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Parker was jolted awake from a nightmare that involved her gunning down the crew of Leverage, one by one. She had just been about to get to Eliot . . .

Eliot!

She rolled onto her belly to peer at him, feeling her chest still pounding against the mattress (not real, not real, not real).

Next to her, the hitter shifted uncomfortably and groaned.

Real?

She had been hoping for some major signs of improvement, but if anything, he kinda seemed worse. Yesterday when she'd poked him, he'd moaned and rolled over, but today when she pulled his hair, he ignored her. Also, he seemed . . . cooler? That was bad, wasn't it - in Parker's experience, people got cooler when they died.

She buried her head in the pillow.

She didn't know what to do. She wasn't any good at situations like this. After a lifetime of ignoring her own injuries, she didn't know the first thing about treating other people's – no doubt, anything she tried to do would only make him worse.

It was obvious to Parker that she needed smart people to help Eliot, people who knew what baby doctors were called, along with other helpful medical knowledge. Should she take him to a hospital?

But . . . Parker didn't trust authority figures. They usually wanted to arrest her.

She sighed.

None of this was part of the plan. In Parker's version of the plan, she was halfway to Thailand by now, trying to forget that she had ever heard of Leverage, Inc. Which reminded her, she was going to need to come up with a lot of cash, preferable from some source Hardison couldn't track.

She rolled out from under the covers and reached for her jacket, which she had left slung over a chair. She threw it on over the clothes she had been wearing for the past three days.

"Eliot? I'm going to go out for a minute, okay? I'll be really quick, you won't even have time to miss me!" She ducked into the bathroom long enough to swish some mouthwash and run a quick hand through her disordered hair. "So stay here and wait for me. Okay?"

No answer. That meant yes.

...

Parker followed the road signs in search of good hunting grounds, which took her across the state line to the Mohegan casino. Casinos were good places to pick pockets - used to be even better when things were more cash-oriented, but Parker was happy to steal credit cards, too.

She moved slowly through the main floor, where the air was filled with the jingling noise of slot machines and the excited cries of the occasional winner. The sound of so much money in the air made Parker itchy. She didn't want to put tokens in a slot, she wanted to locate the main safe and examine the schematics. Focus, Parker, she reminded herself, her internal voice sounding suspiciously like Nate. She wasn't here to pull a big heist. She was here to lift petty cash to finance a plane ticket to Phuket.

She knew there was video surveillance everywhere, but that didn't really bother her. She could pick a pocket right in front of the camera and you still couldn't see her doing it (Hardison had tested).

She stood for a long time watching the blackjack table - and stealing from the spectators while she was at it. There seemed to be a lot of cash flowing and Parker lifted it all, stuffing the whole wad in the breast pocket of her coat. She knew she should keep moving, but the sight of the cards being overturned was fascinating. Most casinos used lame light-up icons these days, but the dealers here used a real deck.

Ace, black 7, black 2, stand. Parker couldn't stop staring, although she did take a break long enough to pick up a drivers license from a blond lady leaning over a player's shoulder (from a distance, maybe they could pass).

Red 5, red 6, hit. The player, a stout man with yellow teeth, won with a Queen of Spades.

"Do you want to play?"

Parker looked up, startled, to find him lighting a cigar while he looked her over. She prevented herself from touching the stash wad in her pocket (an amateur move). Instead, she smiled back, hoping the effect was less creepy than her usual smile.

"I don't know the rules," she lied.

"It's easy, you're just trying to come closer than dealer 21, without going over. Here – " he nodded at his hand, "you just tell me to hit or to rest, okay?"

He was holding a black seven. "Okay," said Parker, "Hit."

Three of Hearts.

"Hit," said Parker.

The Queen of Diamonds. Parker smiled. "Hit."

"Are you sure?" said the cigar man. "Face cards are ten, you're at twenty now."

Parker didn't even look at the dealer's hand. "Hit," she said. Always hit, always push for more, or what's the point of playing?

Ace of hearts. "Twenty-one," said the dealer.

"You're crazy," said the cigar man, but he said it with a smile. "Here, take your share of the loot." He threw her two chips, purple and black - $600. Parker caught them in one hand and sniffed them quickly.

"Thanks," she said, deciding not to lift his wallet. Instead she turned and melted into the crowd, rubbing her two chips together in her hand.

Rather than taking them to the cashier, Parker wandered back to the parking lot with close to $10,000 in stolen cash and the two uncashed chips. She drove back to the motel hoping that maybe Eliot had gotten up to take a shower while she'd been gone, or maybe he wouldn't even be there, maybe he'd called a cab and headed back to Boston without even waiting to say goodbye – it sounded something he would do.

"Eliot?" She pushed open the door with her foot. "Are you still here? We can buy food . . . I want fortune cookies. Eliot?"

He seemed to have slipped out of the bed and was half-sprawled against the mattress, as if he had been trying to get up and ran out of energy. "Eliot?"

She crawled up next to where he was sitting, peering into his face. His skin looked – pearly? – and his jaw was clenched, eyes shut tight. He was breathing shallowly. "Eliot, it's time to get up. Okay?" For emphasis, she socked him on the arm, hard. "Eliot?"

She sat back and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket, which still contained the two poker chips. What should she do? Staring at his face, she began passing them between one hand and the other, feeling the plastic heat up in her palms. Pros and cons, thought Parker. In one hand, always push, hit on every turn, Queen of Diamonds – and in the other hand, plan ahead, play carefully, Ace of Hearts. How did people ever make a decision?

Her thoughts were disrupted when Eliot shuddered and groaned, sounding like the wooden timbers of an old ship. She chewed on her lip and reached to tentatively pet his pretty hair. Except it was stringy with sweat. "Eliot, please," she whispered. "Please be alright."

His hands flexed, briefly.

"What do you need?" she asked desperately, shaking his shoulder. "Eliot! What's wrong with you?"

Slowly, his eyes opened, fixing dazedly on her face. "Parker?" he whispered, making a question out of it.

"Eliot, are you hot? Or cold? Does anything hurt?" Unconsciously she had grabbed the front of his shirt, twisting it in her fingers.

Gently, Eliot lifted his big hand up to her arm, her shoulder, and patted her back. She could feel the muscles trembling. He licked his lips. "Don' cry," he whispered.

"I'm not crying, you jerk," Parker insisted, but she didn't check to see if it was true.

"Where's – the team?" he asked, his voice rough. "Where's . . . "

She watched the consciousness slide slowly from his face. "Eliot? Eliot!"

Hopelessly, she huddled against his warm chest, feeling his arm slip down her back, leaving her alone.

...

Parker made the call from a pay phone, leaving her stolen car running in the street. Eliot was slumped in the front seat (Parker had put a hat on him so maybe be looked asleep? Or maybe he just looked even more like a corpse).

Knowing Hardison would track the call, she waited for his familiar, cautious hullo? and poured forth in a long breath, before he could answer; "You've got to pick up Eliot, he isn't getting better – bring a car to the corner of Washington and Eleventh Street in two hours – he'll be there – " and hung up, her heart pounding.

Then she dashed back to the sedan and peeled away from the sidewalk, heading in the direction of the city.

Rules of blackjack (delete spaces): www. blackjackinfo . com/blackjack-rules . php