Number 06 │ A Leverage Fanfiction

The 12 Step Job│ Part 2

Second Act Rehabilitation Center, Hurley's Room

Hurley jerked awake with a snort, his bleary eyes scanning the dimly lit room. The last thing he remembered was his car, swerving, the airbag exploding into his face. But now? Now he was somewhere else entirely.

His hands trembled slightly as he rubbed his forehead, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. He turned his head, eyes darting around the unfamiliar space. And there, across from him, sat Nate, cool and calm as ever, leaning back in a chair like this was just another day at the office.

Hurley blinked, a wave of panic creeping over him. "Where am I? Last thing I remember, I was in my car. I could swear I hit something..." His voice trailed off as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

Nate didn't respond immediately. He just stared at Hurley with that knowing look, a mix of curiosity and calculation, as if he were sizing up a puzzle piece he was about to solve.

"Oh, yeah," Nate said, breaking the silence with his usual calm tone. "You hit something, all right. A little thing called rock bottom. Welcome to rehab."

Hurley's face paled, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Oh, my god..." he muttered

<>

I leaned back against the sofa in the HQ lounge, my fingers idly tapping the side of my sketchbook as I hummed the familiar tune of My Heart Will Go On. The melody helped calm my nerves, the soft stroke of the pencil against the paper an escape from the chaos outside. Just as I was getting lost in my sketch, a voice broke through the quiet.

"Yo, six, catch!" Eliot's voice called from behind me.

Without thinking, I snapped my hand up and caught the keys he tossed my way, a perfect catch by instinct alone.

I raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. "Where we going?" I asked, looking back at him as I set the keys in my lap.

"Parker just texted me a parking receipt for Hurley's real car," Hardison added, his voice muffled as he tapped away at his laptop.

I nodded, "Got it. Let's move," I said, standing up and heading for the door.

Parking lot

"Talk to me baby," Hardison mumbled, fiddling with Hurley's keys in his hands. His fingers brushed over the buttons before pressing one, the lock mechanism clicking from across the parking lot. A chirping sound echoed through the quiet lot.

Eliot's finger pointed to a spot in the distance. "Over there."

We slid out of the van, moving towards the car. Hardison reached the car first, unlocking it with a sharp flick of his wrist. I followed Eliot around to the back, my boots crunching against the gravel. The car's interior was an absolute mess—old takeout containers, half-drunk bottles, a level of chaos that screamed "I'm hiding something."

Eliot gave the car a once-over, his face scrunching in disgust. "Damn," he muttered, his voice thick with distaste. While Eliot leaned over to peer into the back seat, eyeing the mess, Hardison slid into the driver's seat, which was set suspiciously forward.

"No, man. Hurley's a big guy. The parking attendant's gotta be bigger. So why's the seat so far forward?" Eliot wondered aloud.

"I think I can pop the trunk without starting the car," Hardison said, moving to get out of the seat.

I took a step closer, narrowing my eyes. Something didn't feel right. "Somebody's been in the car," I murmured, my voice low but serious as i stopped him from stepping out.