Woah, it's been a while since I've written Leverage.

But this story has been sitting 90% finished in my Docs for ages so I decided to finally get it done. Just a long oneshot :)

Hope you guys enjoy!

~cosette141

Four guys.

Eliot smirked.

Child's play.

He was standing in the server room where Parker was behind him somewhere, cracking a safe that housed the files they were stealing. She wasn't done yet, but four of the security detail were suddenly at the doorway Eliot was manning.

They seemed surprised to see him standing there, and Eliot watched the shock, confusion and then skepticism flit over each of their faces. Eliot knew why. His hair was pulled back neatly and he was wearing his glasses, his shirt was tucked in and he looked as harmless as a substitute teacher.

All guards lowered their weapons at the sight of him, exchanging glances with each other.

"Hey," said one of them. "You're not supposed to be in here."

Eliot quirked his brows. "Oh! Sorry guys, musta gotten lost then." He held back a smile as they lowered their weapons even more, deigning him not a threat. He leaned forward toward the doorway behind them. "Yeah, I was looking for…" As the men turned their heads, Eliot grabbed the first two men in front of them by the front of their jackets, throwing them forcefully at the wall beside him. Before the other two men could react, Eliot ripped the third guy's gun from his hand, emptied the clip and threw it, and kicked the fourth guy's gun from his hands and it slid into the hallway.

Four guys, two guns.

And right now, the guns were the more prominent threat.

"Eliot?" came a curious voice in his ear. Nate.

Choosing to ignore him, Eliot watched as the first two guys got to their feet and he grabbed the first one's gun and bashed his elbow into the man's face. He neutralized the weapon and tossed it, turning to grab the last gun.

He wasn't expecting the punch that caught him in the jaw and he stumbled back with a stifled grunt, the hit so forceful it shook his vision. He ignored whoever launched the lucky shot and grabbed for the second man, tackling him into the wall and slamming his wrist against it until he dropped the gun. Eliot used precious seconds to reach down and empty the clip when a boot slammed into his back, knocking him into the wall. He hit it and fell, lying still.

"He out?" the voice of one of the men said.

"Looks like it. Nice job, Dave."

"Thanks, man. I've been taking these classes—"

The conversation was cut short as Eliot's eyes snapped open and his legs lashed out, catching two of the men in the back of their knees, knocking them to the ground.

Eliot rolled back on his shoulders and pushed himself up, jumping expertly to his feet and he faced the two standing men. He grinned wickedly and tore off his glasses and threw them. He gestured a come at me, bro with two fingers and the two men lunged.

A few jabs with his elbow to the one guy's face, knees to ribs and finally a kick that slammed him against a wall kept him down. The next man was feistier, getting in two hits to both Eliot's chest and temple and he growled, punching him out and he fell to the ground and laid still.

One of the two men he knocked down must have hit something because, as luck would have it, he was unconscious.

And that only left one.

Panting, Eliot faced the last man. This man was angrier than the others. He let out a furious growl and charged at Eliot, who sidestepped him with ease and, using the man's forward motion, shoved him into a wall.

A few monitors rained down from the impact and Eliot took a speaker from one, and used it to knock the man out once and for all.

"ELIOT!"

"Nate," huffed Eliot, finally realizing that the noise in his ear wasn't simply the blood rushing. It was Nate, yelling at him. "Chill, will ya? Security guys are down. Taken care of."

He could almost feel Nate relax. "Oh. Sounded a little… rough."

Eliot shrugged. Before he could reply, though, someone started clapping. Eliot's head snapped up and he looked at the doorway, where a man was walking in, giving him mock-applause. Eliot recognized him instantly.

It was their mark.

"Nate," grunted Eliot warningly, eyeing the man. He was no fighter, Eliot could tell that in an instant. But what gave the man the upper hand was that he suddenly drew a gun from the ground.

The one gun Eliot couldn't manage to neutralize.

He let out a controlled sigh through his nose, furious with himself.

"Eliot? What's going on in there?" came Nate's voice.

"I have to say," the mark drawled, "I'm very impressed. I pay a lot for these idiots." When Eliot said nothing, the man smirked. "Goodbye, thief."

Before Eliot could react, the man fired. Shock stopped his heart as the bullet whizzed a half an inch over his shoulder. "You missed." Eliot drawled with a grin.

