A/N: Thanks for all of the reads, reviews, bookmarks, and kudos so far! I'm really excited about this story, and I'm incredibly glad so many of you are liking it too!
"I had a great time tonight, Mr. Smith," Eliot was gushing as he walked down the street beside the agent. "Thank you so much again for all you've done."
Smith chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "I've told you, my boy, there's nothing I'd like more than to help you get off the ground with this. We're going to go far together, you and I, and this is the least I can do. Really." He winked. "So stop thanking me so much."
"Yes sir," Eliot grinned. He extended a hand. "Well, I guess this is where we part ways," he told the other man. "I'm gonna head back to my hotel and get some rest. You'd said be back in your office first thing tomorrow?"
"Bright and early," Smith nodded. "I'll see you then."
Eliot waved. "Bye!" he called after Smith's retreating figure. He was planning to turn and head back to the van parked at the end of the street they had just passed, where Hardison and Nate were waiting on him, but as he lowered his hand, a movement at the far end of the street caught his attention.
The street down which Smith had just headed was dark and quiet. There were several parked cars along the curb, but the curtains in the apartment building next to it were all drawn, and there was no one on the sidewalk on either side of the street. Well, no one other than a muscular figure at the far end, who was now headed towards Smith.
"Hey," Eliot said quietly, putting a hand to his ear. "I smell trouble."
"You smell what?" Hardison asked. "You'd better be joking because I think we just wrapped up our little job nice and tidy like. I just transferred the money and we are good to -"
"Hardison, I'm not kidding!" Eliot was watching the unknown figure intently. "I've got a bad feeling about this. I'm going to catch up with Smith."
"Don't do anything too rash, Eliot," Nate's voice cautioned. "We have what we needed here… I'm sure Smith'll be fine if you head back now."
"And the girls will kill us if they get back to find out you got killed," Hardison added.
Eliot huffed as he eyed the two men on the street. "I'm telling you, Nate, something's up. That angry guy from lunch today - what was his name, Kiernan? He's here." He glanced back to the end of the road, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up even more than before. "There's someone else here now too… some guy in a suit, and he's definitely trouble. Either CIA or Army… not completely sure."
"Oh, but you've narrowed it down to those two options in one glance."
"It's a very distinctive stature, Hardison," Eliot growled.
Just then, the new figure disappeared for a moment. Not long after, a group of three teenagers then rounded the corner, laughing and chattering loudly enough that Eliot could hear almost every word they said from down the block. Kiernan halted and turned to take in the newcomers. In the light of the streetlamp, Eliot could see him sigh slightly, then straighten his shoulders before giving up his pursuit and heading back the way he had come.
"Hey, mister, which way to the subway?" one of the kids called to Smith, who nodded quickly as he replied in a voice too low for Eliot to make out. Smith gestured towards the far end of the street, then joined the kids as they all headed that way.
Frowning, Eliot noticed the strange figure again. "The suit is back," he informed his team. "And even though Smith's gone, this guy's fixated on Kiernan… There's something going on here that we don't know about."
"Finch, he's headed towards Smith." Reese had kept Kiernan in his sights as the man in question strode purposefully down the darkening streets.
The text exchange that Finch and Reese had intercepted a few minutes before had been between Kiernan and Smith. Kiernan had played the curious, well-meaning friend, chatting his partner up and casually asking where the other man was. Regardless of the harmless appearance the texts had at first glance, Reese's gut was telling him that something was about to happen.
Hanging back as Kiernan rounded a corner, Reese started forward after a few seconds' wait. He glanced down the quiet street in the direction Kiernan had just headed. "They're about to meet alone on a deserted street. This doesn't look good, Finch."
"You must do something!" Finch exclaimed, the alarm in his voice quite evident.
His mind working quickly, Reese looked around for something to use to run interference. The closest people to him were several kids tossing a basketball back and forth as they headed his way.
"Hey!" he jogged towards them, quickly reaching for his wallet. "Want to earn a little extra cash?"
All three of the boys' eyes widened at the sight of the hundred dollar bill in the suited man's hands.
The tallest of the group squinted suspiciously at Reese. "How do we know you ain't playin'?" he demanded.
Reese gave what he hoped was his most convincing grin. "Do I look like I'd lie to you? All I need you to do is go down that street and ask that man in the leather jacket if he can show you to the subway station."
"Is that all?" The boy still didn't look convinced. He exchanged a look with his friends then turned back to Reese and crossed his arms. "I'm still not sure you're for real."
Reese shifted and looked back down the street. Kiernan was almost to Smith. With a sigh, he reached back into his pocket. "Let's make it an even two."
