Chapter 16
In hindsight, the nightmare shouldn't have been a surprise. It was more surprising that he hadn't had one recently, given everything that had been going on in his life.
Groggy. Pain. His head was pounding, the blood dripping slowly down his cheek to drop onto the floor. Splat. Splat. Splat.
They'd left, thinking he was done for the day. Couldn't take anymore, needed time to gather his strength for another round. Their mistake. Sure, he was down, but he'd get back up. No one was keeping him locked up. He'd get out.
He lay on the floor, in a sprawled heap that was so tempting, so unthreatening. So easy for a guard to see and decide to have a little fun with. And even with the broken bones, the bruises, the dislocated shoulder, it was so easy to snap a neck. Steal a gun. Rip another man's clothes for quick bandages.
Long tunnels, dark corridors, silence… all until it wasn't. Shouts and gunfire and dammit hand-to-hand when he only had one hand. He'd kill them, kill them all…
The hand on his shoulder had him roaring awake, body taking over before his mind could. But the person attacking him was fast and nimble and slipped from his grasp before he could get his hands around their neck and squeeze.
Eliot came to himself, breathing heavily. The bedding was tossed about, he was alone on the bed, and Parker was peeking at him from the floor. "Eliot," she said. In a not so quiet voice. "Eliot!"
He realized that his hands were still tensed and reaching for, dear god, for her. "Fuck," fell out of his mouth, and he drew his hands back. Rubbed his face with them as they trembled.
"Eliot," she said again, softer now, rising from the floor and slipping up onto the bed. She reached out toward him and he flinched. Her fingers kept coming, soft on his fists. "Nightmare."
"Yeah," he bit out, and pulled away. He got up and walked away from her, moving toward the window. Jesus. He'd been reaching for Parker.
"It's ok, Eliot," Parker said behind him. Still on the bed, thank god. He gripped the window frame and stared out at the night. Early morning. Whatever. "I'm ok."
The coiled tension inside him was too much. "I could've hurt you, Parker," Eliot bit out. "I was going to hurt you. I wanted to hurt you."
He tensed and held very still as slim arms slipped around his waist. Skin to skin, soft to hard. He couldn't relax into it, couldn't risk that. "You didn't hurt me," she said. "I'm too fast and tricky for that."
"Dammit!" Eliot swung around and grabbed her shoulders in his hands, glaring down at those blue eyes. Dark and wide in the night. "I was going to hurt you, Parker! I was going to wrap my hands around your throat and snap your neck!" He pushed her back, away from him. "We can't do this. I can't risk it. I can't hurt you."
Parker stood where he'd put her and surveyed him quietly. Eliot was very aware of the night, the still-pounding of his heart, the tightness of his muscles. If he were home, alone, he'd be beating the shit out of a heavy bag. Getting everything back under control before he saw any of the team.
"Eliot," she broke into his thoughts, "Do you think that I don't have nightmares too?" Eliot jerked his eyes up to hers.
"What?" she was confusing him. Did she miss the part where he was trying to kill her in his sleep?
Parker stayed right where she was but cocked her head, eyes boring into him. "I have nightmares. Every night," she said bluntly. "I don't sleep at the offices. I sleep at home, behind my own security system where it's safe. Or," she said and her voice softened. "I sleep if you're there. Because you make me safe."
Something cracked in him, and Eliot ran his hands over his face again. She was killing him. One little piece at a time.
"Eliot, I usually wake up screaming or with a knife in my hand," Parker said. "Unless you're around, because you don't need a knife and you probably wouldn't let me sleep with one anyway." She folded her arms, and he couldn't miss the gleam of light off her bare breasts as she did. "You won't hurt me," she said. "I'm too fast and tricky. And next time you have a nightmare, I'll hit you with a pillow instead of shake you."
He couldn't help it, a laugh slipped out of him. Trust Parker to come up with a solution that involved him getting a face full of feathers. "Parker," he took a deep breath. "I'll never be able to handle it if I hurt you," he said. He had to give it one last try. "I'm supposed to keep you safe. I want to keep you safe. I just don't know if I can keep you safe from me."
Parker smiled, that flashing quicksilver smile. "Silly Eliot," she said. "I'm always safe with you." She gave him a questioning look. "I could wake you up with a shoe, if you want."
Eliot groaned, but somehow was smiling. Just a little. "No, no shoes," he ordered gruffly. Crap. How did she do this, make his fears fall by the wayside? He was still afraid he would hurt her someday without meaning to.
"Eliot," Parker was suddenly serious. "Trust me."