The mark, however, was smiling too. Eliot's grin faltered. The mark smirked and said, "Did I, though?"

"Eliot…"

Eliot whipped around. Parker was standing behind him with the flash drive in one hand and her other hand to her shoulder.

Crimson was seeping out from under her pale fingers and staining her shirt.

She was still standing, looking at him, seeming both confused and shocked. A trail of cold ran through Eliot's blood.

The mark raised the gun to Eliot. "And now for yo—"

Eliot whipped back around and grabbed the mark's wrist, twisting until it broke and the man screamed. With a wild growl Eliot used the gun to strike the man's temple, knocking him out cold. The desire to do so much more licked at him like fire in his veins but he tore himself away.

Parker.

"Eliot," she whispered. "I don't feel… good…"

"Parker," said Eliot breathlessly, running up to her and catching her around the waist just as her legs gave out.

She was so tiny and light. He held her carefully, gingerly, using such a soft touch that he only reserved for the few girls who held a special place in his heart, and he slowly lowered her to the floor. She was looking at him, her face tight and her eyes scared.

"Parker, darlin," he said softly, his hand on her good shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "You're… gonna be fine," he managed to choke out.

"Eliot? Parker?" Nate.

Eliot ignored him and trained his eyes on Parker's shoulder. The bullet missed her heart by inches but that did little to melt Eliot's worry. Blood now blossomed over her, staining the tiny gray tank top a dark reddish brown. It trailed down her bare arm, chest and down to her waist. Her chest heaved and she looked at Eliot with such pure fear and uncertainty he could feel his heart snap in his chest.

"Parker?"

Eliot winced. Hardison.

"Where are you guys?" Eliot bit out, at the same time reaching a hand toward Parker's shoulder, and realizing his fingers were shaking. He leveled her with a sincere, apologetic face and said, "This… this is gonna hurt, sweetheart, but I gotta stop the bleeding."

"We're outside at the rendezvous point, a block out," replied Nate. "Security's too tight for us to get closer. You two have been cutting in and out. Is Parker done? You guys are running out of time."

Parker swallowed, tears brimming her eyes and pain etching lines into her pale face. She nodded quickly, whispering, "Do… what the others… can't."

Eliot set his lips, then with a wince of his own, he pressed the palm of his hand hard into Parker's shoulder.

She cried out, but Eliot quickly pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream, feeling tears sting his eyes as he whispered, "I'm sorry, darlin, I'm so sorry," to her as she looked at him with wide, frantic eyes. "We-we can't risk being heard-Parker, I'm sorry." She jerked under his grip, desperately trying to get away from the pain but he held her there, his chest tight and his heart shattered into a million shards.

"Parker!" cried Hardison.

"She's been shot," Eliot bit out, surprised to hear his voice give out on the last word.

I let her get shot.

He cleared his throat, chastising himself. He was their hitter, their protector, their guardian. They needed him to feel safe. They looked to him for that. If he lost it, if he broke down, if he even lowered the defenses he's spent years building up a fraction, they'd have no one to hold them together. He needed to be strong. He needed to be Eliot Spencer.

For them.

For her.

"Sh—what?!" exclaimed Hardison breathlessly.

"How bad?" said Nate bluntly, and Eliot knew that the more emotionless the man sounded the more he was trying to cover up. The fact that those words were more factual and direct than anything he'd ever heard Nate say made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Eliot watched color drain from Parker's face and blood trickle through his fingers. He looked into the thief's face and she was frantically shaking her head. He knew what she was trying to tell him.

Don't tell them.

At least not yet. Eliot slowly nodded. She was right; the less scared the rest of the team was, the better. They would focus. They would be able to get them out faster and safer without any distractions.

"Eliot," came Sophie's soft voice for the first time. "How bad?"

Parker was pleading at him with her eyes and he slowly removed his hand from her mouth. She took a moment, then smiled a brilliant smile. It took Eliot by shock for a moment; she seemingly erased almost every line of pain from her face.

Like someone who's had practice doing it.

"I'm okay," she said, almost entirely evenly. If Eliot wasn't so scared he might have been impressed. "Got me in the leg. H-hurts like a mother-"

"Parker," said Sophie in surprise.

"But I'm okay," she finished. Her smile faltered a little and the pain returned to her face. Eliot cupped her cheek.

