Notes: The first time I watched the Reunionn Job I was left with this really bad taste in my mouth by the last scene. This was the result. Obviously a tag to The Reunion Job.

I Never Tell You

The first time Eliot thought about leaving was after the wedding job.

No. It was during their first job together but everyone was thinking about leaving then so even if his reasons were different that still doesn't count.

The first time Eliot thought about leaving was after the wedding job. After the dinner when they'd all headed back to the offices and everyone else had gone home for the night.

Eliot was in his office, checking himself over, making sure his fight with the butcher hadn't left him with any injuries that needed more attention than a couple of icepacks.

And okay. Maybe he was trying very hard not to freak out.

He'd fought the Butcher.

Sure he'd fought the Butcher before and walked away alive. He was probably one of the only people on earth who could honestly say that.

But he'd been young, stupid, and damn lucky when it happened. The Butcher had underestimated him and Eliot knew that wouldn't happen a second time.

He'd gotten better over the years since but he still had no idea about who would come out on top and if he was honest with himself there was more than a little old fear when even thinking about the Butcher.

Except he'd fought the Butcher, killed the Butcher.

And he was standing here, staring at the bruises on his body, trying to wonder why the hell he hadn't just done the smart thing and run.

He'd gotten lucky again. They'd fought in a kitchen. They'd fought on Eliot's turf, in a place full of potential weapons that Eliot knew and the Butcher didn't.

In another setting Eliot might have, probably would have, ended up dead.

He should have left as soon as The Butcher came into play.

But he hadn't.

Because if he had left the team would have to deal with The Butcher and they'd all be dead.

He'd put his life on the line to protect them.

He knew he should leave before he gave them more.

A knock on the door brought his attention back to Nate. Distantly Eliot had been aware of the man's return but it hadn't registered as a threat and had gone mostly ignored.

"Eliot?" Nate asked, slipping into the room, eyes sweeping over the bruises staining Eliot's skin. "Will you need time off to recover?" He asked, professionalism and just a hint of authority hitting old instincts.

"No. I'm good. Just some superficial bruising." Eliot responded automatically, only belatedly reminding himself Nate was his boss, not his CO.

"Good to hear." Nate said before holding up the bottle Eliot had registered but not noticed until then. "Came to offer you a drink and see if one of your hidden talents is chess."

Eliot found glasses, letting Nate pour the drinks as he pulled out the chess set he kept behind his desk and set up the pieces.

They played three games (Eliot actually won the second) before Eliot gave up trying to figure out Nate's motive and focused solely on the game. He'd puzzle over it later but for the moment he'd just appreciate that Nate's sudden interest in him and his chess strategies came at the right time to give him something to think about other than the three months in hell that led to his first fight with the Butcher.

When the sun started to rise and Nate told him to go home and to let them know if he needed some time off Eliot realized maybe that had been Nate's motive all along.

The next day he noticed the team were knocking on his door more than usual and Parker and Hardison bugging him more than normal.

He was giving the team his body to use as a shield against the world but they were trying to give him protection from his own world in return.

Eliot put the need to run to rest, for the moment.

oOo

The second time Eliot thought about leaving was in Miami.

He was sitting (okay, pacing) in his hotel room trying to force himself to calm down.

And trying very hard not to freak out.

Nate was beginning to spiral out of control and put the whole team at risk and they were all starting to wonder if maybe the faith they'd given Nate was horribly misplaced.

And maybe that was why he had this need to just *run* and get the hell out.

He'd put his faith in Nate and his crazy plans and that he'd find a way to make it work and in the team's ability to pull themselves together and get through it in one piece.

He'd put faith in someone other than himself.

He needed to leave before he gave them something he couldn't take back.

After this job. He told himself. I make sure they all make it through alive and then I leave.

His mental voice didn't have nearly the kind of finality he would have liked.

Before he could restate it in a way that sounded like he actually believed it there was a knock on the door followed quickly by Sophie letting herself into the room with a key Eliot was quite certain he hadn't given her.

…Grifters.

"You here ta defend Nate?" He half said, half growled. He didn't want to talk to her or anyone else right now.

Sophie let the door shut behind her and turned to watch him without comment.

