Well…here's the next chapter! Hope you enjoy! (Sorry for the length...)

Nate stared at the burning building, a sick feeling in his chest. There was no way Eliot could've escaped from that. He glanced at the rest of his team. Hardison had pulled Parker against him and the two of them seemed to be crying – at least, Nate could see that Hardison was crying, while Parker's shoulders were hitching and her head was buried in the hacker's shoulder. Sophie was biting her lip, her teeth almost tearing straight through it, and Nate reaches out for her, pulling her to him and holding her close. He wasn't entirely sure which of them was actually being comforted by his actions.

"He can't be gone," she whispered into his shirt. "He just can't be!"

Nate found himself rocking slightly in an attempt to soothe her, blinking back his own tears. He couldn't let the rest of the team see how upset he was. He noticed the members of the police team who Hardison had informed him (in a very tense voice) had been 'negotiating with the psycho chick who's got Eliot'. They didn't look happy. In fact, they were somewhat split up, all leant against various vehicles letting other cops take statements.

"What name was Eliot going under?" Nate asked Sophie, needing to give her something to do. Needing to give himself something to do more to the point.

"Simon Taylor," Sophie supplied, wiping her eyes.

"Alright, have you got your Jenny Taylor ID?" It was a stupid question. It was the ID she'd been using for the con.

Still, Sophie checked her pockets and nodded as Nate searched for a suitable ID. He found one.

"Timothy Taylor," he stated, holding it up. "You're his wife, I'm his brother. Alright?"

Sophie nodded again. "What're we doing?"

"We're running to that police line, and you're screaming for your husband. We need to know what's going on."

"How can you be so calm?" her voice was shaking.

"This isn't calm Soph, this is me struggling not to snap. We need to do something."

Sophie regarded their mastermind as he said that and she could see the tears in his eyes, and the tense lines in his body. He looked like he was about to punch someone. The difference was, the person who normally looked like that had just been caught in the explosion that had demolished the house he'd been being held in. The house they'd rented for the duration of the job. So, after a quick glance to Parker and Hardison and a 'stay there' gesture from Nate, the two of them started shoving their way through the crowd. They reached the police cordon and Sophie literally screamed Eliot's assumed name, before breaking down completely in Nate's arms, sobbing for her 'husband'. It hurt more knowing that her actual grief wasn't as acted, even as the crowds drew back to a more respectful distance while still fighting to see what was going on.

One of the negotiators moved over to where they were now knelt, with Nate rocking Sophie in his lap, sobbing himself for his 'little brother'. He knelt down in front of them.

"I'm Sergeant Greg Parker," he told them quietly. "Can I ask who 'Simon' is?"

Nate forced himself to appear to calm down. No. He wouldn't lie, even to himself. He forced himself to actually calm down. "He's my little brother and Jenny's husband. We'd rented this house for our holiday. Well, their holiday, I came along at the last minute…" Nate silently wished that the part about the house being the one they'd rented wasn't true, and it was under the name of Simon and Jenny Taylor.

He wished that they hadn't taken this job…

…But Eliot had been insistent, said it was just what they all needed, a break from the States. Goodness only knew why. That they needed to get away from it before it smothered them, and that being here would do them some good. That they could make a holiday out of the end of it. Take a break from the constant adrenaline. Adrenaline Nate was fairly sure Eliot practically lived on – ninety minutes sleep did not leave a lot of room for him to live on much else. And now Eliot wasn't there to help them. Now they were going to have to bury him. He was gone. It hadn't really hit Nate until now. Eliot Spencer. The indestructible protector of Leverage Consulting was gone. The man immune to everything that was thrown at him, had been destroyed. The man who was so blackly humorous, who joked with Hardison and Parker and supported him and Sophie, but at the same time held that dark shield that none of them could get past was dead. The man who could take four guys out in seconds, wasn't coming back. The man who'd survived furious mob bosses, envious hitters and wars, had finally been taken out. By a mad woman with a lighter.

God he needed a drink.

Who was going to rib Hardison mercilessly about his computer games? Who was going to tell Parker she was weird, discuss conspiracy theories with her and teach her to fight? Who was going to be Sophie's back-up and devil's advocate? Who was going to be there telling Nate that his actions were all very Catholic when they met their clients in the bar that Nate never really bought anything but coffee from? Who was going to be there to make random comments about what someone's profession was, or what weapon was being used just by a short glimpse of some action he'd seen or heard? Who the hell was going to protect them from the bruisers they found themselves invariably encountering? Parker could fight, but she was no-where near Eliot's league. No-one Nate had ever really met was. Not many art thieves were professional killers or fighters.

He became aware that both the Sergeant who had approached them and Sophie were trying to get him to say something. He blinked at them, trying to get his tongue to co-operate with his addled brain. Or his brain to do something other than crave alcoholic oblivion.

"He's gone," he croaked out.

For a second, he was sure the Sergeant was going to say something about not knowing that to be true. The man proved himself smarter than that.

"Most probably," he stated quietly. "I'm sorry."