"She can't walk," he said, looking back at the doorway. "And I took out the guards down here but I don't know about the ones upstairs. Hardison, can you draw us a map?"

"Y-yeah," he stuttered. "But… Parker, you sure you okay, mama?"

He said it so quietly, so innocently. One look at Parker told Eliot she wouldn't be up to talking, and he said gruffly, "She's gonna be fine, Hardison! But not if you don't get us outta here!"

"All right, all right!" grumbled Hardison, but Eliot detected a fair amount of relief in his voice. "Uh… let's see… okay, take a right down the hallway out of that room."

Eliot nodded to the air, and looked back down at Parker. Her eyes were fluttering and blood was beginning to pool around her. Fear jumped into his chest. He gently tapped her face a few times, pulling her back to full awareness. "Parker, hey," he said, his voice quiet but urgent. "I'm gonna have to wrap this first. It's gonna hurt, but it'll be quick."

Eliot stripped off his button down shirt, leaving him in his black tank and a shiver ran through him from the basement chill. He wrapped the shirt around her shoulder carefully and with a grimace he tightened it, and quickly pressed a hand over her mouth again. This time she groaned, but seemed entirely intent on keeping her pain silent. Her chest heaved and her eyes were screwed shut. Eliot cupped a hand around her face again. "It's done, darlin, it's over."

She blinked her eyes back open and looked at him with effort. "It hurts," she whispered brokenly, and Eliot's chest tightened painfully.

"I know, sweetheart," he whispered, stroking a hand through her hair. She had never looked so young and innocent as she did right then.

It took every ounce of self control not to kill the unconscious man who did this to her.

"I'm gonna pick you up, okay?" he said gently.

Parker nodded slowly, cradling her left arm to her body. As tenderly as possible, Eliot scooped her up into his arms. One arm behind her back and the other underneath her legs. He stood up, the thief tucked tightly against him, and he looked down at her. She'd clamped her mouth shut as he moved her, but the lines of pain were written in her face again. She was shaking.

"I got you, darlin," he whispered, giving her a tiny squeeze with his arms. Her right hand suddenly reached up and grabbed a small fistful of the material of his shirt. Something in his eyes burned.

Eliot started out into the hallway, taking a right like Hardison had said. "Okay, I'm in the hall. Where now?"

"There's a staircase at the end of the hall," said Hardison, and Eliot saw it. He nodded.

"Anyone up there?" asked Eliot roughly.

"Nah, not there. Coast is clear."

Eliot jogged carefully up the stairs, holding Parker close to him and tried his best not to jostle her. The stairs opened up into another hallway that never seemed to end. This wasn't the way he'd come in; he and Parker had used the ventilation system. Now, he had no idea where to go. A look down showed blood staining his arms and even some of his chest. But he hardly cared about that; it was the spreading crimson stain on Parker's torso that kicked his heart into overdrive.

"I'm upstairs, Hardison," said Eliot harshly. "Where now?"

"Uh… hang on, let me-"

"Hurry!"

"It's loading!" Hardison snapped back. "Okay—if you head to the very end of that hallway there'll be a door on your right. It leads outside."

Eliot picked up his pace a little. Thank god.

"Parker," said Hardison suddenly. "Are you okay?"

Parker didn't say anything, and terrified, Eliot looked down. She wasn't unconscious, but she was clearly in too much pain to reply. He winced in sympathy. His pace was doing nothing to help the pain.

"Parker?"

"She's fine," said Eliot heavily.

"But… Parker—"

"I said she's fine," Eliot bit out angrily.

"Eliot, why isn't she—"

A door suddenly opened not ten feet away ahead of Eliot. He froze, and a guard walked through, spotting him instantly.

"Are you kidding me?" hissed Eliot under his breath.

"Hey!" the guard shouted, running toward him. He held a nightstick high over his head, but didn't seem to have a gun on him. He also seemed pretty poorly trained-thankfully-but even so Eliot was in no position to fight. The idea of fighting with Parker in his arms was out of the question and he had no time to set her carefully on the ground before the guard was on them.

He didn't know what to do.

