Notes: I'm sorry to say this but this is the end of the line. The Last chapter of this damn epic (well, for awhile, I've got a couple odd stories to add in at various places and there'll likely be a few time stamps showing up eventually). I'd like to thank everyone who commented. It helped me get through the rough spots in this mess.

Thanks. Later.

Chapter Nine: Anthem for the Underdog

And we're here now feeling
The beat of a thousand hearts
Coming back to life again
We can make it

This was a bad day.

As days went, this was about as bad as Nate could think of one going.

"Would someone tell me what's going on!" Over the comms Hardison was starting to freak out, hysteria in his voice as he babbled for someone to tell him that he hadn't just heard Eliot blow their aliases.

Nate really, really wished he could tell Hardison just that.

A part of him wanted to get stuck on how Eliot had blown his alias. About the words Eliot had used. About how rarely those very words passed between them and how unbelievably important that made it, every time they were actually said.

But he put all that on the back burner. He couldn't be the man Eliot loved right now. He had to be The Black King.

Had to get them out of this alive.

"Well. This A Bad Day," Hhe muttered, ostensibly to Sterling, though the words were directed at Hardison; hoping he'd remember the code phrase they'd established all those years ago.

"No kidding it's a bad day," Hardison responded, either not getting the message or hung up on the phrasing.

"Do you have a plan for this?" Parker asked, either wanting to know for sure or trying to give him a cue.

Nate shook his head; watching Kent watch them, clearly amused. "No. I think we've gone past plan Z at this point."

"Plan Z… OH!" And Hardison got with the program. "Contacting Interpol now. Giving them your location. They'll be on their way in less than five minutes. If they were dumb enough to use sirens you'd be hearing them in twenty."

A Bad Day. Past Plan Z.

Simply speaking it meant call the authorities. Incarceration was a bitch but it was easier to fix than death.

"Just stay alive for twenty minutes," Tara said. "And be careful. When they get there Kent will start pulling triggers. Hopefully the confus-"

Kent started talking and Nate had to change focus. "Well. This is an interesting predicament. I can't let you all go but…" He looked to Eliot. "…even with his training and a lovely woman in my cells waiting for him to come back home, he lied to me. I always liked your spunk, Echo, but you cost me my last academy. It's time you learned to behave. Echo, stay."

Guards from around the room had been closing in. Nate could tell they were afraid; afraid of Eliot, but more afraid of Kent. He'd set Eliot on two of his own men; probably two trouble makers, but the others had to be wondering if they were next.

Kent made a shooing motion to the guards, who nudged Nate, Sterling, and Parker toward the center of the arena, before looking up to the boys still standing to attention. "Tango, get the others. Now. Yankie, get my kit for me. November, Sierra, get our guest."

The boys ran to do as told, Yankie running up to the observation platform and returning with a small metal box that he held for Kent while the older man picked through its contents.

And all the while Eliot just stood there; his eyes on the floor, body tense but face unreadable.

Within a minute, Kent pulled a syringe and vial of liquid from the box, carefully filling it and moving to stand beside Eliot. "Now I know you've been out of the program for awhile so I understand your need for a few reinforcements. You've been getting a little lead back. This should take care of that." Kent turned back to the others, holding up the syringe. "This is hydroxylamine-synaminsorbate. It's a neuro-chemical with some very interesting effects. It increases the subject's susceptibility to suggestion, suppresses aggressor instincts, and a number of other wonderful side effects that help lay the foundation for programming and conditioning, as well as take the fight out of those who resist."

With a showman's flare, Kent injected the needle and depressed the plunger.

Three minutes, Nate registered distantly. Only three minutes gone.

Kent removed the needle and patted Eliot's arm. "There now, you'll start to feel better soon. Well... no. I gave you the more potent training dose so you'll start to seize in about thirty seconds but it'll be over in a few minutes. Then you'll feel better."

"El-" Nate started but forced his mouth shut before the rest of the name came out and caught Parker's arm before she did something that would get her shot. He had to be… him. Eliot needed him to not get emotional right now.

Eliot needed his head in the game. Despite the constant chaos in their world Eliot needing him had always made it that much easier to put everything else aside.

"No Parker," he subvocalized, trusting the comms to take the words to her. "We wait for the right moment."

Eliot's eyes shot wide open and he crashed to his knees.

Heels. Nate could hear heels on the hard floor. A second later Sophie's voice cried out. "Eliot!" Nate looked to where Sophie was being escorted in. The boys let her break ahead and run to Eliot, catching him before he fell backward.

She wasn't bruised that Nate could see but he didn't miss the wince of pain or the clumsiness in her movements.

He logged that all away. He couldn't. Not now.

