The headlights were pointed down the hill while the team desperately scanned the area with flashlights. "Eliot, help us man, we can't find you. Make a sound – rustle something." The ensuing silence was broken again by Hardison. "Dammit Spencer – where are you".

Sophie and Parker spotted the ripples in the water at the same time, but the blond thief was much faster at getting to the source. "Sparky! We got you Spark- Oh God".

Nate didn't know what she was seeing, but the reaction was enough for him to warn her off. "Don't touch him Parker. We're right behind you. Hardison find something for a stretcher and bring blankets." He stopped talking when his light hit Eliot.

The hitter was curled on his side, half in the water and shivering uncontrollably. If Nate hadn't known who it was, he wasn't sure he ever would have recognized him. His eyes were all but swollen shut. His face was one giant bruise, swollen and split open in a half dozen places, covered with blood. Clumps of hair were missing, and the scalp scarred where they had been pulled from.

"Damn, damn, damn, DAMN." Hardison had arrived, with a panel from floor board in Lucille to carry his friend. "How do we touch him – how do we move him?"

"Very carefully."

They surrounded him as much as possible, saying his name over and over hoping he understood they were trying to help. There were no shrieks, no gasps from the broken man as they moved him from the water and tried to wrap him in blankets. Once, when Sophie shifted his leg there may have been a small whimper, but none of them would even swear they had heard that. There was nowhere they could touch that wasn't hurt.

"What's the nearest hospital" Parker asked as they closed the van door.

"No – back home. We can't risk a hospital."

"Are you out of your mind?" Sophie glared at Nate. "Look at him."

"They dumped him. They think he's dead. You think whoever did this won't figure out he's alive the minute word is out of a badly beaten man found by the River. We'll get him help. We'll get him whatever he needs, but we're taking him home."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Quinn is sending someone we can trust. In the meantime we keep him warm and try to hydrate him".

They had settled him into his room at the office, and started trying to help. Cutting of the wet clothing had stopped them in their tracks again. Eliot's chest was red and inflamed, marked with scabs and burns. His arms were bruised, cut and raw. Nate went to the closet Eliot kept stocked with supplies to patch up the team. There was enough in there to stock a small medical centre. He wondered if there was enough for Eliot's injuries, knowing there was nothing there for the other damage that had been done to him in the past 9 days. Now was the time to treat what they could. He brought out more blankets, an IV, and sterile wipes. "Put the heating pad on his back, near the kidneys. It will help warm his blood faster." His shivering was still dangerous, though it had eased a bit since they found him. His body temperature had dropped to below 90 by the time they got him in the van, but was slowly climbing. They turned him slowly to warm his back, and saw the welts. Parker became almost as pale as Eliot had become and Sophie started using language completely inappropriate for a lady, but totally fitting the situation. Over their objections, Nate banished all of them from the room. "Do you really think he wants you to see him like this?"

He reached for Eliot's hand to insert the IV, and pulled back. They were shattered. He couldn't bring himself to probe for a vein. Gently he searched along the arm, trying to find somewhere he could use for the injections. He found a spot, but was reluctant to cause anymore injury, even something this small. He shook his head, coming to his senses. This was not going to even register with the younger man, and he quickly set up the IV to try to get some fluids into him. Then he began to gently clean him up, wiping the dried blood from his face and neck. He fought the desire to fix Eliot's hair, knowing it was probably a bad idea to get near any possible head injuries. He did brush some stray strands away from his eyes. "Stay with me Eliot. We're going to get you through this. Stay with us."

He wasn't sure how much time had passed. He didn't hear the door to the apartment, let alone to the room, when a hand on his shoulder gently moved him away. "Quinn sent me. I got this. Go sit with your friends."

Nate looked up at the Doctor, and was surprised to see him looking at Eliot as if he'd seen a ghost. Was his condition that bad? "Not going anywhere. I don't know you and I am not 100% sold on Quinn. I'm staying."

