A/N: Here's the next chapter. I don't own Leverage or any of the characters, and make no profit. I write for fun. I don't write slash.

Thanks so much for reading. This has been so much fun to write. A special thank you to those who have left reviews. Knowing what people like and don't like helps me improve as a writer, and it makes my day besides, which is more important. ;-)

Enjoy.

Chapter 23

She closed the doors of the medical room, and hid herself in a smaller storage room, in hopes of picking them off one by one before they got to the medical room, where the team was sleeping. A moment later, she let out a shrill, piercing scream as someone in the storage closet put a hand on her shoulder. A hand came up to cover her mouth, and she was spun roughly around as a voice like sandpaper, which she didn't recognize, sounded in her ear. The grip on her mouth and her arms was that of an expert, and she couldn't have broken away if she had wanted to do so, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try. She stepped backwards, planting one foot between her assailants spread legs, and then, quick as lightning, she brought that knee up in a groin strike. Her eyes widened slightly as the strike didn't have the effect she intended. She still made contact, and she had no doubt that it hurt, but at the last moment, her assailant stepped backwards also, out of range, and pinned her arms to her sides, and lifted her off the ground, holding her away from the body, so that any kicks she decided upon would not have their intended effect either. This person was good. She found herself sitting on the ground, hands secured behind her, and the light from a flashlight blinding her a second later.

As she lowered her head, trying to escape the light, the voice spoke again.

"Doc?" The light was lifted, and pointed another direction, and she could just make out the form of Colonel Vance towering over her, a confused look on his face. "Why are you hiding in your storage closet, attacking people?"

She heard the amusement in his voice, and she couldn't help but smile at the mental image that thought conveyed. Sheepishly, she said, "I heard something outside, and had no way of knowing whether Conrad's men had found us or whether it was you, Colonel. I planned to pick off as many as I could before they came through the door. Eliot?"

"He and Mitchell are outside. Both are barely conscious and can barely walk. Help me bring them in—they need immediate treatment." He saw the way she was looking at him, and he spoke again, "Mitchell saved our lives. I couldn't leave him behind. I'll explain everything once we are somewhere warm and they are being treated."

Vance released her arms and helped her up and together they brought the two men inside. Eliot was conscious enough not to allow himself to be carried, much to Doc's frustration. She was grateful that it was only Nate who woke up during the chaos that ensued from getting the two men into the treatment room and onto cots.

Nate slipped silently to a chair, knowing Eliot would tell him to go back to bed, but wanting to make sure his hitter was all right. He watched as Eliot assessed the team, and the facility, and saw the respect in his eyes as he took in Doc's place. As injured as Eliot was, and as much as he must be hurting, he wouldn't sit and allow treatment until he had accounted for each member of his team, and his eyes had assessed their condition.

Doc put a hand on his arm, and spoke quietly, "They're all fine. I've treated all of their injuries, and put them to bed to get the rest they need to start healing. They'll be happy to see you when they wake up in the morning. They've—we've been worried about you. All of you." At this point, she stopped and speared Vance with a glare that could melt lead, and he winced. She continued, "If I recall, this team has had a longstanding policy of informing team members on guard duty of the approach of those returning from combat, and since I knew Eliot didn't have his phone, that duty fell to you." She tilted her head to the side, and continued, "You almost got shot."

Vance visibly flinched.

It was times like these that Eliot was reminded that she was every bit as capable of command as Vance was—she and Eliot both were, for that matter—and had Special Forces regulations been written differently, she might have been the one in command of their unit all those years ago. And she outranked Vance on all things medical anyway, so he, rather wisely, in Eliot's opinion, decided he owed her an explanation, and from her tone that explanation should clearly be forthcoming. Eliot decided it was time to try to diffuse the situation. He had learned long ago that he didn't want Doc treating him when she was angry. That didn't make for a pleasant experience for either of them.