"El—" croaked Parker, and he whipped his head down, taking a few steps backward at the same time, pulling her closer to his chest. She was trying to reach into her pants pocket. "T-t—"

Eliot found what she was trying to reach. Taser. In one swift move that he only hoped wouldn't hurt her, Eliot shifted her weight into his left arm and removed his right arm from under her legs and grabbed the taser from her pocket. Just as the guard was upon them, Eliot flipped the taser in his hand and jabbed it into the man's chest, releasing the electric current into the man's body. The guard jerked and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Eliot dropped to his knee, all of Parker's weight on his one arm being too much to handle, and she grunted as he grabbed her again and adjusted his grip. He lifted her again and flashed her a grin. "Have I told ya how glad I am you keep that on you?"

Parker gave him an incredibly strained smile.

Eliot ran with her to the end of the corridor and kicked in the door on the right. Cold, fresh air rushed up to meet them as Eliot ran out on the tarmac, clinging to the shadows of the parking lot.

"We're on our way," said Eliot through panted breaths. Parker suddenly became heavier in his arms and he risked a glance down to see that her eyes were shut and her face was slack. "Parker?" He shook her a bit. Nothing. "Parker!"

"What's wrong?" demanded Nate at the same time Hardison did.

"Hurry," Eliot huffed. "I need you to meet me! I'm halfway to you, just start driving! Now!"

Somewhere in the background on the comms Eliot heard an engine start up. He ran until he caught sight of the headlights in the distance. He shook Parker again as he ran but she didn't move. "Dammit, Parker!" he whispered gruffly, but it lacked any anger behind it.

When Eliot finally reached the van, it stopped with a slight screech from the tires and the back doors flew open. Nate and Hardison were standing at the doors when Eliot pulled himself in, and the doors shut behind him. Sophie tore out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"To my safe house," Eliot called to her. He stumbled tiredly and fell to one knee, slowly lowering Parker to the floor of the van.

"Is she-Parker!" cried Hardison, finally seeing her up close. He fell to his knees beside her, gently taking her face in his hands. "Parker! Baby, please, wake up—"

Nate was at Eliot's side now, handing him a blanket. Eliot used it to prop the thief's head, and he removed his own ruined shirt from her shoulder and pressed on the wound with his palm again in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Hardison," said Eliot. "Check her-"

"You said she was fine!" roared Hardison, turning furious eyes onto the hitter. Eliot glared heatedly back.

"She didn't want you to know!" Eliot growled at him. "And save it, Hardison, we need to keep her alive!" Hardison looked so helpless and desperate that Eliot almost felt bad for yelling.

Almost.

"What does she need, Eliot?" asked Nate.

"If we stop the bleeding and get her stitched up, at this point she'll be fine. But we need to do it soon," he added, watching blood trickle through his fingers.

"How far, Soph?" asked Nate.

"Five minutes," she called back, yanking the wheel hard to the left and everyone jerked, trying to stay upright.

"Careful!" shouted Hardison, cupping Parker's face. "Oh, baby, please be okay, please be okay…"

"Hardison," said Eliot, calmer this time. "Check her pulse."

Shakily, Hardison reached out and pressed two fingers to her neck. His eyes widened and his breathing hitched. "I-I can't—I can't—"

Silently, Eliot reached over and moved Hardison's fingers a fraction, and watched the younger man sigh in relief. "I-It's there. She's still… here."

Eliot nodded. "Tell me if that changes."

Hardison swallowed hard but nodded. Tears fell down his cheeks.

"She'll be okay, Alec," said Eliot quietly, and Hardison looked at him, like a small child given all the hope in the world.

Eliot looked back down at Parker's pale face and the blood pooling around his knees damn well hoped he didn't just lie.

They made it to his safe house in record time.

Sophie's driving was fast and reckless, just a little bit less reckless than Parker's. Eliot would have been more concerned with it if he hadn't been so focused on making sure Parker kept breathing.

His safe house was on the outskirts of the city. He'd only come here a few times since the team's been in Boston. He acquired at least three safe houses within a one hundred mile radius of wherever the team based out of. This was the closest.

They had neighbors but they were spaced out enough where there wouldn't be any prying eyes. Eliot knew each neighbor. He'd run a background check and snooped houses.

He was thorough. He was Eliot Spencer; he had to be.

So they didn't bother parking away from the house. Sophie pulled up the driveway and parked haphazardly, half on the grass and the driveway.

"Hardison, I have to get the door." Eliot told him. Hardison nodded stiffly.