"You got a deal!" The kid snatched the money out of Reese's hands and stuffed it in the pocket of his blue jeans. "C'mon, guys."
"How much money did you just give away?"
"Relax, Finch," Reese replied, watching as the kids headed down the street. "You've never spared any expense on operations before."
Finch sighed. "Yes, but I never gave away a small fortune to twelve year olds either."
"They look at least sixteen." As the kids started their conversation up again, Reese could see Kiernan stiffen and turn at the noise. "And anyway, it worked," he shrugged.
"Yes, well, let's not make a habit of handing off hundreds of dollars to adolescent boys, shall we?"
Reese just shook his head. He was about to head for Kiernan when a well-built figure at the other end of the street caught his attention.
"Finch, it looks like we have more company," he commented, taking in the stranger's stance. He squared his shoulders as he realized the man was watching him as well. "And I have a feeling it's not the good kind."
Eliot was striding purposefully up the block towards the unknown figure, who now had a hand in his pocket and was headed for Kiernan. Eliot's eyes narrowed. "He's got a gun."
"A what?" Hardison's voice was at a slightly higher than normal pitch. "How can you even see that from there?"
"Eliot." As Nate called his name, Eliot could just envision the older man peering out the driver's side window to take in the street. Eliot paused and sighed but waited for Nate to continue. "Just get Kiernan to safety and we'll deal with this other guy later. Maybe he's just a street thug looking for a quick payoff."
"Uh uh." Eliot paused to turn and glare back at the van. "This is more than that. Look at how he's dressed, Nate."
Hardison had fallen silent, but now he spoke up again, his voice distracted as it tended to get when the hacker was focused on something else. "This makes no sense…"
The man in the suit closed the distance to Kiernan, and Eliot made up his mind and started forward again.
"He's a dead man," Hardison continued slowly, with more than a hint of confusion clouding his voice.
"Not yet he ain't," Eliot growled, not halting his quick strides towards the stranger. "Quit being so dramatic, Hardison." He was still several feet from the other two occupants of the street when the man in the suit put a hand on Kiernan's shoulder.
The man was speaking to Kiernan in a low, threatening voice, and although Eliot couldn't make out the exact words, it was a fairly simple deduction from both men's body language that this was no friendly meeting.
Eliot saw the bulge in the man's pocket move forward, and he hesitated no longer. He quickly sprang into action, closing the remaining distance in three long strides.
Reese had been keeping an eye on the ex-military figure even as he advanced on Kiernan. Currently, Kiernan was the main threat - even though it was more than likely that this unknown man would end up being trouble.
Now directly behind Kiernan, Reese put a hand on the man's shoulder. "Hello again, Mr. Kiernan," Reese greeted, a threatening tone in his voice.
Kiernan froze, his shoulders tensing as he asked, "What do you want?"
"I hear you've been planning some trouble for a mutual friend." Reese still had one hand on Kiernan's shoulder, the other firmly around the grip of the handgun he had tucked in his pocket.
"Smith!" Kiernan snarled. "He put you up to this, didn't he? I should have known he wanted to take over my business. All that talk at lunch today," he snorted derisively.
"I don't know about that," Reese shrugged. "Seems to me you've cornered the market on that scheme. Now, we're going to go somewhere more… private and have a little chat, and you're not going to cause any trouble on the way. Got it?" He moved to put the gun barrel against the other man's back when he noticed the stranger advancing towards him.
Reese's eyes narrowed and he braced for trouble. Kiernan used that distraction to slip free and retreat quickly down the street, but Reese had only a brief moment to consider going after him before all hell broke loose.
Finch had left Kiernan's apartment and was making his way back to the library. He had kept up his conversation with Reese both as he took a cab ten minutes down the road and as he walked the last five blocks to the building that had become his and Reese's headquarters over the past year. He'd chosen the taxi to get back faster but had the cabbie drop him off before he got too close to his actual destination. It wasn't much in the way of privacy, but it was better than having anyone curious about who was going into the supposedly-closed library.
He was shaking his head at something Reese had just said, and he sighed as he responded, "Yes, well, let's not make a habit of handing off hundreds of dollars to adolescent boys, shall we?" His partner never hesitated to do whatever was needed to save others, and that was part of the reason Finch appreciated his help, but that didn't mean he always approved of Reese's methods.
As Finch limped hurriedly down the street, his steps were suddenly halted by the ringing of a phone. He glanced around, his eye immediately catching on the payphone that sat about a dozen feet to his left. His brow furrowed but he didn't hesitate long. The phone continued to ring, and Finch quickly closed the distance to it and picked up the receiver. The handful of people passing on the street barely glanced at the bespectacled man standing at the telephone, but if they had paid attention, they would have seen the color drain from his face as he listened to the voice on the other line.
