From Nowhere To Somewhere Part II

[yansadracan]

Title: From Nowhere to Somewhere
Author: YanzaDracan
Disclaimer With the exception of the work noted as being originally mine, all works of fiction and characters thereof belong to their original creators/studios/producers/publishers. No money is being earned, and they are used without permission. In the case of RPS, the people being used as characters belong to themselves. I do not know them. Everything I've written is complete fiction. Any goofs, gaffs, bending of facts, or mistakes are mine.
Characters/Pairings: Eliot/Quinn; Parker; Hardison; Nate; Sophie; General Flores; Damien Moreau
Rating: R; Mostly for language, torture
Genre: Slash, het,
Warnings/spoilers: set after The Last Dam Job
Word Count: 5,492/11,100
Summary: Moreau escapes his San Lorenzo prison and sets out to extract revenge. He only finds Eliot, who lets himself be taken to protect the team from Moreau’s revenge.

He'd installed the security at the clinic, so knew exactly how to disarm it. He stripped and stood under the hot water of the shower until the water ran red. By the time he'd dried off most of the bleeding had stopped except for his mangled wrists and a few of the deeper cuts on his back and face. He was pulling on his pants when a gasp and curse sounded behind him.

"Who the hell!-Holy fuck, Spencer! What the hell happened?"

"Cut myself takin' out the trash." The exhausted unused voice sounded rusty.

"No shit." He walked around the retrieval specialist. "This trash got a name?"

"Not anymore. Just a toe tag."

"Sit your ass on the table, and let me look at you. You're gonna have more fuckin' stitches than granny's patchwork quilt."

Working efficiently but keeping up a running dialogue that garnered the occasional grunt or growl from his patient, Dr. Jules Anders was trying very hard not to let his anger at his friend's condition spill out. He should have known not to bother.

"You gonna pop that valve before you bust somethin'?" He asked quietly.

"I hope the son of a bitch that did this is dead. I may have to go find him just to make sure."

"He should be in the morgue if Interpol hasn't hauled him back to Europe."

"Interpol! You mean that ass, Sterling that was talking like he'd done something?"

"Yeah."

"Dammit Eliot. If this is gonna happen to you, I'd rather you go back to bein' a bad guy." The dark forehead rested against his shoulder. "Where the fuck was Quinn in all this?"

"I was takin' care of myself long before I started fuckin' Quinn." Eliot growled as he started to jerk away.

"That's not what I meant and you fuckin' know it." He clipped the last stitch on the broad back. "Can you lie down? I really need the light if I'm going to help you keep your pretty face."

Jules watched as Eliot fought the pain coursing through his body as he lay down. He knew the answer to his next question, but he had to ask.

"Let me give you something for the pain."

"No."

"Eliot."

"No."

"Half dose."

"Fine. Half."

He reached in his pocket for a vial. He felt the vise of Eliot's grip on his wrist. He opened his hand and let Eliot see the vial.

"Sorry, Jules. Havin' a few trust issues."

"I wouldn't do that to you."

"Yeah, well there were some others I thought the same about, but was recently proven wrong."

'The doctor reached out with his free hand and cupped the lacerated face.

"You have always been safe with me."

He released the wrist and relaxed.

"I'm really tired, Jules."

"Let me take care of you for a while." He whispered as the drug took effect.

The doctor smiled as the pale eyes closed and the exhausted body relaxed.

"You forgot to figure in your blood loss and exhaustion, old friend." He pulled on fresh gloves.

When he was done he helped his old teammate to the huge leather couch in his office and watched over him as he rested.

Hearing his staff coming in to start the day, he left the office to make sure they had work that would keep them away from his office. He was not surprised when he came back to the office to find it empty. He smiled when he saw the bottles of meds he'd left sitting on his desk were missing. He looked at the note he'd left telling Eliot he was welcome anytime, but within fourteen days to have his stitches removed. Double checking to make sure the retrieval specialist had actually left the office, he dialed a number.

"What the fucking hell happened!?"

%%%%%

Quinn threw his phone on the table his ears ringing from the shouting that had come over the phone. He knew he shouldn't have left, but if he'd stayed Moreau wouldn't have hesitated to shoot him for not doing what he wanted.

