Thank you SOOOOOO much to everyone who has followed and stuck with me through the creation of this story. I never thought that people would be as attracted to this story as they have been. It's wonderful to see and hear from others who have a bit of Elphie love. Thank you thank you thank you for taking the time to read and review!

He was lying in the hosptial bed; an IV attached to his arm, and machines attached to his body monitoring his heartbeat and his blood pressure. And while he was in an drug induced sleep, he was alive and the doctors had stated that all indicators suggested he'd be just fine – and aware - once the pain meds they'd pumped into his system ran out.

And she was so happy she was nearly prancing around like Parker on a sugar high.

Leaning over him, she brushed the hair away from his face, relishing in the warmth of his skin. She was lucky. So lucky.

It had been close. The shot to his back had missed his vertebrae by less than a centimeter, and it had missed his heart by just a centimeter. A half a breath to the left, or one breath lower and she would have lost him. Lost him before she'd had a chance to tell him that he'd given her more than she ever expected. More than she deserved.

So she'd spent the last 3 hours sitting in the ICU room they'd moved him to, staring at him... touching him. Telling his silent, unaware figure that she wanted him.

Taking a sip of the horrid coffee that someone had gotten for her from a vending machine, she scootched her chair a little closer to the side of his bed. Setting the cup down, she reached for his hand and, locking her fingers with his she began talking to him again. "So, I was thinking, when you wake up, we should hammer out some name choices, yeah?" She kept her eyes on their joined hands. "If we have a boy, I'm thinking Theodore? Or maybe Oliver? And if we have a girl what about Regina? Or Bethany?"

His fingers tightened around hers and she heard his hoarse, raw voice respond, "Regina and Oliver...," he swallowed, "No way in hell."

She slowly lifted her eyes to his face; his beautiful, rugged face. He was conscious.

Her overwhelmed and, therefore, classically reserved response was: "Look who decided to wake up."

He blinked his eyes heavily, fighting the medications that wanted to drag him back to sleep. A half smile lit his face. "Hey there."

"Hey there yourself." She lifted her free hand to his cheek. "Fair warning, if you ever, ever, get seriously hurt like this again? I will finish the job and kill you myself. Understood?"

He nodded his head, then grimaced at the exertion. "Got it."

She standardly would have left it there. Made a suggestive allusion to how important he was to her and then settled back and hoped/assumed that he knew that she was saying more. But, that was before; before she realized how fragile what they had was. She'd turned over a new leaf and she was now wearing her big girl panties.

So instead of just leaving it there, she blurted out: "I don't know what I'd do without you." Her eyes were glued to their hands again.

He ran his thumb along the side of her hand, "I'm not goin' anywhere."

The words were soothing, and sweet, but they were spoken too lightly for her. For the new her. "I'm serious Eliot. I – I know I'm not your type. I know I've already tied you down in more ways than you ever had planned, but... but I need you to know that I..." She gave a wry smile, "I'd watch a football game with you every Sunday afternoon if it would make you happy. And I'd even get on the back of that damn Harley of yours if you really wanted me to. I -," her voice dropped, "I think I've somehow fallen for you."

The two seconds of silence that followed her declaration were too much for her to bear and she started babbling again. "I know you're going to want your freedom... sooner or later. I get that. But... well, I just felt I needed to tell you, finally, how I feel."

She felt the pressure of his hand on hers tightening, and then she felt him tugging at her. Resolutely, she lifted her eyes and looked at him. There was a look of determination on his face. A look of determination tempered by something else that she couldn't quite identify.


She furrowed her brow. Where exactly was 'here'?

Eliot lifted his free hand and using his index finger, he tapped at his lips before repeating his demand/request. "C'mere."

"What -?"

"Listen woman, either you come to me, or I'm gonna come to you, and right now," he lifted his shoulders and gave a thin groan, "I'd prefer it was you doin' the coming rather than the other way around."

She cautiously stood up and shifted closer to him.

He moved his left hand and reached for her bicep, pulling her down and in towards him. When her head was inches from his, and she was lying half on the bed and half off, he cupped his hand onto the back of her neck. "It's about time you fell. But I'm bettin' you haven't fallen half as far, or half as hard as I have for you." He brought her down until her lips brushed his.

It was a soft kiss. Barely there.

But it touched her core.

Tiredly dropping his head onto the pillow he continued with a yawn, "How about we compromise. For football, you only have to watch division playoffs and the Superbowl. And as for the Harley? You give it couple of tries and if it don't turn your crank, I'll stop tryin' to make you come with me."

"Compromise?" She was still confused. Or rather, she was disbelieving of what she thought she was hearing. She gathered the moxie she was known for and poked at his chest, "Eliot Spencer, are you saying you..., you 'like me'?"

