Man I Used to Be #7
Title: Man I Used to Be
By: Jendavis
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up through 2x07
Pairing: Alec Hardison/ Eliot Spencer
Genre: Drama
Warnings: WIP
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: The present's a mess, and the past isn't helping.
A/N: In the interest of getting this posted, I ran a quick spell check, but didn't do much by way of editing, so if you see something that looks wonky, let me know! Thanks!
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6
Chapter 7
It was an hour before his alarm was supposed to go off, but the clock was already ticking.
It ain't a clock, it's a damned bomb, and you know damned well that leaving the audio feed on can't be doing nothing good for your peace of mind.
Alec had upended most of his apartment, trying to guess what the hell a person was supposed to pack when preparing to kidnap someone who'd already been kidnapped.
Wait. Hold up.
That wasn't right. He wasn't kidnapping Eliot. He was retrieving him.
Seriously. We're all doomed.
He was on his knees in his studio, rummaging through another bin of tools and art supplies and adapters for computers he hadn't used in years. His first set of insanely expensive and lately underused paintbrushes clattered to the floor as he dug deeper.
Finally finding the bolt cutters, he shoved them onto the pile and paused to take inventory, but his mind was still on the paintbrushes. He hadn't used them since doing up Harlan's portrait. Not for over a year, now. He missed it.
Focus, man. Later.
After the bolt cutters were in the bag, in went the bandages, just in case they needed them. A change of clothing, sweats, because he knew Eliot did. These he wadded up tight and stuffed into his backpack with a pair of trainers and some socks. Three different kinds of painkillers. The next round of fake IDs, and insurance cards for everyone.
He double-checked to make sure Eliot's was there. Checked again five minutes later.
H was going back a third time when he realized that the tapping noise wasn't actually a sleep-deprivation-induced hallucination, and it wasn't coming from the audio feeds, it was coming from the door.
Parker, who patiently had decided not to pick the lock, was on the other side, standing in the hallway with tissue-thin skin and bags under her eyes.
"You look like crap," she accused, pushing past him and on towards the kitchen, where she eventually ground to a halt, looking around for the source of the noise. "What the hell is that?"
"It's. Ah." Alec hurried over to his desktop, fairly certain that he'd minimized the video feed, but needing to be sure, even though it was probably too dark where Eliot was to see anything. Wasn't the point.
Pressing the mute button, he glanced up, only to find her scrutinizing him with a sad look on her face. There was a moment, there, where he was dreading the next words to come out of her mouth, but she merely shook her head and turned back towards the kitchen, evidently in search of coffee, or food, or something.
He'd catch up with her in a minute. He had to check something, first, and brought up the screen. Couldn't see nothing anyway.
Soon enough, he'd be seeing too much of it. As soon as they got their act in gear.
---
If Eliot died right now, he wouldn't have to watch the countdown, wouldn't have to hear it. And at this point, it probably wouldn't even hurt anything but his pride.
It also pretty much guaranteed that the others would show up five minutes later. It was pathetic.
And it would hit them hard, Nate and Sophie, so soon after losing Parker. Alec would be the first one to get over it, probably. The guy was a geek, but he was probably the best adjusted of the bunch.
Not that you'd ever tell him that. Not that you're likely to get the chance.
Eliot almost laughed. Probably would have, if his ribs would've allowed it.
Man up. You ain't coughing up blood. You're fine.
Eliot tried to hold the thought in his head. Tried to think it more loudly than the other one that refused to fade out.
Don’t care.
He probably should have died a thousand times somewhere else. If he hadn't taken up with Nate's crew, he would have been dead a year ago. Wouldn't have been able to afford turning down that gig in Manhattan that O'Mally had offered.
Eliot had only known Turner by reputation, and what he'd known, he hadn't liked. It probably had taken those three dozen bullets to put him down. He never found out whether Turner had known he hadn't been the first choice for that job.
But he could probably ask him pretty soon, if he wanted to, down in the pit.
He hadn't believed in that for a very long time. Probably never had, not really, but he'd gone and sat and fidgeted through church every Sunday as a kid, and anyway. It was one of those things you couldn't help thinking about, knowing you'd have been dead for days by this time next week. Deathbed conversions were probably more common than people knew. As common as death itself.
Eliot took a breath. He could do this. His father had managed it. Grandpa too, way back when. Turner, in another empty warehouse on a Tuesday afternoon, his mother in a hospital a thousand miles away less than a month later.
And there were the lives Eliot himself had taken, probably including the man in the photos.
Fuckfuckfuck.
He reached for the pictures, meaning to wad them up and throw them into the corner, but his shoulder ground stiff and fierce, though the rush of pain felt something like warmth. It was almost worth it. By the way, he addressed whatever godlike being was working the lines, all that stuff I said, about not wanting to die in a hospital? Changed my mind.
---
Parker pounded on the warehouse door with a stressed pout on her face.
Hardison waited in the van for her to start talking about the weather, the signal that they were on their way towards the office, but hadn't made it yet. They'd guessed it would take about twenty or thirty seconds to make it through the empty reception area, and back to where the security monitors were.
Parker would distract the guard all she could, but both knew there was no guarantee.
"I'm not Sophie. Be ready to run," she'd said, sliding the utility van door almost completely shut.
Alec tried to watch his breathing. Closed his eyes and just waited.
The next ten minutes or so, he knew, would be some the most stressful of his life, this, he knew.
He hadn't expected the waiting to be this hard.
Maybe they won't answer.
Maybe they're not near the door. Maybe they're down in Eliot's cell, killing him right now.
Maybe one of them slipped out the back and is creeping up on the van right now. Open your damned eyes. Pay attention.
---
"Seriously, man. Look up from your little flashing box for a minute and take a look around, would you?"
"Hey Bro, I am watching y'all six ways from Sunday and back again. You're in the steam tunnel, about seven feet below Nate and twice that to the west. Parker's in the office, and Sophie is coming out the door right now and crossing the lot. She should be getting into her car right about…" he heard a door slam on the left side of the van, and the sound of the vintage MG's engine turning over. "Now."
Eyes darting over to the other feed, he saw Eliot flipping the bird and waving it around, clearly not knowing where the camera was down there, but wanting to make sure it was seen. "Oh, and by the way. If you're finished? There are five guys coming down the stairs. Should be there any second now. You done with that wiring yet?"
"Dammit, Hardison!" Eliot growled, his voice going quiet. "When we get out done with this, I'm gonna-."
"Sure thing. Meet you at the playground after school."
---
"Thanks, and I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I could have sworn I plugged my phone into the charger before I went to sleep last night."
"No problem, ma'am. The phone's just back here."
