Parker had worried herself to sleep. It had originated as a sort of nagging sensation in the back of her mind when she was riding in that van and had grown even larger since. When they arrived in Minneapolis around 8pm and still hadn't heard anything from the boys, the worry had grown into a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. A ceaseless churning of the acid in her gut. It made her impatient and short with Eliot's doctor friend, who she knew was only trying to help, and Sophie and Nate, who were trying to reassure her that they would hear from them any minute now. That was hours ago now, long since they had all stopped trying to distract each other and decided the best thing to do was to go to bed.

She had insisted on sleeping on the living room couch instead of one of the bedrooms, so she would know if the front door opened. It was then that the worry had moved up into her throat, as a hard and bothersome lump. She kept trying to swallow it away, but it persisted. In her mind the only reason that Eliot could have for not calling at this point, was that Hardison was dead and he didn't want to break the news to them over the phone. Or else they were both dead, and then Parker supposed they would never know exactly what happened.

She had assumed that there was no way in hell she would be able to sleep at the moment, but the pain meds Eliot's doctor friend had given had made her drowsy and despite wanting to stay up to wait for Hardison and Eliot, she had drifted off. Her worry had permeated into her uneasy sleep. Her dreams were punctuated with a never-ending quest where she searched and searched for Hardison, but was never able to find him. At one point Eliot was helping her search, and working together they almost found him, they were chasing the sound of his voice through an empty school. Eliot rounded the corner of the featureless hallway they were in, and Parker followed him a second later. Only, Eliot wasn't there. The hallway was empty. There were no doors for Eliot to duck into, just long emptiness that seemed to go on forever. Hardison's voice echoed out again, only it seemed much quieter and farther away than before. Parker started running down the hall, trying to reach the source of the voice before it vanished.

"Parker," came Hardison's voice, it was barely above a whisper now. Parker picked up speed, her feet tapping rhythmically against the linoleum floor. The length of the hallway grew ever longer in front of her, and with that came the jolting realization that she was dreaming. She stopped running, looking around at the walls that were fading away as she regained consciousness. She willed herself to stay asleep, trying desperately to hold on to the dream. Hardison was here, even if it was just his voice. She didn't want to return to the real world, to face the fact that he was most likely dead.

"Parker," his voice said again. She could almost smell him now, that unmistakable scent that was uniquely him. She wrapped her arms around herself, watching the walls of the hallway fade away. No! I want to stay here! She could almost feel him here. She reached up and touched her left cheek, pretending that it was him. Finding comfort in his hypothetical touch. The hallway faded away into darkness.

She heard voices. "You should let her sleep."

Then she heard Hardison's voice, soft like before but much nearer, "I know. I just need to see for myself that she's really okay."

"She'd want us to wake her up," came Eliot's voice in the background.

Parker opened her eyes and her breath caught in her throat. Hardison was there. It was his hand on her cheek. She could just make out his profile in the dim light, his face was turned back to look at the doctor. "You sure she's just asleep?" he said, "She doesn't seem to wanna wake up."

"Hardison?" she croaked out. She was still dreaming, right? But then the pain hit her again, dulled slightly from the pain meds, but still her constant companion whenever she was awake. This time though she was grateful for it because it meant that he was really here. Hardison turned at the sound of her voice.

"Hey, Mama," he said. He was smiling, Parker could make out the whiteness of his teeth in the dimness. She reached out to touch his face, not willing to trust her eyes. Her hand brushed against his cheek, feeling the familiar texture of his skin.

"You're really solid for a ghost," she whispered.

"I'm not a ghost, Parker."

"That's exactly what a ghost would say."

"True, but it's also what a real live person would say," Hardison said. He looked behind him, "Can you guys give us a minute, and hit the lights on your way?" Eliot led the doctor back out into the hall, flipping the lights on as he went out.

Parker struggled to get herself upright into a sitting position, biting her lip to keep from gasping at the sharp stabbing in her side that came whenever she moved. After the soft glow filled the room, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Looking at Hardison, she frowned and said, "What happened to your hand?" At the same time that he said, "What happened to your hair?"

