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Because the new season of Leverage is starting on Sunday....

I decided to post my Leverage fics here on Tumblr. This show will always have a special place in my heart, as it's the reason I got back into writing fic :)

First up: The Relocation Job & The New York...Well, Not Really A Job

Begun: 2/6/09

Finished:10/15/09

Summary: This is an AU that begins at the end of Season 1.

Rating: PG through most, though there is some M toward the end.

Despite the sounds of small aircraft on the tarmac outside, the large hanger was fairly quiet, small sounds catching the gentle breeze and traveling well. As they turned to scatter once again, Eliot listened to the now familiar sounds of his colleagues footsteps and the muffled thud of his own sturdy, rubber soled boots, which stopped, seemingly of their own volition. To his left, there was a soft sigh. Parker, silent as ever in her black Converse low tops, no longer moving away. Beyond her, the low squeaks of Hardison’s sneakers dropped away. Louder than the others, Sophie’s heels beat a staccato on the concrete to Eliot’s right, but they too fell to silence mere moments before the low rasp of Nathan’s Oxfords halted.

As they stood there, silent and still, Eliot closed his eyes and dropped his head. I was just getting used to it…Being part of a team. He’d said those very words to Sophie when the grifter had made her non-apology apology. He’d been on his own for so long he’d never even contemplated what it would be like to have some sort of quasi-stable, reliable group of colleagues and friends in his life. Sure they were an odd bunch that included a con artist, an alcoholic, a geek and a mildly crazy woman, but he fit with them in a way he never could have predicted.

Ruefully he acknowledged that Aimee had been right when she had observed that he had found a family.

Heaving a sigh of his own Eliot turned on his heel and crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn’t going to be the one to walk away. Not this time.

************************************************************************

Parker, still closest, was the first to notice Eliot had turned around. The lithe blond turned her head in his direction, wide eyes regarding him with a glimmer of…something. Still guarded and wary, but with just a hint of hope.

The look made Eliot’s stomach clench so he quirked a tiny smile at her, a bit of reassurance even as he felt adrift himself. He was reminded uncomfortably of how his little sister used to look at him when their father would go on a tear after mama had died. She had always believed he could make it better.

But this wasn’t something he could make better with a “fun” camping trip in the woods for the night. This would take a whole different type of effort.

“Damn,” he growled under his breath. He saw Hardison’s shoulders tense and the younger man looked over his shoulder quickly. Drawn to Nate’s orbit as always, Sophie turned toward the ex-insurance investigator to gauge his reaction. Parker’s guarded expression cracked and the blond beamed at Eliot.

Okay, so Nate wasn’t gonna say anything. Time to cowboy up.

“Way I see it, we got a good thing here,” he said clearly, hoping an actual sentence would encourage the others to contribute.

By the time the words were out of his mouth, Nate Sophie and Hardison had turned fully. Parker bounced on her toes and said, “Yup.”

Nate crossed his arms mirroring Eliot and looked at each of them in turn. “We can’t stay here,” he said. “Sterling won’t give up so easily.”

“Who says we have to stay in LA?” Hardison asked with a shrug. “Not like any of us never moved before.”

Sophie stepped toward Nate. “And if you think about it, Sterling will be expecting us to split up. Because that’s what any of us would have done in the past. Gone solo,” the grifter touched Nate’s arm and raised her brows hopefully.

Eliot nodded. “So let’s pick another city.”

“Maybe somewhere with snow,” Parker said with a grin. “I like snow.”

Looking around the little circle, previously so grave and somber, Nate took in Sophie’s gentle smile, Hardison’s wider grin and Parker’s positively gleeful expression. Eliot, who had been the one to call a halt to everyone’s departures, wore a pleased look, but cocked an eyebrow at Nate. “What d’ya say, boss. You in.”

With a quick nod, Nathan said, “Let’s find a new city.”

**********************************************************************

One Week Later: Congress Street, Portland, Maine

“A walk up?” Sophie asked unhappily, cultured accent echoing off the stairwell walls.

Ahead of her, Nathan shot Hardison a look, causing the computer genius to hastily say, “There’s an elevator. It’s just not working.”

Already on the fourth (and top) floor landing, Parker leaned over the railing to look down at them. “It’s only four flights,” the blond said. “I kinda like the stairs.”

“You like the vertical drop down the middle,” Eliot commented, joining her in observing the others. “So how long’s the elevator been broke down?”

Hardison scowled up at him. “About a year,” he muttered, then began quickened his own ascent up the stairs as he sensed Sophie’s increasing displeasure.

Obviously not too pleased himself, Nate took Sophie’s arm and said, “We’ll get the elevator fixed.”

“Stairs are good cardio,” Eliot said with a hint of a laugh in his voice.

The office space Hardison had found took up half of the top floor of a four story building on Congress Street in Portland’s Old Port District. The building itself was older, with storefronts lining the first level, then red brick extending up to the roof. The door to their office suite was a heavy, stained Oak with a tarnished brass knob.

“I’ll see about updating this lock,” Hardison said, mumbling under his breath about key cards and scanners and wiring, as he opened the door to the empty reception area. The walls were a matte off white shade while the floors and wood work were weathered white pine. It had a very different feel than their old office, much less modern and streamlined.

They all took a few minutes to look around, peering into doorways and offices, taking note of the conference room, storage room, little kitchenette and bathroom. Eventually, they made their way back to the reception area, Sophie already discussing getting painters in to deal with the walls.

“I’m thinking maybe a sand tone as the main wall color and maybe some forest green accents, in keeping with the charm of the building,” she told Parker, who looked back at her with a puzzled expression.

“The important question,” Hardison said with a grin, drawing everyone’s attention, “is what wall to hang the picture of Old Man Leverage on?”

************************************************************************

When given the choice between following Sophie on her hunt for a decent furniture retailer or hitting the nearest Lowe’s or Home Depot for some much needed materials, Eliot really didn’t even have to think about his decision. What he hadn’t counted on was having Hardison and Parker along for the trip.

Apparently, Hardison had already arranged for all of his massive, complex computer and technical equipment to be delivered as soon as the office suites were ready. And while the younger man probably had some preferences when it came to his desk and chair, the prospect of shopping with Sophie, who would qualify for the Olympic shopping team if there was such a thing, was far too daunting. Parker simply had no interest in interior design or office repair, but she chose to accompany Eliot and Hardison, leaving Nate to fend for himself with Sophie.

Grabbing a large dolly, Eliot considered what they needed for the office. The wood floors were in good shape, as was most of the woodwork and the walls just needed a coat of paint. The small wash room and the kitchenette were a mess though. They’d need new sinks, a toilet, new tile for the bathroom floor and a countertop for the kitchenette. Add to that all the necessary grout, adhesives and tools as well as hardware, paint and light fixtures…

With a shake of his head, Eliot began herding the other two toward the paint counter, figuring they could look for the rest of the supplies while the paint tech mixed their colors. Before they had left, Sophie had picked a color scheme off of the Behr paint website for the reception area and conference room and another for the offices.

As they approached the large paint section, Parker announced, “I don’t want a strange pinkish office.”

Hardison and Eliot looked at her and the hacker checked his electronic note pad for the list Sophie had given them. “Says here Sophie wants Lunar Lights for the walls of our offices,” he read, then shrugged. “Not real sure what color Lunar Light is.”

“I’d think kinda white,” Eliot replied, but Parker shook her head.

“I saw the samples Sophie was looking at. It was pink.”

This caused both men to pause as neither of them was too keen on the idea of a pink work place.

“Let’s check this out,” Hardison said, leading the charge to the huge sample wall.

Ten minutes later they had Sophie’s paint schemes laid out before them. The colors for the conference room and reception were fine, a tan called Outback for the walls, off white Cotton Whisper for the ceiling and a nice green Pine Scent for any small accents. The choices for the offices however were not so palatable. Lunar Light was in fact a pinkish color and the ceiling paint Powdered snow also had a tinge of the color. The accent choice of Spring Hill, a colonial blue, wasn’t so bad, and in truth the colors looked nice together. They just weren’t colors Parker, Eliot and Hardison wanted on their walls or ceilings.

“All right, pick what y’all like,” Eliot said with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose before walking over to a selection of green samples.

Hardison had drifted over to the modern looking gray and slate paints, but he paused. “Should we get different paint for Nate’s office?”

“No,” Parker said as she perused the blues. “He saw what Sophie picked and didn’t seem to have a problem with it.”

Eliot snorted. “More like he didn’t want to make Sophie mad at him.”

“Then he’s just gonna have to deal with a pink office,” Hardison said rifling through the paint samples.

“I like these,” Parke said, and Eliot looked over to the now ransacked blue paint area. The blond shoved her samples into his hand before taking off down the aisle. For a moment he was torn between worrying about the carnage she could cause loose in the home improvement store and wanting to finish up with the paint. Then he looked at the samples in his hand and had to smile. Parker, their fearless daredevil, wanted Elfin Magic blue walls, Sweet Smile blue ceiling and Fuzzy Elephant pink accents.

Selecting a muted green Herbal Scent paint for his walls, English Country gray/green for the ceiling and off-white with a hint of gray/green Sorbet for accents, Eliot walked over to where Hardison was still contemplating shades of gray. “Come on,” he said, prodding the younger man while he craned his neck, looking down the aisle to where Parker was looking at paint rollers.

“Fine,” Hardison huffed, handing over three shades of gray samples. Dark Smoke Signal for the walls, medium Dusk for the ceiling and pale First day for accents.

Armed with each of their color choices, as well as Sophie’s list, Eliot approached the paint desk. A young man with close cropped blond hair and a name tag that read BILL smiled pleasantly and asked, “What can I help you with today sir?”

“Paint,” Eliot replied, handing over all the samples and rattling off the number of gallons of each they would need.

To Bill’s credit, the amount of paint and the variety of colors didn’t phase him, he just took notes of the amount on each sample and said, “This’ll take about an hour to mix.”

“I got other stuff to get,” Eliot replied, then cringed when he heard Hardison’s voice echo off the metal shelves and concrete floor.

“Get down!” the younger man was saying urgently.

Eliot smiled tightly at the paint guy, then hurriedly dragged the dolly down the aisle to where Hardison was standing, looking up at Parker, who was climbing up the heavy industrial shelving.

“Parker!” Eliot hissed. “Down. Now!”

Standing with one foot on a shelf and a hand gripping a vertical bar, Parker leaned around to toss a fancy roller down to him. Thankfully, she then descended from her perch and hopped lightly to the floor. “What?” she asked as Eliot pulled her down the aisle, stopping only to toss brushes, rollers, paint pans and drop cloths onto the dolly.

“You do things like that, you’re gonna get us tossed outta here,” Eliot grumbled, turning the corner and entering the flooring department.

“Never been tossed from a Lowe’s before,” Hardison laughed, then cocked his head to the side. “Like that rug, Parker?”

The blond was rapidly rubbing her hands on a carpet swatch. Then she stopped, spun and touched Hardison’s ear with one finger, causing the man to yelp and jump away.

Parker grinned and wiggled her fingers. “I have superpowers,” she exclaimed, advancing on Hardison who retreated.

Watching them, Eliot sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Hi! Can I help you with anything?”

Eliot lowered his hand and pulled out a smile for the young woman who had approached him. She was a cute, young brunette with a ponytail and a nametag that read MARY. “I’m lookin’ to retile the bathroom at my office,” he told her, attempting to keep half an eye on his two colleagues who were still running around like kids.

“Our heavy duty tiles are over here. Any color preference?” The girl led him to an isle filled with tile of all colors.

Eliot glanced up and down the aisle, then settled on a nearby display. “This looks good,” he said, grabbing a box. “I’ll need enough for a 6x10 room.”

Hefting another box onto the dolly, Mary asked, “Do you need all the usual supplies or….”

From an aisle or two over there was a thump and a groan followed by Parker’s exclamation of, “Sorry!”

Sighing again, Eliot said, “Sorry for whatever they’re doing.”

“S’okay,” she said, “But maybe you want to do the rest of your shopping and I’ll gather the rest of the tile supplies and have them waiting for you up front.”

Eliot smiled at her. “That would be great.” He then gave her his name and picked a grout color before heading off to round up his wayward.

Hardison was sitting on a box of wood flooring, holding a hand to his head, scowling. Parker stood beside him, bouncing on her toes and trying to look innocent but not really succeeding. It was almost enough to make Eliot wish he’d gone shopping with Sophie instead. Almost.

“Come on,” he said, pushing the dolly off toward the bathroom fixtures. “Lots more to do.”

************************************************************************

When the younger members of the team returned to the office from their trip to Lowe’s, Eliot had just glare at Nathan, then disappeared into the run down bathroom. Moments later, the sounds of old tile being smashed and tossed into buckets could be heard throughout the suite. Nathan thought about poking his head in to see what the problem was, but then he looked at the other two. Hardison had streaks of paint in his hair and a dazed expression while Parker was looking too innocent.

Maybe letting Eliot work off his aggravation on the old tile was a good idea after all.

Sophie took charge of directing the dispersal of the supplies bought to fix the place up. While out on the prowl for furniture stores, she had decided that she needed to see the final appearance of the office before she got down to decorating. At least that was the reason she had given Nate when she got distracted by the little boutique clothing stores in the Old Port.

After a brief confusion over the number of paint colors, Sophie had stormed off toward the bathroom. Nate, Hardison and even Parker fell silent, unsure how this confrontation would pan out. They were sure Eliot wouldn’t actually hurt Sophie, but if he was in a bad enough mood he wouldn’t hesitate to exude menace.

The sound of smashing tile ceased for about thirty seconds, then resumed as Sophie came hurrying back out into the reception area.

“Eliot has suggested we give him a few days,” Sophie said somewhat breathlessly. “Maybe look for our own apartments.”

A particularly loud crash seemed to punctuate her sentence and Hardison said, “Sounds like a plan.”

“Agreed,” Nate added with a nod, not really wanting to be around Eliot when he was in this mood and armed with a hammer.

Parker peered through the door toward where Eliot was working. “Shouldn’t we help?”

“NO.”

************************************************************************

“Hey, man! For real, the place looks great. Not that I doubted you.”

“Yes he did.”

“Did not!”

“You said it would probably look like we left a Tazmanian Devil hopped up on crack loose in here.”

“Parker!”

Taking a sip of his tea, Eliot looked up from behind his desk at the pair squabbling in his doorway. Parker took this acknowledgement as an invitation and strolled into the office to perch on the edge of the desk. Hardison lingered by the door as Eliot asked, “Tazmanian Devil?”

The hacker shrugged, “Yeah, well, you weren’t exactly in the best of moods when we left.”

“You two almost got us tossed out of Lowe’s. More than once. And lord knows you were lucky no one caught y’all with that mulcher,” Eliot pointed out, then cocked his head to the side. “What exactly were you doing with it.”

“Testing it,” Parker said, then thumped a hand down on the desk. “How come you’re the only one with furniture?”

“I was wondering that myself,” Hardison asked, finally entering the room fully and dropping into one of the worn looking leather armchairs.

Eliot tipped back in his own chair, “Sophie’s gonna decorate the office and I don’t think our tastes run toward the same styles.”

Eyeing the solid, simplistic Mission style furniture and beat up, comfy leather chairs, Hardison had to agree. Parker pulled her feet up to sit Indian style on the desktop. “I like it. Sturdy. Good for weight bearing.”