"Thanks." There was rustling, and the sound of footsteps and Parker's breathing as they walked into the building. A few more steps, and she gave the signal. "So, you think we're going to see any sun today at all?"
Alec checked the straps of his backpack and slid out of the van and across the parking lot. Easing the front door open, he peeled back the tape Parker had left over the bolt, preventing it from connecting.
He stalked carefully across the reception room, until he reached door that led to the stairwell. Mindful of any noise, he carefully turned the handle, half expecting to find it locked.
Something was on his side. The handle turned, and the bolt slid back into it's housing.
The first hard part was done.
He had to force himself not to run down the stairs. He was in, the cameras where ghosted, and he had the run of the place. All he needed was silence.
Some areas of the basement looked more familiar than others. There was only so much a man could learn from security monitor feeds and a twenty year-old blueprint.
The warehouse was nearly empty, barren metal shelves here and there, and a fire extinguisher that had seen better days waiting in a cupboard. Other than that, his path was clear.
Nate and Sophie's flight would be landing soon, he told himself. He wanted to be gone before they made it out of the terminal.
Turning once, he saw the door to Eliot's cell, down near the end of the corridor.
He couldn't bring himself to grin as he passed under the useless camera, but he couldn't quite stop himself from muttering. Beyond Parker's call to a dummy line, there was too much silence on the line.
"Get in, get Eliot, get done and gone," he repeated to himself in a whisper. "Get him and get gone."
Nothing had changed. The steel bar was still there, still held in place by a large metal clasp and a padlock. Two more steps now.
Another moment later, and he was peering in through the metal grate at Eliot, his fingers closing over the padlock as he slid the pack off his shoulder.
"Get in, get out, get gone." He slid the bolt cutters out of the pack, and clipped the lock. "Don't get us killed, and get gone."
Peering through the grate, he could see Eliot lying on the floor. He's just sleeping. Nothing more.
"Yo man! Gettin' you out. Hang tight just a little more…"
Tugging the lock out of the way, he shifted the heavy steel bar that was holding the door closed, but Parker's insistent voice tugged his attention back to the comms.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she was saying. "Please, put the gun down."
They were blown. Fuck.
---
As long as he kept his breathing in time with the ticking, the sound of the air passing into his lungs blotted out the noise a little bit, or at least gave him something else to focus on.
Besides the fact that it's gotten colder in here. They left, and there's no heat anywhere in the building. You're going to freeze, and if you're lucky, it will happen before you're buried in warehouse debris.
You have to eat. Get your strength up.
Struggling up onto his elbows, he managed to hook the corner of the box of power bars and drag them closer, before lying down again in disgust. Eliot's stomach was so badly cramped from hunger that he probably couldn't have kept any food down if he tried, and at this point, there wasn't much point in taking pains to ensure a longer survival.
You really want to go out like this? Giving up? Pussin' out?
No. Yes. I don't know.
I don't want to be here anymore.
So damned hungry, though.
It was getting harder to think in straight lines. Maybe he was going insane, maybe it was the crack to the skull he'd taken. It was also getting a lot harder to care about anything other than the fact that he was cold and alone and probably dying.
There was something wrong with the timer, it wasn't sounding right anymore. More of a shuffling sound and a murmur. Still keeping a steady pace, but not the right one.
Eliot tried to follow it, he really did, even if he was only imagining it, because there wasn't much by way of new experiences for him to look forward to. Madness, though, he could afford.
The shuffling was growing louder, and the whispered murmurs began tumbling into words. Something in him, probably the same something that kept trying to get him to eat, made him turn his head toward where the sound seemed to be coming from.
"Get in get out get gone. Okay… this thing, the rest will sort … out."
It was coming from the other side of the door, but it brought nothing else with it.
Until.
There. He saw it. A hint of movement, heard zippers and rustling and scraping, and something that sounded like his name.
"Yo man. Gettin' you out. Hang tight just a little more."
Hardison.
They were here. They'd come.
He wanted to call back, to tell him to hurry, to do something, but he didn't know where to begin. Didn't have the words anymore, but fuck, didn't matter. Wasn't like Hardison was one who needed anyone else to get a word in edgewise.
He could start by getting his sorry ass up off the floor, though, already wondering if Hardison had another radio on him, if he'd be able to hear Nate directing Sophie through conning the guards while he tried to make sense of Hardison's computer, trying to keep their path clear.
Hardison was talking again, but this time, it took even longer to understand what he was saying, and by the time Eliot parsed it, Hardison's footsteps were already running down the hallway.
"I'm sorry," he'd said. And then he'd left.
---
Nate should be here, Alec thought, his fingers slipping away from the door as his feet carried his body towards the stairs. Eliot should be. Hell, anyone but me.
"I mean it. I'm alone, I just need to use your phone- I'm. Look. Here," Parker was saying, and he wished she'd give him a signal, something to expect, because at the moment, he had no plan, no training, no idea what he was doing. Just a heavy set of bolt cutters.
Screw it.
Trying to stay silent, he inched down the hallway towards the office, sure that any moment he'd find the creaking floorboard that would set the guard off.
The door was slightly ajar, and swung inward when he burst through to find Parker standing against the far wall, still as a statue, staring back at him.
Or maybe she was staring at the gun that was now pointed at his head.
Alec glanced at the face glaring at him behind the barrel. The guy was huge.
Nate and Sophie were still an hour out at least, and Eliot was down for the count. They would be no help.
"You seeing this, Hardison?"
"The situation has my attention, yes."
You see? That's why I don't like guns. They have a specific range of efficacy. See, most guys make one mistake. They get too close."
Alec wasn't Eliot. But he had played some football down in the yard.
He could do this.
Operation This Will Most Likely End Badly is a go.
Staring ahead at Parker's frozen expression, not telegraphing a damned thing, he just had to wait, until-
Now.
"Where are your friends?" The guard, distracted by the words coming out of his own mouth, broke off as Alec fell against him, knocking him into the wall and tumbling down with him as the gun fired wild.
He'd check for damage in a minute, too busy elbowing the guard in the face to look now. Parker was there, twisting the gun out of his hand before he could get another shot off, and leaping away, backing to a safe distance, her aim trained all the while.
She looked like she knew what she was doing. "My bag," was all she said, and Alec threw himself back and away. Grabbing the edge of the desk, he pulled himself up. As he rose, he couldn't help but notice the idiotic connection array at the back of the computer. It looked wrong- one Ethernet cable too many trailing out of the computer and trailing down towards the floor, all jumbled up with speaker cables and who-the-hell-knew what else
One of these days, he'd have to get working on that entire focus issue. For now, though, he was scrambling for Parker's oversized purse, finding handcuffs, zip strips, duct tape and nylon cord.
