Sorry for the delay, I have no internet in my new flat, so I'm stuck with an internet cafe just down the road…here's another chapter that I'm still not happy with…meh. Enjoy.

Ed Lane woke up with a hand over his mouth and a vague face with a finger pressed to its lips. A gesture to the amount of 'downstairs' followed and the figure moved quickly out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen. Ed followed a few minutes later and found two figures sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee.

"Eliot, Tavia," he ground out. "What're you doing here?"

"What?" Tavia's eyebrows raised. "No 'hello'? No 'how are you'?"

Ed simply glared at her and she rolled her eyes, relinquishing her seat at the kitchen table to hop up onto one of the counters instead.

Eliot had a faint smirk on his lips. "So tell me Ed, how goes your work at the SRU?"

"Fine," Ed bit out, noting that Eliot was being just as contrary as Tavia, although in a different manner. "What are you doing here?"

"Markham."

The one word sent chills through Ed's spine. He knew from when he'd met these two in service who Markham was – and knew why Tavia's eyes now held a hunted look, while Eliot's face was a blank mask. Tavia's insanity was at least partly Markham's fault – he sent Eliot's team into a situation without back-up, and it had ended with the op going to hell.

"What about Markham?" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"You heard anything?" Eliot asked him. "I mean, I've got what Tav and the guys have told me, but not much else."

"And you think I might have heard something."

"Well, if what they say is true, then Braddock Senior's involved. You work with his son don't you?"

"Sam? Yeah. Good kid."

"Perhaps, that's not what I need to know though."

"You want me to see if I can't get any information about Markham's plans?"

"No, I wanted to see if you had any. Getting any information you find to us is risky."

"So do what you usually do, have Reeve put a tap on my computer. And don't say you don't."

Eliot looked confused for a second before his expression cleared. "It would appear Reeve's been keeping secrets from me. Did you know Tavia?"

Tavia looked up from where she'd been inspecting her hand critically. "I tend to switch off when Reeve starts talking about computers El, you know that. Marco probably knew."

"Marco always knows," Ed pointed out helpfully.

"And you didn't find it reasonable to…"

"How can I tell you something I don't know?" Tavia bit out sharply, before sucking her breath in through teeth and rinsing out her mug in the sink beside her.

Eliot rolled his eyes. "Alright, we'll do it your way Ed. You find anything, let us know huh?"

"Course. You guys might not be legal, but you would've been if it weren't for Markham."

Eliot and Tavia both saluted him with ironic smiles on their faces before slipping out of the back door silently, and disappearing into the night. Ed watched after them in the night for a long moment, before he washed up the mugs, put them away, and returned to bed.

Marco was enjoying himself. He'd got into a game of poker with Sophie Devereaux and Nathan Ford, with Hardison and Reeve both settling down on their computers, and Parker watching them all carefully. Mister Ford had lost a considerable sum of money to Marco, but he was careful not to take too much from Ms Devereaux – one never deprived a pretty lady of her money, it wasn't like he had no manners. In fact, compared to Tavia and Reeve he was the soul of courtesy – then again, so were most people. Most the time out of combat, you were lucky if Reeve would look up from his laptop, and Tavia practically had fighting in her blood. That said, Tavia had been on his arm in any number of formal situations, the only woman in the group she often played the part of disgruntled girlfriend, trophy-wife, elegant mistress, whatever the situation called for – more than once she played distraction to other gamblers, her lips caressing over Marco's neck as her low-cut tops left little to the imagination of his opponents. He smiled charmingly at Sophie.

"Well Ms Devereaux," he stated smoothly, "it seems you have bested me once again."

Sophie knew she was being conned, knew that Marco was grifting for all he was worth – hell, she'd played games like this more than once, despite preferring not to gamble. She knew that the chances were that Marco had been fixing the cards, and making sure she got a good hand most of the time (only occasionally until Nate had dropped out of the game). Yet, she couldn't help but be charmed by the Southerner as he continued to weave words and cards, dealing another hand to her.