He'd come clean to the team about Flores hiring him. He did not tell them how Flores had neatly blackmailed him emotionally into taking the job by threatening to bring in someone who would not care how badly Eliot was hurt or even if he survived Moreau. He'd made San Lorenzo dig deep in their coffers for putting him between a rock and hard place.

If he invested wisely he could be very selective about any jobs in the future, and he hoped Eliot would be a part of that future. Though the team was upset with him, they were working on forgiving him because he was Eliot's, as Parker had so bluntly stated though the way she'd stared at him with those dark blue eyes narrowed down to slits, he had his doubts. He knew he was glad to be half a world away from San Lorenzo because Nathan Ford's brain fueling Hardison's hacker's skills scared the bejesus out of him.

He at least had a starting point to begin his search for Eliot. He wanted him home, in his arms, in their bed where he belonged and not wandering the streets of Portland dealing with his pain and nightmares by himself.

If Eliot found out Doc Jules had called him, in his present state of mind he would probably consider that just one more betrayal by people he considered family, and go further underground. He would have to wait a couple days before he searched the neighborhood where the clinic was located to throw off any suspicion.

Knowing he wouldn't sleep in their too big bed, he stretched out on the couch needing to sleep if he was going to be combing through the less savory parts of the city after dark.

Three days of no success, Quinn gave in to his frustration and went to visit Doc Jules at home.

"He's not here." Jules greeted him with a frown.

Quinn rolled his eyes. "I didn't think he was. How bad was he?"

"So many stitches I lost track. He looked like Frankenfuckingstein's monster when he went out of door." He stepped back and let the younger man through the door. "His face-I did the best I could, but I don't know how much scarring there'll be." He threw back the bourbon in his glass.

"I don't care. I just want him home." Quinn fought the urge to throw his glass into the fireplace.

"I hate to tell you this, 'ol son, it may be awhile before you see Eliot. He'll not come back until he thinks he's worked out all his triggers and is safe to be around." The doctor refilled Quinn's glass.

"Did you say there's a baby in the group?"

"Couple three months old." Quinn confirmed.

"If there's a kid around he'll make double sure." He said more to himself then Quinn.

"Perfect." The hitter murmured sarcastically.

%%%%%

He pulled the oversized hood up so it kept his face in the shadows. He knew he was in the area where Mac and the other vets from the college experiment stayed, but he didn't seek them out-he just wanted to be somewhere that if something triggered a flashback or he got stuck in a nightmare, there were familiar sounds and smells that might pull him back to reality.

It was a week since Jules had stitched him back together and so far things hadn't been too bad. Nightmares when he did sleep, but no flashbacks. His old nightmares of Damien Moreau merged with his new nightmares, and developed all the makings of an award winning horror movie. He was hoping by the time his stitches were removed he'd have his brain back under control. After that he'd worry about residual scarring. He wouldn't be able to work a con if the scars were too noticeable. Things like that stood out in the minds of even the most oblivious of people.

Quinn would be their better choice. Physically in his prime, that smooth baby face, whiskey colored eyes, and the morals of a shark, he'd do what was needed and never lose a wink of sleep, or question Nate when the mastermind's plans started going sideways. The kid loved the rush of getting away with only the narrowest of cushions between him and disaster.

Yes, Nate and Quinn would be a match made in thieves' heaven.

A gloved hand absent mindedly rubbed his chest at the thought of not seeing Quinn, Rowena or any of the team again.

%%%%%

"I need your help."

"Anything you want, little mama." Hardison looked up from his computer screen. "What are we stealing?"

"Eliot." She perched on the edge of the chair ready to run. "I want to steal Eliot from wherever he is."

"Parker, we don't know where to find Eliot. Even his doctor friend doesn't know where he went. We're doing everything we can to find him. See?" The hacker pointed to the pictures and words moving across multiple screens too fast to read.

"NO! We're not doing everything we can. You don't find someone like Eliot with a computer." She jumped up and began to pace. "He's somewhere, and the only one looking somewhere is Quinn. The rest of us are just sitting here searching nowhere, waiting on some magic answer from your stupid computer!"

