AN: Thank you rianna34 for all the editing! And thank you NatalieB for making sure that my Spanish wasn't actually gibberish in disguise!

Padre Dios, ¿a dónde me estás llevando? Quiero ser tus manos y tus pies, pero no tengo mucho para continuar. = Father God where are you taking me? I want to be your hands and feet but I don't have much to go on.

¿Quién es Eliot, Padre? = Who is Eliot, Father?

Padre, ¿esto es lo que querías que hiciera? = Father, is this what you wanted me to do?

Ay, no puedes hablar en serio = Oh you can't be serious!

Scuttlebutt – military slang for gossip

CHAPTER 1

Unanswered

"Father Julio, you should come." A woman's voice whispered across Julio's phone speaker.

"Who is this?" Julio asked as he slid his feet out of bed to sit up. Why had she called him father? Did the woman think he was a priest? He was a pastor for a tiny nondenominational church, but no one called him Father.

"Eliot needs you." The woman's voice sobbed, and the call cut off.

Julio rubbed a hand over his face. He could just blow the call off and go back to bed. It was after all, he checked the bedside clock, three a.m. But he felt a quiet urging in his spirit, and he knew better than to ignore that. He slid off the side of his bed feeling the rag rug under his feet. He leaned over the bed to gently shake his wife's shoulder. "Chrissa, baby, I'm going out."

She patted his hand. "Okay, be safe." She moaned the words more than spoke them. Then with a little gasp she sat up. "Do you want me to go with you?" She blinked at him owlishly.

"No. Go back to sleep." He was already pulling on the jeans he'd worn yesterday. Thankfully it didn't happen often but sometimes one of his congregation would call him in the middle of the night so Chrissa wouldn't be too concerned by his late-night errand. "I'll call you if anything changes." He pulled on an old blue shirt that advertised a restaurant in Arizona. Chrissa had already settled herself back under their blankets and Julio kissed her temple before he grabbed his boots and headed for the door to the stairs.

He pulled his boots on and at the bottom of the stairs he gently pushed open the door that led into the old storefront where his church met for services. He had to be careful with the door since it had a tendency to slam, and he didn't want to startle Chrissa awake again. He grabbed the coat he'd left near the front door when he came back in from shoveling snow off of the sidewalks last night.

"Padre Dios, ¿a dónde me estás llevando? Quiero ser tus manos y tus pies, pero no tengo mucho para continuar." Julio prayed as he pulled his coat on and stepped out into the cold night. He paused to lock the door behind him. "¿Quién es Eliot, Padre?" Julio almost always prayed in Spanish. He was the first one in his family to be born an American, something his family was proud of, and he grew up speaking Spanish at home. He knew God would hear him regardless of language and Spanish was where his most authentic voice was. So he didn't hesitate to speak to his Heavenly Father the same way that he would his Papa. He started walking down the sidewalk.

He hadn't recognized the woman's voice. At least he was pretty sure he hadn't talked to her before. He fished his phone out of his pants pocket and checked the caller id. Unknown caller and a number he didn't recognize was all he had for that last call. He thought about calling it back but something about that didn't feel right so he put his phone back in his pocket and kept walking. He vigorously rubbed his hands together before putting them in his jacket pockets. Finding his pockets empty he realized he'd left his gloves at home. As he got closer to the next streetlight, he could see his breath clouding out in little puffs in front of him.

He was walking toward the 405 underpass with the snow crunching under his boots and as he got closer, he was suddenly sure of who 'Eliot' was. He'd known Eliot Spencer from his days in the military. They had served together for a while, but Eliot started getting tapped for special assignments. The scuttlebutt was those assignments had crossed the line in a lot of places. He'd seen Eliot turn from your average kinda guy to something darker. It had been a couple of decades from those days to when Eliot had turned up in the same soup kitchen as Julio. Eliot had come to cook and help serve and Julio and his wife, along with a few other church members had also volunteered. Eliot had recognized Julio first but waited until after the kitchen closed and they were all cleaning up before he mentioned it. It had taken Julio a while longer to recognize that long ago friend in the long-haired stranger that had been working next to him all morning.