It sounded like he was personally responsible for the building exploding.

"Why?" Sophie's normally confident and steady voice sounded shattered. Like the woman had broken. "It's not like you made the building explode.

Nate prayed to a God he wasn't sure he believed in that the damage to the team wasn't irreparable.

The Sergeant said nothing, just gave them a sympathetic look, and gestured for an ambulance crew to come over.

"They may be in shock," was all he said before walking away.

Nate stared at the building. The fire department had the blaze mostly under control now. Of all the ways Nate had imaged Eliot dying, all the ways he'd seen in vivid Technicolor in his nightmares about the team dying, this wasn't one he'd thought of. A blaze of glory, a blaze of bullets, hell, a blaze of fists since the Tap-Out Job had given him an insight into exactly what men like Eliot were really capable of (he had no doubt that Eliot had been holding back more than any of them realized, if he had be drugged, he wouldn't have been using MMA moves to take the guy down). But an actual blaze. No, that hadn't been a scenario he'd considered.

There was a sudden flare up as dying flames found fuel for new life. That was when Nate saw Her.

Looking back, he could never quite pinpoint exactly what about her drew his attention. At first glance, she just looked like one of the many innocents who'd flocked to the scene.

Maybe it was the way the outfit she wore clung to her slender curvaceous figure.

Maybe it was the finger, idly twirling a stray strand of red hair around, drawing attention to long, elegant, pianist's hands.

Maybe it was the way the lighter in her other hand was being flicked off and on absently.

Maybe it was the way she shifted when a cop moved near where she was stood, almost nervous.

Maybe it was the look on her face that made Nate want to storm over to her, and scream at her that Eliot had died.

Maybe it was that look. That sickeningly gleeful look as she watched the building burn. The way her eyes lit up further whenever the flames flared back to life.

Nate found himself deciding in that instant – for no real concrete reason – that that woman was somehow responsible for Eliot's death.

He tried to move to confront her, but found himself throwing up instead.

When he looked up again, only seconds later, he couldn't find the woman in the crowds.

Hardison had never quite managed to figure out why exactly humans were so obsessed with the misery of others. He'd lost sight of Nate and Sophie shortly after they'd shoved their way into the masses. He was more concerned about the blonde sobbing into his shoulder anyway. Parker was more like Eliot in the emotions respect. Sure, Eliot showed his anger, but that was about the only real negative emotion they got off him, he never showed when he was in pain, or when he was upset. Hardison knew he wore his own emotions on his sleeve, it was why he stuck mostly to the hacking. Sophie and Nate could conceal their emotions, but they often found their voices betraying them, mostly weren't they weren't on the job. Parker and Eliot just seemed to be able to blank out the negative emotions and instead displayed an almost cheerful face to the world. That was why Hardison didn't have a clue how to deal with the crying Parker. It didn't help that all he wanted to do was scream at the injustice of it all.

Things had been going so well. The team had been working well together. They'd been back to being a family – they were more a family than ever. Eliot had stopped going into his dangerous defensive mode when one of them startled him. Not that they could really startle Eliot. Hardison didn't want to think about what would happen now.

The horrid feeling in his stomach was saying that their family was about to be torn apart. And all because of some psychotic, suicidal pyromaniac.

Eliot had meant a hell of a lot more to the team than any of them ever let on.

Parker made a snuffling noise. "Now who's going to tell you that your dreams of world peace through the internet are dumb?"

Hardison remembered the night she was talking about. He'd voiced that thought right after the two boys had been tormenting Parker about conspiracy theories (although more than one of the theories was more than that to the boys). Hardison had stated (slightly tipsy) that he didn't understand why people of all nationalities couldn't just get on. He'd further cited that he was friends with people of many nationalities over the internet. The others had all fallen silent to consider his point. Except Eliot. Eliot had laughed.

"Problem is," he'd drawled, leaning back in his chair, "we don't live in computers. World peace is a wonderful concept on paper. But there ain't no power on earth that could achieve it. We're just too petty. Too violent."

No-one pointed out that violence was his way of life, that some days he was the very definitions of the word. (Hardison was privately surprised that their wasn't a picture of Eliot Spencer next to the word in the dictionary). No-one had really cared. Hardison pulled Parker closer, burying his face in her hair.

"I don't know," he whispered truthfully. "I really don't know."

The realization that the man who'd always protected them from the worst their cons had to offer was dead was hard to take.

Sophie couldn't remember the last time she'd cried this much. It had been long before she'd become part of the Leverage team. Long before she'd even met Nate Ford. But it was quickly becoming apparent to her that she wasn't going to be able to stop crying for a while. Even after the exhausting, shoulder-shaking sobs had subsided, tears still fell down her face, and her breath was coming in hitched gasps. She felt bone-weary in a way that she wasn't sure she'd ever encountered. She tried to distract herself, but the only thought that would run through her head was 'when did I start caring so much about Eliot that this is hitting me so hard?'. It wasn't an easy question to answer.