Once the guard was bound, they stepped out into the hallway, Parker keeping her eyes trained on the guard, the gun in her hand, low and ready. It wasn't a good look on her. Alec nudged her gently, needing her to look him in the eye for just a minute, so he could be sure. What he needed to be sure of just then, he didn't pretend to know. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," Parker was speaking in a clipped monotone again, the one she used when she was seven kinds of stressed. "Where's Eliot?"
"Just got the door open, think he's still down there. Gonna take a few minutes."
"What's taking so long?"
He needs a few minutes to freshen up. "He's taken a few hits," Alec said, because it wasn't a lie. "But I got it."
"I'll keep an eye on our friend, here." Blinking, she realized that Alec was still there. "Go. And. You know. Be careful."
He backed through the door, not quite willing to take his eyes off Parker just yet, but that wasn't the issue right now. "Grab the external drives, too," he gestured towards the two metal cases on the desk, one still connected.
"Right. Holler if you need me to shoot this guy. I can be down in two shakes of a lamb's tail," she said brightly, clearly enjoying the unease in the guard's eyes.
"No doubt. I'm out."
He was halfway down the stairs before he realized what he'd missed, what it was, in the middle of all this, that was making him uneasy.
"Where are your friends?"
It wasn't just that the guard had been waiting for Nate and Sophie- it wasn't the fact that he knew about their existence, though that was unsettling enough. It was the fact that he knew them well enough to expect them.
Knowing that they weren't there, having that one edge in the information race, didn't give him the charge it usually did. And he had more immediate things to worry about, anyway, down at the end of this corridor.
---
The shot echoed off walls and stairs and threatened to bring the entire world down with it.
And who knew, maybe it did. First Parker, now Hardison, or maybe it was Sophie, up there, bleeding out on the floor, Nate scrambling to push the blood back in.
Someone else's life flashing across their eyes, when he was supposed to be the only one with tickets for that particular show.
He knew field triage. Blood was dangerous when it wasn't controlled. They'd have to pull out, get Sophie to the hospital, transfusions and doctors and stitches and cold plastic seats in the waiting room. Bad coffee and waiting.
Maybe they'd think about what they'd had to leave behind, down here in the basement.
"The thing about hope? It hurts more than love does when it leaves," his mom had said, sitting next to him at the kitchen table and trying to explain why they had to go to the church even though it wasn't a Sunday. "Sometimes, even when things look like they're supposed to go right, the body just gives up."
Eliot was seven, and Grandpa had been sitting right there across the table a week ago, before the hospital, before all of this.
Years later, and this was probably the closest he'd ever been to the guy. But Grandpa had died in a hospital bed, and he hadn't taken anyone else down with him.
---
Alec threw the bar aside and opened the door, wide, waiting for Eliot to walk out.
He didn't, though. Didn't even move.
Eliot was curled around himself in the corner like a dog that knew it's time was up, too tired of living to track Alec's movement towards him.
He'd lost so much weight it was like a part of him was missing. Alec could figure out the percentages later. His skin was too loose in some places, too taut over his bones in others. Alec could see the detail of too many bruised ribs as Eliot breathed. The fingers of his left hand were splayed out over his shoulder, the nails broken and ripped down to the quick. And his eyes.
Fuck, his eyes weren't tracking anything at all, just staring like they were made of glass, turned towards the ceiling. When Alec moved closer, they stared right through him.
It was near impossible to hear anything beyond the ticking of the timer, but Eliot was breathing.
Only mostly dead, then. But not far enough away from it that Alec could take his time. He cast his eyes around the room, until his eyes lit on the object that had attracted so much of Eliot's attention.
The timer, counting down, in the neighborhood of 45 hours. For once, at least, his life wasn't going to play out like the movies. Even with the setback, they would still be long gone before it hit zero. As long as he stopped contemplating all the ways the James Bond movies were wrong and just got them out of here.
Crashing to his knees in front of Eliot, casting an appraising eye over his body and forcing the overwhelming panic down.
Ain't like you didn't know this was coming.
He took a breath, and then he spoke.
"Eliot. Eliot. Hey, wake up man. It's me."
"Hardison?" Eliot's voice was rasping and quiet and entirely without hope, but Eliot rolled his head to look in his direction. "Can't-"
Alec never found out what it was that Eliot couldn’t do, already talking over him.
"Shit, man. Gonna get you out of here. Got a clear path out and we'll get you help, okay? First, though, you gotta help me. Talk to me. Are you hurt?" He reached for Eliot's arm, finding it cold to the touch.
Alec would figure, later on, that he shouldn't have been surprised by the sound of Eliot's weak humorless laughter, even if the waking expression on his face looked like madness.
"Is he all right?" Parker's concern was blistering in his ear.
"Hang on a minute," Alec shook his head. "Eliot, man. Stay with me, here."
"Har'sn?" Eliot was still staring down at his arm where Alec was touching him. As answers went, it wasn't much, but there wasn't a lot to be done for it.
"Okay. Here," he said, tugging the clothes free of his pack. "Gonna get you sorted. Can you move?"
"Yeah." And Eliot did, then, though it was slower than Alec would have liked. Still, it was more than he'd been expecting a minute ago.
"All right, come on. Here." It was a testament to how bad off he was that Eliot didn't grumble or resist, but let Alec pull the sweatpants up his legs and tug the shirt down over his head. "Watch out, I got ya." Elbows weren't meant to bend the way Alec needed them to, but Eliot wasn't complaining.
Eliot wasn't doing much of anything at all- he'd faded out again. His body, though, seemed aware of Alec's presence, though, even if his mind wasn't. Alec could feel the twitching through the fabric and under the skin, and babbled, not wanting to guess what it meant.
"Get you out of here, get us somewhere safe. Got a few of your IDs on hand, and we'll get you to the hospital. Just gonna need you to hang on for a bit, you hear? Ain't no way I'm putting up with cleaning up after your dead body, so you're gonna have to help me get you out. Gonna need you to walk, in a minute. There are stairs, but then it ain't far. Parker's got the situation under control, she's covering our exit, and-"
Hardison pulled the collar down over Eliot's downturned head, fingers brushing against matted stubble and down behind his ear, tugging Eliot's hair free. There wasn't much he could do about getting the other arm into its sleeve, though, and Alec cursed himself for not thinking this through. "Sorry, man. I didn't know about your arm when I was packing. Gonna have to make do with what we got, just a little while longer. And by the way, this is where you tell me to shut the hell up and that everything's fine. Just so you know, you're totally blowing your lines, and-"
Something he said must have gotten through, though, because Eliot's eyes were still swimming, but they were searching out his face for the first time since Alec had gotten there. "Park'r s'here?"
"Yeah. She's fine, you can-" he broke off at Parker's interruption.
"I'm not fine, I'm holding a gun on a guy. Tell Eliot hi for me!"