He yawned again and closed his eyes, "Kinda what I meant," yawn, "when I mentioned falling for you."

"How long have you liked me!? And why the hell didn't you say anything!?"

Using more strength then he really should be exerting at this moment and time, he jerked her more fully on to the bed and pressed her head to his chest. The word "Skittish" escaped his lips and then he mumbled, "Sleep now. Talk later."


"If either of you tell me to bloody push one more time, I'm going to staple someone's penis to the wall!"

Dr. Smythe spared a look at Eliot that was half apologetic, half commiseration. "Sophie, just one more; one more big push and we'll be able to get the first baby out."

Sophie went from belligerent to scared in the passing of a second. "I can't. I can't do this. They'll, they'll just have to stay."

Eliot pushed a thick rope of Sophie's dark hair away from her face, "Can't go back now darlin', you can do this -" When she began to vehemently shake her head in disagreement, he repeated, "You can do this." He sucked in a breath and leaned his head down to hers whispering softly, "C'mon Soph, the doc said just one more push... I know you can do this baby."

She shook her head defiantly before giving a mewl of frustrated pain and doing what nature and Eliot were prompting her to do. She pushed.


Seven hours after going into labor and Sophie Devereaux and Eliot Spencer were the proud parents of twin girls.

Abigail Elayne Spencer was born at 523 am, measuring in at 5lbs13oz and 19" long, and her sister Zoe Reese Spencer followed shortly after at 531 am, measuring 5lbs5oz and 18.5" long.

And they were perfect.

Brilliantly perfect. Dark haired, brown eyed, beautiful girls.

Sophie couldn't keep her eyes off of them. Lying in her arms. Being held by Eliot. Lying in the the bedside bassinets. They were perfect.

She hadn't done much in her life that she was truly proud of. She was a good grifter – and she had some pride in that. She had joined the leverage team and was applying her grifting skills to help others – she was truly proud of that.

But nothing she'd ever done – nothing she'd ever stolen, no one she'd ever manipulated – nothing, had ever made her feel as proud or as complete as seeing her little girls. Seeing them with Eliot.

She could tell, the second he held them, the second he saw them, that he was in love. Deep, unadulterated, inescapable love.

It was the same look she'd grown use to seeing in his eyes when he looked at her... when they were alone and the world's prying eyes were closed.

And yes, she knew, now, that he adored her. The Harley driving, sports loving, manly-man loved her. Despite her being the omega female to his alpha male... he loved her.

And dammit if she didn't love him back.


Closing the nursery door, she moved to the bedroom to collect the monitor... she had load of laundry that she needed to put in the dryer, and she could most definitely do with some tea, but as soon as she entered the master bedroom her eyes locked on the bed.

Having twins was tiring. Wonderful, but tiring.

Flipping on the monitor she glanced at the alarm clock and then down at the mattress and then back at the alarm clock. She really really should get to that pile of laundry.

Crawling on to the bed, she laid on her back and closed her eyes. She'd just take a quick cat nap, before cleaning up around the house.


"Did they wear you out?"

She woke up to his chin rubbing against the crook of her neck; his arms wrapped around her frame. Yawning she stretched against him and nodded. "They're twins, I think their reason for existence is to wear me out."

He chuckled and pulled her closer.

She looked at the clock; she'd been asleep for about half an hour. She groaned and stretched again, "I need to get the laundry... and the breakfast dishes."

Eliot held her in place. "I called a cleaning service."

"Eliot..." Since before the twins were born, she'd said she wanted to do everything herself, feeding, cleaning, getting back into shape, getting back to work. Being wonder woman had been her goal from day one.

But reality was a bollocks loving bitch.

"You've been doing a great job. But they're twins. Which means they take twice as much energy and twice as much time."


"Do we want to do it right? Or do we want to do it the hard way?"

"Fine!" She tugged his arm tighter around her.

"So you'll talk to the cleaning crew when they get here? And get a schedule set up?"

"Yes." Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. "I was thinking, I'd like to get a personal trainer... just to help with the last 15lbs that I'm carrying?"

"You're beautiful."

"You're lust addled." They'd only started making love again 2-3 weeks ago but he held the same power over her that he had prior to their getting pregnant; the power to make her melt at the touch of his breath on her neck, the touch of his hand on her skin.

"I'm lust addled for you."

She smiled. "But you're okay with me having a trainer a few days a week?"

"As long as it's a female trainer."

"As long as it's a female?"

"I'm not having some pumped up, muscle bound guy looking at you and touching you while you're stretching and half dressed in workout clothes."

She turned over onto her back with a grin on her face. "I love it when you're all jealous."

"It's not jealousy."

She touched his face, her grin getting bigger, "Oh, it's jealousy alright." Her thumb moved along his cheek, "Because, Eliot darling, you love me. And I love you."