"Parker…Parker…You've got to calm down. Nate and Sophie are working out a profile of where he might be while Quinn's checking the places someone like them hangs." He reached out to pull the thief in for a hug and was surprised when she slapped his hands away.

"Someone like them! A profile! Dammit Alec that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say. Profiling Eliot is like profiling…me. We don't have a profile. If we have a profile we're predictable, if we're predictable we can't do our jobs, and if he's not somewhere then he's nowhere! We've been nowhere! This…this…family was supposed to keep us from ever going back to nowhere!" She was shouting by the time she finished the sentence.

Quinn, Nate and Sophie rushed in the room to see what had happened just in time to watch Parker run out the door leaving a bewildered Hardison in the middle of the room.

"What was that all about?" Sophie looked pointedly at Hardison.

"She doesn't think we're doing all we can to find Eliot." He rubbed a hand over his short-cropped curls.

"She's right."Quinn's quiet tenor broke the quiet.

"WHAT!" The other three stared at him.

"You don't find a man like Eliot Spencer using a computer or a profile." He looked at Nate. "Did you ever catch Eliot when you chased him?" Nate shook his head. "Come close?"

"I thought I was, but he'd change his MO and I'd lose him again."

"Exactly." Quinn smiled broadly then looked at his watch. "Gotta go. Time to make the rounds."

"Rounds?" Nate looked at Hardison.

"Places close to Anders' office where he thinks Eliot might be." Hardison pulled up a map on one of the plasma screens. "He thinks Eliot'll stay in the general area until the doc takes his stitches out."

Before the hacker could continue, Nate ran out yelling Quinn's name, only to find Parker had waylaid the hitter on his way vehicle.

"Quinn!" Nate called. "You're going to Anders' office?"

"No. I always go to the house on his days off."

"We're going with you."

"What?!" Parker and Quinn said together.

"Parker's right. We've waited long enough for Eliot to come home. I want to talk to your doctor friend."

"Nate…"

The mastermind held up his hand. "We've been expecting you to bring him home because a retrieval specialist should be able to catch a retrieval specialist. That was our first in a long line of mistaken assumptions." He looked up at their confused expressions. "Come back inside and we'll go see Dr. Anders together."

%%%%%

"TWO DAYS AGO!" Parker moved between the angry Quinn and the doctor. "WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU CALL!"

"I promised him I wouldn't." Anders sat heavily in his chair. He looked up at their expectant faces.

Quinn reigned in his temper and his panic.

"Why would you promise him something like that?"

Jules Anders looked into whiskey colored eyes that were full of confusion, guilt, and pain. He began to wonder if Eliot had taken his nightmares and built them into a delusion.

"He told me you didn't need him. His scars made him useless on the job. You had Quinn to keep you safe. I thought he had gone home and you," his glare took in the team, "had rejected him."

"None of us have seen him." Sophie tried to calm herself as Rowena began to fuss.

"He's seen you. He watches over you."

Hardison reached for his computer.

"That's not possible. We have measures, cameras…"

"Who installed those measures?" Nate asked the hacker.

"Eliot."

"Jules, how bad is the scarring?" Quinn's mind was racing to all the ways this could be really bad.

"Minimal. Once the pink fades out of the tissue they'll be hardly noticeable. Six months to a year only someone close as a lover should even see them."

"What does Eliot see, Doctor?" Sophie asked quietly as she soothed their daughter.

"The night I sewed him up I jokingly said he looked like my granny's patchwork quilt." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We've known each other a long time, and he was fine with it, but he's spent too much time alone since Moreau with nothing to keep him grounded in reality."

"Only seeing us at night gives him no point of reference that we've been looking for him." Sophie filled in the rest.

"Thanks, Doc." Nate stood abruptly. "Let's go. We need a new plan."

"What new plan?" Parker asked. "I didn't know we had an old plan?"

Nate turned to correct the thief who was standing with her arms crossed stubbornly. His eyes went wide.

"New plan."

The room fell silent. Even Rowena stared at him, waiting.

"Parker's going to steal Eliot for us."

