A/N: I've got some small chapters coming up, so I might post more often than Wednesday and Saturday. I had no idea you guys would keep asking for more. This is really fun!

TooLazyToLogIn—There are spoilers through season four. You might not follow some of the things mentioned because you haven't seen episodes that are referred to. I hope you can enjoy, anyway—or come back again after you've seen the episodes I listed in the beginning. I decided to really play with Eliot's amnesia, though I think I do it subtly.

Tacodestroyeravenger—Eliot posed as someone who loves dog fighting. A reporter asks what brought him to San Lorenzo and he says, "Two words: dog fighting" and he lifts an adorable little puppy and says they do the dog fighting with puppies as young as this one on presidential property. It was part of the team's smear campaign, and it was so funny because the reporter is kind of at a loss while Eliot is beaming and completely unashamed.

Chapter Six

"No." Nate shook his head. "I don't think he's there to kill Moreau."

"Why not?" Hardison asked. "Makes sense to me."

The group stood in the living room, deciding on their next move. Sophie knew they were going to San Lorenzo and wished they would plan on the way. She wanted to get out of there, to find Eliot and fix this.

Parker stuck her lower lip out before saying, "That's what the guys in the bar thought, and that one guy spoke to Eliot."

"Yes." Nate pointed at her. "He spoke to Eliot but not our Eliot. One thing we do know about Eliot's past is that he worked for Moreau and he was stuck. I'm afraid this is much, much worse than Eliot going down there to kill Moreau."

"Lots of things are worse than that," Hardison said. "I say we wait a little bit before heading out, if you know what I'm saying."

"Eliot doesn't go around killing people." When nobody said anything, Parker stomped her foot. "He doesn't! He only does it when he has to. When he's protecting people."

Hardison turned to her. "For who was the worst thing Eliot had ever done?"

"Moreau."

"And what was that worst thing?"

"I don't know. He threatened to tell me."

"Exactly."

"Exactly," Nate repeated. "That's the Eliot we're dealing with now. We don't know what he's thinking, where his moral compass points to or what his motivations are."

"So?" Parker demanded. "He's still our Eliot, it doesn't matter if he knows it. We know it."

Nate held up a hand. "We need to move fast and as a team. We need to be focused and strong." He took a breath and looked at each of them. "We have to be ready to go up against Eliot."

"Why?" Parker demanded.

"What do you mean?" Hardison asked suspiciously.

Sophie had a sinking feeling in her gut. She'd put two and two together.

Nate's voice was soft. "We might have to stop him because if we don't, we could all get killed."

"Why?" Parker asked again.

Nate said nothing, so Hardison looked at Sophie. "What's he talking about?"

Sophie stood up, her stomach twisting in knots. "It's quite likely that Eliot went down to San Lorenzo to break Damien Moreau out of jail."

xxxxx

Eliot was sitting in a chair. It wasn't very comfortable and he couldn't get up. He was a prisoner in a warehouse—the mob was deciding who would kill him. They were passing the gun around. They all had guns. That's when she walked in. The first lady. The woman at the docks with the British accent. The woman that had spoken to him so kindly in soft, silky tones, as though she cared for him and worried about him. He saw her, but the others didn't. A shot rang out, and he sat there, surprised. She'd pulled the trigger. There was blood on his shirt. Two more shots hit him, and he tipped over in the chair, dead.

Eliot flung himself out of bed. He lay on the floor, breathing hard. He didn't even try to make sense of that dream. It felt so real…it felt like a memory, but it had to be a dream. He was less scared in the dream—in that chair and being shot to death—than he was here on the hotel room floor.

Of course it was a dream. The dead woman, first thanking him for saving his life, was now killing him. And he deserved every blood stain.

xxxxx

Hardison's eyes grew to a comical size. "The jail we put him in?" He swung his hand around, to encompass the room. "The jail we all put him in? Including Eliot?"

Nate nodded. "Yup. Eliot thinks Moreau is his boss."

"Moreau hates us," Parker said.

"Oh, he hates us, all right," Nate agreed.

Parker thought about it. "If Moreau gets out, he'll come after us."

Nate nodded again. "Oh, he'll kill us. Yeah. Yeah, he'll kill each one of us."

Hardison stepped toward Nate. "And you want us to go down there and, what? Wave to Moreau and say 'hey man, we thought you'd kill us quick if we handed ourselves over. Sorry 'bout before'?"

"No, Hardison. I want us to go down there and stop Eliot."

"Eliot hates us," Parker said sadly.

Sophie put a comforting hand on Parker's arm. "He doesn't hate us. He doesn't know us. He's running scared."

"Eliot is never scared."

"That's not true." Hardison sat on the couch with a sigh. "He asked if I was scared once. I said yes. He said fear was good. Over confidence will put us in the ground faster than a bullet would. Course, we were being chased by Jeb and his military gang of trigger-happy goons. Anyone would be afraid."

"That does sound scary," Parker agreed.

