week before he spoke. "

You know, it's funny, we have completely different jobs and yet we seem to approach them the exact same way." His voice was gentle and quiet, the opposite of how this conversation had started. "I'm the guy that protects my crew because I know how to take the beatings. I know how to give 'em, ain't no body questioning that, but if it comes to it I'm the one that takes the punches and the bullets because I know how. I've done it for so long that it barely fazes me anymore. The others, they're not as accustomed to that as I am and I don't want them to be. I don't want them to be so familiar with pain that they can break a rib or two and keep on going. The best way to prevent that is for me to take the blows myself. It's what I do. Yeah, you're a grifter and I'm a hitter, but in that respect we're the same, you and me. I didn't realize that until just now. Not until you told me. I can't say I'm crazy about it. I want you safe and whole and to keep you around as long as I can, but I understand it now. It's not as frustrating or as frightening as it was earlier today. I'm probably still going to be aggravated anytime you do it, but I do understand. I don't like it, but I think I can live with it."

She smiled slowly and then leaned in for another long kiss. This one communicated relief and hope and all the things he knew she hadn't had much of in recent years. Or maybe ever, based on what he knew of her past so far. When she pulled back she rested her forehead against his. "If you can live with that then I guess I can live with you being a bit protective. It's actually really hot sometimes."

"Yeah?" He asked with an amused grin.

"Do not let that go to your head, Cowboy. The keyword is sometimes," she said with a chuckle.

He smirked and gently pushed her hair off of her shoulders. "Got it. I love you too," he said as he realized he never said it back to her earlier. "By the way."

She beamed at him and then kissed him again, more briefly this time. "Well, that's a relief," she said with a teasing wink. She moved off of his lap and back to her seat and he found that he missed her. She was right there next to him but he had been quite comfortable with her so completely taking up his space.

"We should go," she told him. "We need to be back in town for the Festival tonight."

Just like that, the day moved on. He pulled back on to the road and when they reached the cottage Claire sprinted for the shower, stating she needed to get any trace of Henderson off of her as quickly as possible. He didn't blame her for that.

An hour later they were both cleaned up and ready for the Festival when a crash and a scream could be heard outside. Claire was immediately alert.

"That came from the main house," she said just before she sprinted out the cottage door and across the yard. He tore out after her but Claire was highly motivated and, he had to admit, he had a hard time keeping up. Once they reached house a feeling of urgency set in. What they were seeing was unmistakable. The sun had started to set but neither of them could mistake the orange glow from inside Claire's childhood home. Fire. They approached just in time to find Henderson standing over Ada and the kids with a gun in his hand.

Eliot knew he was protective and he'd seen Claire be defensive before but nothing he knew of her prepared him for the look on her face when she realized Henderson had a gun on her family.

"Oh fuck no," she muttered as the flames from the house reflected in her eyes. Though, Eliot admitted, he wasn't sure he'd actually seen a reflection. It might have just been pure rage burning it's way through her. She took a few steps toward the house out of pure instinct. Eliot quickly grabbed her arm as gently as he could.

"Claire, stop and think for a minute. You rush in there now, he'll shoot you." Eliot said softly as he tapped his comm and turned it on. "Nate, we got a problem."

"Let me guess, Henderson's there?" Nate asked knowingly. "We're on our way. Stall him."

"I've got an idea," Eliot told her. "You go around the back of the house. The kitchen is through the back door, right?"

She nodded. "Fire extinguisher is under the sink." How she'd known what he was thinking he'd never know.

"Good, you go around the back, put out the flames. I'll get him away from your aunt and the kids," Eliot told her. The flames appeared to be in the living room, just behind a broken window. If Eliot had to guess, Henderson had thrown a Molotov Cocktail through the front window.

Claire caught his gaze and kissed him quickly. "Be careful," she told him just before she quietly took off around the back of the house.

Eliot tried to take in the details of the situation. Ada was standing in front of both children and Henderson's gun was aimed at her. Not the kids. Everette was no where to be found and Eliot thought he recalled him being needed at the store while the insurance people assessed the damage from yesterday's fire.

