Author's Note- I do not own leverage, or any of its characters. All rights remain in the hands of their owners. The only thing I own is my o/c, name to be revealed.

Some back story- this is basically what I think makes sense for Eliot's back story. I had this idea in my head after the season 3 finale, and its been stewing in my head ever since.

Please review and enjoy.

'Why are we not following Eliot ? Can't Hardison just do his computery tracey thingy and boop him on the map?' Parker asked. A few hours had passed and they were in Nate's apartment waiting, and partially hoping, for Eliot's return

'We can Parker, but do you really want to be following Eliot now? He's never walked out on a job like that before and whatever's bothering him, we should just let him deal with until he needs us,' Sophie replied as calmly and patiently as she could.

'But why would he just leave like that?'

'We all have our secrets Parker, some of which we aren't ready to share,' said Sophie as Nate walked down his stairs, hair wet from the shower.

'But that doesn't mean that we as, um, friends, aren't obligated to check up on him. Hardison,' Nate gestured at which point Hardison tapped a button on his keyboard and the footage from the cafe came up. Before they could watch it however, they heard the door opening and Eliot walking in. Hardison quickly closed the browser and Eliot, without saying a word, walked to the fridge and opened up a beer. They stared at him blankly, not knowing whether to say anything or not. There was a few seconds of awkward silence until Parker spoke up.

'Why did you leave?' The inevitable question made Eliot grind his teeth.

'I had something I had to follow up on," he replied.

"In the middle of a con?' asked Sophie.

'Yes,' he answered bluntly.

'But why?' Parker pushed. Eliot sighed realising that unless he told them everything, they wouldn't understand or let up. But that was something he wasn't ready to do.

"I ain't gonna say anything but," he took a sip of his beer. "you know I would never leave in the middle of a job this big, unless it was the most important thing in the world, which this was. Now, please, don't ask me anything more 'cus ya ain't getting a different answer."

The team stared at him and nodded. Not a nod of 'okay yes we agree with you' but a nod of 'we don't have any other choice and we will probably get our heads bashed in if we say otherwise.' This satisfied Eliot.

"That's fine Eliot, but know that you're off this job. Lionel called Smith's office phone six times. He left a message saying your together business is over. We're gonna take a run at his boss instead." stated Nate firmly.

Eliot nodded. "Done deal. So if you don't need me," he put his beer down, "I'll be on my way but call me if this thing goes south." With that he walked out the door.

He went to the diner every day to see her, even though neither of them said a word to each other. Patience, he thought to himself, it'll just take some time. Truthfully though, he was scared; terrified of losing her again. Finally though, he gathered the courage to speak to her, just two words; "I'm sorry"

"I know," she said and after staring into her deep brown eyes he knew she couldn't say anything more, and neither could he. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen and scribbled his name and digits on the napkin sitting in front of him, then he handed it to her.

"All you have to do is call my name, and I'll be there," he said and with that, he stood up and walked out the door.

He didn't return to there for a week, partially because he was too preoccupied with trying to take down Muroe, but mostly because he was still afraid, although he didn't like to admit it. He was sitting at the bar reading a book when his phone rang and, not recognising the number, answered precariously. "Hello."

"Is this Eliot?" said the voice of a young woman on the other end.

"Speaking."

"This is June from Westside Medical Centre. Do you know a young woman, medium length brown hair approximately 16 years of age?" His breathing quickened.

"Yes."

"Well sir, there's been an incident do you have the contact details for a parent, guardian and or next of kin?" she queried, as though reading from a script.

"Um, me."

"Perhaps you should get down here."

Eliot ran into the hospital at full speed, almost slamming into the reception area. He received directions from the rather dashing nurse at the desk, and proceeded to the girl's room. "Somebody better tell me what happened?" he said as he entered the room. The doctor standing over her bed looked at Eliot, then back at his chart.

"Eliot is it? You said to the nurse that you are her next of kin?" Eliot nodded.

"What happened?"

"We're not sure. We think she was attacked and," he coughed uncomfortably, "beaten not far from main street." Eliot went to ask about her injuries but the doctor, sensing his queries, beat him to the punch. "She's fine," Eliot let out a breath of air he didn't know he was holding in. "She has a fractured rib and a few cuts and bruises. Nothing serious and no concussion. She should be out of here in a day or two."

"Okay, that's good." Eliot replied softly. "Why did you call me?" he asked. The question had been on his mind since he got the call.

"She had no phone, no ID. But she had your number on a napkin. It was the only thing we had to go on." The doctor replied and Eliot nodded, satisfied. " Now, could we get some details on her? What's her name?"

"Abigail Jean Spencer."