And there it was. He stared through the darkness separating them, stared into her eyes. "I do," he finally said. "Yeah. I do." Eliot took a step toward her and reached out, pulling her into his arms. Oddly enough, his tight muscles all unwound as her skin pressed against his. "Yeah, I trust you," he said into her hair. He tightened his arms. "Don't let me hurt you, Parker," he whispered.
She pressed a butterfly light kiss against his bare chest. "You won't," she promised him. "I'll hit you with a shoe first."
He was too wound to go back to sleep, and Parker was awake anyway, so a trip to the gym was in order. Parker was limited in what she was allowed to do because of the ribs, so a lot of her time was spent sitting on a countertop, one leg curled beneath her and the other swinging freely while Eliot beat the shit out of a heavy bag. Parker had somehow procured a couple of her locks and was idly locking and unlocking them while she watched him.
Eliot tried not to be distracted by her eyes on him, stripped down to the waist as he pummeled away his fear and tension. It was kind of hard, he wasn't used to having someone watch, and Parker's gaze was a little too greedy and hot for him to ignore. If he wasn't all tangled up inside over the nightmare and Parker's reaction to it, he'd have dragged her back upstairs and had a different kind of workout. As it was, he didn't quite trust himself yet.
It took a little while, but he finally got to a place where he felt better. Looser. Less out-of-control. Parker apparently saw it in him before he realized, because she hopped off the counter and skipped, yes, skipped over to him. She ducked and popped up in front of him, between him and the bag, somehow missing the fist that was still moving. Jesus, she was fast and tricky. And then she was smashing her lips to his and her arms around his neck and Christ, it felt good. So damn good. Eliot kissed her back, a hard, almost bruising kiss before she broke it off.
She wrinkled her nose at him. "You stink," she told him and grinned. "Shower time!" And Eliot felt a laugh slip out again as she danced away toward the elevators. He grabbed his discarded shirt and pulled it on as he followed her. Yeah. Trust Parker.
Eliot called Nate after their second workout of the morning, a much wetter one than the first.
"How's Parker?" was the first thing out of the mastermind's mouth.
"She's fine," Eliot answered sitting in the desk chair and stretching out his legs. Currently, Parker was in her room, getting clean clothes. "Drugs are out of her system, ribs don't seem to be troubling her too much."
"Good," Nate said. "We need the two of you to plant those documents on Tiny Tim today, and then see what you can find in Pitts' place. We need something to give to the cops linking him to Tiny Tim."
"What about the Columbian?" Eliot asked, propping his feet up on the edge of the bed.
"Hardison's on that," Nate said. "Looks like he's just a hired gun, may not even really be tied to Pitts' scheme at all. Hardison thinks he's just passing through."
Eliot rolled his head on his neck, feeling the muscles loose and relaxed. Shower sex would do that for you. "Maybe I should have a chat with him, tell him to move on," he said.
"Let's avoid killing anyone, shall we?" Nate's voice was mild.
"I said chat," Eliot pointed out, looking up as the door clicked open and Parker came slipping in. He raised an eyebrow at her, considering that she was carrying a duffle bag. She tossed it on the bed and then tossed herself after it, rolling a little as she landed. He had to admire her agility, as she avoided knocking her ribs.
"I heard you," Nate was going on. "Look, stop by and get the documents for Tiny Tim, and then check out Pitts. We'll leave the Columbian be for now."
"Fine," Eliot grumbled, and Parker looked at him questioningly. He held up the one-moment finger to her and she huffed out a sigh before flopping backward onto her back. "We'll be out there in a half-hour."
He shut the phone with a snap. "Nate?" Parker asked from her position on the bed.
"Yeah," Eliot said. He surveyed her sprawled out on the bed. "What's with the bag?" he asked.
Parker sat up with a bounce. "I was tired of having to go get clothes," she said. "So I brought them all here." That made something warm in Eliot. "And I wanted more shoes to throw at you." And that made him laugh, even if it was a little grim. Trust Parker.
"Ok, darlin'," he said and stood up, holding out a hand for her. She ignored it, bouncing up on her own before slipping next to him. Eliot reached out and took her hand in his anyway, lacing his fingers with hers. "Come on," he said, and started for the door. "We need to hit Nate's, and I need to tell you about the Columbian."
"So there ARE Columbians," Parker said triumphantly as they stepped out into the hallway. She swung their arms between them. "Hah! I win!"
Eliot laughed and tightened his fingers, feeling about as light as he had all morning. Parker had a way of doing that to him. "Yeah, you win," he said.
Ok. Enough with the heavy emotional stuff, I need something fun! Or sexy. Or maybe some nice Eliot-beating-the-crap-out-of-someone. Let's see if these characters will cooperate…