Note: As always this lovely, edited, chapter was brought to you in part by She Who Should Be Praised, ASL_Wonderland.

The Legacy Job
Chapter 5

A splash of liquid hit his face as his drink jostled a split second before a little body knocked him to the ground. Nate wanted to yell at his little brother for making him spill his lemonade (made by Spencer's mom and as good as he remembered from last year) but as the little boy raised his arms in victory he couldn't make himself do it. They were out in the grass, it was a plastic cup, and only a little had splashed his face. No harm, no foul.

Though when the boy shouted "Tag!" and took off, all bets were off.

Nate was almost sixteen, Spencer was only barely five, and even going easy, catching the little ball of energy wasn't much of a challenge and a minute later he was lifting a kicking and laughing boy into the air before setting him down and taking off, the game continuing.

They were playing in the huge yard of Spencer's house right as the summer sun set. Spencer's mother was agreeing to let Spencer and Joey stay up late in honor of Nate's arrival, though Joey had curled up and fallen asleep in their father's lap over an hour ago. Time was passing but the sun didn't seem to be sinking lower as their game continued.

Back, forth, it, not it, chaser, chased. Time lost all meaning, they could run forever. It was just the two of them in a field of tall grass, bugs singing a chorus around them and mocking birds setting up an unusual symphony of sounds that melted into the background. They could run forever and Nate wanted to run forever. He didn't know how, with only last year's two week long visit and short phone calls every other week since, he'd come to care about this little boy so much. He didn't know how this had gone from doing the job his father kept telling him about, to genuinely loving his little brother, no matter who his mother was.

All he knew was he'd run around playing tag until judgment day if it kept his brother this happy.

Nate looked over his shoulder, adding just a hint of a burst of speed to draw out the chase a second more before letting Spencer catch him. He was surprised when a little, fast moving, body hit him hard before Nate intended the chase to end.

They both tumbled forward, Nate turning as they fell to try to catch them and keep them both from getting hurt. His efforts were mostly wasted by Spencer taking the fall in stride and rolling with the impact, his five year old body seeming to know instinctively how to take a fall. A moment later he was leaning over Nate, a huge grin on his face.

"When did you get so fast?" Nate asked, sitting up and trying to catch his breath.

"Sometime 'round December." Spencer answered, his grin broadening further. "S'when Joey started walking. Hav'ta keep a step ahead, she gets inta mischief an' you know what Daddy says." He stood straighter and not for the first time Nate caught himself amazed at how much his little brother had grown in the year since they'd seen each other. He nearly missed Spencer's next words, though he knew them well enough. The same words their father repeated over and over to them both about Joey and to Nate about Spencer.

"A big brother has only one job: Protect his younger siblings."

"You doing your job Spencer?" Nate asked Spencer who nodded vigorously in response.

"I do, an Mama to. I'm the man of the house when Daddy's not here." He stood a little taller and puffed out his chest and made such a comical little figure Nate had to hide his smile.

"Good job little man." Nate reached out, ruffling the boy's hair. Spencer slid away from the gesture making a face that quickly morphed into one of delight. Nate looked around, trying to figure out what had his brother so enchanted. A second later Spencer took off back into the tall grass and Nate had to stand up to keep track of the little boy as he chased down what appeared to be a blinking speck of light in the growing darkness.

A firefly.

Nate smiled when he realized this and watched Spencer scurry around as more blinked into life. Minutes ticked by and then Spencer was running back to Nate, hands clasped together tightly. When he reached Nate he opened them, revealing half a dozen fireflies that slowly took off, their glow lighting up the space between the brothers.

Nate blinked across the space between them, not remembering why that smile in this flickering candlelight made his heart hurt like this. He was glad to see Eliot actually smile. Four days ago when Nate had first been thrown into this cell to find his young cell mate knocking on death's door with serious intent, he had feared the worst. Eliot had been more than just sick and injured, the look in his eyes that first night had been of someone ready, almost eager, to die.

Nate should be glad that in only a few days time he's been able to get Eliot to smile like this, like he meant it.

But something about it, about the flickering light, about night falling, even about the fact that the twenty-something-year old's pride at having mastered the basic's of chess made him look like a kid…

It reminded him of something he didn't want to remember.