"I am?"

"She is?" Hardison and Sophie parroted.

"It's perfect." Quinn patted her on the shoulder and herded them out the door.

%%%%%

"Hey, Spook!"

Eliot turned his head just enough to see who was speaking, without giving anything away. He knew the man walking toward him, but couldn't remember from where.

"It's Mac. Sempre Fi from that study where we kicked college boy ass."

Eliot smiled briefly.

"Hey man. How ya been?"

"Pretty good. That deal your brother-in-law got us into's been working-helping us get back on our feet and back out in the real world.

Eliot paused trying to remember the details from after the job. Hardison had told the guys Parker was his sister, and they'd been looking for him so the men would trust the team the way they'd come to trust Eliot.

"What're you doin' back out here? Why aren't you home with your family?" The older man asked.

"Something went down…" Eliot closed his eyes trying to set things right in his mind. He pushed his hood back, revealing his scars. "I'm Frankenstein. I'll scare the baby. They have someone younger, handsome, to protect them."

"Man, are you off your meds? They're yer family. They can't replace family. I sure don't see no Frankenstein. Hell, I've got worse scars from cuttin' myself shavin'-when I still shaved-then you got on your cheek."

Eliot blinked, confused at the old vet's words.

"But the doc said…"

"What? One of those stressed out VA docs?" Mac put his hand on Eliot's shoulder and tried to coax him inside the shelter. Maybe they'd let him call his family.

Eliot shook his head. "Naw, man, he's a friend. When he was sewin'…" Eliot shook his head again.

"A friend? I'll bet he was joshin' ya so you wouldn't worry about yer pretty face." Mac cajoled as he edged them closer to the door.

"He said that."

"Who?"

"Jules."

"Who's Jules?"

"Friend."

"Where's he live?' Mac desperately wanted to help the confused man to repay all they'd done for him. "Do you remember his phone number?"

"No!" Eliot stopped. "No phones. He can trace the phones."

"Who can trace the phones, Spook?"

"Man…Moreau…no Hardison…" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have to go."

"Spook, No! Stay here with me." He grabbed Eliot's sleeve. "Sometimes you just have to sit tight for someone to find you."

"They don't wanna find me." He looked around. "Can't sit still. Gotta go." He pulled his sleeve from Mac's fingers and disappeared into the crowd.

%%%%%

Talking with Mac made him realize how clouded his mind had become. He thought being away from everything he knew would help him get clarity, but it only seemed to be adding to the confusion. He couldn't stay this way. If he didn't soon get his control back he'd become like Mac and the others he'd seen at the shelter, except he'd end up hurting someone. He tried to pull images of where he'd found what he needed when he couldn't find it within himself.

Going back to the SRO where'd he'd left his kit, the smells and oppression of the place closed in on him. Grabbing the backpack he cleared his mind as best he could while keeping awareness of his surroundings. As the sky turned dark he continued to walk. Keeping to the shadows, moving with the darkness there was an underlying scent to the area. Keeping close to the wall, he circumvented the houses on the dead end street. There were only a few. He could feel their age as he stopped at the last one before he returned to the main thoroughfare.

In the shadows of an ancient oak was a seat. Ever cautious he listened and watched. All the houses were dark save the one at the end of the street. He settled in the seat that was angled so his back rested against the tree. Folding his legs so he sat tailor fashion, he leaned against the tree with an ease that surprised him, slipped into a meditative state.

He opened his eyes and looked down at his bare chest and buckskin pants. Bright pink lines of his new scars crisscrossed his chest and arms. He recognized the place he'd only ever seen in his dreams. His great grandparents, they'd taught him many things since he was a child, and had helped preserve what little sanity he had left.

E-du-di, Elisi, why have you come?

We heard your distress, grandson.

The old woman's sharp eyes took in everything about him. You are nothing but flesh and bone. What ails you, child?

I am lost inside too many realities in my mind.

Come abide for a time. The old man moved to his right as his great grandmother took the left, and led him into a two room cabin.

Settling him on palette by the fire, she covered him with a bear skin.

Rest, heal, we will talk of your loss when you have rested and regained your strength.