"Sophie had to cut it because she couldn't get the knots out," she said, pushing her now chin-length hair behind her ear. But she frowned again because he didn't answer her question. His right hand was all wrapped up in a clean white bandage, with just the tips of his fingers sticking out.

She grabbed his forearm and pulled it over, holding it in front of her face for her to examine. "A ghost wouldn't be injured, they would just be dead," she said. She could see him looking intensely at her in her peripheral vision, but she couldn't meet his eyes. He was usually so good at reading her, at figuring out what she really meant when she went off on her tangents. She hoped he could understand her now, what she trying to say.

"Parker," he said, and he put his hand under her chin, lifting it up so she would meet his eyes. "I'm okay."

She bit her lip against the sudden tightness in her throat. "I know."

"You know now, but you didn't know earlier, right?"

She nodded.

"You thought I was … I mean, you didn't know if I was coming back, and it's hard to shake that feeling, huh?"

She lost the battle against the lump in her throat, and suddenly her vision went blurry with tears. He brought his good hand up to her face and wiped away the first few that escaped.

"I understand," he said gently, "Trust me, I get it. I felt the same way in that jail cell."

The relief that she felt from him being back made her want to wrap her arms around him and pull him down onto the couch with her, but she knew that would hurt too much, so instead she settled for grabbing his hand, pulling it away from her face so she could entwine her fingers with his. It felt familiar and comforting. He leaned his face over next to hers, his breathing was a little ragged in her ear, and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. Her skin warmed where his lips touched it. He didn't pull away after, pressing his forehead against hers. Parker wanted more. "You can kiss me, you know. I'm not going to break."

He kissed her. His lips moved over hers and it felt like coming home. Parker tried to put all the stuff she wasn't good at saying out loud into that kiss. It must have worked because she felt wetness on her face, and she couldn't tell if it was coming from her or from him. And when they finally broke apart they were both wiping at their eyes. He sat on the edge of the couch cushion and looked at her.

"Are you hurting a lot?" he asked.

She didn't want to worry him, but she didn't want to lie so she just shrugged. It didn't seem to work, his mouth turned into a thin line.

"I'm sorry."

She sighed, "People should stop saying they're sorry unless they actually pulled the trigger."

"I know, but—"

"Hardison?" came Sophie's voice from across the room. She and Nate were coming out of the bedroom they had been sleeping in. Sophie made a noise of excitement and Hardison got up from the couch so he could greet them. Parker frowned at his vacated spot, feeling his absence like a cold chill. Sophie wrapped him up in a hug and Nate clapped him on the shoulder, and hearing his laugh at something Nate said warmed her up again.

The front door opened and Eliot and the doctor came in, having heard the commotion. Eliot nodded at Nate and came to kneel in front of the couch where Parker was lying, gesturing for his doctor friend to come nearer. Parker felt a little bad that she couldn't remember his name. Eliot put his hand on her forehead again, but this time she smacked it away.

"What took you so long to get here?" she asked him.

"Did her fever go down, Antonio?"

"Yes," the doctor friend who was apparently named Antonio said. "I examined the wound and I don't see any traces of infection. The fever could have come from some kind of drug interaction, or just stress on the body from all the moving around she did today. It's hard to say for sure, but it went down a couple of hours ago."

Parker was glowering at Eliot and the doctor alike, "Eliot, why didn't you call?"

"That's actually a good question," Nate said settling with Sophie on the loveseat, "Why didn't you call when you found him?"

Eliot at least had the decency to look a little ashamed, "The battery on the phone died, pretty much right after I found him."

"I'm sorry," Hardison said, "Who found whom?"

"Dammit, Hardison, does it really matter?"

"Apparently not to some people," Hardison sat down on the end of the couch, gingerly lifting up Parker's legs so he could slide underneath them. She smiled at him, happy that he was next to her. She wanted to grab his hand again, but it was the bandaged one that was closest, and she didn't want to hurt him.

The doctor offered her a thermometer and she sighed but stuck it in her mouth.

"Hardison so bravely found a pay phone and managed to call me and tell me where to get him."

