They all winced, as the noise assaulted their ears. A moment later, the elevator shivered to a stop, and the doors slid open.
Faith was out immediately, Parker hard on her heels. Eliot exhaled sharply, preparing to run, when he heard a howl of outrage from Parker.
As soon as he cleared the elevator, Eliot saw what had happened – and his heart sank. Lindsey had beat them to the ground floor, and he now had Parker in a complicated hold that Eliot remembered teaching him years before. The thief wanted to struggle, but every time she did it was clearly causing her pain.
"Parker, stop!" he yelled, sharp enough to get her attention. "Don't move!"
"That's right, Parker," Lindsey echoed, his face pressed so close to her cheek Eliot felt physically ill. "Don't move."
"Let her go, Linds," Eliot said. "This isn't about her."
"You're right," Lindsey said. "It's not about her. It's about you." He glanced to one side. Faith had come back as soon as she knew something wasn't right. "And you. Hello, Faith."
She nodded. "Lindsey. You should have called, instead of putting a tail on me. Then I could have told you to fuck off days ago."
"Unfortunately I don't have the option of you saying no," Lindsey countered. "Eliot's different." His eyes met Eliot's. "I've been assured that they want your voluntary cooperation."
"You've got a very fluid idea of voluntary," Eliot said. His heart skipped a beat, as he realized that Faith was muttering under her breath every time Lindsey's attention was diverted. "I've told you what'll happen if you hurt them." He saw comprehension in Parker's eyes, and braced for whatever the girls were planning.
"Yeah, I know," Lindsey said. "You've told me. Over and over. Your…"
He never got to finish his sentence, because Parker chose that moment to twist in an almost inhuman way – perfectly executing the one move designed to counter the hold Lindsey had put her in. Since it wasn't something he'd ever taught her, it had to have been Faith talking her through it, using the coms.
Parker ran immediately to Faith. Eliot thought for a half-second about going after Lindsey; brother or no, they'd just escalated things badly enough that his twin was going to retaliate big.
He was still trying to throw off the last effects of the taser hit, however – and orders from Nate had been very clear.
Besides…he had the keys to the SUV in his pocket.
There was an air of celebration in McRory's that night, and it was all because of the team.
They'd survived. They'd spit in Wolfram and Hart's eye twice so far, and come out alive and together to tell about it. Maybe it wasn't the brightest move in the world, but it had been more or less agreed that a party was in order.
And it probably hadn't been the best move in the world to hold it down in the bar itself. Cora always looked out for the team, checking the pub for bad elements and clients alike, but even she could only do so much.
Even so, they didn't care. They hadn't won, but they'd scraped a few victories and against their current opponent even that was enough. They were due a party back in the world.
They ordered drinks, alcoholic and non, and got their own table. They told stories. They told jokes, or tried to. Eliot rolled his eyes at Hardison and Parker's usual goings-on, and carefully ignored everyone's evident concern over his recent encounter with the Taser. Faith and Parker shared a high five and a toast over a job gone right, while Hardison kept glancing at his laptop every few seconds and regaled Sophie with his theories as to what would happen in the upcoming season finale of Doctor Who. Sophie talked excitedly over her latest acting job, the role of Helena in A Midsummer Night's Dream, even though she'd been forced to miss the last audition thanks to Wolfram and Hart.
And Nate…watched. He spoke whenever he was spoken to, drifting to and fro between the various groups and stories. But mostly he listened, soaking in the celebration and the happiness and the heady feeling of control. This was twice that he and his team had spit on Wolfram and Hart's eye, and they were all alive and all together to celebrate about it.
"We did good today, Pops," said Faith, sitting on the bar stool beside him, taking a quick break from listening to Parker's rants and rambles about one of her jobs overseas.
"We did," Nate agreed.
"Gotta say, when I first met you and your crew, I thought you were pretty much amateur hour. But seeing 'em in action today…" Faith shook her head and smiled. "You guys really know your stuff."