Nodding, Eliot said, “And I didn’t just put stuff in here. There are some tall cabinets in the tore room. One of ‘em even has cleaning stuff, should either of ya feel so inclined.”

“You know, for the badass head cracker among us, you’re kinda OCD on cleaning, dude,” Hardison teased, causing Eliot to give him a one fingered salute.

Before anyone could toss out another snaky comment, Sophie appeared in the doorway, a reluctant Nate in tow behind her with a notepad. “Oh,” the grifter said looking around the room with a faint expression of distaste. “Eliot, you didn’t have to do your own décor as well as all the other work you put into the place. I’d be happy to…help.”

With a shake of his head, Eliot said, “Nah, I’m good.”

“But it’s so…” Sophie waved a hand, trying to come up with an inoffensive descriptor and the best she could manage was, “Spartan.”

As Nate ducked into the room to claim the other chair, Eliot shrugged, “I’m okay with that.”

“What you need is a plasma screen and some pictures of scantily clad NASCAR girls on the wall and you’ll have your own man cave,” Hardison laughed, knowing the very idea would make the tasteful British woman shudder.

“No, man caves are for basements or garages, not offices,” Eliot said to reassure Sophie who looked stricken by Hardison’s suggestion. “I wouldn’t say no to a TV though.”

Conceding to have lost the battle, but not surrendering what would probably be a long fought war, Sophie said, “Well, I suppose we’ll go on then. Parker’s office is next door yes? Then Hardison and Storage at the end of the hall.”

“Yeah,” Eliot said, catching Nate’s small smile. The older man had obviously noted that Eliot had chosen the office closest to the entrance, thus the potential for assault. This way he’d be the first line of physical defense, in front of Parker and Hardison, with Nate and Sophie buffered by the conference room and kitchenette.

Their moment of communion was broken as Sophie said, “Coming, Nate?”

Levering himself out of the comfortable chair, Nate tossed a hopeful look at the low chest of drawers. “Any chance…”

“No alcohol.”

“Nate?” Sophie called from the hall and the man sighed and shuffled out.

The three younger members of the team shared a look and Parker made a whipped motion with her hand and the accompanying sound.

“That is not wrong,” Hardison laughed and Eliot couldn’t help but agree.

***********************************************************************

“You know, the old offices had a sort of charm. Nate, where did you get the furniture we had there?” There was a note of desperation in Sophie’s voice as She stepped into yet another odd, little shop in the Old Port. They had been in and out of a dozen stores in the past few hours, and not one of them held couture clothing, shoes or

high-end furniture.

After hearing Sophie’s plan for his office, Hardison had nixed it and said he’d find his own furniture. Seeing Sophie’s flabbergasted expression, Parker had piped up that she too would like to do her own interior design. Sophie’s horror quickly turned to annoyance as Eliot and Nathan suppressed snickers.

Peering around the store, Nate took a sip from his ‘soda’ bottle and shrugged. “I just pointed at a page in a catalogue and said I’ll take five. All of it.”

Sophie didn’t look all too pleased by this explanation, but seemed to prefer it to Parker’s haphazard stylings. Hardison had simply walked into the first modern furniture store and picked a bunch of clean lined furniture. The hacker chose a metal framed, glass top desk and Chicago box style shelving with low slung grey Carter chairs. Sleek and monochromatic in a way that Sophie had approved of.

What Parker seemed intent on doing to her office…that was a bit more trying on Sophie’s sensibilities. In one store she had picked an old white Nantucket desk with a cherry top. In Addo Novo, the store Hardison had made his purchases at, she picked a comfortable, ergonomic chair in black leather. At a little shop called Sunflower Style, she picked two chairs and Sophie had been elated that they were both the same style of Astrid arm chair. Then Parker indicated she wanted one in Mist Blue twill and another in a Passiflora print, with lush gem-hued flowers splashed across lustrous cotton sateen upholstery.

The chair incident nearly broke Sophie, while Hardison and Eliot found it highly entertaining. Not more than slightly buzzed, Nate reflected that perhaps the younger members of the team were working together to tease Sophie. But as he watched Parker dig through the vintage shop with vigor, he thought maybe the young woman was simply picking pieces she liked. Hardison seemed to be enjoying the whole team outing and Eliot….

Well, Nate was pretty sure Eliot was enjoying Sophie’s reactions as a subtle, harmless revenge for the whole First David conning-the-team thing. Surprisingly, it had been the retrieval specialist who had been most vocal about his displeasure over that situation when the team had gotten back together to finish the job, but had since gotten over it. Mostly.

Then again, Eliot seemed to be enjoying the outing and was currently carrying Parker’s latest find, a Marie side table, cream colored with curling, gilded vines on the front, without protest. When Parker stopped to contemplate a bird cut sideboard, Sophie raised a finger.

“You know, a coffee would be wonderful. There’s a shop across the street. I’m going to pop over there for a moment,” the grifter said a bit too brightly. Though Sophie really liked Parker and often gave her tips about how to behave around ‘normal’ people, the eclectic approach to home décor had obviously grown to be too much for her.

The three younger people nodded at her and Hardison asked, “When you come back, can you bring a Cuban Coffee? Thanks.”

Sophie nodded her assent and stepped toward Nate, asking, “Coming?”

“Sure,” Nate replied. As he turned, he saw Eliot smile as Parker victoriously lifted a white pedestal table with vintage floral designs on it. Hardison cocked his head and commented, “That’ll look nice by the blue chair.”

Following Sophie out of the store, Nate smiled to himself.

************************************************************************

Selecting the furniture for the reception area, conference room, Nate’s office and her own soothed Sophie’s frayed design sensibilities. As everyone settled into this new workplace, little odds and ends appeared on various common rooms as well as individual offices. In a matter of weeks, the empty, sterile space became comfortable. All of them stored several changes of clothing and commonly used tools of the trade in the decent sized store room at the back of the offices and everyone occasionally brought food to stock the kitchen cabinets.

Hardison had customized and installed the huge array of electronics that arrived the day after their furniture. It was a similar set up to the one they had in the old offices, with photo and video forensics programs, backdoors into every electronic banking system in the world, constantly running heuristic data crawlers all over the news sites to find clients. There was also an updated facial recognition database tied into CIA, NSA and the FBI. And the obligatory sports package.

The younger man had been gleeful over the new tech and had commented he was glad he hadn’t had a chance to upgrade the office as he had been intending to before their dramatic departure. Eliot had given him a look and commented that the computer systems had been less than a year old. Hardison’s response was to laugh and say that in computer years that was about retirement age. The specialist had just shaken his head then brandished the new PDA he had found in his office and asked how to use the functions.

In his office, signs of Hardison’s personality were showing up in droves. A Chicago Bears pennant adorned the wall, as did a painting he called ‘The Event Horizon’, a blue swirling vortex encased in a large stone circle covered in glyphs and a print from the Evil Dead. Pictures of his Nana and several other young people, fellow foster children the woman had raised, sat proudly on his desk, encased in a digital frame that rotated the images every few minutes. A few collectable action figures sat on one shelf, a man in a brown suit, a blond girl, an African American girl in a red jacket, a man in a WWII greatcoat, a blue Police box and a little figure that looked like an ornamented pepper pot.

Parker had taken to bringing little plants into the office and occasionally one of the others would find one on their desk or windowsill. Where she had found the potted Dandelions that now sat on one of Hardison’s shelves no one knew, but he seemed to like them. Sophie fussed over the lovely Orchid that now adorned her desk, and Eliot put the small potted cacti next to the window box of fresh herbs in his office. The potted fern Nate had found sitting on his chair one morning now lived on a small end table that got a good amount of sun.

She had been delighted the day Eliot installed a series of hooks on one wall of her office. A professional climbing harness hung on one, while one of her black berets rested on another. A third held a rubber chicken with a tiny noose wrapped around it’s neck that no one really wanted to know about. On the wall she had hung a floor plan of the Cairo Museum, Antiquities Wing, which Sophie had framed and given to the younger woman.

Soon after moving to Maine, Sophie had sought out and joined The Portland Players, a local theatre group. Though she couldn’t be a part of the current play, she was eagerly waiting for the next round of auditions to begin. In her excitement, she had already brought back pamphlets from the theatre and was encouraging Parker to come down with her. The grifter thought doing some theatre would help Parker prepare for those occasions when she had to act during a job. Ina nod to the fact that the others were not as enamored of the theatre as she, Sophie had collected a handful of brochures about events and places she thought the others would like, including Super PortCon! PortConMaine (an Anime & Gaming Convention), The Portland Rock Climbing Gym, The Academy of Mixed Martial Arts and The Portland Museum of Art.

A vintage Casablanca print hung on one of Sophie’s walls, opposite a Degas ballerina painting, an odd juxtaposition if ever there was one. A pair of Faberge eggs sat on one of her wall shelves and a Waterford crystal vase always held fresh flowers on the small occasional table. Her bookshelves held an assortment of famous plays, the complete works of William Shakespeare and several scripts. A low cabinet was reserved for several changes of footwear, as she found the Maine winter quite hard on her shoes. So while she wore heels in the office, she had boots, sneakers and flats stored within easy reach for emergencies.

Nate had actually come in one day with information about both the Portland Pirates and the Seadogs, the local minor league hockey and baseball teams respectively. Though it was almost the end of the hockey season, baseball would be starting soon and Eliot and Hardison had reacted to this news with interest.

Pictures of his son Sam adorned one of Nate’s walls, photos a happy, chubby baby to the cute young boy he had been before falling ill. After ruing Blackpoole and seeing Maggie punch the bastard he had begun trying to focus on the good memories and, little by little, the anger and rage and despair that had been suffocating him had begun to ease. Not that it was gone by any means as was witnessed by the decent sized liquor cabinet not too far from his desk. But on the desk, beside yet another picture of Sam, was a small wooden box containing the Rosary beads he had used since his First Communion so many years ago. He hadn’t said a Novena since Sam’s death, but he had found the beads after the team had saved Father Paul’s church and now he kept them out and contemplated opening the box most days.

The little contributions Eliot made to the office were quite varied. One day Nate had found the man stowing a variety of weapons all over the office. Knives were hidden in the large planters in reception, behind picture frames, under desks and shelves and even in the toilet tank. Cans of mace went into desk drawers, tasers into the air vents and retractable batons found homes in curtain rods, hollow, metal chair legs light fixtures. Another day, the specialist brought in an assortment of kitchen equipment, including an immersion blender, a convection oven, a coffee maker and an electric teapot. Nate was also fairly certain Eliot put most of the food in the fridge, though Hardison was the one that filled half of it with Jones Orange Soda.

One day, Eliot told Parker the picture he kept on his desk was of his sister, Jesse and her daughter and son, Faith, 10, and, Ned, 5. A black wool cowboy hat hung on a wall, near a print of an old style rodeo poster. The bookshelves were quite filled, holding a variety of hard and paperbacked books, ranging from Alexandre Dumas, Arthur Conan Doyle and Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra to James Patterson, Bradbury, Ray, Tony Benn and Kurt Vonnegut. A steel-string acoustic guitar sat in a stand in the corner, a recent edition that had Sophie and Parker insisting he play for them and Hardison teasing that the instrument was just a decoration.

By this point, each of them had found and apartment, condo or other form of home and had moved out of the hotels that had been their home upon the move to the new city. Nate rented a decent, two bedroom apartment in a small complex called Courtland Courts while Sophie chose a luxury rental at The Terrace on the Prom, a modernized Victorian home on the Eastern Promenade. Parker had found a sixth floor apartment in the Forrest Garden apartment complex, not far from the large third floor studio Hardison picked in a building called MacArthur Gardens.

All of them stayed within the city proper, more comfortable with the urban setting, while Eliot chose a farmhouse in Gorham about 20 minutes from the city. Unlike the others, he seemed fond of the more rural setting and had been quite pleased to have a yard, grumbling happily about putting a barbeque outside in the summer. Nathan was quite sure the man was just pleased to stake a claim to something, to put down roots that his career had never allowed. Everyone seemed content.

Nathan was rooting around in the fridge for the small chocolate cheesecake he had hidden behind a tub of organic yogurt the day before when Eliot, followed by Parker entered the Kitchen.

“Come on!” the blond said, putting on an over exaggerated air of pleading. “Please!”

Eliot went about filling the teapot with water and setting it on it’s heating element. “Maybe later,” he told her as he put the proper amount of Darjeeling tea into the little mesh basket of his tea steeper, then took a mug out of the cabinet.

The mug was the one Hardison had gleefully plopped on Eliot’s desk one day. Apparently the Hacker had found a kiosk in the mall that personalized mugs. Eliot’s was green and said “Eliot Spencer has two speeds. Walk, and Kill.” According to Hardison, he got most of the quote from the Chuck Norris fact list. Nathan’s was black and read, in wobbly writing “ You're not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on.” In pink on a blue mug, Parker’s said “A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked.” Sophie’s mug was cream colored, with black script of “Acting is all about honesty. If you can fake that, you've got it made.” Hardison’s own was bright orange with “My software never has bugs. It just develops random features.” in white letters. The had quickly become the favorite mugs in the office.

“Please. I’m bored.”

Eliot and Nate both tensed. A bored Parker was never a good thing. A bored Parker led to water balloons out the windows, angry landlords and, once, inexplicable, little bare footprints on the ceiling.

“Got any jobs lined up yet?” Eliot asked Nate, pouting the hot water into the little steeping pot.

Nathan nodded. “Sophie and I are reviewing a few potentials. We should have an idea in the next few days.”

“A few days,” Parker said with a sigh. “I guess I’ll find something else to do till then.”

Exchanging a glance with Nathan, Eliot looked back to Parker, and said, “Soon as my tea’s ready, I’ll play, okay.”

“Really! Yea!” Parker said, smiling and bouncing up on her toes, happy now. Parker was a hard read sometimes. Eliot knew she was pleased that he finally gave in and was going to play for her but he wondered if her bringing up that she was bored was an intentional manipulation.

But, as he poured his tea he thought maybe being manipulated was okay if it made her smile like that.

***********************************************************************

Parker was practically skipping as she led the way towards Eliot’s office, the specialist following her with mug in hand. The blond immediately claimed the comfortable chair she liked best, hopping up on the seat and tucking her feet under herself. “Play,” she said happily, big eyes fixed on the guitar.

Setting his tea down, Eliot picked up the instrument and turned to Parker, then frowned when he saw Nate settling into the second guest chair. “Don’t you have work to do?” he asked the older man as he settled himself on the low stool that sat by the

guitar.

Nate shrugged and took a bite of his cheesecake.

Eliot glared at him for a moment longer, then returned his attention to Parker, who was still beaming. He offered her a smile and began to strum, plucking out random melodies for a moment before settling on an up beat sounding song. Nathan wasn‘t surprised by the fact that the specialist was good on the instrument, but when the man began to sing along…now that surprised him.

Thank god it’s a Saturday night Down by the riverside Cheerleaders in the back of the bed With them tailgates down Speakers up and the radio on Don’t matter who’s singing a song Country music or Rock’n’Roll Play it all night long

Just raising a little hell Ain’t nobody went to jail Oooh, all the stories we could tell … Long-legged blond in the pale moonlight Probably caused a friendly fight That’s what you get when you hang with them Girls of summer Big time dreams and small town nights Hank Jr. and Fred Dust saved our lives Smack dab in the middle of a middle American Saturday night

Barely two lines into the song, Hardison appeared in the doorway, obviously having heard Eliot from down the hall. The younger man had grinned and whipped out his phone to video the performance.