Eliot got out of the van, and Hardison scooped up Parker as gently as he could. Nate followed behind, replacing the pressure over the wound that Eliot released.

Eliot jammed the password into the door lock and ripped open the door. It was a small house, only a living room, kitchen, one bathroom and a small bedroom. But it was perfect for what he needed it for.

"Where, Eliot?" asked Nate as he and Hardison walked through the door.

"Bedroom," he said gruffly, walking into it himself. He flicked on the light and the room flooded into view.

It certainly wasn't a bedroom. A cot lay next to the wall with merely sheets. A blanket was folded at the foot. Next to it was a small mini fridge. A table in the middle of the room stood next to a chair. The table had every source of medical supplies laid out neatly and orderly. Syringes, bandages, gauze, everything.

Just as he always left it.

The fridge held a dozen ice packs and water.

A cabinet in the corner held towels, rags and extra clothes. The doors were ripped off all the cabinets and they were at waist-height.

He used this room when he needed it, and organized it so.

"Lie her on the bed," he told Hardison, who was already on his way. He slowly let her down, trying to keep himself from crying. Nate was still beside Parker, pressing firmly down on the wound, blood seeping through his fingers.

Eliot was already at the table slipping on rubber gloves. "Now, everyone else out."

"What?" said Hardison, wiping his cheeks. "No, I need to stay!"

"No." said Eliot, dumping a fair amount of rubbing alcohol on his hands and then choosing a needle and thread.

"Eliot's right," said Sophie, ushering Hardison out. "They need space."

Eliot let out the breath he didn't know he was holding as the door swung shut. He grabbed the needle and met Nate beside Parker. Eliot suddenly realized his hand was shaking.

He swallowed hard.

Nate watched him carefully, patiently.

Nate removed his hand and Eliot set to work.

He was glad Hardison was out of the room. Having the hacker breathing down his neck would have made this eons harder. Eliot couldn't help his eyes darting to her pale face every few seconds as he worked. She looked so much like a kid. An innocent, young kid. He felt a twist in his chest at the comparison.

He had to fish out the bullet first. Something screamed at him the entire time. Screamed how wrong it was. How wrong it was that Parker had a bullet in her. How he let it happen.

How could he let this happen?

He dropped the freed bullet on the table and let out a breath. Nate was waiting patiently beside him, his face unreadable.

Eliot reached for the needle and thread. He learned an extensive amount of medical procedures in the Service, and even more working on his own. A Retrieval Specialist couldn't always go to a public hospital. If things were bad enough, they had people for that. But this wound in Parker's shoulder was luckily a flesh wound that was as dangerous as the amount of blood she lost.

It took him less time to finish the stitch than it did to find the bullet. He tied it off and pressed his fingers to her neck, and felt a pulse beat back at him. Stronger than before. He breathed out in relief.

"Does she need blood?" asked Nate softly.

Eliot shook his head. "No, she should be fine. We should get plenty of water in her once she wakes up, though." He took off his gloves and wiped his brow. "If we had waited even twenty more minutes she would have needed a hospital," he told Nate quietly. He did, however, hook her up to an IV to replace a good amount of the fluids she lost. When he was done, Eliot rubbed a hand over his eyes. He got up and opened the door.

Hardison and Sophie were sitting on the couch in his living room, having been staring at the bedroom door. They both jumped off the couch. Hardison had tear tracks on his face.

"Is she okay?" he asked desperately.

Eliot nodded. "She'll be okay."

Hardison rushed forward and yanked Eliot into a crushing hug. The hitter tensed on impact, having half a mind to clock him as reflex, but he relaxed into it, knowing the hacker needed the embrace.

And maybe he did, too.

Hardison released him, and disappeared into the room.

Sophie looked relieved. "Thank goodness," she whispered, following Hardison but putting a hand on Eliot's shoulder tenderly as she walked by.

Eliot stood where he was, rubbing a hand over his face again. It was too close. They cut this way too close. And they didn't have to. He stood there, mocking the man. He let him shoot Parker.

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

Eliot turned. Nate was standing behind him in the doorway.

Eliot shook his head. "It didn't have to happen to her."

"What," said Nate, crossing his arms. "It should have happened to you?"

Eliot chose not to reply.