Glancing a warning at Vance, he smiled that you-can't-stay-mad-at-me-I'm-Eliot-Spencer-and-I'm-sexy-smile, an Eliot Spencer original, which had cracked tougher nuts than Doc. There had never been anything romantic between Kat and him, as their friendship meant far too much to both of them to risk ruining it with a relationship, but that had never stopped him from engaging in some innocent flirting with her, and he knew her reaction to it tonight would depend on how truly angry she still was at them. Useful information, in either case. If her relief that they were back in mostly one piece and submitting without argument to treatment had started to outweigh her anger and fear and stress at having to protect the injured for the past nine or ten hours without knowing anything about where Eliot and Vance had been or even if they were still alive, in addition to not knowing if Conrad and his goons were about to come busting through her door, then the smile just might work. If not, well, he might be grateful that only Nate was awake to see him ducking for cover.

"He planned to let you know, but his phone must have fallen out of his pocket during the fight, and it was destroyed when the building exploded." The smile returned as he finished speaking, and he softened his eyes in the mix.

She stopped in the middle of gathering her supplies and pretended to slam the tray down on the counter in front of her, hard enough to make them all jump, and spearing him with a mock-glare as she did so. She almost had him fooled, but she giggled at the last moment, in spite of herself, and then said, "Dammit." Eliot chuckled at that.

"All right. Fine," she said, voice softening. "Further explanations can wait until tomorrow. Let's get this wrapped up and get to bed. It's late and they'll be up before too long, and they'll still need care. You can be first, soldier-boy." With that, she placed a hand in the middle of his chest and gave him a gentle push backwards, and he lost his footing and landed splayed out on the cot behind him.

He sat up fast, and wished he hadn't when a jolt of razor sharp pain knifed through his skull. He glared at her, but she just glared right back, pulling a rolling stool behind her as she came back over next to his cot and started sorting her supplies. He decided it was probably best not to push his luck. Her anger had given way to something else—something they only saw in her once in awhile, and therefore had no real hope of reading, but her actions told him she wouldn't truly hurt him in the treatment.

"Tell me what your injuries are, and I won't make you strip here in front of a room full of your teammates who could possibly wake up to see it. And don't lie to me. You know better."

He nodded, licking his lips to moisten them, and started listing his injuries. "My headache tells me I have a concussion, probably mid grade, a couple of broken ribs, my bad shoulder and my left knee have been dislocated, and Vance relocated them again for me, and the rest is mostly bruises, scratches and cuts."

When he fell silent, Vance spoke up. "You'll want to check him for internal bleeding, too, Doc." She gave Eliot a sharp look, and Vance spoke up again. "He probably doesn't remember, but he got kicked pretty hard in the kidneys right before he was given that concussion."

"I see." She reached out and helped Eliot sit up, and her hands were gentle as she unbuttoned his shirt and started probing his ribs and kidneys. She came to a hard spot on his back. "Does that hurt?" she asked, pressing in.

"Yes," he hissed, and since it wasn't a large spot, she decided she would keep an eye on it, and see if it stopped on its own. It was about to be one Hell of a long night.

Nate made a mental note to ask Doc later how she got the hitter to be so truthful about his injuries. He didn't downplay them with her, and Nate wondered if it was because he knew she would know, or if it was something else. Two of Eliot's ribs were definitely broken, and Nate watched as she gently wrapped his chest, both fascinated and impressed by the interplay between them. She did a neuro-check, and informed Eliot that he was correct. His concussion was indeed a medium grade. She set a five gallon bucket next to him, in case he needed it during the night.

She cleaned and bandaged the scrapes and cuts, and rubbed salve on the bruises, and then she picked up the bucket and motioned him to follow her. He motioned to Mitchell and Vance.

"Get them settled first. It can wait a few more minutes." She nodded.