Unable to resist, the blue/grey eyes closed trusting his ancestors would keep him from harm while they healed his spirit.

When he opened his eyes, breakfast sat on the table. Under the watchful eye of his Elders, he ate until something told him it was time.

I have to go.

We will be here when we are needed, came their cryptic answer.

He stepped through the cabin door and…

Opened his eyes just as the first blush of dawn lit the sky.

Feeling more himself than he had since he'd looked up and recognized Quinn's eyes staring at him from behind the balaclava.

Looking around he realized he was sitting in the backyard of his own house, and that he needed to get moving. Though he felt better, he still didn't feel up to human company.

Still keeping to the shadows, he slipped around the wall and into the flow of traffic.

%%%%%

Leaving Nate with Sophie and Rowena in the van, Quinn and Hardison stood waiting for Parker to decide which way they were going.

Parker had crawled inside her own mental hell trying to think like Eliot. He was the strongest person she knew, but even the strongest go down if you hit them enough times. Just as she was about to give voice to her frustration, something tickled her nose.

Closing her eyes, she let her other senses find what she wanted.

A few feet away two men stood talking-one pointing as though giving directions. She watched for a few more minutes as the man walked into a small park further down the street and bent down to talk to someone else that caused Parker to jerk like she'd been shot and take off toward the park, Quinn hard on her heels, and Hardison hard pressed to catch up.

"Wait a minute, girl!" The hacker called after them. "Where are you?...What did you…" He finally gave up and ran after the other two.

"Hey! You!" Parker shouted. "Not you." She told two women who stopped to stare at the shout. "You with the grey beard thing."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Who are you?" She sniffed again. "I know that smell."

"Mac looked at the slim blonde for a minute. "Yer Spook's sister." He crowed.

"Who's Spook." Now it was Parker's turn to be confused.

"I think he's talking about Eliot, Parker." Quinn prompted.

"Yeah. Eliot…I mean Spook." She turned back to Mac. "Where is he?"

"That's not the way it works down here, little lady." Mac backed up a step at the look on all three faces.

"What's to work? We want Eliot-you know where Eliot is-see nothing to know."

"Some folks come down here for a little privacy. Eliot looked like he needed some of that." Mac's forehead pulled down in a frown. "He told me you folks didn't want him no more."

"Sir…Mac…" Quinn spread his hands as he stepped forward. "There was an accident. Eliot…Spook's injuries caused him to become confused. We've been looking for him for more than a month."

Mac watched the trio closely. "These two I know." He squinted at Quinn. "I don't know you."

Parker wanted to giggle when Quinn blushed just because he was cute, but if Mac was going to tell them something so she needed to be kinda normal.

"Eliot and I are…close." He dropped his head to hide behind his hair.

The gesture was so reminiscent of Spook Mac took pity on them.

"I guess it's been a day or so. Tried to get him to go in the shelter, maybe make a call but he said someone named Moreau or Hardison could track you on the phones. Then he seemed really confused, but I couldn't get him to stay." Mac admitted.

He was surprised when two strong arms wrapped around him as Parker gave him a hug.

"Thank you. You just made it easier for me to steal him back."

They found little traces of him here and there, but after walking the streets in the vicinity of the park and shelter all day, Hardison was complaining about his feet hurting.

For three days they widened their search radius with no results.

"I can practically feel him." Parker ground out. "Why won't he let me see him?"

The team stood near the vendor selling cold drinks.

"Let's have a drink and sit in the shade for a few minutes." Nate suggested. "I'll buy."

The three youngest sprawled on the grass while Nate and Sophie opted for a nearby bench Rowena's stroller between them. Still restless, Parker climbed an old birch tree and stretched out on a lower limb.

Relieved she finally relaxed everyone else did too until she jumped off the limb and took off at run across the park. Caught flat-footed, Parker had a head start on the rest of the team. When Quinn and Hardison caught up to the blonde she was hanging from the neck of their lost retrieval specialist, and it looked like he was hugging her just as hard as she was hugging him.