A few more times they'd worked the soup kitchen together before talk turned to much besides the weather and the recent game. Julio had found that some vets wouldn't talk about their military service, and he figured Eliot for one of those but with all the intervening years that didn't leave them much to talk about. Finally talk turned a little more personal, if not much, and Julio had asked what Eliot was doing in Portland. Eliot told him his team had set up a consulting firm and they were also running the Bridge Town Brew Pub. Julio had to admit that Eliot looked more alive than the last time he'd seen him all those years ago. The last time Julio remembered seeing him, Eliot had looked both cold and like he was being eaten alive by something.

As Julio walked under the 405, he knew he was only a couple of blocks from the pub. He was pretty certain that was the place he needed to go. He hoped that Eliot was awake and easy to find. It wasn't often he felt led to go and find someone, let alone in the middle of the night, and he imagined that the explanation of what brought him there might be a little awkward.

A while ago Eliot had invited him and Chrissa to have dinner at the pub and afterward Eliot had given them a quick tour of the kitchen as he led them out the back way. Julio decided that the loading dock was where he'd try first since he knew the restaurant's front doors would be locked at this time of night. Maybe there would be a bell or something in the back for the apartments above the pub.

Julio turned down the alley that led to the back of the pub. As he came to the parking area, he heard something that sounded like a sob or maybe a grunt. He was standing under the security light, and he couldn't see much past the bright spot that it made. He stepped out into the shadowy area beyond the light and by the dim glow of another light from inside the pub's kitchen, Julio was able to see someone crawling on the loading dock at the back of the pub. Steam was rising in a cloud around the figure and Julio had to get closer to make out much else. As he walked a little closer, he noticed odd little pink spots in the snow sprinkled here and there. As he got closer, he noticed a line of huge dog tracks leading toward a nearby dumpster and a line of bare human footprints leading back to the pub. Before he had time to really wonder about someone walking barefoot through the snow he heard the grunt-sob sound from the figure on the loading dock again. Suddenly the figure on its knees spun toward him. It must have been a trick of the light but for just a second, he thought he'd seen a flash of yellow eyes.

"What are you doing here, man?" Eliot's voice was gravelly and angry as it cut through the cold dark night.

Julio stopped and held his hands up by his shoulders to show he meant no harm. "I don't know. I got a call. Some woman said 'Eliot needs you' before she hung up on me. And I well, I figured you,… whatever… I'm here. Is there something I can do for you?" Yep awkward.

"You can go home." Eliot reached into a bucket near him and pulled something out of it.

Julio realized Eliot was scrubbing the loading dock on his hands and knees with no coat, in the middle of a snowy night. Instead of leaving Julio climbed the few steps up the loading dock. As he came up, the angle of the light changed and he could see Eliot was scrubbing blood, a lot of blood, off of the cement. "What the hell happened here?" It was not often that Julio engaged in casual profanity of any kind anymore, but this scenario just seemed to pull it right out of him.

"Didn't I tell you to go home?" Eliot's words were growled from between clenched teeth.

"Yah, ya did. But it looks like you need some kinda help." Julio wouldn't ask about the blood; there were some things that it was just best not to know. But he could help clean. He sent up a silent prayer. 'Padre, ¿esto es lo que querías que hiciera?' He felt something settle in his spirit. He looked around and he could see the backdoor to the kitchen had been propped open a crack. Without asking he let himself in and started to look for a second bucket. He'd worked in a couple of restaurants over the years, so it didn't take him long to find the cleaning supplies. He took a bucket and a scrub brush and went into the kitchen proper to fill it. As he stepped from the supply area into the kitchen, he could see bloody footprints across the floor. He stepped over them so as not to track more of a mess through the kitchen. He heard the door between the supply area and the kitchen squeak as it opened. Turning he saw Eliot glowering in the doorway. "I don't need to know anything. But it seems pretty obvious that you need some help." Julio continued to fill his bucket with hot water. Eliot swallowed hard and nodded before turning around to go back outside.

Julio took his bucket and brush and followed Eliot out. Without another word Julio knelt down on the loading dock and started scrubbing at a bloody spot near the door. Not only had the blood congealed it had mostly frozen. Julio noticed that any place he got wet but wasn't actively scrubbing started to freeze. "Ay, no puedes hablar en serio!" He muttered mostly to himself.