"I'm glad we meet with your approval." He paused, sobering slightly. "You know this isn't the end of it."
Faith shook her head, not in the least miffed at Nate's reminder of the seriousness of the situation. "Hell, no. I've had my run-ins with Old McDonald before, and he's not the giving up kinda guy. I had to check myself into maximum security just to give him the slip last time. Nah, he'll be back, with twice the firepower." She grinned at him. "But not tonight."
"You're sure about that?" Nate didn't want to ask – didn't want to question – but he had to.
"Not a bit," replied Faith, without missing a beat. "But I figure, we're out in public, it's crowded, we're all together, and even Wolfram & Hart's gonna need time to armor up and think of a Plan Q. We should be safe enough until tomorrow."
Nate nodded. If that was Faith's assessment, and if Eliot didn't seem too stressed over their current situation, he supposed he could afford to relax.
"Cheer up already," Faith ordered. She raised her glass, which in deference to him tonight was half full of root beer. "Health to the company."
Nate clinked his mug of coffee against hers'. "Slainte'," he said, taking a sip.
And so the night might have passed, if not for Cora.
"Ah, Nate?" she asked, catching his eye from behind the bar. "I don't mean to bother you, but there's this woman…"
Nate looked up at her. "A client?"
"Or somethin' else?" asked Faith carefully.
Cora shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, I've never seen her before, but she doesn't look up to much. And she says she needs your help, Mr. Ford. And I think she might. She doesn't look so good."
She pointed. Nate and Faith followed her gaze, to the group's usual booth against the opposite wall. A woman sat there, staring back expectantly.
Cora was right – she didn't look up to much. She was deathly pale, swaying slightly where she sat. Her eyes were half closed, and her eyelids flickered occasionally. She looked as though she'd been attacked recently, mugged or worse.
She has to be a client, Nate decided. Wolfram and Hart may be all for stealth, but this for them would be just ridiculous.
"Right, Cora. Thanks. I'll handle it," was what he said out loud. He got off his stool, picked up his glass, and started towards the woman. He paused when Faith laid a hand on his arm, and looked back. "Hm?"
The first thing he noticed was that Faith looked…spooked. That was the only word for it. She was staring fixedly at the pale woman, looking as concerned as Nate had ever seen her. "Faith," he prompted, a little louder.
This time, he managed to pull Faith out of her reverie. "'S nothing," she said, shaking her head. "Just…just a wiggins, that's all. 'm overtired."
"I understand," said Nate, smiling sympathetically. "Believe me." He glanced at the rest of the team. "There's no shame in calling it an early night, you know."
Faith snorted. "With them? Yeah, matter of fact it is." Then she smiled tiredly. "Fight the good fight, Pops. Shoo."
Nate nodded, and made his way over to the booth.
He was close enough to raise his voice and speak to her – "Miss, can I help you?" – when she got to her feet. Acting as though she hadn't heard him at all, she began to move dreamily towards the front door. Nate watched her with some concern. She might have been sleepwalking, the way she moved. He suddenly realized that he couldn't let her back out onto the streets, not in her condition. He hurried after her. "Miss, wait a moment!"
The bell over the door chimed as the woman opened the door and slipped outside. Forgetting himself, forgetting the danger, forgetting that Faith had gotten to chatting with Eliot and wouldn't notice that he'd gone until he returned, Nate followed. He wondered whether or not she'd seen something in the bar itself, something threatening, some danger they had missed. Maybe the floor of McRory's wasn't safe tonight. Even without Wolfram and Hart, there were still dangers in the world and his team had made too many enemies.
All this went through his mind in a cold, calculating blur, and then the woman turned.
All Nate saw, all he remembered, was the sight of her raising two fingers, pointing at him. Staring at him. And her eyes, her dark endless eyes that seemed to be all there was in the world.
"Be in my eyes. Be in me."