"Yeah, right after I flash-banged the crap out of the two armed thugs who were holding me."

"Flash-banged?" Sophie said, raising an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean!"

"Yes," Nate said in a placating tone, "You sound very heroic."

"Anyway," Eliot said. "The van actually crapped out in some tiny little town in Wisconsin, and it took a while to find a replacement. That's what took us so long to get here."

Antonio put a blood pressure cuff on Parker's arm and started to inflate it, placing the end of his stethoscope against her arm underneath it and looking at his watch.

"Where is here, anyway?" Hardison asked, looking around at the fully furnished condo.

"It's my neighbor's place," Antonio said after a pause, "He's away on business a lot." He removed the blood pressure cuff and took the thermometer out of Parker's mouth, giving a satisfied nod at the 98.9 displayed on it. "I'm sorry there's not really room at my place, and my girlfriend stays with me sometimes, I don't want her to find out about … all this."

"This place is fine, for the short-term," Sophie said.

"I owe you one, man," Eliot said.

"Nah, this makes us even, Spencer."*

"How long do you think we'll need to be here?" Nate asked.

"That depends on her," Antonio said, and suddenly everyone was looking at Parker. Parker tried not to squirm under everyone's gaze as Antonio felt her neck to check her lymph nodes. He lifted her shirt to check the bandage, which was still clean and white from when he had changed it a few hours ago. "Can you rate your pain for me, like you did earlier?"

Parker paused for a moment, "Four."

Nate gave her one of his trademark looks, disbelief etched on his face, "Parker."

"Fine, seven."

Hardison gave her leg a little squeeze, "Parker, you don't have to—"

"I just don't like everyone making a fuss over me okay!" In her experience people only liked to take care of you for so long, then they started to get sick of it, and even resent you for it.

"Well, the more you cooperate with the doctor, the faster you'll get better," Sophie said.

"And the less we'll have to fuss," Nate added.

"I'll give you two more Vicodin to get you through the night," Antonio said. "Then, I'll work on getting something stronger tomorrow." He handed the pills to her that Eliot had stolen and the glass of water that was sitting on the coffee table. "In terms of full recovery time, we could be looking at a long haul. Two weeks of bed rest at least to let the damage to the organs heal. And then a couple of months of physical therapy after that."

Parker swallowed the pills in her mouth in a big gulp, "Months?"

"You've gotta rebuild muscle mass. Range of motion. It takes time."

Parker glared at Antonio even though she knew it wasn't his fault. He seemed to take it fairly well, giving her a sympathetic smile as he stood up. "Well, if you don't need me anymore. I suggest you all get some sleep." He looked at Hardison, "You should take some Vicodin too, if you need it." And he left.

"What did happen to your hand, Hardison?" Sophie asked. Parker looked at him. He tried to keep his face nonchalant, but Parker could see the tenseness in his shoulders.

"It's a long story, and I'm beat. I'll do some hacking tomorrow to get us some permanent digs. There's got to be a couple of units in this place that are for sale." He moved off the couch and stood up, stretching. "For now I would kill for a hot shower and a bed."

And that seemed to be the cue, because everyone started to disperse, Sophie and Nate to the front bedroom and Hardison to the bathroom. Eliot stayed in the living room, scuffing his shoe against the edge of the rug.

"Thank you," Parker said to him, and he looked at her.

"For what?"

"For finding him."

Eliot shrugged, "He found me."

"Well, for going back for him, then."

He shrugged again.

She could still see the guilt weighing heavy on him, and she wished she could think of something else to say to make him believe all of this wasn't his fault "Eliot, you …" She trailed off, not able to find the right words. She sighed, giving up. "Did you get those jeans in the little girls' department? I mean, seriously, they look like they're painted on."

He gave her an incredulous look, "Wow, really?" He walked off grumbling something under his breath. He was almost out of sight when he stopped, "Hey, Parker?"

"Yeah?" She peered around the edge of the couch at him, waiting for him to say, There's something wrong with you.

"I like the haircut."

Parker settled back against the pillows, smiling.