Eliot was sick and tired of Blockers.

Whoever invented them, frankly, deserved a firm handshake and a solid punch to the jaw - not necessarily in that order.

The worst part about Blockers, however, (other than the feeling of jarring disconnect and the constant paranoia on or off of them) was the need to take them consistently. Like clockwork. The schedule must be precise or using them over any extended period of time would make his psychillium shrivel up and then he'd be worse than dead.

Or at least that's what his (Cluster-)Mother had told him. Never did know when that woman was joking.

But for the first time since his cluster had died for him, Eliot was back on a team. Back to being part of something - even if it wasn't the same. Could never be the same. And they didn't spend all the time together, no - but they spent enough that even Hardison was beginning to notice.

Ominous black pills weren't exactly subtle.

But he took them anyway, because being exposed was worse than being stared at whenever he opened the bottle. Connecting with another sensate more dangerous than the edge of worry he saw flicker across Nate's face whenever he left suddenly one day and the next came back with a new stock. Being weak worse than the face Sophie half-pulled when she realized that the bottle had no label.

He'd take them believing him crazy or a juicer over BPO hunting him down and torturing him any day.

But today he was almost out. Today, he was on a job and he was almost out - because his last job went long and he didn't think that Nate would pick another so soon and he's never letting his stock drop this low again.

He didn't want to put anyone in danger.

So he made the calculation. Made the choice.

And in the middle of the con he dropped out of contact, ditching everything electronic inside a lead box to meet his dealer.

And Parker nearly got caught.

Nate didn't say anything, but Eliot caught his eyes narrowing when the previously empty bottle was full.

He tried not to feel guilty.

"Do you know what they are?" Sophie asks Nate after Eliot leaves, the Mastermind staring after where their Hitter had gone. "Nate, if they're dangerous - if he's an addict -"

"He takes them like medications," The former IYS employee counters, crossing his arms. "He takes them like he needs them for his health, not his pleasure."

"Then what, he's sick?" Hardison joined. "Or he's got something going on in his head? He seems fine. Normal, even, for a criminal that's good at beating heads in."

"What are you guys talking about?" Parker suddenly jumped into the conversation, cramming cereal into her mouth with one hand.

"Eliot … left, today," Sophie explains delicately. "We think he went to get more of those pills he's always taking."

"Oh, the Blockers?" Parker asks, nodding with understanding. "Well he needs them, so what's the problem?"

"Blockers?" Hardison repeats. "What do you mean, Blockers?"

"That's what they're called: Blockers," Parker repeats. "You didn't know that?"

"How do you know this?" Nate asks seriously. "Did he tell you?"

"No, but my … I know someone who used to have to take Blockers," Parker half-lies.

"Why are they called 'Blockers'?" Sophie asks, eyes flickering to the door. "What do they block?"

"They block the Whispers, duh," Parker laughed, and refused to say anything more on the subject.

No one felt reassured.

When Parker was little, and her brother was littler, she knew he was different.

Before he died, that was.

Nick Talked different - talked to air, sometimes. Other times he talked in languages he never learned and like people he wasn't. About places he'd never been and the people he'd never seen. Parker loved it - it was their secret, just the two of them - and the Others too. Nick was special, and he was special up until the day he died.

But one day Nick started taking pills that she didn't know how he got. He stopped Talking, and he stopped Sharing; she hated it. But he had insisted, said it was safer. He told her that he had to - or the Whispers would get in.

Parker was older than him, but Nick was the smart one. Always was the smart one. Nick picked up on the things that Parker could never manage to … so she let him be.

So she taught him how to ride a bike, because before the Blockers he knew how but now he didn't. She taught him so he would be happier, so he would smile again even though he had to fight the Whispers.

Then he died and it was all her fault.

When she first met the team, first saw Eliot take the Blockers, she was reminded of Nick the first time he took them. When the Others were gone and it was just him in his head. He hated being alone in his head, but he had to keep out the Whispers. That's what he said.

Eliot looked like he hated being alone in his head, too.

So she poked his bruises. Stole his wallet and filled it with candy wrappers and coupons for tampons. She replaced his cooking knives with plastic ones and left the empty milk jug in the fridge.

Anything to take the look of alone off of his face.

Anything to make him less like Nick and more like Eliot.

Sometimes, it even worked.

The team didn't learn about Eliot's daughter until they had already split up twice and came together again in Boston.

"My God, Sophie, I don't care!" Eliot suddenly burst, cradling his stomach where his broken ribs were jarred. "For fucks sake - I get enough babble about the theatre from my kid, I don't need any more from you!"

