A/N: Last chapter was so popular with the kissage and Eliot sweetness - thank you for all the lovely feedback on that. Now, this chapter? Hmm, probably not gonna be so popular...

(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)

Chapter 12

It was dark in the tunnels beneath the city. Dark, hot and constricted. Eliot had been in worse fixes, he knew that, or he thought he did, but it was getting harder and harder to remember.

They had kept him awake too long, and then knocked him out at their leisure. The sleep was not peaceful or comfortable. Rocks digging into his wounded back, the whip marks bleeding, heavy limbs protesting even when he was drugged into submission. It was hard to tell if infection had set in, given the heat he was already experiencing, but he doubted they were going to let him die, not yet.

The boss had plans for him, excruciating, agonising plans. Withstanding torture was something Eliot had trained his body for but this was some of the worst he had endured, and right now he could see no end. Though he knew he could get out of the cell, it was knowing where to head when he was there that presented the problem. Guards were everywhere, all speaking a dialect he couldn't quite decipher. In the dark they were unknown targets, and his senses were going, one by one.

Another couple of days and he was going to be too weak. He had to make a plan, make his escape before it was too late. The item was lost for now, he would have to go without it. Maybe he would figure out a way back or an interception once he was free and healed. For now it was all about the escape, but focusing his brain on even punching and running was harder than anything for Eliot.

Everything hurt, every inch of him ached, bled, burned. He was given just enough food and water to survive, none of it clean or healthy. His body was a wreck and his mind was following. Eliot was running out of choices and time.

Beyond the walls he heard movement, the jangling of keys and heavy evil laughter. Now was the time, the only time he had left. One last push, it had to be now. Eyes closed, steeling himself against what came next, Eliot took a breath of hot rancid air, and waited…

Parker woke up when her bed started shaking. No, not her bed just her pillow, the pillow that was also know as Eliot. They had fallen asleep lying across ways at the foot of her bed at the hotel. She remembered exactly where she was and why, and the dull thud in her head reminded her of all the alcohol she and Eliot drank before they went to sleep. Now they were both awake, or at least she thought so when she heard him speak. Sitting up a little, Parker realised Eliot still had his eyes closed and that whatever was making him yell and flail around was inside his head – a nightmare.

It was strange, Parker had nightmares all the time, as a proven a few nights ago when Eliot had woken her from one and brought her comfort. She wanted to do the same for him now and yet wasn't sure of herself. She didn't do comfort, she was bad at it, but Eliot never really minded when she screwed up, especially not on this trip. He seemed to appreciate that she was making an effort somehow.

"Eliot?" she called his name softly at first and then again a little more loudly.

He mumbled something, a slur of words she couldn't make out.

"Eliot!" she tried again, going so far as to bodily shake him this time.

Even Parker with her quick thinking and excellent reflexes couldn't have been prepared for what came next. All in a moment, one arm shot out to grab her, dragging her down, the other about to strike her when she screamed. It was loud and panicked enough to bring Eliot around. His eyes shot open, but his body was still rigid, his arm locked so tight around Parker's throat, she still wasn't sure how she ever managed to make enough noise to wake him. If she was afraid, she didn't make it obvious. By comparison, Eliot was terrified.

The hitter's body went limp as if he had been knocked out just as soon as his mind caught up to reality. Parker scrambled out of his now non-existent grip, putting a hand to her throat and coughing a little. She really hadn't been expecting any of that, and it had shaken her up some, even if she wasn't making a fuss right now.

Eliot looked shocked and horrified as he realised piece by piece what had happened. He had been dreaming, or rather reliving the past. Shadows of dark memories from one of his worst instances of being captured had replayed behind his eyes. He had seen his attacker above him and reacted the only way he knew to defend himself and make his escape. If Parker hadn't got through to him when she had, he could've killed her.

Though he swallowed hard twice, it did no good, and he was up and running to the bathroom a second later, heaving up everything his body contained. Parker didn't move. She had no idea what she was supposed to do or say. She knew how bad nightmares could get. She had woken in the night having fallen out of bed, smashed lamps, torn up bed sheets, acting out the worst of her panic, lashing out an enemies that were no longer there.

Though she had suffered on the streets, and at the hands of unsuitable foster parents, Eliot had endured worse in his way. Experts in violence in torture had done their work on his body and mind. She had no doubt at all he had been reliving the worst pieces of his dark past. He had attacked her thinking she was the deadliest of his enemies when she was in fact a friend. She didn't blame him, she couldn't, but no doubt he would blame himself. Eliot liked to think himself guilty of everything ever, and though she understood he needed to feel bad for the things he had done wrong, she wished he could learn to move on from it somehow.

Eliot appeared in the bathroom doorway then, breathing hard and sweating profusely. He looked as pale as Parker had ever seen him, worse than after some of the nastiest beatings she had seen him take at the hands of men twice his size. Without a word she went over to the mini bar, pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and brought it to him. Eliot looked at it only briefly before his eyes came up to her neck and face. She didn't look scared, not even angry or upset with him, but the red marks already showing at her throat proved he had to have hurt her, the very last person he would ever want to cause pain.

"Parker…" he said in nothing but a whisper, but she immediately shook her head, pressing the bottle of water into his hand.

"You need to drink," she told him, as if she were his mother or similar. "When you're sick you need fluids. You taught me that.