He heard Eliot snort behind him where he was scrubbing his own bloody patch. Julio poured a bigger puddle of hot water onto the spot and shoved at it with the brush. That seemed to do better. In a moment of inspiration, he got up and went back into the kitchen. He poured out the cooling water and ran water as hot as he could get from the tap. When the bucket was full, he paused by the cleaning supplies and grabbed a push broom. He carried them to where Eliot was still scrubbing. "I have an idea." He tilted the broom in Eliot's direction. "You'll probably end up with a lot of ice in the parking, but it'll be better than this mess." Eliot took the broom and stepped back while Julio slopped some of the steaming water across the cement. Eliot immediately started shoving the water and the blood with it, off the edge of the loading dock. It took three more buckets of water with Eliot viciously sweeping to clean the worst of it off of the loading dock. Julio carried out one more bucket and cast its contents in a sweeping arc that obliterated the unusual foot prints he'd noticed earlier. Eliot raised an eyebrow when he'd noticed what Julio had done but he didn't comment.

Julio carried the bucket back inside. Stepping over the footprints again he went to the sink to refill his bucket. This time he kept the water at a temperature he could stand to put his hands in without scalding them. When the bucket was about half full, he turned off the tap and went in search of a mop. He found a bunch of brooms and a dust mop but not a regular mop. There were a bunch of sponges piled in another bucket, so he grabbed one of those before going back into the kitchen.

Eliot walked in just as Julio was hanging up his coat on a hook near the aprons. "What are you doing here Julio?"

"Helping." Julio didn't know what else to tell him. Without waiting for Eliot's permission Julio went back to his bucket and taking it, knelt on the floor and started sponging at one of the bloody footprints.

Eliot's groan sounded suspiciously like a growl, but he went back outside to fetch his own bucket. Julio wasn't too surprised to see Eliot come back with a mop as well. He figured there had to be one somewhere he just hadn't spotted it before he found the sponges. Eliot rung out the mop and started going over several of the footprints. The blood had mostly dried, so the mop wasn't able to pick up everything. Julio followed along after Eliot's mopping and used his sponge to get whatever the mop couldn't pick up.

The kitchen wasn't terribly warm, but it was a lot warmer than it was outside. The ambient heat of the kitchen and the warm water worked together to make Julio's hands sting, but he ignored it as much as he could and kept scrubbing. He'd heard the phrase 'work as unto the Lord' often since his childhood but he'd never thought that would include scrubbing bloody footprints off a floor at four-something in the morning.

They'd been working in silence for quite a while before Eliot asked "So, you really aren't going to ask me about this?" Eliot rung out the mop again.

"No." Julio scrubbed at a stubborn spot near one of the prep counters.

"You might be helping with a mur…crime." Eliot's voice broke a little and he coughed.

"Maybe. But after I got a call, from some woman I don't even know, that said you needed help, I prayed. I could have ignored that phone call but God, He sent me here. I don't know what happened here, but I don't think my God would want me to be an accessory to murder." Julio didn't look up through any of his speech he just kept scrubbing.

Eliot snorted and continued mopping for another minute or two. "And what if …" Eliot stopped himself. There was no point in picking at a man that had shown up to help him clean and really hadn't asked any questions.

"What if you did commit murder and I'm helping you clean it up?" Julio glanced up before he went back to scrubbing. "Then I guess I'm an accessory. Either way God sent me here to help, and if that means I go to prison then I guess that was meant to be too." Julio shrugged and kept scrubbing.

"It wasn't murder." Eliot felt bad for the position Julio found himself in. He couldn't tell him what had happened, but he could at least assure him he wasn't committing a crime with his good intentions.

"Good." Julio rinsed and squeezed out his sponge. "Are you okay? Obviously the blood isn't yours, or you'd be dead, but you are involved somehow. So, are you…okay?"

Eliot turned a sob into a cough before he answered. "Yah, I'm okay."

Julio raised an eyebrow at Eliot as he scooted to the next spot that needed sponging.

"I'll be okay." Eliot huffed. He'd noticed before that Julio was nearly as good as a wolf when it came to spotting a lie.