"Suit yourself – but I sure as hell hope you have a strong stomach."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Five hours later Eliot's body had warmed to almost 95 degrees. He had been cleaned, stitched and wrapped. The bullet entry wound had been dressed, but going after the bullet itself was not a consideration. The injury had partially healed, and the projectile itself was no threat at this point. Removal surgery would be a trauma his body didn't need right now. Bones were set and splints or pressure casts applied as appropriate. There was scarcely an inch that didn't have salve, cream, ointment or bandages on it. Creams coated electrical burns. Ointments and bandages coated the welts from flogging that crisscrossed his back. Antibacterial lotions had been worked into dozens of cuts on his arms, legs and – other places. Nate had long since stopped mentally cataloguing was had been done to the young man. He tried to block out what each injury must have meant – most have cost. He had left the room twice, both times for more supplies. He had wanted to go puke his guts out each time, but forced himself back to Eliot's side. He had no idea if the Hitter knew he was there, but if there was even a chance, he had to stay close. There had been some gasps and moans, but little reaction to most of the work being done. Even the setting of bones had elicited little more than whimpers. Nate wanted to hear a shout, a scream – something to show Eliot was still in there and fighting. He had dropped his mistrust of the Doctor fairly quickly. There was an aura about him that reassured Nate that Eliot was in more that capable hands. He looked up to realize the work was done. The blankets were pulled up to cover Eliot as much as possible, and pillows had been propped around him for support of the injured limbs.

"Come outside – I have to talk to all of you."

A few minutes later the team sat around the desk, watching the doctor, with focus split for any sound from the room down the hall. Quinn had arrived at some point, and sat quietly in a far corner, part of the activity, but not of the family. He was just here to find out what had happened, so he could figure out who he was going to be killing.

"Your friend should be dead. I have no idea why he isn't. He has lost a ridiculous amount of blood. If he'd been any more dehydrated he'd have dust in his veins. He's been starved. He's been cut, stabbed, burned, shocked, beaten and shot. But he's alive - somehow. Given the hypothermia, his heart rate and BP are surprisingly steady. His breathing his rough, but that's due in part to the busted ribs. You'll need to watch carefully for pneumonia."

H looked at their faces. The young blonde was leaning heavily against the guy who had let him in. Hardison – that was it. He looked pretty numb. Sonia – no Sophie - had quiet tears running down her cheeks. Nate. Well, he'd seen all of this, so it wasn't the same shock. He'd toughed it out much better that expected, never losing it once through all the treatment. But the Doctor knew that look. There was a bottle of whiskey in that man's none too distant future.

"There needs to be someone with him 24/7 until – well until he gets past this. I have no idea how long that will take. Physically, given that he survived this far, he should be able to recover, with a lot of work." The release of sighs from the table was almost a gale force wind. He hated like hell he was about to shatter their hope. "Mentally, emotionally…another story. This much, in such intensity, so quickly. I don't know if any psyche could survive that. The nature of what they did, the pure viciousness of it. He was tortured for someone's pleasure and entertainment. He doesn't even have the emotional safety valve of knowing what he went through saved someone. I'm betting they never asked him anything."

Nate stood and just barely made it to the sink before retching. He had surmised all of that watching Eliot get treated, but hearing it, registering it as fact, was too much.

"I'm going to clean up in there and double check everything before you go in. One at a time. You can talk to him, quietly. Just make sure he knows he's not alone, and that it is safe for him to come back. From what Quinn told me, he used everything he had to get back to you. If anyone can get him though this it'll be you four."

He came out of Eliot's room about 15 minutes later. None of them had moved. "I'll call in a couple of hours and be back tomorrow. My number is by the phone if you need me." He paused a moment, and decided they needed to hear something. "Seven years ago I was with Doctors without Borders. We were in a small town about 6 miles past the end of civilization. Someone got the idea we were collaborating with the enemy – whoever the hell it was that week. During the night a raiding party came in – or tried to. They killed one of our sentries. Then a whirlwind attacked. Took out 9 terrorists in what couldn't have been more than 60 seconds. Didn't fire a shot. If I hadn't seen the bodies, I wouldn't have believed it. He came into the main tent to on his clean-up sweep, making sure there were no strays. He was bleeding, shrugged it off, grabbed a compression bandage and started to walk away. He was on his way out when a kid came running up to him and grabbed him around the legs, hugging him till he fell over. I was scared to death what this force would do to the child out of sheer momentum. He reached out, tousled hair, grinned at him and started talking. Trying to convince the kid that he wasn't Superman. It gave me a couple of minutes to patch up the arm. He glared at me, but I guess he didn't want to scare the kid, so let it go. A few minutes later he put the boy back in bed and walked out of the village. Never looked back. Over the next week there were 4 similar attacks stopped – crushed – in the area. After that, well let's just say we weren't bothered by raiding parties again. Nobody knew who the guy was, but one of the camps said he told them he was the Cavalry." He looked towards Eliot's room. "Personally, I think the kid was right – it was Superman."