When they got closer they could hear her chastising him for going nowhere when he had somewhere to be. His hood kept his face in shadow as much as his face buried against Parker's neck breathing in her sunshine scent. Before anyone could slow him down, Hardison had wrapped his long arms around both of them.

When they let go, Sophie stepped in.

"I'm very cross with you. You've missed some very important babysitting and milestones in Rowena's life."

"Did Nate miss 'em?"

"No."

"That's all that matters."

"No, Eliot. It is not all that matters."

Nate's hug was fast and hard. His eyes were red-rimmed, not from alcohol, but from holding back his emotions. He moved to pull down Eliot's hood, but a hard hand on his wrist and a shake of the head let Nate know he wasn't ready.

The only one left was Quinn. Too well trained to fidget, he waited quietly with his eyes on the ground. A finger under his chin raised his head.

"Eliot." He had to stop and clear the lump out of his throat. "I'm…" Fingertips on his lips kept the words from tumbling out.

Eliot looked up to see the team-his family had formed a circle around him and Quinn. Though his eyes were locked on the younger man's, his words were for all of them.

"I've got things mostly straight, and it's going to take time to work out some trust issues, but if you're willing, I want to work through this."

When Quinn gave a short nod, Eliot pulled him into his arms.

"Eliot." He spoke against his throat.

"We'll take care of family business when we're home, Quinn. It'll keep." Eliot pulled back, but kept his arm around his waist.

"So we walkin' or ridin'?" He asked.

Everyone groaned except Parker and Quinn.

"Walking!" She declared happily as she pressed against Eliot's other side.

%%%%%

The weather was perfect their penthouse perfect, the city spread before them while Eliot critiqued their meal holding Rowena in one arm while he and Quinn ate.

Not big on Broadway shows, they'd volunteered to babysit while the others had a night on the town. The occasion of their one year anniversary and Rowena's second birthday had been all the excuse Sophie had needed to plan a trip to New York City.

It hadn't been easy. There'd been yelling with scorching tones and cutting words, arctic silences, and on more than one occasion-blood, but the slim platinum bands were a testament to their commitment.

Quinn looked across the table and pondered the strange turns his life had taken. If you'd have told him six years ago this is where'd he be-he'd have punched you for even hinting at a relationship between him and Eliot Spencer, and babysitting, Phfft, that suggestion would have gotten you laughed out of the room. Now there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

While Quinn was giving Rowena her bath, Eliot sat where he could watch the bathroom door then grabbed Hardison's computer and started typing. He'd heard a voice in the lobby while they were taking a turn around the block with Ro. A voice he hoped never to hear again.

Staring at the computer he could feel his body preparing itself for battle. A high pitch squeal and a childish giggle pulled his attention from the screen. The warm, loving tones in Quinn's voice as he played with Rowena grounded him in the present. He cleared the computer and joined the two most important people in his life.

%%%%%

Dark eyes opened slowly surveying the room. The blue numbers told him it was 3 am, but there was no hint of what had awaken him, his instincts screaming in his head 'DANGER!'. He sat up and reached for the light, glad for once his wife had remained at home.

"You might not want to do that unless you're ready to admire your handiwork first hand." A deep gravel voice came from the shadowed chair by the window.

"Spencer?" He snapped on the bedside lamp, but his assassin turned friend turned savior to his country was still in the shadows. "They said you had disappeared."

"Shame that's not quite right-would have tied everything up in a neat little package for you. All that nasty baggage gone-just like that." The retrieval specialist snapped his fingers.

President Flores shivered at the dead tone in Spencer's voice. General Flores understood it perfectly.

"You know," he continued conversationally, "you would think after getting fucked over by my own crew so many times that it wouldn't matter when someone I considered a friend, who I put my life in jeopardy for not once, but three times, would think it perfectly okay to do the same thing. I mean after all I'm a bad man-a mercenary, Damien Moreau's pet assassin, I have the blood of countless lives on my soul so that made it perfectly justifiable to convince my lover, with not only a huge chunk of money from the treasury, but a good piece of your personal fortune that putting my life and the lives of my family in the sights of a psychopath was acceptable collateral damage."

