A/N: I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it for you. Reviews make my day, so please read and review. I don't write slash. I don't own Leverage or any of the characters, and make no money off of any of this. Thank you.
Chapter 6
Hardison walked back into Nate's living room, contemplating what Eliot had said, and wondering if there was a way to protect them all from being listed as one another's known associates. Deciding that there probably wasn't, but resolving to research it further, he settled down on Nate's sofa, and opened his laptop again. Master Yu was at the bar downstairs, which had been closed in anticipation of his needing to use it, with almost all of the veterans from the study, and Nate and Sophie sat at the dining room table.
"How's Eliot?" Sophie asked.
"He's all right. I hate to see him like this, How's Master Yu doing with the others?"
"I don't know. He said he was coming back to check on Eliot when he was finished, so I'm guessing we'll find out then."
They sat in silence for another ten or fifteen minutes, and then Nate looked up when he heard a voice.
"Nate! Our boy would like to see you next," Parker said, quietly, sitting down next to Hardison.
Nate rose and walked into the sick room. Eliot had his eyes closed when he got there, and he stood at the door, trying to determine if he was sleeping.
"Nate. Did you track down all of the other veterans?"
"Yes. They're all downstairs in the bar with Master Yu. We don't know anything else yet, though. How are you feeling?" He walked forward, and stood next to the bed.
"Oh, you know—it's just a little nerve gas. Nothing major."
Nate gave a half hearted laugh. "No, nothing major. I'd like to see what you consider major."
"You sure about that?"
"Listen, Eliot, I wanted to apologize."
"We did what was necessary."
"You could have died, and I should have foreseen that this could have happened."
"We'll talk about it later. The meds are making me sleepy, and I need to talk to you."
"What did you want to talk about?"
"Two things. Nate, this is gonna get bad. As bad as any of you have ever seen. Worse, even."
"We can handle it."
"I don't—"
"We can handle it," Nate interrupted.
"I don't want the girls to see it."
"All right. I'll see what I can do." How Eliot expected him to keep the girls from seeing it, he didn't know. "What else did you want to talk about?"
"I'm gonna have to go after Conrad. We're on his radar, and if we don't do anything about this, he'll think he's won, and none of you will be safe."
"You just concentrate on getting better."
"Nate, you're not listening. You don't understand."
"You can't do anything as long as you are laid up. Concentrate on getting better and then we'll talk about it, and make a plan."
"Nate, you're not hearing—" his eyes dropped closed and he didn't continue. Nate sat with him for a few minutes longer, and then rose and left the room.
When Nate walked back into the living room, Sophie rose to go and visit Eliot.
"He's asleep," Nate said. "You can sit with him if you like, but he said the meds were making him sleepy."
"I won't wake him. I just want to sit with him for a few minutes. He gave much of himself on this one, Nate."
"Agreed." He smiled slightly as she disappeared past him, and into the room where Eliot was sleeping.
While she was inside with Eliot, Master Yu came back upstairs, carrying a tray with a dozen or so vials of blood. He walked straight through the apartment and into the room where Eliot was sleeping, and then came out again five minutes later, empty handed, with Sophie in tow. They all gathered on the furniture in the living room, and looked expectantly at Master Yu.
"The organophosphates seem to have been localized to the one cell. None of the others showed any exposure."
"I see. Can you tell us what Eliot is facing?"
"When I go back in there, I'll draw some blood to see how the two medicines he's been on for the past few hours are working. Depending on the results, there's one other drug I will start to give him. He's had a moderate exposure, so it will take a while for the effects of the gas to be eradicated. I think we're looking at a week or a little longer, and there's no guarantee that all of the effects will go away. A few could be permanent. We'll do what we can. Please excuse me."
With that, he rose and walked back into Eliot's room, closing the door behind him.
(0o0)
A cold wind whipped through the trees of the jungle. In the distance, there was the pop, pop, pop of machine gun fire, and the squeal of ammunition as it flew through the air. Occasionally, the air was punctuated with the cries of someone who had been hit. Eliot perched on the highest branch that would hold his weight, and tuned out all of the background noise, as his focus sharpened to pinpoint accuracy through the scope of the rifle he held. He saw his target walking through the trees further up the trail, and knew that he would have a clear shot in less than a minute. His finger moved to the trigger, as time slowed down, and people began to move like single frames on a movie wheel. The head was the most efficient for a kill shot, and he was efficient in everything he did. He never fired more than one shot. He didn't need to do so. If he couldn't kill with one, he needed to get out of the business and start doing something else. Multiple shots meant more chances that innocents were hurt, and that was unacceptable. Yes, he killed people. People he had a reason to kill. People he was paid to kill. Sometimes, he killed those people who saw his face or tried to kill his friends. His finger tightened just a bit more on the trigger at that thought. He killed without conscience or remorse. These were bad men, who did bad things, and they deserved to die.
A few seconds later, the target cleared the trees, but he still was not close enough. Just a little bit closer. His finger tightened just a hair. Closer. Closer. There. He squeezed the trigger. As the bullet flew away from the end of his rifle, the target suddenly changed. His target, the man he had seen so clearly through the scope on his rifle, changed before his eyes into an older woman, with a baby strapped on her back. He knew he should be climbing down, getting out before anyone started looking for where the bullet came from, but he couldn't wrench his eyes away, and so watched as it slammed into her. He heard screaming, from far away, and felt hands on him, though how they had managed to climb the tree without him hearing them, he didn't know. No matter. He slammed his fist over his shoulder, and felt it make contact.
The screaming didn't stop, and though the hands let go for a moment, they came back again, and this time he heard someone calling his name. "Eliot. Eliot. Eliot!" He tried to open his eyes, but they were so heavy. "Eliot." There it was again, that voice. Calling him. The scene around him disappeared, and he was engulfed in darkness.
Eliot thrashed around on the cot so fiercely that Master Yu feared he would turn it over. He started calling to the screaming, thrashing man, trying to wake him up. He kept quietly saying his friend's name, over and over, his hands on the man's shoulders, until ever so slowly, the thrashing slowed, then stopped, and one of those startling blue eyes opened. The other one followed, but for a few moments, there was no recognition in them.
"Eliot?" Nate asked, and Master Yu wondered when he had come in.
"Nate?" Slowly those blue eyes, so full of confusion, found the mastermind standing at the foot of his bunk, and focused in. "It was a dream, Eliot. You're safe now."
His eyes roamed the room until he found Master Yu, standing next to the sink. "Did I hit you?"
"Yes, but it was an accident, and I shouldn't have touched you. I knew better, but thought it might comfort you—help you wake up. I'll know better next time."
Eliot shook his head. "No chances. Restrain me. I don't want to hurt anybody, especially the people who are trying to help me through all of this."
"Are you sure?"
"No choice. If we have another week or ten days of this, I can't afford to take the chance that I will do real damage to one or both of you. Restrain me."