"Tell him yourself. Hang on."
Alec patted down his pocket, finding the earpiece he'd brought along and fitting it carefully into Eliot's ear. It wasn't necessary, but it wouldn't hurt, either.
"Parker, go ahead."
"Eliot! We missed you! I. I'm really glad you're not dead. Um. I'll tell you about everything you missed when you get out of there. Hardison, you need help?"
"We got it under control," Alec felt his face cracking open in a smile, trying to find the socks he knew he'd packed.
The grin fell away the moment he looked up again.
Eliot Spencer was not supposed to be curling his head down into his own shoulder, hiding his face. He was supposed to snap out of it with a gruff "c'mon," and fight Alec every step of the way as they headed for the door.
The things Alec was wrong about were starting to pile up, and they needed to be out of here before he the whole mess of them toppled over.
The socks were on, and the shoes were a size or two large, but they'd do. "Parker, give us a few minutes to get up the stairs, we're almost ready to go."
"Finally. I don't think Shane here likes me very much. He's glaring at me like I stole his mother, and I haven't even met her yet."
"We're on our way. Hang on." Alec looked down again to find Eliot turning his head up towards him. He was shaking his head in confusion, but Alec didn't know where the explanation was supposed to begin. "Come on. You ready to get out of here?"
There it was- what he'd been waiting for. Staring at Alec without meeting his eyes, Eliot began the messy business of sitting himself up.
Getting him standing again was equally awkward, but his legs seemed to be the least injured parts of his body. Didn't mean he was steady, though. If Alec took one step back right then, Eliot would probably go down.
"You ready, man?"
"Yeah. Just." Eliot's hand twitched in the direction of the pictures scattered on the floor. Moving slowly, making sure Eliot would stay standing, Alec stooped to shove them in his jeans pocket.
Moving slow, and looking like it was taxing him something fierce, Eliot was already making his way to the door.
But he was doing it under his own steam.
If it wouldn't have startled Eliot, Alec would have shouted his relief, but instead, he inched down the corridor pretending that he didn't actually need to be following Eliot so closely.
---
Eliot wanted to lie down again, wanted to rest, but if he didn't go forward and up, he'd go down and take Hardison with him.
Hardison, whose hands had been warm and real, and who was climbing not one step behind him. Who was fucking there.
There would be time for relief later, when these stairs, that room, this entire fucking place was nothing but a speck in the rearview. He just had to make it there.
And he was so damned close, there was sunlight, glaring in through the probably-not-really-so-luxurious windows, and already the air was less stale, even if it felt thin.
It's just the exertion, he told himself, gonna have to get used to it before you head back to Kansas. Got holes to dig.
Eliot wasn't heading for Kansas, though. Right then, he was heading for the floor.
---
Alec grabbed at Eliot, but wasn't fast enough to keep him from hitting the carpet he'd tripped on.
"Parker, come on!" He shouted, forgetting that he didn't need to, as he stepped over Eliot and began to pull him up again.
Eliot was still shaking his head, and Alec was pretending that he hadn't expected him to be unconscious, when there were heavy, plodding footsteps coming from the hall leading to the back office.
The guard- Shane, apparently- wasn't having the easiest time of it, not with the gun pointed at his back and Parker's irritated glare following him into the room.
"On your stomach," she instructed, and Shane stumbled hard, not having his hands to balance him as he knelt, and he fell forward, landing face down.
With one final angry assessment, she decided he was secure enough for the moment, and she twisted her head, looking over her shoulder with a wide grin, leaping towards them. Without dropping the gun, she helped settle Eliot on his feet, and immediately came within a hair's breadth of knocking him over again, crashing against him so hard, wrapping her thin arms around his back, pressing her face next to his.
"Thanks for not dying," she said, pulling away, only then becoming fully aware of the state he was in. Eliot, for his part, wasn't aware of anything but her, staring at her like she shouldn't exist.
"You too."
---
Eliot didn't recognize the world anymore, or maybe it was just the warehouse across the road. But the sky was larger out here, and too much freedom for being so close to a highway.
The entire world had been out here, going about its business while he'd been inside.
The nausea was threatening to take him down, but he'd spent too much time on his knees lately, and it didn't matter, anyway. Hardison's hands were back, holding him up by his elbow, and there was another warm spot on his lower back, through the soft cotton, and he didn't say anything when Eliot stumbled against him. Just gave him a moment and walked him to a van that was parked nearby.
Parker moved fast and efficiently, like she had never been dead, and slid the utility door open, crawling inside before swinging around to reach out to him.
He stopped short, brushing against Hardison again, feeling his grasp tighten on his arm.
It's a trick. She's here to take you across the river.
"Eliot?" Her voice was too wary to be the ferryman, and this was a parking lot, not the River Styx.
"C'mon, man." Hardison said, quietly, like he was telling him a secret. "We need to get you to the hospital. Get in."
---
Twisting in his seat to secure his seatbelt, because he'd had enough of death-defying antics for one day, Alec glanced over at Parker.
His eyes caught on the gleaming jewel at her neck, part of the disguise she'd decided to use. It wasn't the type of thing she usually wore, he half realized, and looked again.
And then he saw clearly. It wasn't a ruby. It was a sniper's laser sight nestled in the hollow of her throat.
"What is it? Drive! We-"
"Hold up," Alec said, still staring. Parker scowled at him in irritation, before trying to follow his eyes down.
"What? What is it?"
"Ah." Alec realized then that he had no idea whatsoever how one was supposed to go about telling a person that someone had a bead on them. Warning her, telling her to move could have been just as deadly as telling her to stay still. "Ah. Parker."
"What?"
But they could have shot already. Could be squeezing the trigger right this moment. "Don't move." He met Parker's eyes, which had gone from confused to concerned, and he shook his head, staring her down. "I don't want to alarm you, but. It seems that we've got company."
He put his hands up, raising them to shoulder height, and looked out the windshield.
Across the street, up on top of the other warehouse, there was a small aberration. And then it moved, rising.
Parker saw it too, and Alec was pretty sure that her startled gasp sucked the last of the air from the van.
"What do we do?"
"I don't know, I. Fuck."
There wasn't one part of this entire situation that had gone according to plan, and it was starting to look like Alec had missed something. This was his fault.
"The windshield might deflect the bullet," Parker said conversationally, but her muscles were starting to tense, she was coiling to move.
"Might not." His eyes darted down towards the dashboard. If only he'd managed to get the van started already, maybe. If he floored it, went forward instead of backward, the sniper would lose his target.
But he hadn't gotten that far.
By the time he lowered a hand to turn the key in the ignition, they'd both probably be dead, Eliot not far behind.
The shattering of glass, when it came, wasn't even a surprise.
