A/N: Here's the next chapter, and what looks to be one of the last ones. I've had a lot of fun writing this story, and the experience was made even better by all of you-the thoughtful audience who reads, follows, favorites, and comments. Each time I look at story stats or read a review, I grin from ear to ear. So thank you, thank you, thank you.

I don't own Leverage or its characters, and make no money off of any of this, though I do hope to write professionally one day.

I don't write slash. Enjoy.

Chapter 19

Sophie knew that it was necessary for Eliot to hold a gun on Conrad, and if she were honest with herself, she knew that it might even be necessary for Eliot to shoot him, but she couldn't bear the thought that their Eliot, the gentle man who put in so much time and effort toward keeping the team safe, could do such a terrible thing as take another person's life. He had killed before…she knew that…but he wasn't that man anymore, and it frightened her a little bit during the few times she saw glimpses of that man. She couldn't reconcile the ruthless assassin with the man she knew. Trying to stop it wouldn't help, so she ducked her head and looked away. That particular move wasn't lost on Eliot, and he knew he would have to have a rather serious discussion with the grifter later, but he was rather busy at the moment, and it was neither the time nor the place. Turning his full attention back to Conrad, he waited for the man to make any kind of movement. Later, he would blame the fact that he was hyper-focused on Conrad for the reason he didn't see or hear the car that stopped next to Shelley's, or the wiry man who got out and stalked up on the outskirts of the group, In fact, no one noticed him until he spoke.

"Eliot Spencer, put the gun down. Let's discuss this."

Eliot stared at him, searching his face for something he recognized. Eliot wasn't sure he knew the man, but the man seemed to know him. He knew his name, anyway. And his voice was familiar to Eliot, though he couldn't place it. When the hitter spoke, there was no sign of confusion in his voice.

"I won't do that. This man is a menace to ordinary society, not to mention a clear and present danger to the Constitution of the United States of America. I won't stand down for anyone less than his boss's boss."

Jack Mitchell reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, which he opened to show Eliot an extremely real looking CIA credential. Damn it.

Flashing a smile that showed all of his teeth, he said, "Jack Mitchell, Deputy Director, CIA. His boss's boss."

Conrad looked like a five year old on Christmas morning, and said, almost gleefully, "You'd better get that gun out of my face, cowboy."

"Conrad, I'm not sure you know who it is you are dealing with. If Eliot Spencer had a gun pointed at me, I'd be nervous, and I sure as hell wouldn't be opening my mouth."

"I know who he is," Conrad sneered. "I did my homework. He's a two bit, trigger happy vigilante."

"You're outclassed by a factor of a thousand, and if you don't shut up, I might just let him shoot you," Jack said, wondering all the while if he would truly be able to stop Eliot, if the man took a notion to shoot Conrad. Conrad wisely took the hint and fell silent, a bit shocked that his fellow CIA man wasn't automatically on his side.

Turning his attention back to Eliot, Jack said, "Why don't you tell me a story?"

Smiling slightly, thinking he knew where this was going, Eliot said, "What kind of story?"

"I'd like to hear a story about how this man came to be here, in front of a burning house, being held at gunpoint by two sometimes soldiers, while another soldier and some civilians look on. It's an interesting tableau, and I'd bet there's an equally interesting story behind it. Will you put your gun down and tell me that story? I think Mr. Shelley's weapon is enough to be sure our friend doesn't move, for the moment, anyway."

Eliot looked Shelley in the eye, and said, "If he moves an inch, put a bullet through his head."

Shelley nodded, and Eliot slowly lowered his gun. Conrad was starting to take on a pasty white hue to his skin tone.

Seeing that Jack Mitchell was waiting for him to begin, he said, "I was investigating the death of a soldier participating in a sleep trial at a local college, at the request of his daughter. So, to get a look at what was going on inside the study, I volunteered to be a subject of the trial. During the course of my time there, I discovered that the sleep study wasn't really a sleep study at all, but a study in which those in charge were trying to find new ways to break people. They were preying on homeless Veterans, mostly those who had returned with PTSD, and they were deliberately trying to make it flare up."

"How does Conrad figure into all of this?"

"He was protecting the young man leading the study. They were both dustmen. After my client's father died, he had the records pulled and sealed by Federal order."

"I see. If I recall, the young man went to jail, so how did you both end up here?"