"Don't waste your breath." Eliot continued like she had made a move to talk to him, half considering trying to start pushing them away already. It'd make his exit easier.

And make it harder for him to chicken out later.

"I'm not gonna kill him." Eliot told her, settling himself on the desk chair, deservedly ignoring the part of him that told him he should sit on the bed so she could sit on the chair if she wanted to. "And I'm not gonna abandon the con halfway through the job." Now, when the job was over…

"What about after the job?"

Fucking grifters.

"I-"
Sophie held up a hand and he stopped, not even sure why besides maybe a part of his brain wanting her to give him an excuse to stay.

He really really needed to leave if that was the case.

"Things are getting out of control." Sophie said. "Nate will fix this mess." The 'Because he's Nathan Ford' was unspoken but understood. "But after… you know we couldn't do this without you." The last bit, added quietly, took him entirely off guard. "You're our safety net, our shield. We trust you not to keep us safe on a job. That's your job and so long as it is we can focus on doing our job and trusting Nate's plans even if it seems a bad idea because we know you won't let us get hurt."

He didn't even know how to respond to that.

She gave him a little smile. "Eliot, stay, do your job." The 'for us' and the 'please' weren't said. She was Sophie after all.

Even if later he'd suspect she'd been trying to con him and hadn't meant it as much as she'd seemed to, at least not then, he'd forgive her. Because in time he saw the looks Parker and Hardison shot him when Nate's planned strayed a little too far into the realm of impossible and the relief on all their faces every time he showed up when a job was starting to go south.

He'd given them his faith, but they'd given him theirs.

And even if it wouldn't be entirely true until later it was enough for him to put the need to leave to rest for a little longer.

oOo

The third time Eliot thought about leaving was as he sat on the couch in Parker's office on one side of the thief trying to will time to just move faster.

Settled between him and Hardison Parker was well into withdrawal from the Happy Pills. Shivering and twitching, cocooned in a blanket, and not quite stable enough to continue the pacing she'd been doing when they first started to wear off. Figured even her withdrawal wouldn't be normal.

He's watching her, practically holding her in a shared attempt with Hardison to help her feel warmer and connected since they both were aware of the dangers of suddenly going off anti-depressants, and he realizes it just hurts to see her like this.

He wasn't even sure when it had happened but he'd started to really care about these people.

He should just leave he gave them too much.

But he had already given them way more than he should.

But had been starting to finally settle, curling around herself her twitching slowing, and now when he looked down she'd actually fallen to sleep. Her head rested against Hardison's shoulder but a pale hand reached out from the blankets and gripped onto his shirt like she was holding onto something too precious to let escape.

Hardison looked up, giving him a relieved smile, and then both silently settled down.

He couldn't leave. Parker was finally sleeping.

It was the first time she'd slept around any of them.

He'd given the team his heart, or as much of it as was still in big enough pieces to give. But they'd returned by offering him their own misshapen and broken pieces.

And they seem to fit together so well he didn't think he could leave anymore.

oOo

The fourth time Eliot thought about leaving was the night after the job against Stark's crew. He'd gone to a hotel with Micheal and they'd had hot hitter sex and as they lay there, catching their breath's for a second round she'd mentioned that she had a job lined up in South America and if he needed a vacation he could come along.

By herself it was a job but with him it would be fun.

He closed his eyes, seeing the job unfold. Violence, hot suns, long days fighting together and probably having more fun than a sane person should have taking out mooks, and longer nights with each other and no promises past the end of the job.

God knew he'd done it and variations of it a dozen times before.

Part of him missed the times like those when he could give the violence in him a longer leash, step back, and enjoy the ride and only worry about his own back.

But he asked her how long they'd be gone and she said three weeks minimum and he knew he couldn't leave the crew even that long even if Nate would let him.

He ended up not staying the night, leaving a little after two in the morning.

As he drove back to Nate's he had this sudden urge to just keep driving. He had spent his entire life either trying to get or keep his freedom, his independence, control over his own life and body despite outside influences always trying to take that and everything else.

And somewhere along the line he'd just given it over to the team. Now Nate and this crew dictated where he went and when, what he did, what jobs he took, and even how much he drank or what he did with his free time (never anything that might leave him unable to protect them).

He needed to leave before he gave them everything he had left.

