Title: The Retrieval Job

Rating: T+

Feedback: welcomed

Summary: The team takes on the hardest job they've ever had, retrieving one of their own. But who do you turn too, when it's your Retrieval Specialist that's in need of rescuing?

Author Note: Yay for season 3! Although I really didn't like the season premier, but that could also be because I MISSED IT. I'm back to working with horses and as such have taken up working horse shows and the last show ended on Sunday and while the trucker who hauls our horses and gear was supposed to be at the fair grounds for 6, he didn't get there till 8:30! Figure 1 hr load time, 2 hr drive home, 1 hr unload time. Complete insanity.

But, I am sorry to have kept everyone waiting for this update but life has been hectic. I was accepted into the college I applied too and am now finalizing that and of course working and making chain maille jewelry to help add some income. Insanity!

Chapter 15: It all started….

They were sitting in Nate's apartment, gathered around the TV monolith watching Lock Up: Abroad a show in which the group of theives often pick apart the 'innocent' person's story, supplying with almost chilling detail how they would have all done it a different way. It's something Nate had gotten use too listening too as he watched the re-enacted stories play out, turning an ear to listen to Parker's rants about how stupid the person was and how she'd of handled the situation.

"See? Right there? She could have used that to pull herself up onto the roof and them shimmied down the drain pipe." Parker announces around a mouth full of popcorn. Sophie, seated beside Nate only rolls her eyes and sighs, gesturing towards the TV with a nail polish brush.

"Parker, the girl is six months pregnant. That only thing she's shimming is that prison garb." She states before turning back to manicuring her nails. Nate watches for a moment, shocked to see the woman doing her own nails but doesn't comment. Hardison laughs at the cheesy tehcnology being show on the screen and points, shaking his head before fixing his attention back onto the lap top in front of him. Nate will often comment on how the system is done in the mentioned countries and how families should have handled the paperwork, his words often falling on the 'law deaf' ears of his companions. Eliot would usually make comments on the weapons and sometimes the reasons behind certain lack of prisoner's rights.

But not tonight.

Tonight the fighter is sitting rigidly in the chair, his fingers splayed out on his knees as his blue eyes track the people on the screen. Nate watches the man from the corner of his eye, watching the thin lines around his mouth grow deeper as the story progresses. As the show comes to an end the blue eyes harden a fraction as the prison's name is announced.

"I've been there." He suddenly, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. His eyes have grown far away and take on a chilling edge.

"Was there for fifteen days…" he trails off, eyes still far away while Nathan scoots up from his seat, ready to intervien in case the memories become too much and the man becomes violent. But he doesn't, his chest moves up and down as he breathes evenly.

"Had been caught trying to lift several masks for a collector, fucker had top notch security and a Wailer, thing screwed me up. Couldn't hear right for a week." He smirks then and snorts, his blue eyes watering slightly.

"Watched a little boy, only about tweleve get his hands chopped off for stealing. Watched a woman give birth in her dirt cell only to bleed to death while her baby cried. That baby lived for a day after his mother died, they left the carcases inside to rot." He takes a shuddering breath and shakes his head.

"Eliot?" Nate says softly, drawing the man's attention to him.

"Yeah, I remember." He whispers back and winces as Parker whoops loudly, leaping to her feet and approaching him in order to give the man a happy punch in the arm, her newest way to show affection, but the man quickly shies away, catching the small fist in his scarred hand.

"No, not all of it. But… that I remember and some other times…" he smiles slightly. "Maybe I'll remember more things soon."

"That's the right way to think Eliot, stay posative." Sophie states reassuringly while Parker nods enthusiastically. Eliot's small smile is the only response for that night.

Over the next few days Eliot's mind continued to supply memories are random times, sometimes stopping the man in his tracks to stare ahead blankly. One terrifying time at the local shopping center in which Eliot shut down while the team was on an escelator forced the team to rethink their treatment of the fragile minded man. It wasn't until a stormy night five days after the first memory that Nate found Eliot sketching madly on a legal pad in the dark of his apartment. Nate watches the man for several minutes from the spiral staircase and frowns as the man mutters to himself, his good hand flying awkwardly over the lines, adding information in a barely legible scrawl. Long hair hangs to the side of his face, masking the man's expression from Nate.

"I… that makes no sense." Eliot suddenly snaps, throwing the writing utensil from his hand and Nate winces as it bings off the polished wooden floor and rolls hastily away somewhere.

"Eliot?" Nate starts, causing the other man to jump and spin in the chair, a flash of pain screwing up the fighter's features as his casted arm presses protectivly to his still damamged ribs.

"What's this?" Nate asks as he moves slowly towards the table, his head jerk gesturing to the legal pad decorated with scrawls and dates, locations and a small list of injuries. Eliot's usually steady blue gaze is skirting around, his instincts forcing his mind and body into a jittery frenzy, paranoia and suspicion snapping like lightning in his eyes. Nate waits patiently as the electric blue eyes snap to the shadows in the apartment, scanning for any enemies whenever the lighting flashes over the harbor outside.