Nate turned around sharply, words of warning and the sound of the cell door slamming open. What were fireflies doing in their cell?

Nate turned back to ask Eliot only to find a deathly pale nine year old boy. His tee-shirt was bloody and right arm hanging at an odd angle, his face was bruised and eyes swollen, blood matting dark blonde hair. But even with all that, Nate knew who it was. "Remember what Daddy said." He said, smiling and causing a split lip to bleed again.

The voice that made his heart burn all the worse came from behind him and Nate turned, he knew this nightmare. He knew what he'd find.

Sam stood behind him, battered and broken and bloody in his hospital gown. "It's alright Daddy. You couldn't even do a big brother's job. Why would anyone expect you to be able to do a father's?"

There was an ominous sound of stamping feet Nate's subconscious had held onto through the years. Something just barely heard over the phone the last time…

He turned sharply back to his little brother who was looking over his shoulder. "I… That Man's home." The words slipped out with a hint sending a chill down Nate's spine. "I… I have ta go. I love you brother. Joey, tell Nate you love him."

Joey's shy "I love you" echoed around the cell as Nate lunged forward, hand reaching out to grab the boy, pull him back, warn him. He had to do something. This was his last chance. If he didn't now he'd never hear from Spencer again. He'd never see either of them again.

Cloth slipped through his fingers just like when they were kids and Spencer would slide out of his grasp.

He fell, knees hitting the ground hard, the noise echoing around him becoming the sound of fists hitting cloth and flesh and small noises of pain. He told him it was dream, he'd never actually heard Spencer take a beating. This was just his imagination, or memory of the sounds they all heard anytime Eliot fought with his com in.

"NATE!" A scream. He shook his head, trying to block it out. "Nate!"

That wasn't Spencer… it was Eliot. "Nate, wake up. 'S alright. Wake up."

"Damit Nate, it's just a dream. Wake up." Nate's eyes shot open, strong hands on his shoulders keeping him from shooting upright and out of the bed. "Nate, don't." Eliot's voice penetrated his sleep hazed mind as his eyes focused. "You were shot. Stay still man."

A hospital. He was in a hospital.

His head pounded. A move to shift sent white hot pain shooting from his side up his spine.

He, apparently, was a patient in a hospital..

He blinked again, seeing Sophie, Parker, and Hardison converging around the foot of his bed as Eliot slowly took his hands away from his shoulders. Eliot needn't have worried. As he woke up fully Nate realized he probably wouldn't be able to even sit upright all the way. He felt like he'd been shot, which from what little of the last moments he could remember, was probably what happened.

Later he'd consider the fact that this was the third time he'd been shot and that maybe it was a sign there was something wrong with the way he was living his life.

He let his head fall back again, closing his eyes against the glare of lights, and sighed.

"There you go." Eliot said. "Take it easy, we'll get a doctor in a minute."

"What happened?"

"We were ambushed." Eliot said simply. "Selina's dead, we got Adrian out and she's at my safe house so she'll be 'right. Officially you an' me were helpin' Selina track down an old friend when we were mugged. We're all under our local aliases."

Nate didn't respond right away, his mind working sluggishly to process the information. He gave a half nod after a moment longer.

"I'm going to get a doctor." Hardison said, standing up and going to the door.

"Thank you, Dear." Another voice added and Nate turned his head sharply, opening his eyes despite the way the action made his head spin. There was his mother.

Well then.

oOo

Not long after Nate woke up a doctor kindly asked the team to wait out in the hallway, allowing his mother to stay since she was family.

The quiet that followed that statement as the four of them stood out in the hallway lasted more than a few minutes. "Are you going to tell him?" Sophie finally asked, not looking at Eliot though he knew she was addressing him.

"Assuming his mom hasn't already, yeah. Not for a bit though, maybe. Don't need to give him a heart attack when he can't even sit up an' it's not like the news can't wait a few days. But yeah, I'll tell him."

Silence lasted for another few minutes before the door opened and the doctor and Mrs. Ford stepped out.

"He's resting now." The doctor said. "He'll wake up again for longer in a few hours."

"Nate said you all should head home and get some rest." Mrs. Ford said as the doctor left. "The job can wait for a bit."