Boys started to stream in around them, heading up to the platform, expressions carefully blank but hints of fear in their eyes. Their glances lingered on Eliot.

There were eighteen boys in the room by the time they settled and Eliot went still in Sophie's hold, chest heaving to try to catch his breath but seemingly starting to recover.

Kent cleared his throat. Nate looked over, seeing Kent looking up to address his students.

"I understand that before he was terminated Bravo One told you stories. Stories about Charlie One and Echo One here. About how they broke the chain of command, burnt down the academy, and "freed" the students. I think it should be made very clear to you all that they did this through trickery, by allying themselves with an outsider, and by making such absurdly stupid choices that I was frankly taken off guard. They did not do it by breaking their conditioning. I will not be taken off-guard again."

Out of the corner of his eye Nate saw Eliot ease away from Sophie, kneeling, still breathing heavy but apparently getting his strength back.

"I took Echo back. And I've renewed his training. As many of you know, Echo was one of my very best students. However, he has always been a bit of a rebel. It's time he learned, as you all will learn, fighting the conditioning is pointless. Is impossible."

Kent pointed toward them, locking eyes with Nate for a moment before turning back to Eliot. "I will give you a choice. I will spare one of them to act as…motivation. The others will die by your hand. Who will you save? Sister? Lover? Or your friend here?"

Sterling gave a sigh that was possibly cover for muttering about theatrics.

Nate always thought Sterling would go to his grave sarcastic.

"Dude, stall," Hardison hissed in his ear. "Get him to stall. We still need ten minutes people."

Eliot looked toward Nate, holding his attention, something in that… An apology maybe. "My sister."

Eliot had a plan. He must have some kind of plan. Nate had to believe that.

It still hurt.

The guards pushed Parker toward the viewing platform while Sophie's escorts herded her to where Sterling and Nate were standing before quickly following the guards onto the platform.

"Guys stall," Hardison said again. "Damnit. STALL!"

Nate kept his eyes on Eliot, who kept staring back. Eliot had a plan. He just… He had to.

Nate's mind was spinning but he didn't…

"Echo," Kent said, taking a few steps toward the platform and looking back. "Kentari. Macarbe. Lupin."

Eliot's head dropped forward, his shoulders shook.

Then he looked up, met Nate's eyes, and gave a wolf-like smile.

"Sorry. Don't feel like dancin'," he said, before turning toward Kent. Eliot absently cracked his knuckles. "I have it on good authority Neurolinguistics don't work that way." Eliot stalked closer to Kent who seemed too shocked to react.

His expression was something like a snake charmer, suddenly finding himself caught in the glare of a cobra.

"The Hydro-nightmare shit is no more than a truth serum mixed with a neuro-toxin and a snake-venom kicker. Your programming's just hypnosis, classical conditioning, and convincing us that we couldn't fight back. Well the shows over, Samuel. You can't control me anymore." He looked up to the gallery. "He could never really control us."

"Ho…How…" Kent asked, eyes wide with horror.

"Thank a Russian crime lord called Nishka," Eliot stated, no mirth behind the grim, deadly grin on his face. "He used the snake venom kicker at that concentration. Didn't make the connection until you gave it to me just then but it got me picking it apart." He stalked closer to Samuel, mere inches between them, his voice the deadly calm that came before Eliot's worst fights. "They're all very distinctive poisons after all."

There was noise and chaos from the boys in the gallery. It wasn't like they were waking up from a dream but the control Kent once had on them, and now it seemed so clear to Nate, had depended on them believing entirely in it's control. Fighting the "conditioning" was impossible and submitting was painless so they had followed it. Add in drugs and unstable, impressionable boys and they'd been Kent's puppets.

Eliot had just shown them they could cut their own strings.

"G…Grab the girl!" Kent shouted, backing another step away from Eliot, starting to recover.

Nate turned, hearing the giggle (and only Parker would *giggle*) before he saw Parker vault over the railing of the platform and take the fall with more ease than most people fell out of bed.

There had been a reason Eliot had chosen her.

The guards went to pursue, only to find themselves outnumbered by eighteen very angry teenage boys.

"Echo. Stand down!" Kent said loudly, pulling Nate's focus back to Eliot. He watch Eliot punch Kent in the solar plexus, another blow landing across his face, faster. He had a grip on Kent's shirt. From this angle Nate couldn't see his face but he recognized Eliot's posture…

Someone, Sterling, caught his shoulder. He hadn't even realized he'd started to move. "Let this play out," Sterling stated. "It's time for Spencer to decide what he is."

Black Knight or White.