The voice on the phone continued speaking, and Finch concentrated as he committed every word to memory. As soon as the message had ceased, Finch hung up and turned to his destination as quickly as he could manage. He unlocked the library door, nearly slamming it shut behind him in his haste. Tail wagging, Bear leaped up to greet him, but Finch rushed past him to one of the many shelves of books lining the walls. He hunted through them, his face set with intense concentration and a hint of worry. He heard his partner commenting about additional company on the street, and that only deepened the sense of dread that was growing rapidly inside his gut.
"I have a feeling it's not the good kind." Reese's words echoed in Finch's ear as he retrieved four books from various shelves and covered the room in as few strides as he possibly could. His fingers flew across the keyboard then suddenly froze as he stared at the monitor and his brow furrowed in concentration. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as a heavy grunt came over the phone line.
Reese saw the punch coming and sidestepped it, swinging around to the other side of his foe and pulling out his weapon. He didn't know who this man was, but there was no way to find out unless he asked. He aimed for the knee, as he usually did, planning to incapacitate his opponent as quickly and efficiently as he knew how. Finch always hated the violence of gunshots, but Reese figured it was better than a messy fistfight every single time - and a well-placed bullet left its shooter much more capable of asking questions. If nothing else, a brawl would leave both parties bleeding and in pain - definitely not the best scenario if there was information to be gained.
As the gun came to bear on him, Eliot reacted quickly. He'd known it was there since he had spotted the bulge in the other man's pocket a few minutes prior, and he had been waiting for it to make an appearance. In fact, if his opponent hadn't drawn when he did, Eliot would have grabbed for it himself. Nothing good ever came of his opponent having an available weapon of any sort. He was ready to counter the danger as soon as Reese went for the gun. A lightning fast maneuver later, and the two men were wrestling for the weapon. Eliot brought an elbow up into the man's nose and followed it up with another to the throat, attempting to distract and disorient him enough to take the weapon himself.
But Reese was as ready for Eliot's countermoves as Eliot had been to deliver them. He blocked and delivered his own blow to the side of Eliot's head, putting as much power behind his fist as possible. He felt it connect firmly and heard the other man grunt at the impact.
The edges of Eliot's vision swam for a moment, but he still managed to slam the 'L' of his hand between his forefinger and thumb into the man's wrist and wrench the gun away with the other. He tossed it to the side and let it skitter down the street into the shadows. Eliot smiled to himself in satisfaction. There was no time to dwell on that small victory, however, because no sooner had the gun disappeared than than the other man delivered several more blows of his own.
Twisting as he threw a quick succession of punches, followed up by several firm thrusts of his elbow in Eliot's gut, Reese separated from the shorter man and regarded him warily. They circled each other for just a moment, looking for any sign of weakness to exploit. Then, in the blink of an eye, Eliot moved in again with a roundhouse kick to Reese's chest.
Grunting, Reese managed to block the brunt of the attack and grabbed for Eliot's arm, twisting it behind him and moving in to grab him in a choke hold. Eliot used that motion to his advantage in order to get his own attack in, delivering his own series of blows and kicks to several key areas on his opponent.
A quick duck and weave and Reese landed his own combination on Eliot, who countered them and threw his own. Reese stumbled backwards for only a moment, then advanced again.
The two men continued in a whirlwind of punches, kicks, blocks, and elbows, until anyone who may have happened to look their way would have seen only a blur of shadows, as the accompanying grunts and growls clued them in to the battle going on. But no one did… no one but the blinking red lights of the security cameras mounted on the sides of two buildings at either end of the street.
"What do you mean, 'he's a dead man'?" Nate was demanding. He'd watched the two men advance on each other and now winced at the noises coming through the comm as he turned on the hacker. "Hardison, Eliot is most certainly not fighting a dead man out there."
Hardison just shook his head as his fingers scurried across the keys in front of him. He raised his left hand to point to the computer screen as he answered, "I ran the picture through facial rec, and the only result I got was a man who is reported to be dead."
"Hardison -"
"I know, I know; it's impossible and all that jazz," Hardison shot back. "But I'm tellin' you, Nate, this says - Oh that's weird," he suddenly interrupted himself.
Nate raised an eyebrow.
"This CIA report lists him as killed in action during an operation but… there's some NYPD reports in the last year that list him as a person of interest… I don't know how that's even possible… it looks like the same guy…"
Suddenly a voice came through Hardison's computer speakers and cut into their conversation. "I hate to crash your party, gentlemen, but there's something you need to know."