The Rewind Job, Chapter 6
Disclaimer: I do not own leverage or any of the characters. I do, however, have a picture of my brother pushing me on my tricycle and a very vague memory of the joy of those long ago moments.
Recap:
Ford was right about another thing too. Eliot had come after him. He was scoping out Ford's house from across the street when he saw the insurance agent come out of the garage, pushing his young son on a tiny red tricycle. The boy's beaming face and high pitched laughter took Eliot back to a time when he was too little to pedal his own tricycle. The memory of his older sister pushing him across the yard while he squealed in delight warmed Eliot's heart and he decided to give Ford a pass, this time.
Chapter 6
Eliot was started awake as the van he was riding in came to a stop, unable to stifle the groan that escaped as he jarred his injured ribs. He tensed as he realized he'd allowed himself to fall asleep and left himself totally defenseless for who knows how long.
"We're here….finally," the blonde chirped before she reached down, grabbed his left arm, and started hauling Eliot to his feet with surprising strength.
Eliot stumbled, his left knee swollen and stiff from the long ride, but Parker steadied him. "Here where?" he asked Ford as he reached the open door of the van that Ford and the grifter exited ahead of him. Looking around, he could see that the van was parked inside a narrow space that looked like it had been enclosed to make a garage.
"At my place," Ford announced as their get away driver, Hardison, joined them.
Eliot concentrated on stepping out of the van without falling on his face, leading with his injured leg, muttering, "good leg up to heaven, bad leg down to …" just a little motto a physical therapist had taught him years ago to help him remember how to climb and descend steps with an injured leg. Once he was steady on the ground, with Parker clinging only lightly to his elbow, he focused on Nathan Ford again. "Your place?"
"My place," Nate reiterated before turning toward an old service elevator. While awaiting the elevator, Nate looked back to see Eliot unmoving, seemingly rooted to one spot, and shrugged, not sure what to say to convince Eliot to follow him.
"What?" Eliot half laughed. "You expect me to go in there looking like this," he pointed to his bloody head, "and scare your kid half to death. I'm sure your wife will love that."
The thief, the grifter, and the hacker collectively held their breath while Nate's face became a mask of indifference. "Sam and Maggie aren't here," was all the mastermind said before entering the elevator, Sophie and Hardison following closely behind.
Eliot glanced at Parker, wondering what he'd said wrong, but the thief just shook her head and pulled the retrieval specialist toward the elevator.
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As Eliot entered Ford's spacious apartment, he silently chastised himself for agreeing to go anywhere with the insurance agent, particularly to his home. He knew he should be getting away from here to some place where he could hide out and lick his wounds, but his head was still splitting, his stomach still churning, and his vision still intermittently blurry. Not to mention he was tired and just wasn't up to the fight it would take to leave now. He looked up to see Ford, Hardison, and the one called Sophie standing in a semicircle staring at him. The lithe blonde was hovering nearby, but had let go of his arm. "What?" he growled.
"What do you need?" Ford queried, looking him up and down.
If he were being honest, he needed a hospital, but he wasn't going there. "Bathroom," he grumbled instead.
"This way," Ford motioned, turning to cross the room.
As Eliot limped behind Ford, he took in his surroundings. Kitchen to the left – well equipped on brief examination - knives – weapons - check. Windows behind a table – alternate escape route – check. Wall of monitors in front of a slightly worn sofa and chairs – interesting. A rather sophisticated looking computer system – good resource for intel – check. Stairs to a loft – possible alternate entry way and other unknowns – check.
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Eliot closed the bathroom door and locked it as Nathan Ford muttered something about getting the first aid kit. Glad to have a moment to himself to assess his injuries, the hitter moved toward the toilet. Concussion – check, bum shoulder throbbing as usual – check, broken ribs – check, sprained knee – check. Bracing one hand against the cabinet above the toilet, Eliot's suspicion that his kidney was bruised was confirmed as the previously blue water in the toilet became red tinged. His stomach churned again at the sight. With a groan, he rested his forehead against the cool cabinet door, his face paling as he broke out in a cold sweat. After finishing his business, he took a moment to compose himself before moving over toward the sink.
To say the retrieval specialist was shocked by his appearance was an understatement. The blood in his hairline, dried blood on his chin, black eye, and bruised cheekbone didn't bother the hitter. They were expected. What Eliot did not expect was his overall appearance. He could swear he looked 10 years older than he should look and when did his hair get this long? Studying his own face in the mirror he found a scar on his upper lip that he shouldn't have and another less prominent scar just above his left eye. Not to mention that he was at least 20 pounds heavier than he'd ever been in his life. He had no idea how long he stood, staring at himself in the mirror, a million thoughts flying through his battered brain as he tried to figure out what was going on and if he'd really lost several years of his memory. His musing was finally interrupted by Ford's soft rap on the door followed by his call of, "Are you ok in there, Spencer?"
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