Monster or man.

oOo

It was just…

Everything, his whole life; Joey, Lawrence, Valentines Day, L.A., Charlie, Tara, Liars Houses, Nishka, Amie, Cairo, Cell Number Eight, Nate, Croatia, El, Marie, Retrievals, Chicago, Leverage, L.A., Two Davids, Boston, Kentucky. Chess. Black King. White Knight. White King. Black Knight.

His head was exploding. Too much.

His fist met flesh. Fourth time, his mind told him. Stomach. Soft tissue. Hurt like hell but it wasn't a knock-out blow.

He could hear the students, the team, could practically hear the comm not actually in his ear.

He felt like screaming. The whole world was pressing in around him. Everything was tearing him apart. The conditioning was fake but the drugs were real, that violence inside of him was real, the things he'd done were real.

The silence it gave him in a fight was still there, what he needed to stay sane when his mind was ripping to pieces…

He wouldn't though. He couldn't. The others were there. He needed to take out Kent and still be him.

Even in that moment, with the world pressing in on him and years, decades, a lifetime of life pushing and kicking and taking, rage built with never the ability to be released onto it's source…

And maybe because of it.

He knew if he did this, let it out, let that monster Samuel molded, created, made him into out, then he'd…

No.

It wasn't Samuel.

Samuel always told them he made them what they were. He gave them names. He twisted and molded and broke but… they let him because it was easier than to fight. Because they didn't think they could fight.

Samuel didn't create the Black Knight. Echo had. Eliot had. A break with reality. A broken teen not able to deal with the hell he'd stumbled into.

He'd created The Black Knight. He'd given to his own violence to try to impress Samuel and make himself a life. After the project he'd chosen to stay a fighter. Even in his liars house he'd chosen to fight and he'd never tried to walk away from that life.

He'd chosen the path that led him here. He'd created The Black Knight with every step he took.

The seventh punch landed on Samuel's chin. He knew a few more like that and Samuel would be dead.

He'd still win though and even… things wouldn't…

He had to get back to the team. Sophie's voice ringing in his ear.

He had to survive.

Samuel was struggling, instinct driving the next blow. The fear on Samuel's face. The knowledge of all the times this fucking scrap of life had left him crawling like a dog, had hurt Sophie, had killed his classmates, had killed Charlie.

Killed Charlie…

Would have had made him kill Nate and Parker and Sophie…

Something scraped against the skin of his collar, metal, a paperclip.

His arm stopped. Breathing choppy as he just stared at Samuel.

They were still alive. Nate and Parker and Sophie and Hardison and Tara were still alive.

And they needed him to come home alive.

They needed him to come home.

He let go of Samuel's collar, his arms dropping. "I'm not your monster Samuel," he said, stepping back. "I'm going home."

He looked up; above him the students had backed the guards into a huddle and were watching him.

They looked to him. Bravo had told them stories about him and Charlie.

But he wasn't Echo anymore and right at that moment he was too tired to lead another class out of hell.

He turned his eyes to Nate who just smiled, like he understood everything said in that look. And then Nate had turned to Sterling and Sophie and Parker were coming over to him and…

He ran a hand down his face, trying to clear his head; the drugs still in his system combined with the past seventy two hours made it nearly impossible. He felt dried blood rub off his skin at the action and he just...

He was done. He was just…

"Nate says he'll work with Sterling to do clean up. Make sure these boys get taken care of," Sophie said, appearing at his side, taking one of his elbows and starting to walk.

"Hardison's in the van. He's coming. If we go now we can get clear before Interpol." Parker added, taking his other side.

If pressed he would later be able to repeat how they got from there back to Maggie's place, the aftermath and all that followed.

But it all still felt out of focus and surreal, the adrenaline crash and the drugs and the physical abuse he'd taken and just… everything.

A shower. A change of clothes. He meant to wait for word from Nate. Knew he'd have to debrief with the crew. They'd have to come out with the whole fucking story and compare notes and there'd be so much cleanup, but he actually hoped Hardison bitched about it because that would be normal.

And somehow he ended up laying in Maggie's bed, Tara on the other side, and he couldn't help but remember how, a lifetime ago…

Echo still smelled like blood, they all smelled like smoke, and they probably stank of other things. They were in a burned out warehouse they'd stumbled into after the students had gathered one last time, made arrangements for drop locations in a month where they'd let Charlie, Echo, and Tara know where they'd ended up, and scattered.

They'd found a moldy, battered old mattress in the corner of the back office that didn't smell too much like piss and collapsed onto it in a jumble. They'd been awake for nearly seventy-two hours. They'd burned down their old life and the world of possibilities was stretching out in front of them and they were too tired to care about where they were or what they were sleeping on.

They were alive and together and free and nothing else mattered.

"It's been a long road to get here," Tara muttered to the dark, hours or maybe just minutes later. "Never thought it'd be you next to me after Samuel finally went down."