Henderson had his back to the front steps, and Eliot stepped softly. Henderson was breathing so loudly that it gave Eliot some extra cover for any noise he might have made. When he was close enough, he wrapped his arms around Henderson from behind and threw him to the ground. The gun was knocked out of his hand and bounced a few feet away. Henderson attempted to wrestle himself free of Eliot but while the man may have had a strong backhanded slap, he certainly wasn't any where close to a match for Eliot. Eliot got him into a choke hold after Henderson had tried his best to gauge out Eliot's eyes. Eliot continued the pressure, just enough to knock the man unconscious, until he went limp in his arms. Eliot left Henderson where he'd dropped and then disarmed the gun before placing it on the porch railing.

The fire in the living room dimmed and Eliot could hear the faint sounds of a fire extinguisher from inside the house. He ran to Ada and the kids to check on them. All were fine physically but otherwise distraught. Ada collapsed against Eliot in a fit of tears and he leaned against the house and simply held her. He didn't know the woman well but she'd just been through more than any person should. She'd been strong for her children but now that they were out of danger she couldn't keep it together. The front door opened and Claire stepped out.

Her young cousins ran to her and she wasted no time scooping both of them up and retreating to the swing on the far end of the porch. Her eyes met Eliot's with clear relief and gratitude shining in them. He was alive and safe and so was her family. Siren's wailed in the distance for the second time that day and within minutes two squad cars and Lucille were racing down the gravel drive.

Before Lucille had even fully stopped Everette had jumped out and was sprinting toward the porch. He ran straight to Eliot and Ada. Eliot assured him everyone was fine and passed Ada over to her husband, who eagerly wrapped his arms around her and then kissed the top of her head. He caught Eliot's eye and mouthed the words "Thank you." Eliot nodded and then made his way down the steps to meet the officers just arriving on the scene. He directed one to Henderson and advised they cuff him right away and then described exactly what he and Claire had discovered when they approached the house.

Once they were done with Eliot, Nate, Sophie, Parker, and Hardison approached him.

"Everyone okay?" Nate asked.

"Physically, yes," Eliot said with a sigh. "Not sure otherwise. Was this the plan?" Eliot asked Nate with a glare. He was still irritated at his approval of Claire's actions earlier in the day. Nate didn't realize it, really, but his approval had a lot of power.

"No, honestly, it wasn't," Nate assured him. "I really just thought he'd show up and try to manhandle Claire, obviously with you over her shoulder to keep it from getting out of hand, he'd get arrested, they'd search his vehicle and he'd go away for a very long time."

"Search his vehicle?" Eliot asked.

Parker nodded. "While you guys distracted him outside of the restaurant I found Henderson's fake financial records in the safe in his office."

"And you planted those in the car?" Eliot asked.

"Not just the financials," Sophie added with a smirk.

"I may have also snuck his wife and daughter's medical records out of the hospital and placed those in his backseat," Parker admitted with a grin. "Maybe. I put them in a pile of documents marked 'shred' and I'm pretty sure hospital records are supposed to be confidential and probably not stolen and destroyed."

"Yeah, I wouldn't think so," Hardison said as he fist bumped Parker. "Excellent."

"Yeah, well, he hit my sister," Parker said in a dark tone as she glared at Henderson's still unconscious form. "Alice and Catherine are very close."

None of them even bothered to remind her that Alice and Parker were one and the same. The fact that Parker cared that much about a person she didn't really know very well was too remarkable to ruin.

Henderson groaned as he came to and he immediately spotted Nate and Sophie chatting with Eliot. Claire descended the steps and joined the group, since she'd handed her cousins off to their very grateful parents. Henderson took one look at his supposed business associates standing side by side with his business rivals and began screaming.

"You!" He yelled as he fought against the deputies that were now holding him back and leading him toward the squad car. "They did this! They played me! It was them!"

"Yeah, Mr. Henderson, whatever you say," one of the deputies said as he rolled his eyes at the man. "We've got five witnesses that saw you aiming the gun at two children and their mother but they did it. Get in the damn car."

Claire smirked as the officer forced Henderson to duck his head and shoved him the backseat. He was still yelling and raving like a lunatic as the car pulled away. Now everyone saw what she saw. They knew exactly who he was and there was public proof to back it all up. She looked around at the group of thieves and grifters she'd somehow gotten mixed up in and took in the feelings coursing through her. As the police took Henderson away, she thought she might understand why Eliot did what he did and why he'd chosen these people for his family.

"Thank you," Claire told them all as she leaned into Eliot's side and he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "All of you. This means everything to me."

"Anytime," Nate told her with a smile and a nod. "It's what we do."