---
Chapter 8
By: Jendavis
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up through 2x07
Pairing: Alec Hardison/ Eliot Spencer
Genre: Drama
Warnings: WIP
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: The present's a mess, and the past isn't helping.
A/N: In the interest of getting this posted, I ran a quick spell check, but didn't do much by way of editing, so if you see something that looks wonky, let me know! Thanks!
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6
Chapter 7
It was an hour before his alarm was supposed to go off, but the clock was already ticking.
It ain't a clock, it's a damned bomb, and you know damned well that leaving the audio feed on can't be doing nothing good for your peace of mind.
Alec had upended most of his apartment, trying to guess what the hell a person was supposed to pack when preparing to kidnap someone who'd already been kidnapped.
Wait. Hold up.
That wasn't right. He wasn't kidnapping Eliot. He was retrieving him.
Seriously. We're all doomed.
He was on his knees in his studio, rummaging through another bin of tools and art supplies and adapters for computers he hadn't used in years. His first set of insanely expensive and lately underused paintbrushes clattered to the floor as he dug deeper.
Finally finding the bolt cutters, he shoved them onto the pile and paused to take inventory, but his mind was still on the paintbrushes. He hadn't used them since doing up Harlan's portrait. Not for over a year, now. He missed it.
Focus, man. Later.
After the bolt cutters were in the bag, in went the bandages, just in case they needed them. A change of clothing, sweats, because he knew Eliot did. These he wadded up tight and stuffed into his backpack with a pair of trainers and some socks. Three different kinds of painkillers. The next round of fake IDs, and insurance cards for everyone.
He double-checked to make sure Eliot's was there. Checked again five minutes later.
H was going back a third time when he realized that the tapping noise wasn't actually a sleep-deprivation-induced hallucination, and it wasn't coming from the audio feeds, it was coming from the door.
Parker, who patiently had decided not to pick the lock, was on the other side, standing in the hallway with tissue-thin skin and bags under her eyes.
"You look like crap," she accused, pushing past him and on towards the kitchen, where she eventually ground to a halt, looking around for the source of the noise. "What the hell is that?"
"It's. Ah." Alec hurried over to his desktop, fairly certain that he'd minimized the video feed, but needing to be sure, even though it was probably too dark where Eliot was to see anything. Wasn't the point.
Pressing the mute button, he glanced up, only to find her scrutinizing him with a sad look on her face. There was a moment, there, where he was dreading the next words to come out of her mouth, but she merely shook her head and turned back towards the kitchen, evidently in search of coffee, or food, or something.
He'd catch up with her in a minute. He had to check something, first, and brought up the screen. Couldn't see nothing anyway.
Soon enough, he'd be seeing too much of it. As soon as they got their act in gear.
---
If Eliot died right now, he wouldn't have to watch the countdown, wouldn't have to hear it. And at this point, it probably wouldn't even hurt anything but his pride.
It also pretty much guaranteed that the others would show up five minutes later. It was pathetic.
And it would hit them hard, Nate and Sophie, so soon after losing Parker. Alec would be the first one to get over it, probably. The guy was a geek, but he was probably the best adjusted of the bunch.
Not that you'd ever tell him that. Not that you're likely to get the chance.
Eliot almost laughed. Probably would have, if his ribs would've allowed it.
Man up. You ain't coughing up blood. You're fine.
Eliot tried to hold the thought in his head. Tried to think it more loudly than the other one that refused to fade out.
Don’t care.
He probably should have died a thousand times somewhere else. If he hadn't taken up with Nate's crew, he would have been dead a year ago. Wouldn't have been able to afford turning down that gig in Manhattan that O'Mally had offered.
Eliot had only known Turner by reputation, and what he'd known, he hadn't liked. It probably had taken those three dozen bullets to put him down. He never found out whether Turner had known he hadn't been the first choice for that job.
But he could probably ask him pretty soon, if he wanted to, down in the pit.
He hadn't believed in that for a very long time. Probably never had, not really, but he'd gone and sat and fidgeted through church every Sunday as a kid, and anyway. It was one of those things you couldn't help thinking about, knowing you'd have been dead for days by this time next week. Deathbed conversions were probably more common than people knew. As common as death itself.
Eliot took a breath. He could do this. His father had managed it. Grandpa too, way back when. Turner, in another empty warehouse on a Tuesday afternoon, his mother in a hospital a thousand miles away less than a month later.
And there were the lives Eliot himself had taken, probably including the man in the photos.
Fuckfuckfuck.
He reached for the pictures, meaning to wad them up and throw them into the corner, but his shoulder ground stiff and fierce, though the rush of pain felt something like warmth. It was almost worth it. By the way, he addressed whatever godlike being was working the lines, all that stuff I said, about not wanting to die in a hospital? Changed my mind.
---
Parker pounded on the warehouse door with a stressed pout on her face.
Hardison waited in the van for her to start talking about the weather, the signal that they were on their way towards the office, but hadn't made it yet. They'd guessed it would take about twenty or thirty seconds to make it through the empty reception area, and back to where the security monitors were.
Parker would distract the guard all she could, but both knew there was no guarantee.
"I'm not Sophie. Be ready to run," she'd said, sliding the utility van door almost completely shut.
Alec tried to watch his breathing. Closed his eyes and just waited.
The next ten minutes or so, he knew, would be some the most stressful of his life, this, he knew.
He hadn't expected the waiting to be this hard.
Maybe they won't answer.
Maybe they're not near the door. Maybe they're down in Eliot's cell, killing him right now.
Maybe one of them slipped out the back and is creeping up on the van right now. Open your damned eyes. Pay attention.
---
"Seriously, man. Look up from your little flashing box for a minute and take a look around, would you?"
"Hey Bro, I am watching y'all six ways from Sunday and back again. You're in the steam tunnel, about seven feet below Nate and twice that to the west. Parker's in the office, and Sophie is coming out the door right now and crossing the lot. She should be getting into her car right about…" he heard a door slam on the left side of the van, and the sound of the vintage MG's engine turning over. "Now."
Eyes darting over to the other feed, he saw Eliot flipping the bird and waving it around, clearly not knowing where the camera was down there, but wanting to make sure it was seen. "Oh, and by the way. If you're finished? There are five guys coming down the stairs. Should be there any second now. You done with that wiring yet?"
"Dammit, Hardison!" Eliot growled, his voice going quiet. "When we get out done with this, I'm gonna-."
"Sure thing. Meet you at the playground after school."
---
"Thanks, and I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I could have sworn I plugged my phone into the charger before I went to sleep last night."
"No problem, ma'am. The phone's just back here."
"Thanks." There was rustling, and the sound of footsteps and Parker's breathing as they walked into the building. A few more steps, and she gave the signal. "So, you think we're going to see any sun today at all?"