They all nodded, after the day they'd had rest was something they'd all need a good deal of. Eliot knew he'd only been up for a bit more than twenty-four hours but he felt drained.

A wall clock said it was just past three in the morning. He could get home, get some sleep, and be out over to check on Adrian by what most people considered a reasonable hour.

There were a few nods but no one really said goodbye as they all went their own ways, little more than a combined decision to reconvene the next evening, if not sooner.

Judging from the exhaustion in the rest of the team, he wasn't the only one suddenly feeling exhaustion hit now that the danger had passed, and they'd been given the order to stand down for awhile.

Later he'd barely even remember the drive home, or sinking into his bed.

He would vaguely remember that the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was the picture of Kate sitting on a self on one of the book cases by his bedroom door.

It was only a little after eight a.m. when Eliot started the final stretch of road to his safe house. He knew he was still early, and they hadn't even gotten here until midnight the night before so he didn't feel in much of a rush. Adrian was probably still asleep, and although he wouldn't admit it, he didn't feel the need to add to the world of hurt she was going through, even if it was just as little as waking her up early when she'd managed to get some rest.

Plus, his shoulder hurt where he'd been grazed and Parker had stolen his aspirin again. He would have sworn she had a problem of the drug addiction kind, if not for 1) there had to be easier ways for her to get something that would get her a lot higher and 2) she'd told him once that she stole it because she figured he never really needed aspirin.

Apparently in Parker world Eliot either didn't feel pain at all, was too tough to take anything, or possibly took something a lot stronger than aspirin.

Yeah, and he totally wasn't pondering the mystery of Parker to avoid thinking about the fact fellow patrons of CVS were giving him weird looks for raiding the magazine rack for any word-find books they had.

Or that he was a little more invested in making this client happy than was usually reasonable.

She reminded him of Joey at that age, he insisted to himself as he paid for the books and aspirin. Even if she was a couple years older. She had the same uneven and sharp edges - like flint, and brittle as it too: the same self contained air and the loose sense that you're never quite sure if she'll strike back or fall to pieces.

She reminded him of Joey, and with Joey pregnant again and on his mind, and with all that Nate stuff and the insane twists life just took, it's understandable that he'd be thinking about Joey when she was a kid. Now Adrian's reminding him of Joey too, and Eliot's always had this weird instinct to protect young girls anyway (which he also blames on them reminding him of his sister in general). So yeah.

He isn't becoming emotionally involved, he's just reacting to instincts that became skewed during his royally f'ed up childhood. It still isn't the best course of action but he's going to draw the line here and not let it go any further. This job had already gone south six different ways. He did not need to get involved personally, it would only cloud his judgment and with Nate in the hospital, they couldn't afford that now - as if they ever could.

Later, he'd kick himself for being so preoccupied with giving himself a mental dressing down for the possibility of getting involved (and seriously, he'd known he was Nate's brother for like four hours and he's already picking up the man's habits?) that he didn't notice right away that there was something wrong at the safe house.

Oh sure, there was no physical danger, at least not the guys with guns kind. He'd been through a lot more preoccupation and detected that, but there was something just a little off. Hardison had once joked that Eliot had a spider sense and if he did it would be…

He'd barely let himself into the small house and was still tapping the security code into the keypad when he saw it out of the corner of his eye. A newspaper, or a torn bit of one, laying in the entryway from the front hall to the small living room, the television he'd added (since he really didn't want to be stuck in a house with Hardison bitching about missing Dr. Moo) was turned on, the early morning reruns playing on low.

"…six of us kids in a room and come flu season that went down to four..." Eliot identified one of the angsty teen dramas as he walked into the room.

Trashed wasn't the right word to describe it. Trashed implied broken furniture and a decent amount of property damaged. Trashed was something Eliot had done enough times to know that, although there was bits of torn up newspapers and probably the majority of the small house's books scattered around the living room, it wasn't the work of a single act of violence. He could read the epicenter of the chaos, in front of the coffee table in front of the TV and the rather distinctive way the mess spread outwards.

Restlessness, an inability to relax taken to a sensation almost like an itch in your chest, a need for distraction but an inability to concentrate.