Tammy painted a heart on a sign that says: “Bobby Joe ‘till the day I die” She thinks he’s gonna settle down But she’s wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong ‘Coz Bobby Joe’s looking out for the sheriff He’s riding high on an old debt And he yells “I ain’t comin’ down ‘till you play my favorite song”

Eliot’s voice was strong and clear, carrying easily over the guitar. He looked almost peaceful as he played…except when his gazed hit Hardison with the camera phone. Then he looked annoyed, especially when Sophie arrived behind Hardison, then stepped past him to perch on the arm on Nathan’s chair.

I was on the roof of my car Playing my air guitar And nobody could tell me I wasn’t born to be a star Long-legged blond in the pale moonlight Probably caused a friendly fight That’s what you get when you hang with them Girls of summer Big time dreams and small town nights Hank Jr. and Fred Dust saved our lives Smack dab in the middle of a middle American Saturday night

Parker was clearly enjoying herself, bobbing her head to the music. She was even keeping fairly close to the actual rhythm of the song. Usually she kept her own beat, completely removed from what everyone else heard. But that was just Parker being Parker.

Just raising a little hell Ain’t nobody went to jail Oooh, all the stories we could tell … Long-legged blond in the pale moonlight Probably caused a friendly fight That’s what you get when you hang with them Girls of summer Big time dreams and small town nights Hank Jr. and Fred Dust saved our lives Smack dab in the middle of a middle American Saturday night Long-legged blond in the pale moonlight Probably caused a friendly fight That’s what you get when you hang with them Girls of summer Big time dreams and small town nights Johnny Cash and Kid Rock saved our lives Smack dab in the middle of a middle American Saturday night Middle American Saturday … Oh An American Saturday night Yeah Ohoooo

As Eliot finished the song, Parker clapped happily.

“Damn, man, where did that come from?” Hardison asked admiringly, as he saved the video on the phone. “I’m just asking cause you got to admit you have a broad and strange set of skills.”

The specialist shrugged. “Been playing since I was a kid,” he said, tightening one of the guitar strings slightly, the plucking it to check the sound.

“That was lovely, Eliot,” Sophie told him with a smile. “Have you ever played in public.”

“Will you play some more?” Parker asked before Eliot could answer Sophie.

Eliot glanced at Sophie and Nate, “Aren’t you two busy trying to find us jobs?”

“I think I found one,” Sophie said, stealing a bite of Nate’s cheesecake. “Nate should just check it over.”

“You two do that,” Parker said, swinging her feet around to plant them on the floor and lean forward. She looked determined. Eliot knew he’d probably have to play a few more songs before her interest would wane.

Rising from his chair, Nate said, “Okay, Sophie, let’s check out that file.”

As the pair left, Hardison plopped down in the vacated chair and again flipped open the camera phone. Eliot scowled. “Why are ya doing that?” he asked, indicating the camera with a shake of his head.

Hardison raised a brow at him and said, “Posterity?”

Eliot sighed and Parker said, “I want copies. Can you play something…softer this time? Something pretty.”

Hearing Hardison’s suppressed chuckles, Eliot smiled at Parker. “Sure.”

As he began to play another song, he really hoped Nate and Sophie had found them a new job. He liked music and he even liked hanging around with Hardison and Parker, but he himself was feeling as antsy as Parker. And being a distraction was not as distracting as being distracted.

**********************************************************************

“Oh no, you did not!”

Hardison’s aggrieved shout echoed off the walls of the hall outside his office, into the lobby and on into the conference room where Sophie had been watering one of the office plants. She exited the room in time to see the young man stomp out into reception, scowling and swiping something wet off of his face.

“Hardison, what on Earth…” Sophie began, but the hacker cut her off.

“Parker in there?” He asked, nodding toward the room the Brit had just left. When she cautiously shook her head, he started toward the kitchen, grumbling, “Who throws a snowball inside? Why the hell we still got snow in late March?”

Shaking her head, Sophie entered the hall Hardison had just left and glanced into Parker’s office. The thief wasn’t there, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t just jumped out a window, though Nate had asked them all not to do things like that. Since Hardison was still looking for her, Sophie surmised Parker was not in his office or the storage room, which was the last door after his in the dead end hall. Since Parker had not appeared in the lobby, the only other place she could have disappeared into would be Eliot’s office.

Sophie hesitated outside the specialist’s closed door. Their last job had not gone as smoothly as one would hope. Eliot had let himself take a rather unpleasant beating in order to buy time for Sophie and Parker evade the Chilean criminal syndicate’s security thugs. Once the girls had reached a safe distance with the information they needed to access the money the criminals had extorted from their clients and many others, as well as enough documentation to sick the INS on the majority of the members of the syndicate, Eliot had managed to get away from them, but he was far from unscathed.

He had come out of the job with a massive amount of bruising and soft tissue damage. It had taken some prodding for the specialist to admit that his right zygomatic arch was probably fractured and the left shoulder had been dislocated during the fight. He had popped the joint back into place before rejoining them but it obviously still hurt like hell. Nate had insisted on a visit to the hospital to rule out internal bleeding and fortunately there was none, so when they returned to Maine, Eliot had retreated to his home to get some sleep and recuperate.

Not that they had left him alone. Everyone had taken turns staying with him in case he needed anything. After a few days of that he insisted he was fine and started coming back in to the office. Frankly, Sophie thought he was just tired of having Parker, Hardison and herself poking around in his private living space.

Which was why he was in his office with the door closed, probably taking a nap or just resting his aching body in one of the big, comfy chairs he had situated in the room. Sophie had cringed when she first found out that they were recliners but now admitted that perhaps Eliot had a point in choosing them.

Quietly, Sophie opened the door and peered into the dimly lit room. Eliot was indeed asleep in one of the recliners, a burgundy fleece blanket draped over his battered form. The fact that he slept through the door opening was a testament to how lousy he still felt. Normally not even Parker could sneak up on him, and the young thief was nearly silent in her movements.

Obviously Parker had entered the office as well. She sat cross-legged on the sturdy side table next to Eliot’s chair, silently watching him sleep. When Sophie cracked the door, the blond turned to look at her, then raised a hand to wiggle her fingers in greeting before returning to contemplate the sleeping specialist.

It was a something that might seem a bit creepy if it were anyone else, but Sophie knew Parker was just concerned for Eliot and looking after him in her own way. Smiling, she closed the door to leave them in peace and perhaps find Alec and calm him. Though she doubted he would enter the closed office, not wanting to disturb their convalescing team mate. Hardison didn’t appreciate watching Eliot sleep like Parker seemed to.

Walking through the lobby, Sophie mused, perhaps there was something more to Parker’s vigil than mere friendly concern.

********************************************************************

The lights were all off and the curtains blocked out most of the light that would have filtered in from the outside. Not that it was a particularly bright day, what with the snow falling from the big grey storm clouds, but it was 1:30 in the afternoon and thus not dark. But what did make it past the drapes was enough for Parker to see fairly well.

Eliot hadn’t stirred when she slipped into his office to avoid Hardison after she had nailed the hacker with a snowball. Her entrance had not been completely silent, as she had heard the soft sound of the tumblers in the handle moving as she turned the knob to enter the room. Normally, the specialist would have noted the sound of an intruder and identified them as friend or foe before they were even in the room.

But today he remained motionless, napping on his (and her) preferred recliner. Because of his injuries, his breathing was a bit hitched and maybe not as deep as it normally would have been, but it was steady and peppered with little snuffling snores. The terrible bruise surrounding his right eye and extending down the cheek still looked like someone had taken a meat tenderizer to his face, but the swelling around his split lip was looking a little better.

Silently, Parker approached him, then climbed onto the side table, crossing her legs and simply regarding Eliot as he slept. She didn’t like the fact that he had been hurt on the last job. Not that he hadn’t been hurt before, but this was the worst shape she’d personally seen him in.

The Job had been in Miami, where a particularly nasty group of Chilean mob-types were running extortion scams, drugs and eliminating anyone who got in their way. Their clients were a small group of families who had all lost relatives when they refused to continue paying the mobsters for their protection. The deaths had been particularly unpleasant.

After the bombs and craziness involved in the job where Nate and Parker had gone undercover in a rehab, a job where even the Korean and Mexican baddies were aware of the general unpleasant insanity of the Chileans, they really should have been expecting the worst. The plan had been fairly simple. Get in, gather enough information reclaim the money the Chileans had taken from their clients and deliver the appropriate incriminating info to the FBI and DEA, get out.

They had gone in on the night of a party, as parties always provided good cover. Parker was to be the one to actually gather the information, while Sophie had gone into the party to meet the head of the syndicate and chat him up. The idea was that if she was talking to the big boss man, she’d know if he got wind of anything out of the ordinary going down. If anything did happen, then Eliot was in range to provide physical assistance.

Parker had returned from breaking into the offices successfully and was in the process of making her way out of the party when all hell broke loose. Cranky looking hired muscle had flooded the area and the group of higher ups Sophie had been with promptly freaked out. It turned out that someone had gotten a glimpse of a door shutting in a supposedly cleared area and when the presence of an authorized thug could not be confirmed, it was decided that there was a security breach.

As the Chileans scattered among the crowd, shouting orders, the muscle began grabbing party goers and roughly searching them. Knowing Parker was in possession of at least one zip disc full of incriminating information, Eliot had decided to draw attention to himself by jumping the nearest enforcer. Pissed off Chileans and security descended on him, while Parker and Sophie slipped out in the fleeing crowds.

Nate and Hardison had been monitoring the situation in a mobile van down the block. The female members of the team had tumbled into the van, both of them asking if Eliot had made it out, as he wasn’t answering over the comm. The last they had heard from the specialist was a low order for them to get out, then the muffled sounds of a fight…then nothing.

Ten minutes later, there was still no sign of Eliot and Nate’s mind was rolling through possible extraction plans while Hardison franticly tried to tap into any Electronic chatter that might give them some insight. Sophie and Parker sat together in the back of the van, Sophie holding tight to Parker’s hands, assuring her Eliot would be fine.

Everyone jumped when Nate’s phone rang, hope and fear vying for dominance when Nate noted that it was a call from Eliot’s phone. Either the specialist had gotten someplace where he felt safe enough to make a phone call or someone had take the phone from him. The latter possibility was not pleasant.

They had all been relieved when it turned out that Eliot had gotten out of the building himself and was several blocks away, having ducked into an alley beside a fire station to call them. Less than five minutes later, he had practically fallen into the van, face swelling and spitting blood. It was a horrible image that burned itself into Parker’s mind.

Flashback

Eliot lay on the floor of the van, obviously struggling to sit up while gripping his left shoulder and wincing. Blood ran freely from his lip and his right eye was already swollen partially shut and bruising spectacularly. Sophie tried to help him up, but withdrew her hands as the specialist let out a pained groan. Parker stood back, unsure what she could do to help that wouldn’t hurt. Nate looked Eliot over and said, “Hardison, University of Miami Hospital. Now.”

“I’mokay,” Eliot slurred at the ex-insurance agent, but he seemed to be having trouble focusing and let his head drop back down to the floor, only to groan in pain as they drove over bumps in the road. That Parker thought she could help with and slid to the floor by Eliot and helped him rest his head in her lap. Once he was settled, she gently petted his hair.

Nate was already going through Eliot’s bag, deciding which fake I.D. they’d use at the hospital. “You are not okay…anyone have an alias to go with O’Neill, Jackson or Mitchell?”

Sophie shook her head, but Parker looked up and pointed to her bag. “I have a Jackson,” she said, returning to stroking Eliot’s head. He seemed to be wavering in and out of awareness, only occasionally focusing his good eye on her.

Retrieving Parker’s I.D. Nate said, “Okay, Daniel and Samantha Jackson. Vacationing couple here from Colorado. You got jumped while walking to dinner. Hardison will backdate the appropriate hotel and airline reservations. If anyone asks, the rest of us are just old friends.”

The hospital staff had loaded Eliot onto a stretcher with little fuss, mostly due to the fact that he had passed out and they hustled him into the Emergency room. Parker, playing the part of the wife, even wearing one of the rings Sophie provided, went into the little curtained area with him. She clutched his right hand as the staff bustled around them, only stepping back when they had to cut off his shirt to check for injuries.

Parker shocked herself by crying out a little when they bared the specialists torso. She clapped her hands over her mouth as she looked over Eliot’s normally smooth, tan skin, now molted livid blues, purples and reds. His left shoulder was swollen, there was a shallow wound on his left side and some of the multitude of bruised had clearly been made by boots.

She authorized a dizzying array of tests and scans and a few hours later a doctor told her the results as she once again sat at Eliot’s side, his limp hand clasped between hers. Concussion…fractured zygomatic arch…Extremely serious bruising surrounding the right eye…facial contusions…dislocated left shoulder, reduced before arrival at the hospital…moderate to sever bruising over much of his torso…fortunately no internal bleeding evident on the x-rays or any other scan…when he woke up they could discuss pain management, but they couldn’t give him anything until he regained consciousness.

When the doctor said they were going to move him to a room for a night of observation, Parker asked, “Can our friends come?”

The doctor nodded. “Only briefly,” he told her gently.”

“But I can stay?”

“Of course.”

Parker had nodded and turned away from the doctor to push several strands of hair back from his face. There was blood clumping some of the brown strands, something she knew he hated. When the doctor left, she leaned over close to his ear and said, “You’re going to be okay Eliot.”

Then she sat back and resumed clasping his hand.

Eliot had woken up a few hours later and they released him about a day after that. Parker stayed with him the whole time. All the nurses though they were cute, if a bit strange. The latter mostly because one of the nurses had walked in as Parker was hanging half out the little window, making a comment about accessibility.

When the doctor had come before they let him go, he told Parker to look after Eliot…well, he told Samantha to look after Daniel, but as Eliot always told her, their aliases were still them.

So Parker had hung around his house a lot when they returned to Maine, and when he returned to the office, she took to wandering in and out of his office at random intervals. The others checked in often as well. Moments earlier, Sophie had stuck her head in and Parker had waved.

Resting her chin in her hand, she continued to watch Eliot sleep. She smiled softly as he wrinkled his nose and gave a little huff. She was very glad he was getting better. She even found that the responsibility of looking after another person wasn’t so bad. Though Hardison and Nate told her she didn’t have to be so literal about it. Frankly she thought they were just uncomfortable about the thought of being watched in sleep themselves and had shrugged off the comments.

Eliot didn’t seem to mind waking up to find her perched somewhere nearby, be it in the office or in his home.

********************************************************************

Though he’d always thought owning a home would be fraught with hassles and little annoyances he didn’t want, so far the only drawback seemed to be that the team took it as an open invitation to visit. A lot. Especially since he’d been hurt.

Thus far, he’d only managed to furnish his bedroom, a sitting room and, of course, the kitchen and attached breakfast nook. That made him grin, as he had never pictured himself as the kind of man who had a nook.

Little signs of his teammates constant presence were popping up in the habitable rooms of the house. A game console had joined the DVD/VCR in the entertainment center, a high tech laptop now sat on a side table in the sitting room and there was enough orange soda in his fridge to choke an Oompa Loompa. All these things pointed to Hardison, as did the Battlestar Galactica and Doctor Who DVD’s that had taken up residence with the other electronics.