Alec checked the straps of his backpack and slid out of the van and across the parking lot. Easing the front door open, he peeled back the tape Parker had left over the bolt, preventing it from connecting.
He stalked carefully across the reception room, until he reached door that led to the stairwell. Mindful of any noise, he carefully turned the handle, half expecting to find it locked.
Something was on his side. The handle turned, and the bolt slid back into it's housing.
The first hard part was done.
He had to force himself not to run down the stairs. He was in, the cameras where ghosted, and he had the run of the place. All he needed was silence.
Some areas of the basement looked more familiar than others. There was only so much a man could learn from security monitor feeds and a twenty year-old blueprint.
The warehouse was nearly empty, barren metal shelves here and there, and a fire extinguisher that had seen better days waiting in a cupboard. Other than that, his path was clear.
Nate and Sophie's flight would be landing soon, he told himself. He wanted to be gone before they made it out of the terminal.
Turning once, he saw the door to Eliot's cell, down near the end of the corridor.
He couldn't bring himself to grin as he passed under the useless camera, but he couldn't quite stop himself from muttering. Beyond Parker's call to a dummy line, there was too much silence on the line.
"Get in, get Eliot, get done and gone," he repeated to himself in a whisper. "Get him and get gone."
Nothing had changed. The steel bar was still there, still held in place by a large metal clasp and a padlock. Two more steps now.
Another moment later, and he was peering in through the metal grate at Eliot, his fingers closing over the padlock as he slid the pack off his shoulder.
"Get in, get out, get gone." He slid the bolt cutters out of the pack, and clipped the lock. "Don't get us killed, and get gone."
Peering through the grate, he could see Eliot lying on the floor. He's just sleeping. Nothing more.
"Yo man! Gettin' you out. Hang tight just a little more…"
Tugging the lock out of the way, he shifted the heavy steel bar that was holding the door closed, but Parker's insistent voice tugged his attention back to the comms.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she was saying. "Please, put the gun down."
They were blown. Fuck.
---
As long as he kept his breathing in time with the ticking, the sound of the air passing into his lungs blotted out the noise a little bit, or at least gave him something else to focus on.
Besides the fact that it's gotten colder in here. They left, and there's no heat anywhere in the building. You're going to freeze, and if you're lucky, it will happen before you're buried in warehouse debris.
You have to eat. Get your strength up.
Struggling up onto his elbows, he managed to hook the corner of the box of power bars and drag them closer, before lying down again in disgust. Eliot's stomach was so badly cramped from hunger that he probably couldn't have kept any food down if he tried, and at this point, there wasn't much point in taking pains to ensure a longer survival.
You really want to go out like this? Giving up? Pussin' out?
No. Yes. I don't know.
I don't want to be here anymore.
So damned hungry, though.
It was getting harder to think in straight lines. Maybe he was going insane, maybe it was the crack to the skull he'd taken. It was also getting a lot harder to care about anything other than the fact that he was cold and alone and probably dying.
There was something wrong with the timer, it wasn't sounding right anymore. More of a shuffling sound and a murmur. Still keeping a steady pace, but not the right one.
Eliot tried to follow it, he really did, even if he was only imagining it, because there wasn't much by way of new experiences for him to look forward to. Madness, though, he could afford.
The shuffling was growing louder, and the whispered murmurs began tumbling into words. Something in him, probably the same something that kept trying to get him to eat, made him turn his head toward where the sound seemed to be coming from.
"Get in get out get gone. Okay… this thing, the rest will sort … out."
It was coming from the other side of the door, but it brought nothing else with it.
Until.
There. He saw it. A hint of movement, heard zippers and rustling and scraping, and something that sounded like his name.
"Yo man. Gettin' you out. Hang tight just a little more."
Hardison.
They were here. They'd come.
He wanted to call back, to tell him to hurry, to do something, but he didn't know where to begin. Didn't have the words anymore, but fuck, didn't matter. Wasn't like Hardison was one who needed anyone else to get a word in edgewise.
He could start by getting his sorry ass up off the floor, though, already wondering if Hardison had another radio on him, if he'd be able to hear Nate directing Sophie through conning the guards while he tried to make sense of Hardison's computer, trying to keep their path clear.
Hardison was talking again, but this time, it took even longer to understand what he was saying, and by the time Eliot parsed it, Hardison's footsteps were already running down the hallway.
"I'm sorry," he'd said. And then he'd left.
---
Nate should be here, Alec thought, his fingers slipping away from the door as his feet carried his body towards the stairs. Eliot should be. Hell, anyone but me.
"I mean it. I'm alone, I just need to use your phone- I'm. Look. Here," Parker was saying, and he wished she'd give him a signal, something to expect, because at the moment, he had no plan, no training, no idea what he was doing. Just a heavy set of bolt cutters.
Screw it.
Trying to stay silent, he inched down the hallway towards the office, sure that any moment he'd find the creaking floorboard that would set the guard off.
The door was slightly ajar, and swung inward when he burst through to find Parker standing against the far wall, still as a statue, staring back at him.
Or maybe she was staring at the gun that was now pointed at his head.
Alec glanced at the face glaring at him behind the barrel. The guy was huge.
Nate and Sophie were still an hour out at least, and Eliot was down for the count. They would be no help.
"You seeing this, Hardison?"
"The situation has my attention, yes."
You see? That's why I don't like guns. They have a specific range of efficacy. See, most guys make one mistake. They get too close."
Alec wasn't Eliot. But he had played some football down in the yard.
He could do this.
Operation This Will Most Likely End Badly is a go.
Staring ahead at Parker's frozen expression, not telegraphing a damned thing, he just had to wait, until-
Now.
"Where are your friends?" The guard, distracted by the words coming out of his own mouth, broke off as Alec fell against him, knocking him into the wall and tumbling down with him as the gun fired wild.
He'd check for damage in a minute, too busy elbowing the guard in the face to look now. Parker was there, twisting the gun out of his hand before he could get another shot off, and leaping away, backing to a safe distance, her aim trained all the while.
She looked like she knew what she was doing. "My bag," was all she said, and Alec threw himself back and away. Grabbing the edge of the desk, he pulled himself up. As he rose, he couldn't help but notice the idiotic connection array at the back of the computer. It looked wrong- one Ethernet cable too many trailing out of the computer and trailing down towards the floor, all jumbled up with speaker cables and who-the-hell-knew what else
One of these days, he'd have to get working on that entire focus issue. For now, though, he was scrambling for Parker's oversized purse, finding handcuffs, zip strips, duct tape and nylon cord.