"I remember now," Eliot said. "Everything. Didn't before. Blocked out. Had to. Else this story woulda had a different ending."

There was silence, sort of, broken only by muffled noises from elsewhere in the apartment.

"Charlie should be here," Eliot said. "Wish he was. Wish he'd…"

"He was happy," Tara said. "Happy you were still alive and had found a family. You made a life for yourself, so did he. This story could have had a different ending, but the one it has is pretty good."

Eliot closed his eyes. He could settle for that.

oOo

February eighteenth. A small, somber gathering walked down a disused trail in the Spark's Landing. It was a small campgrounds of sorts in California, and home base of A Safe Place to Land, a program once run by a man named Charlie India that provided shelter and counseling to children and teenagers who'd been victims of violent crimes.

Three men and one woman bore a simple casket, in it their fallen classmate and brother. A second casket followed behind, empty; the corpse never found, but the man still remembered.

Behind the caskets trailed a mastermind, an honest woman, a grifter, a hacker, a thief.

Charlie India and Bravo Foxtrot were buried next to the graves of the five members of their class who had died over the years since their liberation. Though not all the graves had bodies, they were careful to lay Charlie to rest beside the grave of Echo.

It was an odd gathering. Seven men hardened by life's battles who shared a common hell reunited to mourn those who'd fallen, the two surviving members of a trio, and a group of lone wolves, runaways and black chess pieces who'd become a family.

"I always thought I'd die alone," Parker muttered to Hardison, though not so softly the others couldn't hear her. "Not that I thought about it a lot but… I just figured I'd fall some day and die and no one would know who I was and…" She shrugged. "But now…" She made a face, shifting uncomfortably, probably not really liking the whole topic. "Eliot belongs here," she said finally. "Like two hundred years from now but… someday he should be here. And Tara. So... I want to be here to."

No one responded right away, the idea of death inevitable but…

"Yes," Sophie said after a time. "Here. Not some stranger's grave without even a real name."

Hardison just nodded, whatever he muttered lost into the air between him and the patch of grass on the far side of the clearing where his mind's eye was placing a series of small gray headstones with names and dates and deeds etched into them. A secret thief burial ground.

He could see others here to. They were a family. Some day they'd be ready for the next generation. The world would always need a little Leverage.

One by one the former students turned to leave, hands gripping Eliot's shoulder to welcome him back and thank him before slipping away and back to their lives. Parker and Hardison left as well, chased away by ghosts past and future and enticed to walk the camp's grounds.

There was some question about who'd run the camp and where funding would come from but those questions would be answered very soon.

Maggie stayed quiet, stayed back. She'd see this through to the end and bear witness even though she'd never known either man. She'd lived through their legacies.

Now she stood at the edge of the clearing, watching Eliot, watching Nate, watching sun filter through trees and listening to just the faintest sound of laughter.

She thought of a little urn in a quiet, cold mausoleum and a father, husband, lover watching Eliot standing at his own grave.

And of four days ago, after the team had left her place, when she'd called Nate only to be told he couldn't talk. He was with Eliot. He'd explain later.

She walked over to Nate and said softly; "Listen." The wind blew. Far off there was the sound of a camp song dissolving into laughter. She looked back around the clearing up toward the blue skies above. "He liked the sun. He liked camp. He'd have liked it here."

She didn't know how the story would end, but that sense of fear, of knowing it would end badly, eased a little at the hint of understanding.

Life went on, wounds healed, and they'd all end up here some day, but it wasn't today, and whenever it did come they'd end up here together.

Sophie watched Maggie leave, watched Tara turn to go. Tara had been here before. Had buried brothers here before.

She watched Nate watch Eliot before letting out a sigh.

This was their story, and if they needed one last kick in the ass then she could be the one to give it and they could consider it her blessing.

"You know he still thinks you'll leave him for me," she said, not bothering with her normal flair, when she stood next to Nate. "Now do something with that lump in your pocket or I'll start to think you're actually happy to be here." He blinked at her and she shook her head. "You're both very strange men." She let out a sigh and turned to leave.

Nate turned, watching her walk out of the clearing before walking over to stand next to Eliot. The sun was starting to set and they should be heading back soon. Boston was waiting for them and there were still people who needed to be helped and they all wanted to get back into the game, back to normal life.

But…

"This isn't really the time or place for this," Nate started, nervous, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "But… well. It's been two, or... well, ten years really, and all this just… I don't want us to end up like… what I mean is…"

"Marry me."

Huh?

Eliot smiled at him. "Don't have a ring or anythin' for ya but… will you marry me?"

Well.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

Eliot's smile became a grin, an old shadow that had darkened his eyes as long as Nate had known him, finally gone. "Well, dontcha know? White moves first."