The guest bathroom was now outfitted with rose and cream colored Egyptian cotton towels, which Eliot was loathe to admit did look nice with the creamy walls and travertine tiles. On the countertop, there was a jar of some fancy moisturizer and a dish of decorative soaps. He approved of her choice of snack foods, as Bounty Bars and Cadbury Curly Wurly’s had joined his bars of Cadbury Dairy Milk. He could tolerate theses marks of Sophie’s, but as soon as he was left alone in the house he tossed the bowl of loose potpourri she had left on top of the toilet tank. He hated the stuff, could not understand the appeal of keeping smelly, decaying flower petals in his home.

There was now a big bottle of JD in a cupboard, and the Aerobed in the guest room was no doubt brought in by Nate on the first night they had returned from Florida. No one thought it was a good idea to leave Eliot alone just yet, and seeing that there were no other beds the older man probably figured an inflatable mattress would be the best solution. Eliot figured he was the only one who would have bothered. Hardison would have crashed out on one of the couches, while Sophie wouldn’t have issue sleeping on the other side of Eliot’s large bed. Parker might have done either of these thing or she might have climbed up into the rafters and slept up there. He had woken one morning and looked up to find the blond sitting on a rafter, looking down at him.

The first thing he found that screamed Parker was a lock pick kit in the cutlery drawer. He had smiled when he found that and begun scanning the house, finding many little sign. A pile of rubber bands on an end table. Fortune cookies in the pantry. A pair of suspenders on a coat hook in the entry way. His shirts tossed in the laundry basket, shirts he knew he hadn’t worn recently that smelled suspiciously of jasmine.

More than a week had passed since their return from Florida and though Eliot was feeling quite a bit better than he had, the team gathered at his house on a Sunday night. Hardison, Sophie and Nate had stopped at Amato’s and brought with them a feast of Italian food. Several Pasta and Meatball buckets sat on the large island in the kitchen, surrounded by garlic bread and a tub of Greek Salad. There were meatball subs and a couple of calzones, as well as chicken tenders, hot wings and potato skins. The pizzas had ( in various combinations) anchovies, bacon, sausage, hamburg, ham, pepperoni, meatball , green pepper, broccoli, pineapple, hot pepper, onion, olive, mushroom, spinach, chicken, capicola, prosciutto, feta, roasted red pepper and Genoa salami. There were bags of chips, popcorn and cookies on the counters and a variety of drinks in the fridge.

After loading their plates and settling onto the couches in the sitting room, Nate, Eliot and Parker really didn’t care what was on the TV. Sophie and Hardison had engaged in a spirited argument, but that had ended when Eliot piped up that trying to read the subtitles on a foreign film would strain his good eye. As Hardison loaded the first disc of Battlestar Galactica into the DVD player, he assured them, “Relax, you’ll like this.”

As they tucked into their meals and the show began, Nate said, “I remember when the original series aired. It was…fun.”

Sophie nodded. “We got it a few years later, but I remember having friends who loved it.”

Hardison smirked. “1978. That was like, six years before I was born.”

“Three years before me,” Parker added, spearing a meatball on her fork and practically inhaling it in one bite.

Eating more slowly due to his split lip, Eliot said, “I was ‘bout one.”

Sophie and Nate both looked faintly horrified by these revelations, though they had been aware of how old their teammates were. Hearing it said aloud was always a shock tough, and Nate grumbled, “Eat your food.”

The three younger members of the team shared smirks before returning to their meals and the TV.

After a minute, Hardison said, “That’s Starbuck.”

Sophie paused, then said, “I thought Starbuck was a man.”

Hardison rolled his eyes. “In the original series, Starbuck was a dude, but they changed it up for the remake.”

“Grab your gun and bring in the cat? What the hell does that mean?” Eliot asked, causing Hardison to sigh. “You know what, never mind.”

They all quieted down for a while, until Sophie announced, “I always enjoyed Edward James Olmos’s films.”

There was a murmur of agreement from Nate before Parker squealed, “Oh my god, what’s wrong with that picture? He looks so creepy!”

“Obviously they did not have the A-team doing the de-aging of that picture of Adama,” Hardison said, mouth half full of ham and cheese calzone.

When Starbuck punched Tigh, Eliot said, “Brig time.”

Hardison chuckled, “Yeah, but Adama’d never leave her there. She’s the prodigal pseudo-child.”

Again there was a brief lull of eating and watching, until Parker gasped, “She killed a baby!”

A few minutes later Eliot said, “Was this on network TV? I’m mean between the infanticide and light up spinal column sex it seems a bit…”

“Sci-fi channel.”

“Huh.”

“He’s pretty,” Parker announced as Apollo was introduced which made Sophie smile. So Parker like compact blue-eyed boys with brown hair. The grifter chuckled until she realized where some of the plot was going.

“Wait, wait…he’s supposed to be Adama’s son?” she asked incredulously.

“Just roll with it,” Hardison said, “If you think about it too hard, your brain will hurt.”

During the scene where Apollo visited Starbuck in the brig, Parker grinned and hummed bad porn style music, which made both Hardison and Eliot choke, Hardison on his calzone and Eliot on a hot wing.

“Ick,” Parker said, picking bits of calzone off her shirt. She got up and trotted out of the room, saying, “I’ll be right back. Keep watching.”

She rejoined them shortly, wearing one of Eliot’s t-shirts, which swam on her tiny frame. No one said anything as she settled back down between Eliot and Hardison, reclaiming her bowl of popcorn.

Later, Eliot asked, “Is he checking out Roslin’s legs?”

Hardison sighed, “No, Lee and Laura have a relationship based on friendship and mutual respect.”

“I think he probably checked out her legs,” Parker told Eliot.

“Okay, maybe there were some UST hints in the early seasons, but…just watch the show,” Hardison said unhappily.

They watched the entire mini-series that night, driving Hardison insane with their commentary. When it was over, Nate and Sophie piled into Nate’s Tesla (he had driven them) and Hardison retreated to his Mercedes Benz S-Class (which he proudly called the ultimate geek car), muttering about their lack of pop-culture sensibilities. Parker, however, just stood by the door with Eliot as the others left.

After a moment, he asked her, “Are you staying?”

She gripped the hem of the t-shirt she wore and nodded before turning and wandering off into one of the houses empty rooms.

“Maybe we should get a proper bed for the guest room tomorrow,” he suggested, watching her as she peered out windows into the darkness. There were no streetlights around to illuminate the area, only the stars and the moon, far different from what she was used to.

Parker turned to face him as Eliot rolled his stiff neck, then winced as the motion pulled on his shoulder. She went very still, then said, “You were really hurt. You’re still really hurt. I don’t like it.”

Stepping toward her, Eliot said, “It’s not my favorite thing either, Buttercup.”

A tiny smile lifted the corners of Parker’s mouth. “Buttercup?”

Eliot gave a one shouldered shrug and said, “Suits you.”

“Okay.”

Turning toward the kitchen, Eliot said, “I’m gonna clean up, then turn in.”

Parker followed him out to the kitchen and quietly helped put the leftovers away, wipe the counters and put dishes in the dishwasher. As they were finishing, Eliot looked at the subdued blond and asked, “You want waffles for breakfast tomorrow?”

That got a real smile. “Chocolate waffles?”

Eliot huffed a laugh. He had made an offhand comment about chocolate waffles a few weeks earlier and she had seemed intrigued by the idea. “With strawberry syrup,” he agreed causing her to clap her hands together happily.

Having finished their cleaning, Eliot retreated up the stairs to his room and got ready for bed. The bruising on his torso was getting better and the swelling was almost gone from his shoulder. His face still looked the worst, but he knew it would heal in time.

Easing between the covers in the dark room, he gazed at the ceiling for a while before closing his eyes. Less than five minutes later, he felt the bed jostle slightly as Parker silently slid beneath the sheets. He listened to her breathing and felt her eyes on him. Eventually, she reached out a hand and her fingers grazed his right arm.

Gently, he caught her hand and clasped it in his own. “Goodnight Parker,” he said, squeezing her fingers gently.

For a moment she was quiet, then she laced their fingers together and replied, “Night Eliot.”

They nodded off, each soothed by the sound of the others breathing in a way that was completely foreign yet utterly addictive.

*******************************************************************

The warm, early morning sunlight woke Parker shortly before 7am and she stretched contentedly. Cozy and content she snuggled into the soft sheets and slapped a hand down on the down comforter, enjoying the way it puffed up in response. The faintest scent that was beginning to cling to the blankets was like warm leather and tea with an Earthy undertone, a unique scent she had come to associate with Eliot. Which made sense considering it was his bed.

Looking over at the other side of the big bed, she found that she was alone. She stretched out a hand and laid it where Eliot had slept. The mattress was cool, indicating he had left the bed some time ago. With a yawn, she stretched, then sat up and swung her legs over the edge. The wood floor was cool under her feet as she rose and made her way into the bathroom.

After using the facilities, she padded down the stairs to the first floor and made her way to the kitchen. There was music in the air, something folk-rocky that echoed through the empty dining room.

You are the hole in my head I am the pain in your neck You are the lump in my throat I am the aching in your heart We are tangled We are stolen We are living where things are hidden

Eliot was sitting on a stool at the island, reading a newspaper and drinking from a mug. He looked sleepy and rumpled with a spectacular case of bed head. Parker giggled and hopped onto the seat beside Eliot, propping an elbow up on the granite countertop and resting her chin in her hand.

You are something in my eye And I am the shiver down your spine You are on the lick of my lips And I am on the tip of your tongue We are tangled We are stolen We are buried up to our necks in sand

Putting the paper down, Eliot looked at her and said, “Mornin’ Buttercup.”

Parker grinned. She liked the nickname. No one else had ever really given her one before. “Morning,” she replied, then glanced around the kitchen. “Can I help make the waffles?”

We are luck We are ]fate We are the feeling you get in the golden state We are love We are hate We are the feeling I get when you walk away…. Walk away

“Sure,” Eliot said, standing and opening a cabinet. As he pulled out several stainless steel mixing bowls and measuring cups, he said, “Can you grab the strawberries and raspberries out of the fridge? We’ll want to get the sauces started before the waffles.”

Well you are the dream in my nightmare I am that falling sensation You are not needles and pills I am your hangover morning We are tangled We are stolen We are living where things are hidden

Opening the doors of the huge sub-zero refrigerator, Parker quickly found the berries and placed them on the island where Eliot was setting out the bowls. “Should I get anything else out of here?” she asked, waving a hand at the open fridge.

“Butter, a lemon, 3 eggs and the buttermilk,” he said, adding spatulas, whisks and a variety of other paraphernalia to the pile of cooking supplies.

We are luck We are fate We are the feeling you get in the golden state We are love We are hate We are the feeling I get when you walk away Walk away Walk away

After selecting the requested items, Parker moved over to the counter by Eliot and said, “Okay, what now?”

He handed her a stainless steel sauce pan and a measuring cup with a small paring knife in it. “Cut the greens and stems off the strawberries, the put 4 cups of them in the pan with a cup of water. Heat them on high,” he told her as scraped some of the lemon rind off into a bowl, then chopped the lemon in half and squeezed the juice onto the rinds.

You are the hole in my head You are the pain in your neck You are the lump in my throat I am the aching in your heart

As Parker went about cutting the leaves and stems off of the strawberries, the music that had continued to play in the background faded away. “What was that song?” she asked, looking over as Eliot mashed the cornstarch, sugar, lemon juice, rind and cold water into a paste, then began adding raspberries and smushing them as well.

The specialist gave a one shouldered shrug and motioned to the Ipod docked in the small sound system. “Hardison made some inarticulate sounds of disgust when I told him I didn’t have one of those and set one up. So far I can only get it to play random songs that I’ve never heard of,” Eliot told her, dumping the mixture he had made into another sauce pan and putting it on the stove.

Parker nodded, placing her own pan on the stove and reached over to tap the Ipod.

“The Golden State. John Doe.” she said, then accepted two silicone spatulas from Eliot.

“Stir ‘em and tell me when they boil,” he said, then looked at her and smiled. “Something’s missing…hold on.”

He crossed over to a drawer and pulled out a bundle of white cloth. Shaking it out, he returned to Parker and wrapped the apron around her hips. “There ya go. A real Giada.”

Parker grinned although she wasn’t sure who or what a Giada was. Eliot seemed to mean it in a good way though, so that was enough. As she stirred the pans, he returned to the counter.

In one bowl he mixed together the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, salt, and baking soda. Then in another bowl, he beat together the eggs, butter and vanilla then stirred in the buttermilk. Carefully, Eliot added the wet mixture to the dry, dropped in the chocolate chips, then stirred it until it was smooth. When he achieved a consistency he liked, he took the bowl and placed it on the counter near where Parker was working before bending to retrieve the waffle iron fro one of the cabinets.

“It’s boiling!” Parker said, pointing at the two pans which were beginning to bubble happily.

“Okay,” he said, using a pot holder to move the raspberry sauce onto a cool burner as he lowered the heat under the strawberry sauce to simmer. “We gotta let that simmer a bit. Can you add a tablespoon of butter to the Raspberries and mix it in.”

Quickly, she added the butter, stirring it in and saying, “This smells really good.”

“It’ll taste better,” he assured her, pouring some of the waffle mix into the iron and closing the lid. The he picked up a small steel bowl and laid a few sheets of cheesecloth over the top. “Pour the strawberries there,” he told her handing her a pot holder, which Parker smiled at. It had a horse on it.

Eliot held the bowl and cheese cloth, allowing the strawberry mixture to drain through the cloth into the bowl below. He then gathered up the cloth and squeezed out any juice and pulp that got caught with the seeds. Then he poured what was in the bowl back into the pan. “Stir in two cups of sugar and bring it back to boil,” he told her, moving back to check the waffle iron. Deeming it not done, he set the oven on warm, ready for when the first waffle would be ready.

Parker was stirring the strawberry sauce when she felt him looking at her. “What?” she asked when she saw he was smiling.

“How’d you manage to get flour on your cheek?” he laughed, brushing the side of her face with his thumb.

Sucking in a breath as his callused fingers moved over her cheek, parker sighed, “This is why I don’t cook. I always end up with it on me.”

“Not doing too bad today,” he assured her, stepping back to pop the waffle out of the iron, then stick it in the oven to keep warm. Quickly, he reloaded the iron, then moved to a cabinet and withdrew two white plates and glass cups, which he set on the island with forks and knives. Then he withdrew two heavy mason jars from another cabinet and said, “Okay, pour the sauces in these.”

As Parker accomplished this task, Eliot pulled the second waffle from the iron and put it directly on a plate, then retrieved the first waffle and set it out as well. Returning to the fridge, he pulled out the orange juice and filled the cups before asking, “You want whipped cream on yours?”

“Do ducks quack?” she said, turning to face him with the mason jar of sauce. “Where?”

Eliot pointed to the little breakfast nook and Parker walked over to set down the jar. He followed with the plates and a Tupperware container of fresh whipped cream, setting one down in front of Parker and at another seat. Then he grabbed the Juices and slid into a chair.

Liberally pouring the strawberry sauce on her Waffle, Parker topped it with a mound of whipped cream and tucked in. Half the waffle was gone before she came up for air. “Good,” she told an amused Eliot, the glanced out the window and froze. “Cop!”

Following her gaze, Eliot shook his head. “That’s just my neighbor, Katie.”