Parker watched Marco's hands with narrowed eyes – they moved to fast to be sure just what was going on, but the man was clearly a card-sharp, and to her surprise, had been dealing Sophie nothing but good hands for the past three rounds. Why would he lose money? It didn't make any sense – nor did Sophie's rosy blush from the compliments Marco was pouring out. Parker rarely saw Sophie genuinely blush, and she could tell that that was what was happening.

Nate was seething quietly. How dare this…this…this conman charm Sophie so easily? The answer was in what Nate called him – this man was skilled at making anyone fall into his hands, so why should it be any different even with another grifter? Yet despite Marco's civilised words, and elegant clothes, something in his eyes was cold and distant – as though not all of him was invested in this game he was playing – and Nate didn't mean the cards.

Hardison for his part was staying out of it – he didn't quite get the loyalty Eliot seemed to feel to the people they'd been left with, and his comments about killing had made everyone uneasy. Marco was sat, easily ingratiating himself into Sophie's good books, his smooth voice offering compliments and polite conversation in equal turn. Reeve was buried in his computer, completely cut off from everyone else.

Reeve's whole focus only looked like it was on his laptop. It wasn't. In fact, the majority of it was on his surroundings. He was keeping a cautious ear on Marco's flirting – Marco didn't go out of his way to disobey direct orders, but some things were simply second nature to the gambler, and Eliot would know that. Parker intrigued him – she was sat, watching Marco curiously. Nathan Ford unnerved him, Reeve could feel the anger rolling off him – he wasn't trying to hide it. Hardison kept shooting him looks that Reeve couldn't quite decipher – he just hoped that Eliot and Tavia got back soon.

Sophie had recovered enough and had started retorting smoothly to Marco's overtures, grifting herself, and the two of them seemed to be enjoying their battle of wits immensely. They traded barbs and compliments in measure, throwing each other guarded smiles, and aiming to make each other blush.

Reeve eventually glanced up, his eyes drifting to the door. Then he glance back at Marco. "Do you want to stop gambling with your life Marc? Eliot and Tavia are on their way back."

Marco glanced at the door as well at this point. "Fair point."

He started to gather up the cards when Parker laid a piece of paper in front of him.

"What's this?"

"A note Tavia gave us," Parker told him. Marco picked it up.

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

I see no fat lady.'

"Reeve," Marco stated, handing the note over to Reeve. Reeve blinked at it.

"Tavia?" he sounded confused, although what he was confused about, Nate and his team couldn't gather.

At which point the door opened, and Tavia and Eliot came in, Eliot ahead of Tavia, a scowl on his face. Tavia's face was blank, and she moved towards the kettle.

"Before you say anything," Reeve immediately knew why Eliot was glaring at him, "I had a good reason."

Marco lifted the note from Reeve's hand and passed it to Eliot. "I think this is more important than what Reeve may or may not have done to Lane's computer. Apparently it's from Tavia."

Tavia's eyes drifted closed and she grimaced. Eliot glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Care to explain?" he inquired smoothly.

"So I got someone to write a note," Tavia shrugged, trying to nonchalance, managing it, apart from the way her shoulders had gone tense.

"Wasn't that risky?"

"Not as risky as you might think when it looks like you've got a busted wrist."

Eliot sighed and rolled his eyes. "And here was me thinking you'd been playing Pictionary with my team."

"Why do that? You guys have a hard enough time understanding my notes, I just wanted them to know you were okay."

Tavia slipped off the bench and headed for her room. Eliot sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Damn woman. Why'd we get stuck with her guys?"

"Because we were the ones who she settled with," Marco shrugged. "After a couple of months. And because you got overprotective after she turned up in the barracks with a split lip and a black eye. And you fought tooth and nail to keep her when the General tried to move her. S'your own fault we kept her."

Eliot restrained his unusual urge to stick his tongue out at the older man. That was normally Tavia's response – the annoying kid sister. He chuckled to himself – the day she'd turned up in the barracks with a split lip and a black eye had been one to remember, he'd nearly killed the guy who'd given it to her, despite the fact that Tavia had already kicked the guy so hard in the nuts that having children had promised to be unlikely. He still hadn't got on with the prickly girl (and she had been a girl then) but he'd fought to protect her – despite the fact that she didn't really need protecting – and the two of them had come to a quiet agreement – they respected each other, but liking each other wasn't part of the deal, not for a while longer at least.