(Nate blamed the concussion and the two pints of beer for Eliot's lack of filter.)

"Kid?" Sophie prompted him, slipping into the voice that she used whenever a mark had let something slip but hadn't wised up to her tricks. "Right. What's their name again?"

"Ada," Eliot grumbled, digging his palms into his eyes. "She's driving me nuts, going on about how she's nervous over her college apps and auditions and stuff. So I don't need any more from you."

"That's fine, I'll leave you be," Sophie exits gracefully - slipping as quietly as she could over to where Hardison was eavesdropping and frantically typing away at his computer.

"No records whatsoever of an Ada Spencer," Hardison barely whispered. "No birth records, no adoption records, no nothing. Did you know he was a dad?"

"No," Sophie answered, watching as their Hitter began to drop off into sleep. "But try and find her. If something happens to Eliot …"

She trailed off. Didn't have to say what she was thinking, Hardison nodded his understanding.
"Gotcha."

"I'll go tell Nate."

Tara didn't respect the unspoken rules around Eliot and the secrets that he could never tell. She stared, she glanced, and she so obviously looked at him - picking him apart - that Eliot could hardly stand it. He wanted to punch her face in - anything to get her to stop.

He missed Sophie now more than ever.

"So are you crazy?" She asks him after he took a blocker, the team gradually gathering for another of Hardison's briefings.

"Excuse me?" Eliot actually has to take a second to process her words, they're so unexpected. "What?"

"The pills," She clarifies, and he can see the rest of his team warring between speaking up for him and staying back to see what she managed to dig up. For now, the second seems to be winning.

"That is none of your business," He growls, but to no effect.

"Oh come on," Tara scoffs, sprawling across the couch - their couch - and tilting her head in a way that broadcasts just how beautiful she and how she knows it. It pisses him off - Sophie was never like that, and Sophie was - is - far more beautiful than Tara ever could be. "You're an angry, trigger happy hitman who takes pills religiously. You have to be crazy."

"Hey!" Parker protests, with Hardison quickly following.

"They're not because I'm crazy," Eliot grits out, and it's all rushing back. The excuses, the taunts, the anger. Like it was before he was part of The Archipelago. The early days when he thought that there was something wrong with him. "I'm not crazy."

"Look if you're going to go off the rails we deserve to know," Tara snaps at him. "You could kill any of us easily. If you're a threat we deserve to know."

"I am in control of myself," Eliot is saying, and he felt cornered. Like the world is against him.

"And if you're suddenly not?" Tara bares down on him. "Then what?"

"Tara," Nate suddenly speaks up, and it's taking everything Eliot has not to run for the door. "I think you should take this con off. Take a vacation."

Tara scoffs, like she can't imagine why Nate wouldn't immediately take her side. "What, you're suspending me? Because I'm right?"

"If you want to call it that," Nate tilts his head, mild as milk. "I prefer to think of it as telling you to get out of this room - and probably also this state - until the chance of your imminent injury is less likely."

"You wouldn't let him hurt me," Tara laughs sharply, with certainty.

"Who said anything about Eliot?"

Tara left soon after, the grifter in her pretending that she wasn't running with her tail between her legs. Eliot still has to fight to control his breathing.

"She's a bitch," He finally has the ability to say.

"I hate her and I miss Sophie," Parker concurs, curling on the couch where the stench of Tara's perfume still lingers. "When will she come back?"
"Hey, man," Hardison bowls over Parker's question. "We aren't gonna ask. We never ask - you know that's how we roll, you know? No need to get all 'I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you' cuz we're chill and good with secrets and stuff -"

"Hardison," Eliot cuts off his babbling, dully comforted by the familiarity.

"Right," The Hacker checks himself. "Just - she said a lot of shit. And whether or not it's true - and I don't really think it is, me, just saying - but whether or not it is we trust you. If it was something we needed to be prepared for you woulda told us a long time ago, and I believe that. I really do."

He can feel Nate crossing the room, handing Parker his coffee cup and sitting on the coffee table in front of where Eliot was still coiled, ready for an attack that will never come. Eliot forces himself to look at the older man.

"Eliot," Nate speaks, his voice low and gentle. Like how he talked to Sophie when she got quiet, or Parker when she got frustrated. He never talked to Eliot like that before - never had to. "We are a team. We fight for each other, and we help each other. If you find that you need us, we are here."

Eliot refused to acknowledge how much better that made him feel.