"Conrad told me at the end of the job that I was on his radar—that he wouldn't let what I did, to put his young protégé in jail, slide. Then I discovered that he had released an organophosphate in my cell at the college, and I had to undergo treatment for organophosphate poisoning. I knew he would try again for me, and I felt the need to be sure the civilians and the other vets in the area and in the study were safe. I work with a team. He kidnapped one of the members of that team, and tried to use her to get to me. I tracked him down, and rescued her, and she was injured in the process. I also found out when we met face to face that he had," here Eliot paused, considering how much to say, "done some other things to try to make me a weapon to use against my team. Until I knew what he had done, I was a danger, not only to my team, but to the general public as well, so I came here to try to find out what he had done and to neutralize it. This is my home and my property. He came after me, with his man, and they blew up my house, as you can see, and were trying to find me, when my friends found them, and led them out here. As you saw, I followed, to be sure they were contained. Last time I checked, I have the right to defend myself, my friends, and my property."

Conrad found his voice again, and said, "You can't be taking what he says at face value, without even hearing my side of the story!" The CIA operative was furious.

"Conrad, I'm going to say this once. I got a phone call from an old friend advising me of what was going down here. To be fair to you, I did my homework before I came. I know all about Travis Zilgrim and the program, from CIA internal documents. He simply confirmed what I already knew. This is his property. He was well within his rights to shoot you, and he hasn't done it yet. I can't say that I would have been as patient." He looked back at Eliot.

"Would it satisfy you if I handle this matter from here? I can promise you that he will never bother you or your team again."

"How? How can you make that promise?"

"As of right now, Mr. Conrad is burned. His true identity is being leaked to every media outlet in the country, and to every major nation in the world. Every piece of government issued identification, credit cards, housing, everything has been frozen. The CIA has chosen to distance itself from Mr. Conrad's actions, which are illegal, and a Federal summons has been issued. It seems Congress wants to know a bit more about Mr. Conrad's clandestine operations, which are outside the scope of his duties as a CIA operative. As of right now, with your agreement, I will take him into custody and deliver him to another friend of mine, an FBI agent, and he'll be held in Federal custody until his Congressional hearing, at which time, I fully expect that he'll be sentenced as an accomplice to the death of an American citizen, and on several counts of illegal, unauthorized, unsanctioned operations domestically. He's violated about a dozen of our laws. Congress won't let him slide on that."

Eliot was inclined to let the man take Conrad. It was a reasonable solution, and he didn't really want to shoot him. The only problem was knowing what side Mr. Jack Mitchell was actually on. Eliot couldn't be sure he wasn't just playing along until he had his man safely in his custody.

Jack saw the hesitation, and moved over next to him, speaking quietly in his ear. "Eliot, you may not remember me. You would have no reason to do so. I served with your team briefly, in the very beginning. I trained the man who trained you, and helped him choose the team." Eliot glanced at Vance, who nodded slightly. "Understand that I did what I did today, not out of any nostalgia or fondness I feel for the team. I don't work that way. I did what I did because he's breaking the law, and hurting innocent people, and sometimes, that's necessary, but when it isn't, I won't tolerate it."

"So that means, if we ever meet on opposite sides—"

"I'll come down on you then just as hard as I came down on him today."

"As long as we understand each other."

"Did Doc find all the triggers and neutralize them?"

"All but one. We'll have some more work to do on that one."

"She'll get it, if you let her. She's extremely good at what she does, even if you don't really want to do it with her. And give her my best, will you?"

Eliot nodded. "I will."

"I'd better get our prisoners back to where we'll meet up with my FBI buddy and his partner."

"His partner's not a friend?"

"His partner's a dog—a hundred twenty pound Rottweiler called Sarge. That's also his rank."

The moment of levity passed quickly, and he met Eliot's eyes and held them. "Seriously, man, let her help."

"Yeah."

"Good man. Send you a check for damages." He slapped Eliot on the shoulder, turned to Vance and saluted, and made his way back over to the man who was now his prisoner, preparing to take custody of him. Shelley already had the handcuffs around his wrists, and at a word from Vance, Shelley escorted them to the car, still holding Conrad at gunpoint, and apparently decided to make sure they got there safely, climbing in the front passenger seat of the car and buckling himself in.

Vance, Eliot and the team watched them drive away, and then Vance said, "We'd better go see Doc."

"Yeah," Eliot grunted, and then motioned to the rest of the team to follow them as they moved back toward the woods behind what was left of the house. "Come on."