"What do you mean 'playing Pictionary'?" Parker asked curiously.

"Nothing," Reeve responded for Eliot, his voice tight, defensive. Tavia would want it to stay quiet, felt it was something to be ashamed of – despite the fact that no-one before them had bothered much with her, and once they found out, it was too late to try anything, Tavia had been condemned as insane, and then their life on the run had started.

"She's illiterate isn't she?" Nate mused and found himself under three deadly glares. Black diamond, sapphire and emerald all held carefully contained fury. He backed off at that point.

"Through no fault of her own," Eliot bit out. "Don't bring it up again."

Parker put her head on one side, even she knew how to read. How could someone not know? She became painfully aware of Marco's eyes fixed on her, and for a second knew with unusual crystal clarity that normally only came when picking locks or thieving that he could hear her thoughts. She shook that thought off quickly – no-one could read thoughts, she knew that, after all, Nate had told her that there was no such thing as psychics. Had proved it to her. Still, the steely gaze Marco was subjecting her to was unnerving.

"I think we should all sleep," Eliot stated. "Reeve, you got us tickets?"

"Yup," Reeve nodded. "And IDs. You're married to Tavia again, the two of you got cattle class. They're the Air Marshal and FBI agent covers."

"You couldn't get me first class could you?" Eliot sighed.

"Marco fits in there better. I'm cattle class too…"

"That's different, you don't have Tavia to deal with."

"I could've married myself to her, but she'd probably kill me."

"Meh, I'm going to go break the news to my wife."

It was casual, normal, a slightly humorous edge to it, like they'd done it a thousand and one times before and then some. There was something all too natural about the way Eliot said that line, and then sauntered towards the room Tavia had disappeared into.

The Leverage team shared a look, and Hardison immediately made sure they were on the same flight as Eliot and the three strangers.

Eliot slipped into the room and saw Tavia lying on the bed, on top of the covers. She'd discarded her leggings and turtle-neck, and was dressed in one of Reeve's shirts, her pants and socks, her hair had been pulled up into a high ponytail, and she looked undeniably young, like a college student lying on her boyfriend's bed, wearing his clothes. She opened her eyes and looked over at him.

"Hey," she murmured.

"Hey," Eliot replied, noting the orange pill-bottle lying beside her hand on the bed, she held it up negligently.

"Aspirin."

Eliot knew that it wasn't aspirin in the bottle, but he allowed it to slide for now, he'd take it up with Marco once he explained their roles to Tavia.

"I'm married to you again?" she lifted an eyebrow. "At least it's not Reeve, but I think Marco would've been useful, could've done with first class."

"I can tell, you got a headache already?" Eliot played along with the idea that the pills were just aspirin. Confronting Tavia was never a good idea, especially not when she'd already blown up one building today – that said, that had been an empty building, and it had been doused in gasoline.

Tavia made an ambiguous sound that could have been an affirmative, or a negative, and it was sleep-fogged so it was impossible to ask her again as she rolled over and curled up, her breathing evening out, deepening but remaining near silent – the only way Eliot could tell the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Whether or not she was actually sleeping was questionable, but she knew how to fake so well that Eliot couldn't be sure she was actually asleep. With a sigh, he shrugged out of his shirt and jeans, and curled an arm neatly over Tavia's stomach, a comfort thing, right now he needed to hold a warm, human body, tomorrow there'd be hell to pay, but that wasn't something he'd deal with when it came to it.

A/N: Black diamond, sapphire and emerald are just fancy ways of saying that Marco has grey eyes, Eliot has blue eyes and Reeve has green eyes. Just so you know. :-D I am not saying that Parker does not realize things with the 'crystal clarity' comment – I'm just saying that I think her mind is normally rather cluttered, so she doesn't often see things in complete light (unless as I said it has to do with stealing). If anyone can tell me who Marco is starting to resemble, I will be impressed, and there will be virtual cookies. :-D