"We're going to get hurt, Eliot," said Nate quietly. "Hitter or not." He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "You know, I got shot last year. No one's running around blaming themselves for that."

Eliot winced.

Nate just smiled wanly. "I know. It's not the same."

Eliot opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, the words a little too deep to get out so easily. He tried again, shoving them out. "It's… I just can't stand to see her get hurt."

Nate nodded. His smile from before faded into something sad. Haunted. "I know." He clapped a hand lightly on Eliot's shoulder. "Believe me… I know." He sighed, dropping his hand. "But if I've learned anything… we can't stop them from getting hurt. Not always." Something haunted passed through his eyes, and Eliot knew he was thinking of his son. He strengthened his gaze. "All you can do is your best. And you saved her, Eliot. Like you always do. Like you always will."

Eliot just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

It was well into the early morning, the sky still black when Parker woke up.

Eliot and Hardison were in her room, Hardison's head resting on his crossed arms at the foot of the mattress, snoring softly. The hacker had sworn he was just resting his eyes. Eliot didn't bother to wake him.

They all had a long night.

But Eliot was awake, watching her, guilt and concern battling inside him despite Nate's attempts to ease it.

That bullet hit Parker, but it hurt them both.

When her eyes fluttered open, Eliot sat up quickly. Parker narrowed her eyes at the unfamiliar ceiling, and Eliot saw her body go rigid.

Unhappy with such a reflexive response to waking up somewhere she didn't recognize, Eliot quickly spoke. "Hey, darlin," he said softly. "It's all right. You're safe."

Parker turned her head, relaxing slightly when she recognized his voice. She saw him, and gave him a sleepy smile. "Sparky?"

Eliot smiled.

For as much crap as he gave her for calling him that ridiculous name, after tonight, he'd have given a million dollars to hear her say it again.

"Yeah," he said.

Parker moved to get up, then cringed. "Ow," she whined, moving to touch her shoulder, where the large white bandage still covered it.

Eliot gently grabbed her hand before she could. "Don't touch it, sweetheart. I just sewed you up. I'm not doin' it again."

She blinked in confusion. "Sewed me up?"

Eliot's guilt clawed back up. "Do you remember what happened, darlin?"

Parker's face shifted in thought. Then— "Oh." Her brows kneaded. "Bullets hurt," she mumbled.

Eliot knew that firsthand. "They sure do," he said softly. He sighed. "I'm sorry, Parker." The words hurt to get out.

She looked at him funny. "Sorry about what?" Her brows kneaded. "You didn't shoot me."

He shut his eyes. Opened them. "I shoulda been there, Parker. I should have… protected you," he said softly.

"But then you woulda been shot," she said. "And I couldn't have carried you."

The image of that almost made him laugh.

Almost.

"Still," he said. "I won't let it happen again."

It was a promise.

One he intended to keep.

Lest he die trying.

"I only got shot once, you know," said Parker. "What about the other four-hundred and fifty-seven times?"

Eliot's brows kneaded. "The what?"

She blinked. "That's how many times I was almost shot, but wasn't because of you."

Eliot stared at her.

It took him a moment to remember that Parker had an eidetic memory.

His brow lifted. "You counted?"

She shrugged, then winced. "I count lots of stuff." She ticked on her fingers, "How many times Sophie taught me something about being a normal person, how many drinks Nate's had—you don't wanna know the number—all of the passwords Hardison uses and keeps changing when I find them out—" She grinned. "So of course I keep count of how many times you saved me. You do it all the time." Her brows furrowed. "If you only made one mistake out of that many times, that sounds pretty good to me."

Eliot couldn't speak.

Struck completely, utterly speechless.

"Parker?"

Hardison must have been roused by their voices. He lifted his head, seeing Parker awake. The biggest grin broke out on his face, and he launched into words that were half a lecture about her being more careful and half about how scared he'd been.

Not long after, Nate and Sophie joined them, and Nate briefly mentioned their plans to get back at the mark who got away.

Eliot didn't listen.

He just watched the thief on the bed, smiling a little to himself.

Four-hundred fifty-seven.

He didn't count the close calls like she did. But perhaps…

Perhaps they did count for something.

-.-.

Six weeks later, when Eliot tackled Parker out of the way of a bullet, narrowly saving both of them, he could have sworn he heard someone whisper, "Four hundred fifty-eight."

He couldn't help but smile.