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The Our Mr Wilson Job

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When Harry first joined Leverage, he thought they’d been joking about the whole ‘kidnapping’ thing. As it was, he hit his eight month anniversary of working with the team on the same day he was kidnapped for the fifth time - not including the four attempted kidnappings that Eliot stopped. 

There was a certain routine to it all. Harry would wake up in a room, hands and sometimes feet bound, while a varying number of guards with alarmingly large guns kept watch on him. Harry would make small talk, throw the guards off enough that they’d underestimate him, maybe even leave him alone for a minute, which would give Parker enough time to free him. Or at least give him a signal to let him know he wasn’t alone.

The guards this time didn’t seem like the type who would fall for the ‘I’m just a harmless lawyer’ ruse. Or at least the glimpse he’d gotten of them hadn’t suggested that.

For a majority of the time that Harry had been conscious since being kidnapped, he’d been alone, sitting on the ground in a pitch black room, hands and feet both bound tightly, and a gag in his mouth that prevented him from talking. The gag seemed a bit like overkill - there wasn’t anyone in the room with him that he could possibly talk to - but these guards were nothing if not thorough. They’d even found his earpiece.

Harry trusted the team to find him and get him out safely, he had to. He didn’t have a choice otherwise. But the longer he went sitting in a dank, dark room - which he assumed was a basement given the lack of windows - with no sign from the rest of the team, the more worried he got. He tried to find some way out of the rope that was holding him, but it was tied expertly, and he got to a point where his struggles with it were just rubbing the skin on his wrists raw.

So sitting and waiting it was.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before the door to the room burst open, letting in a stream of light. Harry winced at the sudden brightness, pulling back into the corner where he’d been unceremoniously dumped earlier. Before his eyes could adjust to the light, he found himself being hauled to his feet by two vice-like grips on his arms. They were the only thing that kept him from face planting as he was led out of the room, not walking on his own two feet so much as being dragged across the ground. Every movement caused him to wince as the rope chafed against his wrists.

“Stop struggling,” a voice behind Harry’s left shoulder growled, giving his arm a hard jerk. Harry couldn’t help the soft cry of pain that rose up in his throat as the sudden movement made the rope pull tighter. 

“Hmphf, idiot,” a different voice on Harry’s other side muttered. Harry bit down hard on the gag in his mouth to keep from making any more noises.

Normally, Harry prided himself on his ability to stay calm in a tense situation, and his ability to read people and talk to them and figure out what they really wanted so he could give it to them. It was what made him a great lawyer - and what Sophie repeatedly told him would make him a great grifter, but he wasn’t quite there yet.

The gag in his mouth was definitely hampering his ability to talk to the people holding him and figure out what they actually wanted. However, now that his eyes had adjusted to the light and he could somewhat see who was escorting him - big, very strong looking, multiple guns, faces that looked like they could be set in stone for how little they reacted to anything - Harry got the feeling that he wouldn’t have been able to talk to them anyway. They were the kind of people who would beat someone up and leave them for dead for the simple pleasure of being able to do so - no paycheck required.

Relatedly, his composure was also failing, and he could feel his heartbeat quicken as he was led up to another door. 

When the door opened, Harry found himself being dragged outside into the bright sun. He winced, ducking his head against the sun and the sudden blast of heat. He had no idea where he was, but it was bright, hot, dusty, and very, very dry.

The hands keeping him upright vanished suddenly, and without support he tumbled to the ground, landing first on his knees then his face. A muffled cry of pain rose in Harry’s chest as he collided painfully with the ground, gravel digging into his cheek. As he laid there, trying to regain his bearings, he heard someone chuckle.

“God this is dumb, why can’t we just kill him now?” From his position on the ground, Harry could only make out the tires of what looked to be a large SUV, the image of multiple guards reflecting off the sleek doors.

“Because the Boss wants to wait,” a different voice replied. Harry was grateful that they didn’t seem intent on killing him immediately, but he didn’t want to still be around when the Boss got there.

This was far from the first time Harry had been kidnapped or threatened - he’d had a gun pointed at him more times than he could count - but this was the first time he couldn’t do anything about it. With his hands and feet tied he couldn’t get the leverage to roll over and see who was holding him, and with the gag he couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know if the team even knew where he was.