It took Eliot a beat to recognize he knew those symptoms from Nate when back in L.A. when he hadn't had a drink in too long.

It took another beat for him to consider how very glad he was that he had made the choice not to keep any alcohol on hand.

Then his mind caught up with the fact this wasn't Nate, it was a emotionally unstable fifteen year old girl who'd just lost her mother figure and gotten out of a psychiatric ward and how distracted by Nate, and just shit in general, had they been to not realize that that might be a big issue? How hadn't… she had said, but really. Didn't he know first hand that kids in bad situations learned to always insist that they were fine? Didn't they, hadn't he, gotten that fucking good at lying about it?

"You're panicking right now; you can't believe how bad you let things get. That's not change…" The words from the television chased him as he dropped the bags and retreated back to the hallway and all but ran up the stairs.

"Adrian!" He called, looking for, hell he didn't know what. This was a safe house, it was HIS safe house, it was defended from external threats, not internal. He had weapons hidden everywhere and even if she didn't find one, it wasn't like she'd have a hard time improvising if she wanted to.

Having a row house for a safe house built on four stories with three bedrooms and three bathrooms had seemed like a good idea at the time, especially built as for a fallback shelter for the team…

But it took far longer than he'd like to reach the "girls" room he'd set up for Sophie and Parker, where he'd helped Adrian settle in. The chaos had re-occurred in the room, the rest of the house's books scattered about with bits of paper.

But what, or in this case who, he was looking for was lying, alive, on one of the beds shoved into the far corner wrapped up in both the room's quilts and what looked like one of the quilts from the other bedroom.

His fading adrenalin ratcheted up again when he saw the bottle of sleeping pills from his "Job Gone South" medical supplies on the nightstand.

He was halfway across the room when Adrian shifted in the blankets, a sound something like a yawn escaping her as she blearily opened her eyes. There was a moment of confusion before she seemed to recognize him.

Eliot picked up the bottle, nerves calmed somewhat by the rattle that indicated it was still nearly full. "How many did you take?" He asked, voice gentler than he meant, as she didn't seem to have meant damage to herself.

"One. Just wanted to sleep." She answered shutting her eyes again. "Didn't want to dream. Kept seeing Selina."

Eliot wasn't sure if the fact she had only taken half of what was clearly marked as a full dose on the label was a good sign or a bad sign, but right now he'd just be glad that a repeat of the amateur hour that had gotten Selina killed hadn't hurt Adrian as well.

"Know it's kinda creepy, comin' into a girl's room when she's tryin' to sleep." Adrian more mumbled than said, blinking her watering eyes and trying to hide a yawn as she moved to sit up.

"Go back ta sleep." Eliot said. "I'll be downstairs when you wake up. Come down when you're up for the day."

She blinked at him, hand emerging from the blankets to cover a yawn and rub at her eyes, and god damn she looked far too fucking much like Joey right then. "Not 'til you leave." She said.

"Right. Creepy." Eliot said, half wondering how the hell him, half afraid she'd tried to kill herself, had turned into a half-asleep girl making him feel like a pervert for coming into a bedroom, that may or may not have had her bleeding out on the floor.

He let himself out and went downstairs, stepping over the mess to get to the kitchen that, thank god, had been left untouched. He briefly considered cleaning up but dismissed the thought before it fully formed. He wasn't her maid and if she could form a coherent enough thought to snark at him for being somewhat concerned for her state of life, then she could damn well clean up her own mess.

With an annoyed shake of his head Eliot looked around the kitchen, gathering ingredients for breakfast. Yes, he'd already eaten his own but, with the past few days he'd had, a little more time in the kitchen, a little more cooking to relax him, was probably going to be the only way he figured he'd get through the rest of this day without punching someone.

Noon found Eliot sitting with a mug of tea and his laptop in the kitchen. He was making a second attempt at Monday's aborted research, effectively working to deal with one of this week's challenges (even if it meant ignoring the other ones for a moment).

A fresh batch of pancakes were cooling in the fridge with some bacon and a small garbage bin had been moved to the epicenter of the chaos in the living room. With nothing he could do for the Job until they met up again that evening, and nothing else he could do to deal with Adrian until she got up, he didn't have any reason not to take a step back from life's temporary insanity.