It could've been the point in the Top Hat Job where he'd told her that you had to make time to grow your own food – the way he seemed to be honestly worried for their own health.

That gave new meaning to the times he'd shown up at their headquarters with his own supplies for when he was cooking. (Like that time after they'd taken Monica Hunter down).

It could've been during the Order 23 Job when she'd realized there was something off about his behaviour, and she'd seen him looking out for that kid, and knowing that he was just (if not more) protective of them.

That realization had first struck her in the Tap-Out Job, when she'd seen him so passionate about what these men did, when she realized that no matter what she thought of the sport, this was part of Eliot. Part of the world he existed in. She was struck by the realization, that Eliot had fought like this before, for reasons not so vastly different to these men, that his profession, had been based on things like this. Then, when he'd come in just behind Nate, eyes flashing, fists clenched, shoulders tense, ready to kill anyone who harmed her.

Not forgetting the conversation after the Fairy Godparent Job where he'd complained mercilessly about her trying to get him to keep his fight down. The way that he'd been so defensive of her. The way he protected her, even after she'd betrayed him.

She didn't need to go any further back. The first time she truly started caring about Eliot had been long before Leverage. She'd managed to screw up her con, and had been certain of pain and then death, when one of the men working for her mark had abruptly turned on the others, a growl of 'don't touch the lady' echoing in his throat as he took them all down. He hadn't even known her, and he'd probably saved her life. She hadn't seen him again until Leverage, and it had taken her a few months to realize exactly who he was. She didn't know if he remembered her. Now she'd never find out.

Everything of him she'd seen after that had only made her care more for her 'big brother' (even if she was the elder). Sometimes, she had a feeling that while her and Nate were the 'parents' of their little family, Eliot was more of the father than Nate. After all, the father was the protector wasn't he? Something told her that Eliot would disagree, an offhand comment about older brothers being the one's you had to look out for on a job where an older brother had come at Sophie and Nate in complete rage after they'd taken his little brother for all he was worth. Pity he hadn't seen 'big brother' Eliot behind him, ready to attack him.

She blinked. Who the hell was going to protect them from Eliot's world now? The world they knew nothing about.

Parker snuggled closer into Hardison, thankful for his supportive embrace. Her big brother was gone. She refused to accept that. He couldn't be gone. Eliot was indestructible. The punishment he'd taken during the Tap-Out Job attested to that. The guy was twice the size of him, and Eliot took far too many blows, before laying the guy out (which he would've done much faster if they hadn't had to go into all that play-acting). But even the indestructible Eliot couldn't be fireproof. Could he? Maybe he was. He had to be!

Parker wasn't entirely sure where her thoughts were going, her mind was an utter mess. More of a mess than usual. Normally her thoughts were a network of not quite connected threads of thought, although on the job she was focused only on her objective – like any of the others. But this had hit hard. This had hurt. This had her crying. She couldn't bottle this up and then let it out during her training sessions with Eliot. There was no Eliot to train with. She sobbed harder at that thought.

If you'd told her, two years ago that she'd be crying over the death of a hitter, she would've told you, you were mad. The only hitters she ever met in her line of business were the ones out to kill her. But Eliot…Eliot was different. He was always there, never expected anything in return, just helped out when needed. Cooked for them when they needed it, and couldn't be bothered paying for take-out. Protected them during jobs – got really pissed off when they wouldn't let him protect them during jobs.

Parker wasn't an idiot. Despite everything her own life had thrown at her, she was still a naïve, innocent little girl when compared to Eliot. He'd never said anything, but no-one with Eliot's ability to switch from charming Southern gent to hard street-fighter had lived a good life. Hardison had mentioned the kid in the Order 23 Job, and Eliot's reaction. Parker just put two and two together.

And that silent comforting presence of a man who had seen and protected them from the world the rest of them knew about, but refused to acknowledge, was gone. On an intellectual level (waay too much time spent with Nate and Sophie if Parker was using a word like 'intellectual'), on a purely intellectual level, Parker had known that Eliot-death-risk was a hell of a lot higher than the death-risk to the rest of the team put together. Yet for some reason, that had just made him even more indestructible because he'd survived for so long. It certainly hadn't prepared her for this.

Parker was jolted out of her thoughts as someone bumped into her and Hardison.

"Hey!" the hacker protested, voice hard, and slightly cracked as Parker realized something had been slipped into her pocket.

"Sorry," a female voice mumbled, accent clipped and so not Canadian.

"Wait a minute!"

Parker pulled away from Hardison, just enough to see a red-haired woman kick a bike's engine into life and disappear away from the scene at high speeds. Parker dug into her pocket and pulled out the piece of paper that hadn't been there earlier. She stared at the words.

'Sometimes, all that's needed is for someone to notice.

I see no fat lady.'

Parker handed the scrawled note to Hardison.

What the hell did that mean?

Arg! Just could not get a feel for Parker! The others sort of wrote themselves! Not a clue where Eliot saving Sophie came from… And not a clue where the note came from...apart from the fat lady bit. As always, please review! Let me know what you think!