Once the guard was bound, they stepped out into the hallway, Parker keeping her eyes trained on the guard, the gun in her hand, low and ready. It wasn't a good look on her. Alec nudged her gently, needing her to look him in the eye for just a minute, so he could be sure. What he needed to be sure of just then, he didn't pretend to know. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," Parker was speaking in a clipped monotone again, the one she used when she was seven kinds of stressed. "Where's Eliot?"
"Just got the door open, think he's still down there. Gonna take a few minutes."
"What's taking so long?"
He needs a few minutes to freshen up. "He's taken a few hits," Alec said, because it wasn't a lie. "But I got it."
"I'll keep an eye on our friend, here." Blinking, she realized that Alec was still there. "Go. And. You know. Be careful."
He backed through the door, not quite willing to take his eyes off Parker just yet, but that wasn't the issue right now. "Grab the external drives, too," he gestured towards the two metal cases on the desk, one still connected.
"Right. Holler if you need me to shoot this guy. I can be down in two shakes of a lamb's tail," she said brightly, clearly enjoying the unease in the guard's eyes.
"No doubt. I'm out."
He was halfway down the stairs before he realized what he'd missed, what it was, in the middle of all this, that was making him uneasy.
"Where are your friends?"
It wasn't just that the guard had been waiting for Nate and Sophie- it wasn't the fact that he knew about their existence, though that was unsettling enough. It was the fact that he knew them well enough to expect them.
Knowing that they weren't there, having that one edge in the information race, didn't give him the charge it usually did. And he had more immediate things to worry about, anyway, down at the end of this corridor.
---
The shot echoed off walls and stairs and threatened to bring the entire world down with it.
And who knew, maybe it did. First Parker, now Hardison, or maybe it was Sophie, up there, bleeding out on the floor, Nate scrambling to push the blood back in.
Someone else's life flashing across their eyes, when he was supposed to be the only one with tickets for that particular show.
He knew field triage. Blood was dangerous when it wasn't controlled. They'd have to pull out, get Sophie to the hospital, transfusions and doctors and stitches and cold plastic seats in the waiting room. Bad coffee and waiting.
Maybe they'd think about what they'd had to leave behind, down here in the basement.
"The thing about hope? It hurts more than love does when it leaves," his mom had said, sitting next to him at the kitchen table and trying to explain why they had to go to the church even though it wasn't a Sunday. "Sometimes, even when things look like they're supposed to go right, the body just gives up."
Eliot was seven, and Grandpa had been sitting right there across the table a week ago, before the hospital, before all of this.
Years later, and this was probably the closest he'd ever been to the guy. But Grandpa had died in a hospital bed, and he hadn't taken anyone else down with him.
---
Alec threw the bar aside and opened the door, wide, waiting for Eliot to walk out.
He didn't, though. Didn't even move.
Eliot was curled around himself in the corner like a dog that knew it's time was up, too tired of living to track Alec's movement towards him.
He'd lost so much weight it was like a part of him was missing. Alec could figure out the percentages later. His skin was too loose in some places, too taut over his bones in others. Alec could see the detail of too many bruised ribs as Eliot breathed. The fingers of his left hand were splayed out over his shoulder, the nails broken and ripped down to the quick. And his eyes.
Fuck, his eyes weren't tracking anything at all, just staring like they were made of glass, turned towards the ceiling. When Alec moved closer, they stared right through him.
It was near impossible to hear anything beyond the ticking of the timer, but Eliot was breathing.
Only mostly dead, then. But not far enough away from it that Alec could take his time. He cast his eyes around the room, until his eyes lit on the object that had attracted so much of Eliot's attention.
The timer, counting down, in the neighborhood of 45 hours. For once, at least, his life wasn't going to play out like the movies. Even with the setback, they would still be long gone before it hit zero. As long as he stopped contemplating all the ways the James Bond movies were wrong and just got them out of here.
Crashing to his knees in front of Eliot, casting an appraising eye over his body and forcing the overwhelming panic down.
Ain't like you didn't know this was coming.
He took a breath, and then he spoke.
"Eliot. Eliot. Hey, wake up man. It's me."
"Hardison?" Eliot's voice was rasping and quiet and entirely without hope, but Eliot rolled his head to look in his direction. "Can't-"
Alec never found out what it was that Eliot couldn’t do, already talking over him.
"Shit, man. Gonna get you out of here. Got a clear path out and we'll get you help, okay? First, though, you gotta help me. Talk to me. Are you hurt?" He reached for Eliot's arm, finding it cold to the touch.
Alec would figure, later on, that he shouldn't have been surprised by the sound of Eliot's weak humorless laughter, even if the waking expression on his face looked like madness.
"Is he all right?" Parker's concern was blistering in his ear.
"Hang on a minute," Alec shook his head. "Eliot, man. Stay with me, here."
"Har'sn?" Eliot was still staring down at his arm where Alec was touching him. As answers went, it wasn't much, but there wasn't a lot to be done for it.
"Okay. Here," he said, tugging the clothes free of his pack. "Gonna get you sorted. Can you move?"
"Yeah." And Eliot did, then, though it was slower than Alec would have liked. Still, it was more than he'd been expecting a minute ago.
"All right, come on. Here." It was a testament to how bad off he was that Eliot didn't grumble or resist, but let Alec pull the sweatpants up his legs and tug the shirt down over his head. "Watch out, I got ya." Elbows weren't meant to bend the way Alec needed them to, but Eliot wasn't complaining.
Eliot wasn't doing much of anything at all- he'd faded out again. His body, though, seemed aware of Alec's presence, though, even if his mind wasn't. Alec could feel the twitching through the fabric and under the skin, and babbled, not wanting to guess what it meant.
"Get you out of here, get us somewhere safe. Got a few of your IDs on hand, and we'll get you to the hospital. Just gonna need you to hang on for a bit, you hear? Ain't no way I'm putting up with cleaning up after your dead body, so you're gonna have to help me get you out. Gonna need you to walk, in a minute. There are stairs, but then it ain't far. Parker's got the situation under control, she's covering our exit, and-"
Hardison pulled the collar down over Eliot's downturned head, fingers brushing against matted stubble and down behind his ear, tugging Eliot's hair free. There wasn't much he could do about getting the other arm into its sleeve, though, and Alec cursed himself for not thinking this through. "Sorry, man. I didn't know about your arm when I was packing. Gonna have to make do with what we got, just a little while longer. And by the way, this is where you tell me to shut the hell up and that everything's fine. Just so you know, you're totally blowing your lines, and-"
Something he said must have gotten through, though, because Eliot's eyes were still swimming, but they were searching out his face for the first time since Alec had gotten there. "Park'r s'here?"
"Yeah. She's fine, you can-" he broke off at Parker's interruption.
"I'm not fine, I'm holding a gun on a guy. Tell Eliot hi for me!"