Parker looked at him incredulously. “You live next to a cop. Why?”

“Didn’t know she lived there when I bought the place. Not that it matters. It’s her folks place, but she still lives with them. Nice family,” He said, taking a bite of his waffle.

“Weird,” Parker murmured, turning back to her meal. She was quiet for a moment before she said, “Is Sophie’s audition thing this week?”

“I think so,” he told her whit a smile. “She still on about you trying out?”

Nodding, Parker said, “Yes. I may have to escape and evade a lot.”

Eliot smirked. “Oh come on. You don’t wanna get up there in one of those poofy dresses and act.”

Parker glared. “Laugh it up funny man. It’s a musical. She was muttering

about bring you along too.”

Choking on a waffle was never comfortable Eliot thought, made even less so by lingering injuries.

**********************************************************************

After they had cleaned up the kitchen from their waffle feast, Eliot and Parker each got washed and dressed in fresh clothes. Eliot decided not to think too hard on the fact that Parker was keeping spare clothes somewhere in his house. He had no idea where (and he looked), but they were there somewhere. The others occasionally left articles of clothing, like Sophie’s mud boots in the entry way or a truly strange cardigan that only Hardison would wear, but never full outfits.

But Parker appeared in the laundry room, fully dressed in black jean and a black t-shirt over a white long sleeved shirt. She only wore socks on her feet, as mucky shoes were kept in the entry way. Without saying a word, she dumped the little bundle of clothes in her arms into a laundry basket.

Heaving a sigh of the put upon, Eliot stopped sorting his own clothes and retrieved what she dropped. Shaking out the ball of clothes, he tossed the green t-shirt she had used a nightgown and her own grey shirt into the darks basket. The little pair of white cotton panties were dropped into the whites basket with a minimal amount of silent freaking out.

“Why are you doing that?” Parker’s voice startled him out of his oh-god-what-did-I-do-to-deserve-this (other than the professional violence thing) reverie.

Eliot gave her a puzzled look, then asked, “What?”

“Putting different colors in different baskets.”

“Ya don’t wash whites and darks together, Parker.”

“I do.”

“You white’s’ll get dingy,” he told her, reminding himself that he liked Parker despite her ability to make him say and do things that made his brain hurt. ‘Cause dingy, really? He didn’t say things like dingy.

She just blinked at him like he was the strange one and said, “Okay.”

Great, she was using the same tone she used when she thought Nate was acting creepy. “Okay, let’s get going,” he said, turning to face her and finding she’d already disappeared.

With another sigh, he made his way down stairs and found her standing by the door, boots, jacket and cute little bobble top hat on. She was holding his sling, which he took off as soon as he got in the door, playing with the Velcro fasteners, an amused expression on her face. “I’m ready. Put on your arm thing,”

After a brief struggle he got the sling on and slung his coat on the top. With a smile, Parker jammed a knit fisherman cap on his head and then grabbed his keys off of the key hook by the door. Eliot scowled and said, “Oh no….”

“Yes!” she insisted, skillfully avoiding his grab for the keys. “You’re not supposed to drive till you can open your eye more.”

As they made their way to Eliot’s truck, Parker looked over into the adjoining yard. The young police officer from earlier was out in the front yard, no longer in uniform, leashing a little dog.

“Morning, Katie!” Eliot shouted, startling Parker and drawing the young woman’s attention.

“Oh, Hi Eliot,” the police officer- Katie- called in return, jogging over in their direction. “How’s the shiner doing today?”

“Getting’ better,” he replied, then motioned to Parker. “This here’s Parker, one of my co-workers. Parker, my neighbor Katie Brennan.”

“Hi,” Katie said, sticking out a hand toward Parker, “Nice to meet you.”

Plastering on a big smile, Parker grabbed her hand and shook it aggressively. “Hello,” she said perkily, then glanced down at the dog, who was hopping around it’s owners feet. “What’s it’s name?”

“Her name’s Molly,” Katie said, crouching to scoop up the squirming animal, who then began trying to lick her owner’s face. “She’s a little excited to be out after being in the house all night.”

“Still on third watch?” Eliot asked, leaning against the side of his Chevy Silverado.

The officer shrugged. “Yup. I’m a rookie, so I’ll be there a while…Well, have a good day. I need to get her walked before I crash for the day.”

Eliot smiled farewell at his neighbor, trying not to laugh. Parker had been giving the dog a look and tilted her head to the side to get a different angle. In response, the dog had gone still and then copied the motion. It was cute.

As was seeing Parker hop up into the cab of his truck, at least until he considered that this meant she was going to be driving. While Eliot himself had not actually had the opportunity to experience the joy of being Parker’s passenger, he remembered Hardison’s reaction. The hacker had returned to the office looking nauseous and shaky and muttering, “Never again. Never. Again.”

It had taken nearly a half hour of coaxing, assisted by copious amounts of alcohol, to get Hardison to recount his trauma. Still, the most coherent explanation they had received from the young man was something about speed limits being just a suggestion and Parker not believing in blinkers.

Eliot barely had time to buckle his seatbelt before Parker revved the engine and peeled out of the driveway. Startled, he grabbed for the dashboard and said, “Try not to run over any of my neighbors, okay.”

She just grinned and stomped down hard on the gas.

**********************************************************************

When they arrived at the office, Eliot had a new appreciation for Hardison’s Parker related vehicle trauma. It almost made him thankful for the pain he felt as he ascended the stairs. It provided a distraction.

By the time he made it up to the offices, Parker had already disappeared off to …somewhere. Sophie poked her head through the doorway that led to the kitchen and said, “Good Morning, Eliot.”

“Morning Sophie,” he breathed, closing the outer door behind him with a thunk.

“Cuppa?” she inquired, holding up her obviously fresh mug of tea.

“Thanks,” he replied, struggling out of his coat and following her into the kitchen.

“There’s Darjeeling steeped, but if you’d like another…” the grifter said motioning to the small pot on the counter and then the cabinet where they kept the tea. Though they both drank coffee, each preferred tea and thus kept a variety of types in the office. They were even trying to get Parker used to herbal blends, hoping to reduce her daily caffeine intake.

“That’s fine,” he assured her, taking the cup she offered and sipping the strong brew. “How’s your day going?”

“It’s been a nice morning,” Sophie said. “Quiet. Nate and Hardison have yet to arrive.”

Eliot nodded, then opened a cupboard and reached around behind a few Tupperware containers of dried fruit. Triumphantly, he pulled out a package of Walker’s Shortbread fingers. “Cookie?” he teased as he opened the pack.

“Biscuit,” Sophie corrected, selecting one and nibbling it. “Another of your little hidden surprises? I found a knife behind one of the paintings in my office last week. I assume it‘s yours.”

“Did you move it?” he asked, considering where else he could put the weapon if she wouldn’t keep it there. Maybe switch it with the throwing knife that was taped to the underside of a nearby end table.

“No,” she said. “I figured you had a reason for putting it there.”

With a smile, Eliot said, “Just being cautious.”

“I assume the same goes for the little grenades attached to the inner lid of the toilet tank.”

“Not grenades, just flash bangs,” he chuckled, then raised an eyebrow. “You went looking in the toilet tank?”

The grifter laughed. “Oh no, not me. Hardison found them. You were home recuperating that day, but I’m surprised you didn’t hear his shout all the way out there.”

“Scared him a bit?” the specialist asked, finishing his tea and rinsing his mug in the sink.

“Just a little,” Sophie said, smiling at the memory. The hacker had been more than a little unnerved and, despite the fact that Nate had managed to assure him that the bathroom was not rigged to explode, he had spent the rest of the day muttering to himself about ‘crazy-bomb-happy-folk’. It had been rather entertaining. “Though, I think he’s still unsure whether they were there courtesy of you or Parker.”

“Me,” Eliot grinned as he wandered out of the kitchen. “Parker’s the one who put the C4 in the air vents, though.”

Sophie looked up from washing her cup. “C4?!”

************************************************************************

As Eliot entered the hall outside his office, Parker popped out of her office, a mid sized box sitting in her arms. “What did you get?” she demanded, following him into his office.

Sitting on the desk was a box similar in size to Parker’s. Eliot approached it warily. Unexpected packages weren’t something one looked forward to when one was in his line of work. He relaxed when he recognized Sophie’s hand writing on the card attached to the top. “Dunno,” he told Parker, picking up the note and opening it.

Eliot,

Since your sartorial style seems to be stuck in limbo

between urban cowboy and disaffected Seattle grunge,

I took the liberty of selecting you an outfit appropriate

for the upcoming Spring season. This is not to say that

your current style doesn’t suit you, just that perhaps

changing things up occasionally would be nice.

Sophie

Eliot looked up from the note to find that Parker had already pulled the lid off of the box and was removing items from it. Awkwardly, she thrust a blue and white pin-striped cotton oxford shirt at his chest, holding it up against him in a way that suggested she had seen people do this, but had never actually done it herself. Cocking her head to the side, she said, “Blue’s a good color for you.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “You too.”

She smiled happily and pulled out another bundle of cloth. This time she held out a plain pair of khaki chinos, obviously meant to be worn with the shirt. The pants didn’t thrill her, but she practically bounced when she pulled out a pair of navy Converse with white bumpers. “We can match!” she exclaimed, bending her leg up to display the black canvas sneaker on her own foot.

Knowing he would probably never wear the sneakers, Eliot just smiled and pulled the final item from the box. Obviously, Sophie was looking ahead to summer, as he held a pair of navy board shorts with abstract white wave designs.

Parker looked at the shorts and said, “You gonna try anything on?”

“Not right now,” he told her, indicating his shoulder as he replaced the clothing in his box. “Changing still takes a bit of work. What did you get?”

Parker spilled the contents of her box onto Eliot’s desk. She picked up a blue and white floral print maxi sundress and held it up against herself. Silver thong sandals with flat leather soles were obviously meant to be worn with it. “What do you think?“ she asked, shifting side to side to make the skirt flutter. “It’s kind of flowy. Not good for any type of stealth.”

“Don’t think it’s meant to be stealthy. Just pretty,” he told her, then picked up the aqua blue halter tankini with low slung bottoms and dropped them back into her box before his mind rolled too far down the road of thought they would lead to.

Parker bit her lip. “Do you think I’ll look pretty in it?” she asked softly, studying Eliot with big, questioning eyes.

“Yeah, Parker, I do,” he replied just as quietly. Despite the fact that neither of them had moved she suddenly seemed a lot closer, standing there, still holding her new dress, looking up at him through the fringe of her bangs. Not that she had to look up very far, but the way she was holding her head exaggerated the looking up bit.

She was just opening up her mouth to say something, when they heard the loud bang of the outer door shutting. The moment broke as they each stepped back and looked to the door, where Hardison soon appeared, heading down to his own office.

The hacker stopped in the door when he saw the, a large coffee clutched in one hand and a breakfast burrito in the other. “Sup,” he mumbled, peering at them over the top of his sunglasses. “What’s with the boxes?”

“Sophie brought us presents,” Parker informed him. “There’s one on your desk too.”

“Cool,” he said, continuing on his way to his own office.

Parker looked back at Eliot. “Let’s go see what Sophie bought him.”

“Okay,” Eliot said, oddly grateful for the younger man’s presence. This thing with Parker was not something he was ready to deal with. Not at all ready.

************************************************************************

Every office has it’s share of quirks. Sometimes it’s a mysteriously rebellious copier that belches toner all over anyone who dares load the tray. Other times it’s the weird guy with the lazy eye who always smells like cabbage. Occasionally, someone goes totally postal and attacks a supervisor with a loaf of French bread and hummus or an AK-47.

The Leverage office was not immune to this phenomena, in fact, it seemed a very fertile breeding ground for all sorts of oddities. Some were benign while others, like the weapons hidden around the place, were a bit unique.

A large drawer in Nate’s office was packed with a variety of NERF balls. No one ever saw him play with them, though he did toss around one seemingly deformed tennis ball when he was deep in thought. The steady thump of the ball against the wall could be heard as far as the lobby and it drove Sophie mad.

The décor of his office was all Sophie’s doing, but after a few weeks fishing lures began showing up. Crankbaits, spinnerbaits and artificial flies hung off of lampshades like demented little embellishments. After seeing Sophie’s silent horror, Hardison had asked Nate about them. The ex-insurance man had smiled faintly and claimed to be considering taking up fishing for the stress relief aspect of the sport.

When working late at night planning a job, Nate often wandered from office to office, tumbler in hand, sock clad feet slipping on the wood floors. If he was alone and feeling particularly puckish, he’d put his drink down and do a very funny Tom Cruise in Risky Business impersonation. Hardison had snorted orange soda out his nose and fallen out of his chair, howling with laughter, the first time he saw that on the security footage. Hearing him, Parker and Eliot had rushed in, taken a look at the screen and burst out laughing as well.

Sophie herself had a stash of high quality chocolate tucked deep in her desk with a few trashy bodice ripper novels. She also kept comfy slippers tucked out of sight under her desk so she could take off her high heels when she was alone. The only visible deviation from the carefully planned aesthetic of the office were the scripts that resided on various tables and shelves.

The scripts were there so she could practice during lulls between . Some of them she chose for Parker’s acting lessons. The grifter was very adept at cornering each and every one of her co-workers to forcibly conscript them into assisting her in this hobby. They found it hard to escape and evade someone they actually liked, so Nate, Hardison, Eliot and Parker often found themselves running lines with her.

In Hardison’s office, the hacker had an entire cabinet full of the truly noxious snack foods he loved, but Eliot had banned from the kitchen. Pink Snowballs, off-brand Cheetos that stained fingers orange for hours, Lucky Charms, slim jims, cheese whiz, Peeps, Jumbo Pixie Stix-- which, they had found out the hard way, he was not to let Parker near-- Fun Dips, Pop Tarts and Mountain Dew -- Again, an illicit item after a Parker related incident. Really, who though up things like turning the stairwell into a giant slip and slide. Apparently Parker on a Dew and Pixie Stix trip, that’s who. Because of this, his office tended to have a lingering sweet smell. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it did make Eliot grimace and shove meat and vegetables at him, muttering about blood sugar and diabetes.

Everyone was used to the occasional incomprehensible shout from Hardison’s office. He talked to himself as he played World of Warcraft and other online games that none of the other’s really understood. On a few rare occasions he convinced Eliot to try to play a game as well, but during the last time, Hardison had waxed on for several minutes about how the game allowed you to do things you could never do in real life. Eliot had looked at the screen where Hardison’s character had take on about ten other heavily armed characters and taken them all down with just a sword.

Very seriously, Eliot said, “I have done that.”

Hardison hadn’t made too much of a fuss about Eliot playing WOW again.

After her initial enthusiasm for furnishing her office, Parker hadn’t done much in the way of personalizing her space. Recently though, she had begun to collect those Russian nesting dolls. She had them various flat pieces of furniture around her office. Some of them were festooned with little Barbie hats, while others had tiny, action figure type plastic weapons affixed to their sides. Nate had been the only one who dared ask her about them, but Parker had just stared at him blankly and shrugged.

Where the others kept things they didn’t want anyone to see, Parker had a framed picture of the team. In the drawer below the picture were several pieces of fabric. Wool-one of Hardison’s funky wool scarves. Gauze- the pretty lavender scarf was clearly Sophie’s. Cotton- a bandana Eliot though he’d simply misplaced. Heavy raw silk- Nate’s necktie. No one but Parker knew what was in her drawer.