But he fought the urge to run. He climbed the stairs and let himself into Nate's apartment.

He wasn't even surprised to see everyone still awake they all were night owls and the post job high wouldn't let any of them sleep for a few more hours yet.

He went to the kitchen, busying his hands with making something to feed them should any of them still be hungry (a likely hood with this crew).

Over his shoulder Hardison called out an offhand. "Didn't think you'd be home tonight."

It was five minutes later when the words penetrated the fog of *Leavenow*and dispelled the entire urge.

In a moment of clarity Eliot realized that while he'd given his freedom to protect the team they had given him a home.

Given him a family.

And he figured so long as it was to protect home and family he could give everything he could.

To keep them safe he would.

oOo

They never saw it coming.

Four thieves, four of the best thieves in the world who together could observe something from just about every angle, never saw it coming.

It had seemed so insignificant then, even funny.

They'd danced a step closer to the one they cared about and listened to Eliot rant like always.

They'd want to blame him for always being angry about things so much they stopped paying attention and hadn't noticed the hurt.

Hadn't noticed that hint of a sound like something bending and bending and breaking.

But that was an excuse.

They didn't notice when his com went offline. He'd gotten back to the apartment and stopped ranting and they all just assumed he'd settled down with a book to wait for them.

Shrugging off the incident like he shrugged off a blow.

That analogy hurt like hell now because they hadn't realized they'd dealt him a blow to someplace he was far less prepared to take one.

They hadn't even noticed when they first got back to the apartment and only to find he wasn't there. They figured he might have actually been pissed off and gone up to his studio on the floor above to work off a little steam before the debriefing.

It was Parker scavenging through the kitchen for something to fend off the post job munchies Eliot normally took care of by cooking who first saw the knives were gone.

A block of extremely high quality cheff's knives had sat proudly in Nate's kitchen since after the job in Nebraska was now missing two knives.

"Eliot's knives are gone." Parker said.

"Maybe he's practicing throwing them." Hardison offered. "Or fightin' with them or whatever. Dudes got to stay in practice somehow."

She nodded but continued her search, brows creasing when she found the spice rack in one of Nate cupboards was missing a bottle. Parker walked her fingers over the bottles, remembering each one and what Eliot used it for. There was one final bottle he'd told her over and over to never try tasting.

He'd been using his guys with guns voice and she'd obeyed him even if her fingers got an itch.

Across the room Nate made a confused noise that almost sounded like a gasp.

Sophie gasped a moment later and Parker looked over.

Nate and Sophie were both looking at something on Nate's desk. Parker moved closer and felt something inside her sad angry place freeze up even as she asked. "…what is it?"

Nate's hand shook just a little bit as he brushed between the objects, like he had to physically touch them in the hopes they weren't actually real.

Three keys (to the building, Nate's apartment, and Eliot's studio Parker's brain registered), an ear bud, and the cell phone Hardison had given Eliot sat on top of a small pile of passports, ids, and badges that looked like the entire alias history Hardison had set up for Eliot for their crew.

And peaking out underneath the small pile was a well worn candid photo of the four of them in Nate's apartment Eliot must have taken with his phone at some point.

It was simple. No words. No explanation. No goodbyes.

Just quietly giving back the equivalent of his gun and badge and slipping away into the night.

They'd all sit down hard, the four sets of eyes barely visible peaking out from under a pile of identities mocking them.

Not one of them would break the silence for a long time.

They thought about complaints of "who wants my job? I get punched and kicked." That they never even responded to most of the time.

They thought about bruises and cuts and broken bones they'd gotten so good at pretending they didn't see.

They thought about the constant vigilance that made them all feel safe enough to relax and do their jobs.

They thought about a brother who took care of them no matter how much they pissed him off and no matter how tired he'd started to look these past few months, stretched thin looking after his younger siblings, a more constant and reliable force in their lives than either parent.

Then they thought of the odd one out raging at them over the com asking if any of them even wondered if he was still alive.

And how they'd all smiled at the sound of Eliot being Eliot as usual.

Nate slid the picture out from under the pile with more care than Parker normally handled priceless artifacts.

It was then she saw the words scrawled across the back, the simple explanation.

I have nothing left to give.