It was only a little after noon that a soft tread of footsteps on the stairs followed by shuffling in the living room let him know Adrian was coming down. After picking her way through the mess in the living room she appeared in the doorway and hesitated.

Eliot glanced up and forced himself to look back down to what he'd been doing. Adrian had a dark blue quilt wrapped around her shoulders and was dressed in Parker's clothes that were just a little too big for her. She looked younger than fifteen.

She looked like Joey.

Keeping his voice even as he spoke was harder than he'd willingly admit. "Breakfast's in the fridge. You can clean the mess up after you eat."

She didn't move and he looked up again. She was watching him with apprehension, something a lot like that look of fear she'd had when she asked him if he was there to kill her. "Why are you helping me?" She asked, her voice probably a little softer than she'd meant.

"Like I said, Selina found my team. We were helping her rescue you and get back at Zocrolft. The leader of my team was shot" When Selina was killed, he added mentally. "So the second bit's a bit on hold."

"But why are you helping?" Adrian asked again. "People don't just… they don't just help you because they can." Her voice faltered and eyes dropped to the floor. "They say they do, but they don't. Not really. There's always some catch twenty two, or… or something they want from you." She pulled the quilt a little tighter around her body and Eliot felt a little bit of *something* when he realized she wasn't shivering just from being cold. "…So what do you want from me?"

Eliot didn't answer right away. She was a kid. A little kid who wasn't just going to take that they'd been rescued and trust the rescuer, so he wasn't about to try and charm her,

If he thought about it, he should have seen this coming. She was a foster kid. If Hardison and Parker were any indication, the program did not breed a overabundance of trust. More than that, he knew her story. The last time someone had stepped up to help out of the apparent goodness of their hearts… well that was the reason the team was on this case in the first place.

Now, she's in an isolated place with a man she doesn't know and probably just about every horror story from foster care situations gone horribly awry running through her mind.

She wasn't going to trust that he just wanted to help her. He had to give her a reason he gave a damn about her being alright, other than being "a good person".

He took a sip of tea and their standoff continued another beat before he decided the truth, or close to it, was probably the best way to go.

He put down the mug and sighed. "We're thieves and con men, but our leader used ta be one of the good guys, so he has us go after marks like Zocrolft. We've been going at this on an' off for almost two years. Yeah, we're in it for the money, and the adrenalin rush, and some of us are too damaged to be anything else. But this is what we do, darlin'."

Adrian took a tentative step into the room. "What about you? What do you do? Why are you here?"

Eliot rubbed at his face. He was the only one she'd dealt with. Of course she'd ask that. But… god he needed to get Sophie to deal with this.

Except, he was pretty sure he didn't want Sophie to have anything to do with a teenage girl. He'd been surprised she'd been able to deal with Whitmark so well, but just his knowledge of Sophie combined with what teenage girls were like, told him it was probably a pairing to avoid.

"I'm the team's Hitter." He answered. "I protect my team, our clients too. 'Was the one who was supposed to be protecting Selina when she got shot." Adrian's look focused a little more closely on him. "'Was an ambush, Zocrolft was after her, they blindsided us. There wasn't anythin' I could do."

Silence followed and he pushed his chair back and stood, going to the sink to rinse out his mug. After shutting off the water. "Why am I here an' what do I want?" He said, restating her questions. "I'm here 'cause I was supposed to keep your mom safe an' I couldn't. Least I can do is make sure you're alright until the jobs over, and we find you a new home. As for what I want? There's the fridge, eat somthin'. After that you can clean up the mess you made in the living room, an' after that." He pulled the stack of word find books out of the bag he'd left on the counter, turning back to meet Adrian's eyes. "Selina said you liked these. Think they'll keep you occupied enough while I go to a meeting with my team, that you won't re-trash any rooms before I get back?"

Adrian didn't respond right away, standing a room away from him, her expression unreadable. Finally, she let out a long breath and crossed the kitchen, a hand emerging from the folds of the quilt to take the books and pull them close to her body. Her eyes flicked up to meet his for just a moment before they flicked back down to the floor and she muttered something that might have been "Thank you" before turning and walking over to the refrigerator.

It wasn't much.

But it was a start.