Though she had heeded Nate’s pleas concerning climbing the outside of the building, Parker tended to spend a lot of time up on the roof. She claimed to find the open air soothing. When not on the roof, she could be found most often in either Eliot or Hardison’s office. The younger man would try to entertain her with chatter or attempt to get her to a game, but mostly she just seemed to like the company. Eliot’s office was usually quieter. The retrieval specialist didn’t have a problem with letting her sit in his room, silent, often perched on furniture not made for sitting, watching him do whatever it was that he was doing.

Like Parker, Eliot hadn’t added much to his office after the initial set up. One day, shortly after the unpleasant job with the Chileans, he came into the office with a small leather bound note book in hand. He put it in a desk drawer and announced that if they ever found themselves in a situation where he was out of commission and they needed help, they were to use the book.

Of course, being that they were an office full of thieves, he wasn’t surprised that Nate, Sophie and Hardison had attacked the book as soon as he had left for the day. Parker might have been curious as well, but she was driving him home.

The book began as such:

In any situation where physical back up is needed and I am not available, your first call should be to:

Moon Blackwolf-- Retrieval Specialist--918-555-7427

In any situation where you find yourself saying “this is impossible!” “Those don’t exist!” or “Why is that man biting her (not in the good way)?” call:

Dean Winchester-- Hunter-- 316-555-1983

Rupert Giles-- Watcher-- 011-44-555-7991

In the event you need to hide a body, no questions asked, or need a body made:

Josef Kostan-- Businessman --323-555-5395

Alex Krycek-- espionage operative-- 202-555-1036

Julian Sark-- espionage operative-- 323-555-4929

Legal Advice:

Lindsey McDonald-- Lawyer--918-555-6711

Acceptable members of the law enforcement community:

Victor Mansfield-- Canadian Security Intelligence Service --360-555-3399

Bobby Goren-- NYPD --212-555

Ziva David-- Mussad/NCIS --202-555

Nicholas Brocklehurst-- MI6 --011-44-555-2957

Terese DuBois-- Direction Generale de la Securite Exterieure-- -- 011-33-555-5546

Lihn Sumika-- Hawaii PD --808-555-2948

Matt Devlin-- Metropolitan Police Service --011-44-555-6600

Kwame Akimbara--South African Police Service --011-27-11-555-4356

Linda Cho-- Korean National Police Agency--011-850-2-555-1184

Misc.:

Mike Kellerman-- P.I. Baltimore--410-555-2309

The trio had read the entries and though some things didn’t make a lot of sense they figured it was best not to question Eliot at the moment.

Being what it was, everyone in the Leverage offices tended to take things with a grain of salt and just accept the oddities of their co-workers without qualms. Which was why a shriek from Sophie brought the other four members of the team rushing to the kitchen.

Sophie was standing in the kitchen, the door to the refrigerator open and a container sitting on the floor where she had dropped it.

“Sophie!” Nate asked, stepping toward the woman. “What’s wrong?”

The look she fixed on him made Parker, Hardison and Eliot back up.

“You put worms in the refrigerator!” she shouted, causing Nate to gulp and look to the others for support.

Unfortunately for Nate, they had already retreated, knowing this argument was going to end badly.

*********************************************************************

As the month of March ended and April began, snowy winter began to fade into spring. Or mud season, as some of the locals referred to it. Temperatures warmed, the smell of salt air came rolling off the ocean, expansive patches of grass appeared where there had previously been only snow covered tundra.

Nate entered the office on a fairly sunny Wednesday morning. The past few days had been rather gray and wet, so the sun was a welcome change.

“Morning Nate,” Sophie greeted him with a smile. The grifter was arranging a fresh bouquet of yellow Alstroemeria, lilies, roses and snapdragons in a glass vase on the small accent table. “You’re in early.”

He raised his brows and sipped his coffee. Sophie looked lovely, her dress a concession to the changing weather. Instead of the heavier fabrics she had taken to wearing since arriving in Maine, she wore a bold, Indian-inspired printed straight silk shift fashioned with a spilt neckline and softly gathered cap sleeves. “The others not in yet?”

Before Sophie could answer, a loud yelp echoed out from their younger colleagues hallway.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no! Not right!” Hardison was shouting, sounding very ticked off. “Which one of you heathens did this?!”

Sophie and Nate exchanged a look and as one began toward the hall. Eliot popped out of his office as they arrived and offered a lopsided shrug when they looked at him with questioning expressions. “You do something?” Nate asked the specialist as they walked down the short hall.

“Nope,” Eliot replied, then paused. “Well, nothing that would have him all in knots today….”

Nate rolled his eyes as the three of them piled into Hardison’s office. The hacker was standing by his desk, an outraged and shocked expression on his face, sands extended out in front of his chest. That was odd, but the stranger thing was the computer keyboard dangling from his fingertips.

Glaring at them, Hardison demanded, “Which one of y’all thought it would be funny to put superglue on my keyboard!”

Eliot let out a short bark of laughter, causing a befuddled Nate and Sophie to look at him. “Why do ya always think it’s me?” he grumbled, but couldn’t keep the smirk from tugging up the corners of his mouth.

“Not cool, man,” Hardison said, glaring at Eliot as Sophie moved over to look at the hacker’s situation.

As she looked at how the keyboard seemed to be fused to the young man’s fingers, she said, “I think we should be able to use nail polish remover to dissolve the glue.”

Hardison was still glaring at the quietly snorting specialist, who again insisted, “What? I’m telling’ ya it wasn’t me.”

With a sigh, Nate looked at Sophie. “Do you have nail….”

That was when they heard giggles from the hall. Parker was hovering in the doorway and, when she had all of their attention, she laughed, “April Fools!”

Having said what she came to say, the blond sidled back off toward her office, leaving the other four members of the team to exchange horrified glances. Slowly, carefully, Nate, Sophie and Eliot eased themselves away from all walls and furniture, not knowing what else the little blond thief might have booby trapped.

Hardison was also attempting to creep away from his desk, wireless keyboard still attached to his fingers. “I felt safer when I thought it was Eliot trying to be funny,” he said nervously. “All I’d be worrying about then would be more glue, maybe a bucket of paint set up over a door…but Parker’s idea of pranks…I’m a big enough man to admit I am truly terrified.”

“I think you speak for us all,” Nate assured the younger man, then shook his head and said, “All right people, first thing we do is get Hardison free. Then we carefully check the offices for more pranks.”

There was general murmur of assent and Nate, Sophie and Eliot carefully made their way out of Hardison’s office, the latter muttering, “I’d come up with something a hell of a lot better than a bucket of paint….”

**********************************************************************

Several hours and an intensive search of the office later, Nate, Sophie, Hardison and Eliot gathered in the conference room, each in varying states of disarray. During the search, each had encountered at least one prank, none especially harmful, just annoying.

Hardison was still holding his hands in front of his chest, though the keyboard was long gone. Sophie’s nail polish remover had failed to dissolve the glue and when Hardison had started getting wound up again, Eliot had simply grabbed the board and yanked. There hadn’t even been any blood, but Hardison bellowed like a pissed off rhino. All he really lost was a few layers of skin off of his fingertips, but the younger man had not been happy. During the search of his office, he also discovered his computer monitor was upside down and his stereo system set to top volume and tuned to a polka station.

Sophie had gotten off fairly easily, having found the doorknob to her office loose enough that it came off in her hand. Everything on top of her desk was also set up to face the wrong way and there was a disco ball hanging from her ceiling.

Having found nothing in his office, Eliot made his way to the kitchen. When he opened a cabinet, there had been a small pop and the specialist found himself standing amidst a shower of glitter. He ended up covered head to toe in the sparkly crap, but was more annoyed by the mess surrounding him.

It was universally agreed however, that Nate got the worst of the pranks: A Chicken Bomb. Upon opening a drawer of his desk, a chicken literally exploded out into his face. His shouts had drawn the other, including Parker who giggled again before disappearing. Wearing a shell shocked expression, Nate, feathers in his hair, watched a be-glittered Eliot gently capture the chicken.

As the specialist cradled the chicken against his chest while they entered the conference room, he explained the concept of a chicken bomb, which was a relatively simple pranks that only required a chicken, a drawer and a rudimentary knowledge of chicken psychology. Apparently, if a chicken is put in a small enclosed dark space, like the desk drawer, it will immediately fall still, fearing predators. While it waits to be freed, silent, the bird will grow more and more agitated. When someone opens the drawer, the chicken will literally explode out of its little prison.

“You know some strange things,” Hardison solemnly informed him as he finished the explanation.

Eliot shrugged. “Didn’t have cable as a kid. Had to make my own fun.”

Watching the specialist pat the chicken, Nate said, “Who want’s to go ask Parker if we found all her traps?”

With a nervous murmur, Sophie settled back into her chair, reaching out to pull a feather from Nate’s hair. Hardison simply snorted and said, “Hell no.”

When six eyes landed on Eliot he sighed and said, “Fine. Hold this.”

He shoved the chicken into Nate’s arms and closed the door to the conference room behind him, knowing, at some point, the bird would probably escape Nate’s hold. The idea of the three of them trying to recapture the skittish creature was amusing.

Making his way to Parker’s office, he leaned his good shoulder against the doorjamb. “Did we find ‘em all?” he questioned her, giving his head a tiny shake and causing glitter to flutter to the ground.

Parker hopped off her desk and approached him slowly. Biting her lip, she nodded, then asked, “April Fool’s Day. Normal people do that. I know they do.”

Smiling at her, Eliot said, “You’re not exactly normal, Buttercup. None of us are.”

“You say there’s something wrong with me.”

Eliot didn’t like how hesitant her voice was. It was such a contrast to her happy giggles over the pranks. Reaching out, he placed a hand on her arm and squeezed gently. “Yeah, I say that, but in truth, ain’t none of us normal. We’re all a bit…skewed and that’s okay. What’s wrong with you is pretty right, ya know….”

The nervous look had melted off Parkers face and she smiled at him, big and happy. Slowly, she stepped into Eliot’s personal space, close enough that her chest brushed against his. Their breaths mingled as she leaned in, brushing her lips gently against his. The contact was brief, but enough for him to note that her lips were warm and soft, coated in chapstick, not some waxy tasting lipstick.

Though the kiss was brief, she stayed close to him, her mouth a hair’s breadth from his own, waiting. Gently, Eliot raised his good hand to cup her face and this time it was he that initiated the kiss. This time, it was still more gentle than passionate, all soft lips and mouth half open, no tongue except a hint. After about 15 heartbeats, and God did they sound loud in Eliot’s head, Parker grew a bit more assured and that was definitely a tongue there, teasing at the corners of Eliot's mouth and upper lip. He reached up to cup the back of her head and Parker gripped his good shoulder to hold him still.

After a full minute, Eliot broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Parker’s. He smiled at her again. “What brought that on, Buttercup?”

The blond raised a finger to point up. “Mistletoe!”

Eliot blinked and looked up. Sure enough, there was a sprig of mistletoe tacked up over the doorway. He squinted at the plant, then looked at Parker. “Mistletoe’s for Christmas, not April Fool’s,” he told her, grinning wider as she shrugged.

“Still worked, didn’t it?” she asked, looking rather pleased with herself.

Looking down at her, smiling and now covered in glitter that had transferred from his face, body and hair to her, Eliot had to laugh. “Sure did,” he said, wrapping his good arm around her body, holding her to his chest. “Sure did.”

**********************************************************************

About a week after April Fool’s day, or A-day as Hardison had taken to calling it, the hacker found himself in Nate’s office, bored and looking forward to their next job.

“Seriously Nate, we have a new job yet? Cause I’m getting antsy,” Hardison joked, dropping into the visitor’s chair in the older man’s office.

Nate peered over his desk at him. “Sure. You go tell Sophie and Parker we’re working a job before Eliot’s healed up. Let me know how well that goes over.”

This thought gave Hardison pause. Sophie was the maternal figure in their little group and, since the retrieval specialist had been hurt, the mama bear instinct had come out. She was careful not to smother the man, knowing that would not be tolerated, but she had no trouble with intimidating Nate and Hardison into letting Eliot get plenty of rest. Putting him back out in the field before he could comfortably raise his arm over his head would not be considered restful.

And Parker…well, the thief seemed to have decided it was her job to look after Eliot, who didn’t seem to know how to tell her to leave him alone. Hardison couldn’t figure that one out. Parker had as much interest in being nurturing as she did becoming a horse trainer and Eliot normally had no trouble in staking out his personal space.

More and more often, Parker could be found wandering the offices with an odd little smiles on her face. Not her I-Got-A-Whole-Pile-Of-Shiny-New-Money smile or the Just-Stole-A-Priceless-Item-From-A-Heavily-Fortified-Room smile or even the Look-At-The-Pretty-Explosion smile. Just a real, happy smile. Which was odd for Parker.

Eliot was still Eliot, though slightly less hostile than he had been after previous injuries. There was limited growling and he hadn’t thrown anything at anyone, so Alec was working on the theory that the man was actually in need of some coddling. That was the only explanation he could come up with after poking his head into Eliot’s office one afternoon to find Parker sitting on the arm of Eliot’s chair, actually stroking the specialist’s hair and not having her arm ripped off and shoved back down her throat.

Returning to the present topic, Hardison nodded at Nate. “Maybe we can just hold off on that,” Hardison said with a sigh. “Least until he starts tossing knives around again.”

During the lull before their last job, Hardison had gone into Eliot’s office to investigate the thumping noises that were originating inside. He thought that maybe the specialist had stolen one of Nate’s tennis balls, but when he opened the door, a knife embedded itself in a block of wood hung on the wall by the door. Hardison had looked from Eliot to the knife and back before exiting the room and closing the door. Apparently, that was what Eliot did when bored.

With a heaving sigh, Hardison left Nate’s office, heading back to his own room to work on various projects he had going or maybe see if Parker or Eliot wanted to hang. He swung through the kitchen to grab a soda, then entered their little side hall.

The door to Eliot’s office was open, allowing Hardison to see the man sitting at his desk, pointing at something on a paper. Parker, perched on the desktop, was looking at the sheet, nodding. Seemingly out of nowhere, she said, “I like tomatoes.”

Hardison raised an eyebrow as he entered the room and asked, “What’s going on in here?”

“Eliot’s going to grow vegetables. I’m going to cultivate carnivorous plants to act as a defensive force,” Parker said very calmly. “Keep out the bugs and critters.”

Eliot and Hardison exchanged a glance, unsure how to let her know that wasn’t quite how carnivorous plants worked, but they simultaneously came to the conclusion that they shouldn’t ruin her fun. “Fresh veggies,” Hardison said with a grin. “Sounds good, but how’s that gonna work when we travel for jobs.”

“Already thought of that,” Eliot said. “Asked a neighbor about watering things when I have business trips. She said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Chuckling, Hardison said, “Making friends with the locals?”

“She’s a cop,” Parker said, rolling the last word as if it tasted bad in her mouth. “She doesn’t seem to be evil though. You’d like her. She had a tattoo of that Stargate thing you like so much on her back.”

“Really?” Hardison asked, intrigued. “Is she cute?”

Simultaneously, Eliot asked, “How do you know she’s go a tattoo?”

Glaring at Hardison, Parker said, “She’s a COP.” To Eliot she just said, “I saw it.”

“When?” He sounded like he really didn’t want to know, but just had to ask.