She moved over next to Mitchell, who was also unconscious, and examined him, but he didn't appear to have any injuries that couldn't be fixed with a little aspirin and a lot of rest. She woke him briefly to check for a concussion, and treated his cuts and bruises. He had gotten extremely lucky. Eliot and Vance had broken his fall, and Vance had mostly patched him up. Vance tried to wave her away when she examined him, but she pinned him with an icy glare and cut off any further protest. After convincing herself that the man would live, and Eliot had already done as good a job as she could patching him up, she gave him a shot of morphine so he'd be able to sleep, covered him with a blanket, and turning to Eliot, she said, "Well, come on then." He rose and took the bucket from her, following her as they moved toward the door.

As they headed outside together, past Nate, he asked, "Where are you going?"

"I have to check his shoulder and knee. Vance knows first aid, but if he didn't relocate those joints exactly correctly, they'll cause Eliot even more problems. I don't want to wake the rest of the team, or disturb their sleep, so we're going outside, so he can shout all he wants, if he needs to do that.

Vance heard what she was doing and tried to rise to go with them, in case Doc needed help, but the last vestiges of his energy seeped out of him, and he sank back down on his cot.

Seeing what was happening, Nate asked, "Do you need help?" Doc glanced at Eliot, who almost imperceptibly shook his head.

"We'll be fine. Why don't you try to get some sleep? Morning is just around the corner, and we still have some loose ends that'll have to be tied up."

Nate looked like he was about to protest, so as Eliot walked by him, he laid a hand on his shoulder and guided the mastermind back into his chair.

"Stay here. I don't wanna scream like a banshee in front of you. It tends to scare people." He smiled, quickly, and then it was gone. Nate nodded. This was the man he knew. Eliot was back and safe, and he'd be all right. Nate was convinced of that now.

They stepped outside, and a few moments later, Nate heard what sounded more like a loud growl than a scream, and then another. Eliot was leaning heavily on Doc when they came back in, and as she laid him out on the cot, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out. She watched, a bit worried, until a few moments later, when his breathing softened and evened out, and she knew that his unconsciousness had turned to sleep. She breathed a sigh of relief, and settled in to watch them.

(0o0)

He was a child again, sitting on the bottom of his favorite fishing spot at the lake, feet spread out in front of him, fascinated as he looked up and studied how the light played on the water. He watched the tiny bubbles float up from around his nose and mouth and watched as they danced around one another, all the way up to the surface. He felt the need within himself to start swimming toward the light, and the blackness that surrounded him gave way to a softer gray, and then an almost transparent brownish green.

As he hovered there, on the edge of consciousness, he heard unfamiliar voices, and he felt his body tense as something within him put him on the alert. Startlingly blue eyes snapped open to see Doc looking down at him with concern. He could tell she was worried, and he wondered what had happened.

"Kat," he said, softly. As his eyes moved around the unfamiliar space, and he realized he didn't know exactly where he was, he grew even more tense and tried to sit up, wishing he hadn't when a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

She put out a hand to stop him. Seeing the confusion on his face, and the tension it was causing him, she spoke up quickly in a whisper, putting a finger to her lips with one hand and handing him a trash can with the other as she did so. "Shhh. The others are still sleeping. Don't try to sit up. You have a fairly severe concussion, a dislocated shoulder and knee, and at least two broken ribs. You've lost quite a bit of blood, and should be feeling pretty weak right now. The trash can is in case you feel the need to vomit."

He nodded to confirm. "Where am I?"

"This is my secret, off-the-grid place. It was the safest place I could bring your team, since only Vance and I know its location."

"What happened?" he asked.

"What do you remember?"

"Not much. I remember fighting Conrad and his men in a room full of smoke, and I briefly remember leaning on you and Vance, coming in here. I don't remember much about what happened in between, but I feel like something did."

All of her patients were resting for the moment, so she settled into a chair next to him and took his hand in hers. Vance moved up to the other side of him and, sitting down on the cot beside his, said, "I think I'd better tell you both this story."