"Oh, it wasn't that. No, I could accept that." Hardison used his whole fist to jab at his chest. "I was handcuffed to the man. You ever been handcuffed to Eliot? Eliot? And he was mad."

Parker shivered.

Hardison looked at Nate. "And that was when he was on our side. You want us to take him on as an enemy? I think I'd rather turn myself in to Moreau."

"We can do this," Parker said. "It's Eliot. We know him better than he knows himself."

Sophie shook her head. "We keep telling you, we know nothing about him anymore. He's a different man."

"No, he's not. He's Eliot. I don't care if he's travelled back in time, he's still a good man. Deep down. He has a protective streak that goes so deep he was probably born with it. That doesn't just happen overnight or because of an experience. He became a soldier, not an accountant." She patted Hardison's knee. "He only kills for good."

Hardison stared at her. "That's a very comforting thought, Parker. Thank you."

"You're welcome!" She smiled genuinely.

"What's the plan, Nate?" Sophie asked.

"Hardison got us on a flight. It leaves in three hours. We pack light, we see what Eliot is up to and we stop him."

"That doesn't sound like much of a plan," Sophie pointed out.

"Yeah," Hardison said. "Where are the specifics, man? How do we stop him?"

"I'm working on it." Nate raised a hand when Hardison started to speak. "I'm waiting for a call back from General Flores. We'll put him and his men on alert. I think it's too risky to move Moreau. He's well guarded, and there's only one elevator—it's impossible to break into and get two men back out."

Parker's hand shot up, and she wiggled her fingers.

"Yes, Parker?"

"Didn't we break out, like, half a dozen men ourselves?"

"That's beside the point."

Hardison's eyes bulged again. "Beside the point? May I remind you that I got dumped in a pool? In my suit? While handcuffed to a chair?"

"Ooooooooh!" Parker narrowed her eyes and looked straight ahead. "That still sounds like fun."

"Fun? Fun? I assume they did that at your all-girl sleepovers?"

Parker's jaw dropped as she considered the possibility.

Nate tried to regain control of the conversation. "It's beside the point because we did that as a team. Eliot's alone in this one."

Hardison stood up and started pacing. "May I remind you that Sophie was assassinated? She can't go back there."

"I've already taken care of that." Sophie dug around in her bag and pulled out a blonde wig. "I'm going to go for an American accent." She jutted her hip out. "I'm Trish from Arkansas, how y'all doin'?"

"That's terrible," Hardison said.

"Come on." Nate waved them to the door. "We might as well wait for Flores's call at the airport."

No one moved.

He clapped his hands together. "Come on, people! We have work to do. Let's go steal us an Eliot."

"Ooooooh!" Parker bounced up and down and then ran out of the room.

Sophie collected her luggage and purse.

Hardison pulled a computer bag over his shoulder. "A pool, man. Handcuffed to a chair!"

xxxxx

Parker's excitement did not wane from the wait at the airport, the long flight or killing time until the airline found Hardison's lost bag. They were greeted at the San Lorenzo Airport by General Flores himself. The general was happy to see them and took them back to the palace, but his face went all concerned as they got down to business and discussed Eliot.

Good, Parker thought. There were times to be serious, and when a friend like Eliot was in danger, that time was now.

The problem they faced was threefold, or so Nate told them. One, Eliot was a trained killer and did not know they were the good guys. Two, they couldn't hurt Eliot yet had to stop the man who stopped at nothing. Three, everything they knew about how Eliot worked was useless and would get in the way of any plan they came up with. They had to treat him as a stranger, but knowing him as well as they did would make it almost impossible.

Hardison had agreed the problem was threefold but he said problem one was that Eliot was a trained killer, two Eliot was a trained killer and three, Eliot was a trained killer. Parker thought that should really only count as one, but Nate didn't correct him and they just kept talking about the plan, which was basically to wait for Eliot to come to them.

It sounded reasonable but also boring, so she snuck out to walk the streets and see if she could spot him. It was worth a try, and she had nothing to lose.

"Parker, where are you?" Hardison's voice suddenly buzzed in her ear.

"I went for a walk. I turned on my com, see? I'm kind of still there." She knew they'd eventually realize she hadn't come back from the bathroom and that they'd try the com.

"You just happened to want a breath of fresh air?"

"San Lorenzo isn't all that big. Maybe Eliot needs a breath of air, too." There were all sorts of pretty flowers along this street, and a lot of buildings holding all sorts of shops and restaurants. It was busy, and she scanned the crowd for any hint of Eliot as she kept up the conversation with Hardison. Although, he could barely keep up his end of their little discussion.

She heard Hardison sigh and attempt to say something, but he kept starting over before finally settling on, "Get your butt back here, girl."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I haven't found him yet."

"Please do not tell me you think you can…oh, man. Parker!"

"I have to do something, Hardison. He's out here all alone, and you said he was scared. You said he doesn't know me. He's only seen Sophie, and he didn't hurt her despite thinking she was after him."