The thief shrugged. “I did some reconnaissance. There’s that honeycomb T-shaped logo from that other show you like too, Hardison.”

Very gravely, Alec leaned over the desk. “Seriously….Wow. Eliot, tell me she’s cute. Please!”

Still waffling between amusement and worry over having his neighbors spied on, Eliot glanced at Hardison. “Calm down before you pop something. Yes, she’s cute.”

“Her parents are attractive as well,” Parker informed them blithely, causing Eliot to sigh.

As Alec turned to head to his office to do a little background research on a certain police officer/sci-fi fan, Eliot said, “Please don’t break into my neighbors homes.”

“I didn’t take anything,” she said, and Hardison snickered as he entered the hall, because she then asked, “Do you think Katie’s cuter than me?”

He barely heard Eliot say, “No, you’re definitely cuter.”

***********************************************************************

Nearly two months had passed since their near disastrous outing in Miami. Since then they had been laying low, only taking a few small, low risk jobs, most of which Hardison could complete from his office computer. As Eliot’s injuries had finally healed, Nate was again reviewing and selecting more complex jobs and they were ready when the right opportunity presented itself. But instead of being found by the computer and vetted by Nate or Sophie, their next clients walked through the door, a first for this new office.

Parker was crouched behind the reception desk, checking on the bundle of HMX explosive she had attached to the underside when she heard the main office door creek open. She froze, unsure of who it might be, as she knew all her associates were in their respective offices. But her fears were soon allayed.

“You sure this is the place?” a woman asked, doubt heavy in her strong voice.

There was a pause and the sound of paper crinkling, then a man said, “Yes. This is the address Bobby’s cousin had.”

“It looks like a psychiatrist’s office,” the woman mumbled. “Not like a P.I.’s or whatever these people are.”

At that Parker popped up from behind the desk and blurted, “Hi!”

By the doors, the newcomers started, obviously unnerved by Parker’s sudden and tactless appearance. They were a striking couple, both lean and attractive but that’s where the similarities ended. He was tall and fair, with shockingly red hair, bright blue eyes and lily white skin dotted with a galaxy of freckles. She was petite, with middle eastern ancestry written on her caramel features and nearly black hair and eyes.

The man cocked his head to the side and gave Parker a curious look while the woman glared. After a moment, the thief realized the woman wasn’t really angry, but the look was kind of her default setting, similar to Eliot. “Is this Leverage and Associates?” the man asked, his voice pleasant and soft as though he were trying not to startle her.

Giving a nod, Parker said, “Yes. I’m an associate. One moment.” Turning toward the door that led to Nate and Sophie’s offices, she bellowed, “Nate!”

Again the newcomers jumped, so Parker attempted to ease their concerns by flashing them a bright smile. This only seemed to add to their sense of unease, but before she could try anything else, Eliot popped out into the reception area from their

hall, followed seconds later by Nate and Sophie.

“We’ve got company,” Parker informed them all, pointing a finger at the couple.

Nate heaved a breath, then approached them. “Hello. I’m Nathan Ford. What can we help you with?”

*********************************************************************

Charlie and Dani Lewis had found them in the usual, friend of a friend of a friend referred them manner. Unlike many of the groups clients they weren’t generally helpless. They were tenured professors at UC Berkley, Philosophy and Criminology respectively, well respected and used to achieving anything they sought to do. Their 19 year old daughter, Rachel, however, left them completely at a loss.

Rachel, a sophomore at Northern Arizona University, had at some point in the past few months, simply stopped attending classes. Her dorm was cleared out, her car sold and bank account emptied and closed. Unable to get in touch with her for over a week, Dani had managed to contact one of Rachel’s friends, who had no idea where she had gone. No one did. Charlie and Dani had both taken emergency leave and gone to Flagstaff, hoping the police would have some luck locating their daughter.

There had been no leads, until one of Rachel’s classmates remembered seeing her with “one of those weird guys from the compound outside town.” Upon some investigation, they found that she was indeed living at the compound with dozens of other men and women, all of them following the word of their ‘prophet’.

In other words, she had been indoctrinated into a cult. Despite her parent’s wishes, the local police were unable to do anything to extract Rachel from the compound, as she was technically and adult and she, like everyone else, professed a desire to stay. The FBI and ATF had eyes on the group, their ‘prophet’ being an ex-con with a history of fraud and weapons charges among a long list of offenses. Children’s Services was also looking into them, as allegations of inappropriate conduct with minors had been filed against some members of the cult. No evidence had been found, but still, people were uneasy.

With no other recourse, the Lewis’s began looking into alternative methods of recovering their daughter. One of Charlie’s friends recommended they try Leverage and Associates, as they had done good work for his cousin.

After, the Lewis’s finished relating their situation, Nate sat back in his chair and steepled his hands. “Mr. and Mrs. Lewis, I think we can help.”

***********************************************************************

Cult recruiters hang out in places where you might find people in a period of extreme stress or possessing certain personality traits like dependency, unassertiveness, gullibility, disillusionment with the status quo and desire for spiritual meaning -- which is pretty much anywhere. Some particularly fruitful recruiting locations might include college campuses, religious gatherings, self-help and support groups, seminars related to spirituality or social change and the unemployment office. The main methods of cult recruitment revolve around deception and manipulation. Potential recruits are not told the true nature or intentions of the group. Instead, recruiters portray it as something mainstream, low-pressure and benign.

Recruiters identity the specific needs or desires of their targets and play to them. They learn to pick up on a person's fears and vulnerabilities and portray the cult accordingly. It might seem strange that someone would accept these types of invitations, but there are a couple of factors that make it seem more palatable. First, the recruiter might be someone these people know. And someone who is sad, lonely or desperate might be more inclined to trust someone who claims to know the path back to happiness.

From day one, it's a process of manipulation and deception. And for those who stay on, the recruiting process culminates in the submission of their own personalities to the "will of the group."

From the start, they knew this job was going to take a while, as trust had to be established. Not knowing how paranoid this particular cult, the People’s Church of Today, was, Nate decided to dangle Eliot and Parker out in front of the recruiters, figuring one if not both of them would be snapped up. Parker’s cover was as a confused young woman, unsure of her place in the world and prone to visiting self-help groups. Eliot was playing the part of a disaffected veteran, cast adrift after returning home from the Middle East.

Both proved tempting to recruiters, and soon Parker then Eliot were invited to a prayer meeting at the compound. They sat in a small room with a group of other men and women, listening to one of the groups ‘elders’ ramble. Knowing this was how these groups lulled gullible people into believing that they were perfectly reasonable, Eliot and Parker played along. At the end of the three hour prayer circle, they joined several people who approached the ‘elder’, a man named Michael, asking about the next circle.

It was easy for Eliot to spot the undercover cop in the group, a young man who was simply a bit too pushy. That, combined with the regulation haircut, marked him to Michael as well and the young cop was not present at any of the future meetings. Over the next several weeks, they attended many circles and discussion groups. Parker found the singing and hand holding a bit strange, but did a good job maintaining her cover persona as being taken in by the whole set up. Eliot held it together as well, simply internalizing his irritation over the increasingly manipulative rhetoric and taking solace in Hardison‘s running commentary over the comm in his ear. I’m gonna break someone’s hand the next time they start up one of those touchy feely, hippy crunchy hand holding Kumbaya song circles, Eliot thought every single time the directed song groups began.

After nearly a month of this, their initial prayer circle of fifteen had dwindled down to four, Eliot, Parker and two other young women, Allison and Sonja. That was when Michael told them they were going to be meeting the ‘prophet’ Zachariah Stone. Finally. Both of them were relieved, as they’d had enough of the whole cult experience.

“You getting this?” Eliot breathed, almost inaudibly knowing the comm would pick up his words by the vibration and transmit them to the rest of the team. His glasses, not his usual wire frames or the thick black plastic pair he used for different covers, had a tiny camera built in to the frame, so the others could see everything he saw.

“In full crazy magic Kool-aid surround sound,” Hardison said and Eliot could hear him eating something, probably chips from the crunching crackle, “You finally gonna meet the Grand PooBah.”

Eliot gave a non-committal grunt and beside him, Parker smiled. She missed growly Eliot, who never said a word if a look or a meaningful punch would do. For the sake of his cover, the specialist had been oddly verbal as of late and she found she missed her Eliot who could say so many things with a variety of inarticulate grunts and grumbles.

The arrival of Stone drew Parker’s attention. He definitely had presence, seemed to be somehow bigger than he really was. That, Nate had informed them, was a common trait among cult figures. The ex-insurance man said there are no cults without powerful, charismatic head. A cult leader has the uncanny ability to get people to follow him unquestioningly. Nate hadn’t thought it funny when Parker asked, “So you’re like our cult leader?”

But he turned practically purple when Sophie chuckled, “Come now, Parker, Nate’s not a fronting a cult. We question him all the time.”

Thinking of that exchange, Parker smiled as Stone made his way into the room stopping to speak with Michael and then Allison, who seemed to bask in the attention. Parker watched intently, hoping she’d be able to use the other woman’s reactions to enhance her performance.

When he reached her, Stone spread his hands and said, “Welcome to our family, Sydney.”

Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her cheeks then her forehead. Forcing herself to hold her smile, internally Parker was a lot less composed. Her inner voice was screaming Get the creepy man away! Look! There’s a whole bunch of cutlery available right there on the table. Go on! Grab a Fork! Or a Knife! Or call Eliot, he’ll yank the bastard’s arm off and beat him to death with it! I bet he wants to!

But Sydney Vaughn, her cover, would not react like that so she simply said, “Thank you, Prophet.”

Still gripping her face, he said, “Please, sister, call me Zachariah. We are all equal in God’s eyes. I merely speak for him.”

Oh gag me! Parker managed to choke out a giggle, hoping to sound overwhelmed. Stone seemed to buy it, giving her face a last gentle squeeze before moving over to Eliot.

“Welcome to our family, Will,” he repeated his opening line, then the kisses on Eliot‘s cheeks. Parker held her breath, but he the specialist refrained from killing or even maiming the violator of people’s personal space bubbles.

“Thanks Prophet Zachariah,” Eliot simply breathed and Parker knew he wanted the man to LET GO NOW. But Stone continued to stare into Eliot’s eyes, finger’s still pressing lightly into his jaw.

In their ears, Parker heard Nate whisper, “Steady.”

The stare seemed to continue for a long time, until Stone smiled beatifically and pressed the final kiss to the specialists brow. “Brother,” he murmured, before moving off to make a visit to Sonja.

As Michael waved them over to stand by Allison, Hardison’s voice echoed in their ears. “Oh, man, this is not a nice dude. Zachariah Stone aka Sylvester Morris, ex-con, beefs for fraud, assault, assault with a deadly weapon, indecent exposure and a whole boat load of other charges. Last time he got sent up, says he found God. Got ordained, but couldn’t find a niche in an established congregation outside the pen. Then the People’s Church of Today appeared on the scene. Watch your backs.”

After Stone, aka Morris, finished chatting with Sonja, he led her over to the group. “Come now,” he said, motioning them to the door. “Let me introduce you to our brothers and sisters.”

*********************************************************************

Meeting the brothers and sisters of the group took quite a while. The meet and greet was followed by a tour of the compound and then a mass group prayer. Most of the people they encountered seemed…well, happy wasn’t the right word. Maybe content was more apt, a sort of general, bland non-displeasure. It was a bit creepy.

After the prayer, it was meal time. Up to that point, Eliot, Parker and the other two who had entered the compound with them, had stayed together amidst the larger group. Allison and Sonja seemed to feel a sense of solidarity to them, as they had gone through the month of meetings together, while Eliot and Parker simply felt it a better strategy to remain together for the moment.

But at the dining hall, Stone placed a hand on Eliot’s arm. “Join me at my table, Brother,” he intoned, pulling the specialist away from Parker, who was drawn over to a table with a group of women. After a moment, they both realized the tables were separated by gender, so they wouldn’t have been able to dine together even without the ‘Prophet’s’ intervention.

The women surrounding Parker…well, she was fairly certain there was something wrong with them. They were a bit too insipidly docile, all blank, empty stares and vacant smiles. It reminded her of when the well-meaning, but ultimately way off the mark doctors at the rehab had put her on anti-depressants. But even then her chemically induced happiness had been exuberant. These women seemed more like the cows she saw in fields in Maine. Bad Parker, she reprimanded herself. Women do not like to be referred to a large farm animals…though I don’t think any of these kewpie dolls would notice.

Most of the men were equally meek, save a few that seemed to be Stone’s inner circle. They seemed to be more alert, though still eerily serene as they gathered at Stone’s table, surrounding Eliot, who looked small among the mass of larger men. Still, Parker had no doubt her could take all of them down without breaking a sweat.

The young children, at least, seemed a bit more normal. There were a few of them with the flat affect of the adults, but most simply seemed like kids. True, they were well behaved, but they showed signs of life, fidgeting, having quiet little arguments and even lobbing peas at each other. But as the children got older the more insensate they became and by the pubescent stage they were little Stepford children.

“You’re friends with the man you came in with?” one of the interchangeable zombie women said, actually making eye contact for a moment. Parker thought this on was named Tina…or Gina…possibly Lena….not that she really cared. I doubt they’d notice if I got it wrong.

Parker looked at the woman and nodded. “We met at the prayer circles.”

Another woman said, “He seems nice.”

Tina/Gina/Lena nodded in agreement. “Friends are nice.”

They fell silent again, happily eating their unseasoned vegetables and rice. Cramming a forkful of carrots into her mouth, Parker thought Okay, when I’m the normal one in a given group, even I know something’s wrong!

Glancing across the room, she met Eliot’s bright blue eyes, sans glasses. To anyone who didn’t know him, he had the look of someone who was simply overwhelmed, wide eyed by all that was happening around him. To Parker, he had the look of a man about to undergo a bikini waxing procedure. Brazilian Style.

Dinner couldn’t be over soon enough. She really wanted to know what he was thinking. Plus, she’d spotted Rachel among the women who had prepared the meal. And she was the reason they were in this wacko factory to begin with.

***********************************************************************

After dinner, people split off into groups and pairs. Some went to pray, others to their rooms and still others simply took walks. Eliot met Parker outside the dining hall and they set off to wander around, not hurrying, but meandering as they saw the others doing.

When they were sufficiently isolated, Parker said, “I think they’re drugged.”

It was, for Parker, said very quietly and Eliot nodded slightly. “Oh yeah. Small doses that build up until you have a cult full of highly suggestible shiny happy people.”

“This is not good,” Nate said over the comm. “Are you two feeling any effects?”

Eliot glanced at Parker, who shook her head and Eliot said, “No. As I said, it’ll probably take a while to build up enough in our systems to impair us.”

There was a moment of silence before Nate said, “You start feeling anything, we’re pulling you out of there.”

As they murmured their ascent, Hardison asked, “Dude, what was with Chief CrazyPants doing, taking your glasses off like that? I’m surprised he still has hands.”

Beside Parker, Eliot frowned and pulled the glasses out of his pocket. The specialist slipped them back on his face and said, “I think we should move quick like Nate said. Parker ID’d the girl, so we can find out her schedule and make a move.”

Again, silence over the com, before Sophie asked, “Eliot, what happened?”

The specialist sighed and fidgeted, face screwing up in an expression that reminded Parker of the time she had accidentally stepped on a sensitive region of his body while using the chair he was seated in to reach a ceiling panel. Finally, he muttered, “I played dumb, but I don’t know how long that will work.”