It took a fair bit of slow, careful maneuvering for him to turn his head enough to see four- no, five sets of boots grouped around him, all turned away and involved in their own conversation. None of them were paying attention to him, and he felt his heart race when he realized he was positioned close to the back of the car. 

Slowly, inch by inch, Harry shifted his position, hoping to get around the back of the car and to the other side where he could theoretically get away. At first, it worked. No one paid much attention to his slow shuffle of movement, and he even managed to hold back his small gasps of pain when the ropes binding him tugged the wrong way and rubbed at his already raw skin. Of course, it couldn’t work for long.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” A hand came out of nowhere and clamped down on the back of Harry’s neck, dragging him up to his knees. Harry struggled for a second, trying to escape, but the grip on his neck was like iron and had no give. “I said, where do you think you’re going?” The words were accompanied by a small shake, and Harry bit back a grunt of pain.

“What the hell are you doing?” Another voice spoke up, a little farther away and sounding disinterested in what was happening. The grip on the back of Harry’s neck vanished and he fell backwards, landing hard and pinning his arms under him. Another whimper of pain rose up in Harry’s chest that got caught behind the gag and he struggled for a moment, trying to see past the blinding sun above him.

“He was tryin’ to get away,” the first voice growled. From his position on the ground, Harry could just barely make out the outline of several people towering over him, their shadows the only thing blocking the clear blue sky.

“We’re not supposed to touch him until the Boss gets here,” the second person pointed out, boredom clear in his voice.

“What’s the point in that? The Boss is just gonna kill him anyway. I say we have a little fun first.” The figure on Harry’s left cracked his knuckles, and Harry could just make out the mean smile on his face. 

Before Harry could even react or try to get away, there was a crackling noise and the man's entire body tensed up. A second later he fell to the ground, revealing a lithe figure standing behind him.

“Who’s next?” Harry had never been happier to see Parker with a taser than he was in that moment.

It took a second for the rest of the guards to react, and by the time any of them reached for her, Parker was gone.

It descended into chaos immediately, and Harry could do little other than continue trying to inch his way along the ground and away from the main fighting. He managed to flip himself back onto his stomach as he moved, and only vaguely paid attention to the sounds of kicking and punching and broken bones around him - a good sign that Eliot had entered the fray.

A hand landed in the center of Harry’s back, holding him down, and he started struggling against it. His thrashing only increased when he felt the cool press of a blade against his arm.

“Stop struggling,” came Parker’s voice, and he froze - not quite relaxing all the way, given Parker had a knife at his back. With decisive cuts she sliced through the ropes on his wrists and ankles, but before he could get to his hands and knees by himself she hauled him to his feet as if he was nothing. She didn’t give him time to loosen the gag on his mouth, instead dragging him towards a small car parked on the other side of the SUV that definitely hadn’t been there a minute ago. She all but threw him into the backseat and he crashed into the opposite side door. She climbed in a moment after, looking unphased as always. Harry looked up and briefly caught Sophie’s eyes in the rearview mirror before Eliot jumped in the front passenger seat and the car peeled away, leaving nothing but a trail of dust and a pile of bodies.

“Everyone alright?” Sophie asked as the car skidded around a barrier, throwing Harry against the door once again. He struggled with the gag and eventually pulled it off, leaving his mouth dry and tasting like dirt.

“Fine,” Harry coughed. Parker passed him a bottle of water and an earbud, not bothered as the car spun into another tight turn. Harry downed half the water bottle before pausing to put the earbud in. “That was- a lot,” he said once his mouth no longer tasted like dirt.

“Well we were waiting for a better opportunity when someone started drawing attention to himself,” Eliot growled from the passenger seat. 

“Oh, yeah,” Harry smiled sheepishly and took another long drink of water.

“Yeah dude, you couldn’t have waited another minute?” Breanna’s voice came over the comm.

“I- I wasn’t sure if you’d get there in time,” he admitted hesitantly, fiddling with the wrapper on the bottle of water.

“Don’t be silly,” Sophie scoffed. He glanced up and saw Sophie staring at him in the rearview mirror, a small smile playing on her lips. “We’d never let anyone hurt our Mr. Wilson.”