It was hard to get his head around, how she could be okay with what had just happened here when he was so far from it himself. He had attacked her, injured her. A few seconds later, she could've been dead, and she had to realise that. Even Parker with her backwards logic and wacky ideas about what was funny and what really mattered, she wasn't so naive. She knew all too well what he was capable of and he'd had her held helpless and captive, his arm around her throat just a few minutes ago, right here in this room…

"Parker, I'm so, so, sorry," he told her, even as she was walking away. "Darlin', I won't ever be able to tell you that enough times. I never should've…"

"Stop it, please," she urged him, covering her face with her hands a moment, regaining some kind of composure before she looked back at him. "Did you mean to do that to me?" she asked him straight out, already certain of the answer.

"No," he replied immediately. "Never."

"Then it's fine," she told him, immediately having to clear her throat just so she could swallow properly. "I'll be fine."

"That's not the point," he shook his head, turning he bottle of water over and over in his hands without ever opening it.

"It's the only point that matters," she told him. "Drink the fluids. You need the fluids," she repeated, walking back to the fridge and getting herself a drink too.

The truth was, her throat was burning and her neck ached terribly. A glance in the mirror on the opposite wall showed her the red welts he must have already seen. She'd have bruises there, she was certain, right where his arm had pushed too tight across her wind pipe. Yes, she knew she was lucky to be alive, on some level she understood that, but at the same time she still couldn't believe for a second that Eliot would ever hurt her on purpose.

She didn't want to deal with this or be upset about it or anything. That made it all the more aggravating to her when she felt tears forming behind her eyes and a new lump forming in her searing throat even as she drank. The sobbing noise seemed strange to her own ears, especially when she realised it was coming from herself. It wasn't like Parker to keep bursting in to tears like this, but then a lot had happened these past few weeks and she hadn't broken once. Maybe it was now finally catching up to her, maybe it was just the effect of so much alone time with Eliot. She honestly didn't know.

The man himself still felt very sick, even though he knew he had nothing left to give on that score. This wasn't something they could brush aside and pretend didn't happen, like a drunken fumble or stupid words said out of turn. This was real and brutal and right up there amongst the biggest regrets of his life, especially when he realised Parker was crying.

It was instinct to want to comfort her, to find any way at all to ease her pain. Unfortunately, he had been the cause of all of it, the physical and emotional hurt she was now suffering. Touching her would be wrong, saying anything, in his mind could only really make matters worse and no better. Eliot Spencer was helpless and he hated that almost as much as he hated himself in that moment.

Taking the top off the water bottle, he drank as much as he dare. It was all he could do for her right now, just as she asked. Still he could hear her sniffling and trying her damnedest not to cry and in the silent room just before dawn, there was no other sound to hide it. Taking a breath, he walked over to her, stopping a foot behind, contemplating if even a hand on her shoulder would be too much after what had happened.

Parker knew he was there. She both heard and felt him moving closer, but he didn't speak. With anybody else she knew her body would be rigid with fear by now, worrying what they might do whilst her back was turned, what attack they might make. She was always on guard, until she was with Eliot. Even after what he'd done to her, she didn't feel afraid. Shocked and a little shaken by the experience, but not at all scared. It was confusing and strange, but she didn't care to question it. Right now all she wanted was to feel better than this, and the only place she knew to find the comfort she craved was in his arms.

Within seconds, she was there, turning herself into his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears. Eliot almost tripped backwards with the force of her diving at him. It was the very last reaction he expected to get and his body wasn't exactly at it's optimum after the booze, the nightmare, and the vomiting. For a full minute he stood there with his arms still by his sides, Parker gripping him around the middle, like clinging to him would keep her from drowning. God, he understood that feeling. Tentatively, at last he put his arms around her too and held her as gently as he knew how, rubbing her back as she continued to cry. There they stood until she was all done sobbing.

Parker moved her head off Eliot's chest to look him in the eyes, hating the way he winced when he saw the state of her neck again.

"I'm not gonna lie, it does hurt," she admitted, "but I've had worse," she shrugged then, sniffing hard because now wasn't a good time to need a tissue. "You know I'm not weak. I can handle it," she promised him.

Eliot knew that, of course he did, but it wasn't the point as he quickly told her.

"I can't change what other people did to you," he sighed. "But I'd bounce them all from here to the end of the world to stop 'em doing it again," he assured her. "I did this, Parker," he reminded her, as if reminder were needed, his fingers reaching out to her neck but never quite making contact with the angry red marks. "I did this, and I can make sure it never happens again."

"No," she said too loudly when he tried to move away, grabbing a whole handful of his shirt. "You're not leaving me, and you're not taking me home," she told him with defiance that was not to be countered. "I know the others think I'm this little girl that needs taking care of, and I like that you all look out for me now, especially you," she told him truthfully, her tone more even and reasonable now, but just as determined. "That doesn't change the fact that I am a grown up, Eliot. I know what I want, I know what I can deal with, and I know… I know that I can't let you just walk away like everybody else in my stupid life always has," she told him, hating that her voice broke when she tried to go on, stamping her foot with the frustration of it all. "Damnit, Eliot!" she used his own oft-used phrase against him. "You're supposed to be different!"

"If I was different I wouldn't've hurt you," he shook his head, reaching for her hand only to untangle her fingers from his shirt. "I'm going back to my room."

He turned to leave then, making it as far as the bathroom door when Parker spoke again.

"I'm gonna come get you for breakfast in an hour," she told him. "If you're not there…" she began, knowing there was no threat she could make that'd mean anything, changing her mind to a simple demand. "Just be there, please."

Eliot didn't answer, but she was pretty sure he nodded his head just slightly before he left her alone for now.

To Be Continued...