"I keep remembering w-which I know is a good thing but…" he trails off and looks down at his hands before curling the uncasted one into a tight fist and then uncurling it as he exhales. " there are some things I think I was better off not remembering." He concludes shakily. Nate frowns and ponders for a moment the man's words, knowing full well that the things Eliot keeps wedged so far down, behind the southern drawl and arctic blue eyes are not good things, not pleasant memories or fond moments he often thinks of.

No.

The things Eliot keeps locked away in his mind aren't for the weak kneed if the memories of the jobs written down in his ledger are any indication.

"Listen Eliot, would you rather not remember everything and one day, while we're on a job run into someone who could harm us? The team?" Nate reasons gently, knowing the fighter's determination to protect the others from as much bad things as he can. Eliot's blue eyes flash for a moment and then narrow dangerously.

"No." he snarls in a particuraly alarming way before shoving himself to his feet. Nate scrmables a few steps back, giving the fighter room to move and breathe but the fighter only stands in front of the window facing the storm tossed harbor, the dirty brown water being battered against the warf supports as lightning flashes.

"I'm tired Nate." He admits after several moments of silence, his expression fallen and miserable as it reflects off the window pane. Nate, who had been watching the fighter struggle for days to allow his aching body to rest and to reset his mind can only nod.

"I can give you something…" he trails off, having remembered just as the words were coming out how much Eliot dispises anything that might take away his edge, dull the reptile quick reflexes he prides himself on, that have kept him alive.

"I just need to sleep. That's all." He states softly and oves away from the window, his steps unsteady as he negotiates the dark apartment, heading for the leather couch and the sleeping bag Parker had stolen for him from Dick's a while back. Nate quickly moves to the kitchen and pours two shot glasses of the sternest stuff he's got.

"How about a little night cap? Something to take the edge off?" Nate asks as he eases the cabinate above the sink open and selects one of the many pill bottles, scanning the lable before depositing one of the pale blue pills into one of the glasses. He's about to recap the bottle when a frown crosses his face then quickly adds two more. Easing the cabinate closed the Mastermind usues his finger to swish the melting pills around and once completely dissovlved he adds a little Vodka to the brew.

"Alright. Here." Nate gestures, holding out the small shot class of liquer to the injured fighter, making sure to keep his face expressionless as Eliot downs the shot and makes a face, hoping that it's the Vodka that caught the experienced drinker by surprise, not the pills.

"Damn." He mutters, voice husky and low, eyes blinking rapidly.

"not bad huh?" Nate asks, downing his own shot, also wincing at the burn of the clear liquer and the sharp bite of the sipping whiskey.

"Yeah not bad." Eliot echoes, his body relaxing into the couch as Nate watches, slightly alarmed at how quickly the effects are taking hold of the man but therorizes that his own exhaustion coupled with the pills are acting together to pull the fighter under.

"Get some sleep Eliot, we'll figure this out in the morning." Nate states and grabs the shot glass before it can fall from the fighter's lax grip. Standing Nate shakes his head and gently moves Eliot till he is laying down lengthwise on the couch and covering him with the thick sleeping bag. Nodding to himself the Mastermind drops the glasses into his sink and heads for the spiral staircase, pausing midstride by the table.

"A broken man with baggage is a man with a foreseeable future of change." He states softly, picking up the timeline and glancing over at the couch before folding the paper and slipping back up the steps to his bed.

The next morning found the team sitting in various places around Nate's apartment, their attention on separate tasks while Eliot continues to sleep on the couch, his plastered arm propped up the table Parker had moved over to support the injured limb. Having kicked his covers off during the night a naked and tattooed leg sticks out from under the bright throw blanket Sophie deposited over the fighter's torso and tucked lovingly under his chin while Tara thought ahead to bring another set of clean clothes from Eliot's apartment. Hardison types away at his laptop, sitting closer to the fighter due to the location of the coffeetable.

"Uh oh." He utters and curses softly, his fingers flying over the keys.

"Hardison your warrior Mage had best just died or something." Nate barks from his desk, standing and moving quickly to where the Hacker is sitting, careful not to wake the sleeping fighter.

"Oh you wish. No, seems Celik has gotten intel on where his prized posession might have gone. His passport was just dinged by the Turkish embassy in the States." He explains as the mood in the apartment goes from 'content' to 'apprehensive' in a split second.

"Dun dun, dun dun…" Everyone looks over at Parker, sitting on Nate's dining table. Her head cocks to the side.

"what?"

Author Note: I do not know when the next update will be due to my leaving for a horse show in 4 days and working those 4 days, so please stay tuned. Can I just say.. Having your bathroom remodeled sucks ass when you really have to pee and want to shower?