"What about your people? Parker and Harrison?" Julio hadn't met the people Eliot worked with, but it had been clear he was fond of them. And if Julio remembered correctly, they all lived in the apartments above the pub.

"Hardison." Eliot corrected and had to swallow hard.

Something in Eliot's tone of voice caught Julio's attention and he looked up just in time to see the pained look on Eliot's face. "Is Hardison okay?"

Eliot swallowed hard again and nodded.

"Was…" Julio didn't get to finish his question before Eliot cut in.

"It was probably Parker that called you." Eliot had been viciously mopping at a footprint. He stopped and sighed leaning on the mop handle. "I told her she couldn't call the rest of the team because it would just upset them, and I know she was upset about it."

"Right. Well, I'm sure we'll have this cleaned up before anyone else comes in." Julio really wanted to ask: what happened, who did all this blood belong to, where was Eliot's team, how did Parker get his cell number, and a myriad of other questions but he'd told Eliot he wouldn't ask.

Eliot scrubbed at another footprint. "I need to call and let the staff know we're going to be closed." Eliot's comment was quiet.

"Are you going to be safe here?" Julio couldn't imagine what could have gone down here but it was obvious that Eliot was still working through things. "If you need a place to stay, or if your people do, I can find a place for you all." Maybe that was why he'd felt sent here.

"Thanks." Eliot wiped his face with the back of his hand. "We'll be just fine though. You don't need to worry about us."

"Not worry. But I will pray." Julio kept sponging.

"Pray for what? You don't know what's going on here." Eliot's tone was growly.

"No, but God knows, and that's enough." Julio looked up and for just a second, he could see Eliot in his twenties, right before the helicopter took off and Julio didn't see him again for more than twenty years. Just like before it looked like something was eating at him. Julio got to his feet and reached out squeezing Eliot's shoulder. "Whatever it is it will pass. Things can't stay like this, whatever this is, forever."

Eliot's words sounded choked, and he looked away. "But it can't go back either."

"No, it can't." Julio sighed. "But the only things that don't change are dead and as long as you're on this side of the dirt there will be time to make things better."

Eliot huffed out a breath but didn't look at Julio.

"Come on man. We're almost done with clean up and then you can buy me a beer." Julio added more hot water to his bucket and let a peace settle over him when he went back to cleaning the floor.

It was nearly a half an hour before they finished cleaning off the footprints that went through the restaurant and down the hall into the meeting room. Eliot stopped them at the stairs. "That's it. This is as far as you go."

Julio glanced up the stairs but didn't argue. He went back and poured out the slightly pinkish water from his bucket into the sink in the kitchen and took a last look around to make sure they hadn't missed anything. It wasn't quite six in the morning when Eliot held a bottle of beer out to him. Julio took it and followed Eliot to a booth in the restaurant. Sitting opposite each other Julio held his beer up tilted toward Eliot. Eliot obliged and clinked the mouth of his beer bottle against Julio's. They both tapped their beers on the table before taking a long drink. They sat in silence for a long while sipping their beers.

"Will I see you in church this Sunday?" Julio asked while he looked out the windows at the first hint of morning light.

"No. Not this Sunday." Eliot smiled a little. "Hope that wasn't why you came by."

Julio snorted. "If it was just to boost church attendance there are easier people to start with."

Eliot couldn't help a small chuckle and he realized how good that felt after the last several hours. "Maybe in a few weeks. I gotta get things settled first."

"You need anything, you let me or Chrissa know. We'd be glad to help, and we don't need explanations." Julio held his hand out and Eliot shook it. "I'll be looking for you a couple of Sunday's from now."

Eliot rose and followed Julio to the back door. "Want me to call you a ride? I can't leave right now but I'd be glad to pay for an uber or something."

"No. A walk will give me time to talk with God about the kind of errands he's been sending me on." Julio smiled and gave Eliot's shoulder a squeeze. "Call me. Anytime. Even if it's just for company. Wouldn't mind having another beer with you sometime." Julio shrugged his coat on and headed back out into the cold.

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AN: Eliot obliged and clinked the mouth of his beer bottle against Julio's. They both tapped their beers on the table before taking a long drink. The tap on the table is a military custom to honor or acknowledge their friends who may be deployed elsewhere or are dead.