Flores flinched when Eliot leaned forward, but he simply rested his elbows on knees clasping his hands together as he continued. He was captivated by how loquacious the normally taciturn man had become. He must have said it out loud because there was a nasty chuckle from the shadows.

"Got no problem talkin' when I've got something to say, just not so in love with the sound of my own voice that I talk just to make noise." He stood and walked to the window and into the light though his face was still in the shadows. "Quinn's usually a bright boy, but you really sold him with how he could protect me, control the scene, and control Damien Moreau." This time the laugh was bitter. "No one ever controlled Damien. His unpredictability was what got him to where he was until he met the perfect foil to his insanity-Nathan Ford-a psychopathic genius with a Jesuit guilt complex-that and he can still be trained." Eliot shrugged and turned back toward the bed. "I'm sorry if I ruined your plan for cleaning all the skeletons out of your closet by surviving."

"I knew you would survive." Flores stated quietly, unable to predict the outcome of this conversation.

"I almost didn't. You almost succeeded where countless interrogators on countless missions didn't."

Flores paled as Spencer stepped into the light. The ruggedly handsome face he'd last seen tan and smiling across his dining room table was still handsome, but the thin silvery lines would be carried forever as a reminder of a betrayal of love and trust. He moved back into the dark.

"When I came here tonight I didn't know whether to kill you or leave you with your own reminder of the consequences of your actions."

Pale predator's eyes watched the man sitting on the edge of the bed. Flores saw the thin band as the left hand as it tugged on the patch of whiskers under the full lower lip, but before he could appeal to whatever the ring meant, Spencer continued his monologue.

"But I am not that man anymore. When I was lost in the nowhere, a good friend told me to sit tight that someone would come for me because he had seen how much I mattered to them. So I'm not going to kill you. That would be too easy for you, and I want you to live a very long life with the memories of what you did, and what you lost."

"Spencer."

Eliot cut him off with a shake of his head.

"We will never speak again."

He threw something on the bed as he walked out of the room.

A shaking hand reached out and turned the picture Spencer had thrown down to the light. It was a picture taken of the Flores family when Spencer had introduced them to Quinn. He remembered the peace and happiness Spencer had projected that day. Tears filled his eyes as it finally struck home what he'd lost by his own hand.

%%%%%

Stepping outside Flores' hotel room, he stopped and breathed, letting everything he'd just gone through slough away like a snake shedding its skin. Always aware, he was not surprised at the honeyed voice in his ear.

"Can we close this book, now?"

Turning his head to meet whiskey colored eyes, he smiled.

"Closed."

Side by side they walked away from the past and into the future.

~ Fini ~

Comments

[jesco0307.livejournal.com]

I absolutely love Eliot/Quinn, so you putting them together is a complete win. I love the family you've created with Eliot being Rowena's dad. Nice twist. Eliot's thoughts of leaving them so Nate can bond with "his" daughter totally fits his character.

I so want to see Moreau escaping prison on the show, so I love fic of him escaping and coming after Eliot. FTW!!!

But oh, Quinn!!! Boy, you meant well but you messed up seriously. And Flores, seriously? Damn, that was a twist I didn't see coming, but yay for it anyway!

Poor, poor Eliot, betrayed, tortured and totally confused. Good I like hurt!Eliot so much, lol. I'm glad you healed him though.

The monologue he had with Flores was beautiful and I love him leaving the picture and Flores realizing what he'd cost himself!

You really have a run with your BBs!

[yanzadracan.livejournal.com]

Glad you enjoyed. I've always hated that Eliot was the odd man out, but his profession would make that the norm. Always moving and changing jobs and places. His and Quinn's personalities meshed so well during The Dam Job I could not resist. Definitely be doing more with these boys.

[(Anonymous)]

I really liked the idea of this story, and the emotion involved, but I wasn't really a fan of the ending. It seems like Quinn got off way too easy for his role in everything. I would have liked to see him earn the group/Eliot's forgiveness over the course of the story.

Otherwise though, I really liked it.

[yanzadracan.livejournal.com]

Thanks for taking the time to read. I have to admit I ran short on time and cut short Quinn's penance. I've got a timestamp started because the unfinished nature of the story.