"Tell him yourself. Hang on."
Alec patted down his pocket, finding the earpiece he'd brought along and fitting it carefully into Eliot's ear. It wasn't necessary, but it wouldn't hurt, either.
"Parker, go ahead."
"Eliot! We missed you! I. I'm really glad you're not dead. Um. I'll tell you about everything you missed when you get out of there. Hardison, you need help?"
"We got it under control," Alec felt his face cracking open in a smile, trying to find the socks he knew he'd packed.
The grin fell away the moment he looked up again.
Eliot Spencer was not supposed to be curling his head down into his own shoulder, hiding his face. He was supposed to snap out of it with a gruff "c'mon," and fight Alec every step of the way as they headed for the door.
The things Alec was wrong about were starting to pile up, and they needed to be out of here before he the whole mess of them toppled over.
The socks were on, and the shoes were a size or two large, but they'd do. "Parker, give us a few minutes to get up the stairs, we're almost ready to go."
"Finally. I don't think Shane here likes me very much. He's glaring at me like I stole his mother, and I haven't even met her yet."
"We're on our way. Hang on." Alec looked down again to find Eliot turning his head up towards him. He was shaking his head in confusion, but Alec didn't know where the explanation was supposed to begin. "Come on. You ready to get out of here?"
There it was- what he'd been waiting for. Staring at Alec without meeting his eyes, Eliot began the messy business of sitting himself up.
Getting him standing again was equally awkward, but his legs seemed to be the least injured parts of his body. Didn't mean he was steady, though. If Alec took one step back right then, Eliot would probably go down.
"You ready, man?"
"Yeah. Just." Eliot's hand twitched in the direction of the pictures scattered on the floor. Moving slowly, making sure Eliot would stay standing, Alec stooped to shove them in his jeans pocket.
Moving slow, and looking like it was taxing him something fierce, Eliot was already making his way to the door.
But he was doing it under his own steam.
If it wouldn't have startled Eliot, Alec would have shouted his relief, but instead, he inched down the corridor pretending that he didn't actually need to be following Eliot so closely.
---
Eliot wanted to lie down again, wanted to rest, but if he didn't go forward and up, he'd go down and take Hardison with him.
Hardison, whose hands had been warm and real, and who was climbing not one step behind him. Who was fucking there.
There would be time for relief later, when these stairs, that room, this entire fucking place was nothing but a speck in the rearview. He just had to make it there.
And he was so damned close, there was sunlight, glaring in through the probably-not-really-so-luxurious windows, and already the air was less stale, even if it felt thin.
It's just the exertion, he told himself, gonna have to get used to it before you head back to Kansas. Got holes to dig.
Eliot wasn't heading for Kansas, though. Right then, he was heading for the floor.
---
Alec grabbed at Eliot, but wasn't fast enough to keep him from hitting the carpet he'd tripped on.
"Parker, come on!" He shouted, forgetting that he didn't need to, as he stepped over Eliot and began to pull him up again.
Eliot was still shaking his head, and Alec was pretending that he hadn't expected him to be unconscious, when there were heavy, plodding footsteps coming from the hall leading to the back office.
The guard- Shane, apparently- wasn't having the easiest time of it, not with the gun pointed at his back and Parker's irritated glare following him into the room.
"On your stomach," she instructed, and Shane stumbled hard, not having his hands to balance him as he knelt, and he fell forward, landing face down.
With one final angry assessment, she decided he was secure enough for the moment, and she twisted her head, looking over her shoulder with a wide grin, leaping towards them. Without dropping the gun, she helped settle Eliot on his feet, and immediately came within a hair's breadth of knocking him over again, crashing against him so hard, wrapping her thin arms around his back, pressing her face next to his.
"Thanks for not dying," she said, pulling away, only then becoming fully aware of the state he was in. Eliot, for his part, wasn't aware of anything but her, staring at her like she shouldn't exist.
"You too."
---
Eliot didn't recognize the world anymore, or maybe it was just the warehouse across the road. But the sky was larger out here, and too much freedom for being so close to a highway.
The entire world had been out here, going about its business while he'd been inside.
The nausea was threatening to take him down, but he'd spent too much time on his knees lately, and it didn't matter, anyway. Hardison's hands were back, holding him up by his elbow, and there was another warm spot on his lower back, through the soft cotton, and he didn't say anything when Eliot stumbled against him. Just gave him a moment and walked him to a van that was parked nearby.
Parker moved fast and efficiently, like she had never been dead, and slid the utility door open, crawling inside before swinging around to reach out to him.
He stopped short, brushing against Hardison again, feeling his grasp tighten on his arm.
It's a trick. She's here to take you across the river.
"Eliot?" Her voice was too wary to be the ferryman, and this was a parking lot, not the River Styx.
"C'mon, man." Hardison said, quietly, like he was telling him a secret. "We need to get you to the hospital. Get in."
---
Twisting in his seat to secure his seatbelt, because he'd had enough of death-defying antics for one day, Alec glanced over at Parker.
His eyes caught on the gleaming jewel at her neck, part of the disguise she'd decided to use. It wasn't the type of thing she usually wore, he half realized, and looked again.
And then he saw clearly. It wasn't a ruby. It was a sniper's laser sight nestled in the hollow of her throat.
"What is it? Drive! We-"
"Hold up," Alec said, still staring. Parker scowled at him in irritation, before trying to follow his eyes down.
"What? What is it?"
"Ah." Alec realized then that he had no idea whatsoever how one was supposed to go about telling a person that someone had a bead on them. Warning her, telling her to move could have been just as deadly as telling her to stay still. "Ah. Parker."
"What?"
But they could have shot already. Could be squeezing the trigger right this moment. "Don't move." He met Parker's eyes, which had gone from confused to concerned, and he shook his head, staring her down. "I don't want to alarm you, but. It seems that we've got company."
He put his hands up, raising them to shoulder height, and looked out the windshield.
Across the street, up on top of the other warehouse, there was a small aberration. And then it moved, rising.
Parker saw it too, and Alec was pretty sure that her startled gasp sucked the last of the air from the van.
"What do we do?"
"I don't know, I. Fuck."
There wasn't one part of this entire situation that had gone according to plan, and it was starting to look like Alec had missed something. This was his fault.
"The windshield might deflect the bullet," Parker said conversationally, but her muscles were starting to tense, she was coiling to move.
"Might not." His eyes darted down towards the dashboard. If only he'd managed to get the van started already, maybe. If he floored it, went forward instead of backward, the sniper would lose his target.
But he hadn't gotten that far.
By the time he lowered a hand to turn the key in the ignition, they'd both probably be dead, Eliot not far behind.
The shattering of glass, when it came, wasn't even a surprise.
---
Chapter 8