"He hogtied Sophie."

"That sounds like fun."

"N-no. You-no. Girl—"

"It's better than sitting around in a dank old dungeon waiting for a trained killer to come after me."

There was a long pause. "Where are you, Parker? I think I need some air, too."

Parker giggled. They loved to tell her how little sense she made and how illogically she saw things, but if they just listened long enough, they'd get it, too. "You can take the second shift."

"Second shift?"

"Yeah. If I don't find him, I'll come back there and wait, and then you can come out here and look for him."

"The likelihood of you finding Eliot in this city is close to nil. He's going to be laying low. He probably won't come out until dark, and even then, he'll probably only come out when he's ready to free Moreau."

"Hardison, I see—"

"You see my point? Good. Just because you got lucky in that bar, doesn't mean you'll get lucky and just happen to magically spot Eliot at the park."

"Hardison, I—"

His voice went high-pitched. "Oh, look at me, I'm Parker. I think only good things will happen, and I'm so lucky."

"But—"

"It doesn't work that way. Just because you have a sunshine attitude and expect the universe to provide anything you want, that doesn't mean it will."

"Yes, I—"

"Although you do seem to be lucky, but that's all it is, Parker. Luck. You can't make luck happen."

Parker ignored Hardison—who was totally ignoring her, anyway. She sat down on a rickety stool and tilted her head to better see the man next to her. "Hello, handsome."

"What? Parker, are you talking to me?"

"Hello, darlin'."

"Wh-what are you seriou-did you just find him?"

Parker smiled at Eliot and he smiled back, his hair nicely combed, jeans and shirt covering the bruises and cuts he must have. Poor Eliot. He smelled like cinnamon. He looked so different, so distant, but not his usual distant, a different kind of distant. She stared into those two brilliant pools of blue and…nothing. He was just some guy. He was smiling politely, not genuinely. He wasn't happy to see her. He didn't have that almost guarded look whenever she got into his face to ask him about something that was normal to her but seemed to fluster him. "Whatchadoin?" she asked him.

"Parker, keep him there and don't do anything risky. We've got your GPS. We're on the way. Be careful."

Eliot turned back to his nearly empty plate and bowl resting on a scuffed but clean counter of a little diner. "I'm just eating here, darlin'."

He sounded so courteous. He was treating her like a stranger.

"Parker, I'm going to turn my com off for a minute so you can concentrate while I talk to the others. Focus on normal, light conversation. We'll all be on in a minute. She found him. I can't believe it—"

Eliot turned away from her.

Parker laughed lightly, as though Eliot had said something funny, and she touched his arm. "Oooh," she cooed. "You're all muscle-y."

He turned back and smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Can I help you with something?" He sniffed at her. "It's a bit early to be drinking, don't you think?" He pushed his plate away and stood up.

"Oh, yes, I agree. Wanna come back to my place?"

Eliot sighed heavily. "Listen, darlin', I don't want to be rude but why don't you go try someone else?" He started walking down the hallway to the back door.

She followed him. "Oh, come on, Eliot."

He stopped in the middle of the dimly-lit back hall and faced her fully. He looked her up and down, the air around him electrified.

Oops. This was a lot harder than she'd thought it would be. She could know all sorts of things about a mark, but there was no familiarity. No chance to slip up like this. But he was Eliot. How did you get that out of your head? Parker shrank under his scrutinizing gaze. He smiled again; a crooked grin that had nothing to do with politeness.

Her com buzzed to life and Sophie spoke to her. "Parker, they're on their way. Just watch him. Or if you talk to him, keep it light."

Nate spoke next. "Keep him there only if you can. If you can't, don't try to follow him or he'll know and take you out."

"Do we know each other, darlin'?"

"Oh, crap!" Hardison breathed.

Parker steadied herself. "Yes, Eliot. As a matter of fact, we do, but you don't remember."

"I remember everything."

"Oh, yeah? How old are you?"

He looked at her quizzically. It actually, finally looked like Eliot. "You just back away from me and you won't get hurt."

"Back away, Parker."

Parker stayed inches from him, refusing to back down. She was so close to Eliot, she couldn't lose him. He looked hurt and sad and really uncomfortable, but not the usual uncomfortable he adopted when she started talking to him, this was much more urgent.

"Back away, darlin'." His voice was a low growl.

"Parker!" Now it was Nate.

"No," she said simply.

Eliot furrowed his brow, looking more Eliot-like than he did even before when he remembered who she was. "There's something wrong with you!" he snapped, looking past her down the hallway. He turned slightly to look over his shoulder.

It was now or never. Parker grabbed her taser and jammed it into Eliot's neck.

Only…it didn't happen the way she'd pictured it. He'd been ready for an attack and grabbed her wrist, still looking away from her. How did he do that?

He snatched the taser out of her hand and jammed it into the fleshy part of her shoulder.

That was the last thing she remembered.