“What do you mean?” Nate pressed, not liking the evasiveness Eliot was demonstrating. They needed to be in the loop about everything that was happening inside the compound in order to make a proper extraction plan.

The specialist sighed and rolled his eyes, before grumbling something so inarticulate even the comm couldn’t suss it out. Parker looked at him and jabbed him with one of her pointy little elbows. “English,” she demanded causing him to sigh again.

“He made a pass at me,” Eliot said in a disgruntled monotone. “I pretended I didn’t get what he was saying, but he won’t buy that for long…or he’ll get less subtle and I don‘t think no is considered an acceptable answer! The other guys at the table made some noises about Stone‘s husbands and wives.”

There was a choking noise heard over the comm, followed by rustling and then a sort of wheezing howl of laughter in the background as Nate said, “How long do you think he’ll buy your brush off?”

Even Nate’s voice held a bit of mirth, and they could still hear Hardison, who Sophie was admonishing and ordering to get up off of the floor. Eliot’s scowl ratcheted up to a dangerous level when they heard the hacker choke out, “BugNuts McLooneyToons wants Eliot to join his Big Love: as remade by the LOGO network style harem….” Then he dissolved back into howls of laughter.

Parker raised a brow at Eliot and shrugged, while the specialist growled, “Nate, tell Hardison I can hear him and I will be back soon.”

The ex-insurance man relayed the sentiment and things were quiet for a moment before the laughter started again. “Nope, sorry, can’t do it,” Hardison gasped, before

succumbing to the guffaws.

“Look, can we just do our surveillance, so we can get out of here, then send in the Feds to take this creep off to jail where he belongs. He’s basically raping these people, cause those drugs take away their ability to say no and if I have to spend too much time with the guy he’s gonna know a world of hurt,” Eliot ground out, then ran a hand through his hair in frustration, pausing when he saw the stricken look on Parker’s face. “What’s wrong, Sunshine?”

Raising her troubled eyes to meet Eliot’s questioning stare, Parker said, “I’m pretty sure some of the kids, little kids, are being drugged…You don’t think….”

Before she finished the sentence, Nate was saying, “Parker, take the camera. Get photos of anything we can use to send the authorities in. Eliot recon Rachel and work on an egress plan. Now.”

Handing Parker his glasses, Eliot offered her a small, smile and gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “We’re gonna get him,” he assured her and felt her clasp his fingers in return.

“Yeah,” she breathed, accepting the frames and then pulling them into her chest. “Yeah we will.”

**********************************************************************

Three hours later found Eliot in a slightly better mood. For one thing, Hardison had finally ceases snickering in his ear at random intervals. For another, while the compound was well protected from assaults from the outside, there was no fortification against an inside job. Finally, one of Rachel’s duties was to clean the kitchen at night and she would be there, alone, after dark. If they were calm they might just be able to walk out the gate.

As dusk fell, he sat against a tree by the dining tall, waiting for Parker to arrive. Most people were at a sing along in one of the larger buildings, but a few groups were simply wandering around. Stone and a two of his inner circle were in the small building that served as his inner sanctum.

A twig fell from the branches above, landing on Eliot’s head. Most people wouldn’t think anything of that, but it made Eliot glance up. Parker waved at him from a perch in the leaves.

“Did you get the photos?” he murmured, knowing the comm would transmit the question to her.

The lithe thief frowned pensively. “Oh yeah. Weapons, lots of financial records…and he had photos….”

“Come on down from there,” he told her and a moment later she was crouched on the ground beside him. “Okay, go on in and ask Rachel to come take a walk with you.”

As Parker scampered into the Dining Hall, Stone and his two minions came storming out of his building. None of them looked happy. Apparently they hadn’t been subtle enough.

Pushing himself to his feet, Eliot murmured, “I think our cover’s blown.”

“We’re on our way,” Nate said. He and Sophie were in a truck a few miles away, ready to speed over and retrieve them as soon as they left the grounds of the compound. “Hardison, send the pictures Parker got to the authorities.”

“On it,” the hacker murmured, voice grave. The young man had not liked whatever it was he had seen on the pictures. Not one bit.

Face flushed with anger, Stone demanded, “Who are you?”

The question was meant to draw Eliot’s attention, but he saw the flash of metal as one of the acolytes pulled a knife and swung it at him. The attack was clumsy, over handed attempting to stab the specialist in the chest. Eliot countered the thrust with a cross handed block, then kept a hold of the man’s forearm, twisted his own body sharply to the right, bringing the attackers arm down quickly and throwing him off balance. A well placed left elbow to the face dropped the man like a sack of potatoes just as the second minion stepped into the fray.

This guy had a baton, so Eliot stepped into the attack, blocking his right handed swing with his upraised left arm. Instead of stopping there, he let his arm shoot past the attackers head, then brought his hand and forearm under the cultists arm, trapping it against his body. This rendered the baton useless as a defense against the impact of the heel of Eliot’s hand to the man’s jaw. He dropped beside his buddy.

All this happened in a matter of seconds, as Stone stood there in shock. As Eliot approached him, the man pulled a handgun, which Eliot ripped from his grasp.

“Who am I?” Eliot growled as he ejected the clip and cleared the chamber before tossing the weapon away. Stone backed away from the smaller man until he bumped into the side of a building. Well, boy, I’m wrath, come to make you pay for all your sins.”

Though obviously terrified, the false prophet took a swing at Eliot, swatted the punch away, then buried his fist in the man’s stomach. When Stone doubled over in pain, Eliot brought his knee up into the man’s face, knocking him out cold as Parker and Rachel walked out of the dining hall.

Rachel looked at the three crumpled bodies, but couldn’t seem to work out what she was seeing. “Are they sleeping?” she finally asked as Eliot helped her step past them.

“Yes,” he assured her, steering her toward the gate, even as he heard Parker deliver a solid kick to Stone, probably in a sensitive region where a man never wanted to be kicked. “They needed a nap.”

“Move,” Nate ordered. Eliot could see the dust the truck was kicking up as it approached. “The cops are only a few minutes out.”

“Aw hell,” Eliot muttered, then swung Rachel up over his shoulder. The girl let

out a surprised sound but didn’t struggle. “Parker, run. Now!”

Side by side, the specialist and the thief made their way to the gate in a matter of seconds, and in just as little time, Parker had the gate unlocked. They ran to the road as Nate skidded to a stop and Sophie tossed open the door. Eliot gently tossed Rachel in before he and Parker scrambled in and slammed the door.

Nate jammed his foot to the gas pedal and the took off in a roar of dust. “Everyone good,” Hardison asked as they drove along.

“We’re good,” Nate assured him, glancing back in the rearview mirror. True to his words, Parker, Eliot and even Rachel looked no worse for their time at the compound.

In fact, the young woman was looking around with a sort of mild interest. “Are we going on a trip?” she asked lightly, watching the scenery blur by.

Parker groaned. “Please tell me I didn’t sound like that when I was on the happy pills.”

Nate and Eliot chuckled, but Sophie said, “No, Parker. You were just a bit…artificially happy and….cuddly.”

After she said that, Sophie’s eyes flicked to the rearview and a broad smile crossed the grifter’s face. Eliot had an arm along the top of the bench seat and Parker was snuggled against his side, her head resting on his chest.

Sophie’s smile got even wider when Rachel saw this and decided it was a good idea. Apparently, while comfortable cuddling with Eliot, having Rachel curl up against her other side was a bit too much for the young thief, who looked stricken. But as Eliot dropped a kiss to the crown of her head, she settled back down and basked in the knowledge that they had completed their job and a bad man was going to get what was coming to him.

Which was really what they were all about.

************************************************************************

They missed the arrival of the FBI, ATF and Flagstaff Police by less than three minutes. The photos Parker had taken had proven more than enough to justify a raid and with Stone and his two most loyal acolytes still suffering the effects of their run in Eliot (The Feds had been in the compound for over two hours before the first of them stirred), no one put up any fuss. Without anyone to instruct them to attempt to repel outsiders, the over-medicated cult members had welcomed the LEO’s with bland smiles and offers of tea.

After dropping Rachel off with her parents and the deprogrammers the Lewis’s had hired, Hardison began making noises about getting them on a flight back to Maine.

Sophie, however, had alternate plans. “Make those tickets to LaGuardia, Hardison,” she ordered with a broad grin that made Nate, Eliot and even Parker a little nervous. “After this job, I think a little R and R is in order. Spas, shopping Five Star Hotels…just what we need.”

Hardison shrugged, having no real objection to a few days in New York City. Nate agreed because he liked making Sophie happy, or at least not mad at him. Eliot and Parker were in agreement about wanting to return to Maine, but the specialist didn’t really have a problem with spending time in proximity to so many great restaurants. Maybe he could pick up a few new recipes.

Turning to Parker, Eliot said, “Hey, aren’t they putting in a new security system at MOMA?”

The thief’s eyes widened with glee and she bounced on her toes. “That’s right!” she gasped, slapping a hand to her brow. “The installation was scheduled to be finished last week! I forgot cause we were busy being all cult-baity.”

With that, she hopped off to ensure that all her equipment was in her go-bag, Sophie trailing after her extolling the virtues of spas, specifically the Ohm Spa.

“So that’s five for New York,” Hardison confirmed, tapping a few keys then grinning. “First class all the way, Baby!”

Nate made a pleased noise, knowing this bit of news would go over will with Sophie, but admitted to himself that he enjoyed the luxury of the larger seats. Hardison and his computer always seemed to take up a lot of room on flights and when he inevitably nodded off, he sprawled.

Eliot and Parker did not sleep on planes. Being stuck in a small space with a lot of people and no exit did not appeal to them. They did, however, seem to find entertainment in comparing commercial flights to some of their less conventional methods of travel. Nate and Alec had once listened with great interest as the pair compared traveling in badly pressurized military transport planes (Eliot) to shipping oneself in a big packing crate (Parker).

It was things like that which made Alec appreciated working with the team. Where else could one hear that sort of story as a first hand account? Not in some IT office, that’s for sure!

**********************************************************************

Rising over Manhattan’s premier shopping and business district, the I.M. Pei designed Four Seasons was a study of stunning views and tasteful style. The rooms were opulent without being garish and the Hotel offered nearly any amenity one could think of.

Spas, fine dining, gym facilities, just about anything you could need, available at the end of a phone call.

Hardison booked them five City-View Tower Rooms, on floors 33, 39, 40, 47 and 50 for himself, Nate, Sophie, Eliot and Parker respectively. The rooms all had spectacular views of the city to the Northeast and featured a combined living and bedroom area and full marble bathrooms with deep soaking tubs. All in all, a beautiful environment.

When they entered the lobby, the variety of high powered business people and various wealthy individuals gave them the once over, as, with the exception of the always stylish Sophie, they didn’t quite seem the type to frequent five star establishments. Nate, in his rumpled suit and scuffed shoes, with hair that could stand to be washed more often, seemed more the sort to stay at a Sheraton Hotel. Parker, Eliot and Hardison, with their assortment of jeans, t-shirts and the specialist’s flannel just plain stood out among the opulent décor.

The bellhop took Sophie, Nate and Hardison’s bag’s, but kept his distance from the other two, who scowled at him and refused to relinquish possession of their luggage. While the hotel employee scurried off to the service elevator, the team entered an empty lift and Hardison snickered, “Nice you two. A little paranoid about your stuff, are ya?”

Parker hugged her bag and glared, while Eliot pointed out, “You didn’t give him your laptop.”

The look the hacker shot Eliot could only be described as appalled. “This is delicate equipment that I use to do my job! No way anyone’s touching this but me! But you two don’t have tools of your trades in your bags, so what’s the big deal?”

Exchanging a quick look, the thief and the hitter both stared at Hardison for a moment before he groaned, “Oh, what do you have in there? No, wait. I really don’t want to know. I’m just gonna go see my room, e-mail Katie, then hit FAO Schwarz. Anyone want to come with?”

Silence followed his question, causing him to grumble, “Well, fine, be that way.”

************************************************************************

Upon arriving at her appointed room, Parker admired the view for a moment, noting the sealed windows with a sigh. That was one of the things she hated about modern high-rise buildings. She never understood why people got so nervous about being up high.

After removing some of the more questionable items from her bag and storing them in a vent, Parker headed back to the elevators. When the doors rolled open, she found herself face to face with Eliot, who had, just minutes ago, disembarked on the floor below. She smiled slightly and rocked up on her toes as he stepped toward her.

“The windows don’t open,” she informed him, causing the retrieval specialist to return her smile.

“I know. Guess they’re scared someone’ll fall out.”

“I wouldn’t fall. Jump, sure, but I’d be harnessed.”

“Not enough architects take your particular skill set into account as a positive when designing these places.”

“I could cut through the glass no problem, but I think that would make Nate twitch. And not in the funny way.”

“Wanna get out of here? Do something?”

“No and yes.”

Eliot grinned as Parker grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back into her suite.

************************************************************************

The action figure--no, collectable department of FAO Schwartz was packed when Hardison arrived. After settling into his hotel room, the hacker had taken the elevator up to Parker’s room, but had turned away when he saw the ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign. The same sign was posted on Eliot’s door, so he decided to just head out alone.

He loved his teammates in all their strangeness, really he did. But he was not willing to risk life and limb by bothering them when they posted notices specifically prohibiting it. Because, honestly, he wouldn’t put booby trapping their doors past their paranoid little selves. Knowing Sophie was dragging Nate out to dinner, Hardison didn’t even try to convince either of them to accompany him.

The action figure--no, collectable department of FAO Schwartz was packed when Hardison arrived. From the bits of conversation he overheard, a bunch of new Star Trek figures, from the new movie, were the cause of all the commotion. He smirked and thought, Amateurs. He had ordered his online months ago.

Drifting over to the less hectic aisles, Hardison began scanning the shelves. No. No. No…Oh hold up! Yes!

Triumphantly, he scooped up a Series 4 Doctor Who Sontaran Stratagem Set that included Donna Noble, a Sontaran Soldier, General Staal and Skorr. Just what his shelf of…Who investments needed.

Holding his prize against his chest, he elbowed his way through the melee. Next stop, video games!

***********************************************************************

Sex was about scratching an itch.

Relationships were messy and just complicated things.

Other people didn’t understand certain (illicit and illegal) aspects of their lives.

One night stands were good, even better if names weren’t exchanged.

Leave before the other person wakes up.

Other people are weird.

These were some of the rules that had governed Parker’s social interactions in the past. She didn’t do romantic relationships. They weren’t her thing and frankly, she didn’t see the point in them. On the rare occasion when she decided that she wanted sex, she went out and found someone at a bar. It wasn’t hard and they were usually drunk enough not to notice her leaving.

This thing with Eliot was completely outside her realm of experience. When she woke, the early morning light streaming in through the huge windows, after a night of really fun sex (and damn, she wanted to know where Eliot had learned to do that thing with his tongue. She had met one of his past girlfriends, Aimee, on the job with the killer horses, and wondered if it would be strange if she called her and asked about the tongue thing. It sounded like something Sophie would probably discourage.), Eliot was asleep behind her, his arm draped over her waist, heavy, tan and warm.

I don’t feel trapped, she thought in surprise, looking at the muscular forearm, silver and turquoise bracelets and broad hand. Normally, she didn’t really like too much physical proximity, but she found herself feeling pretty good about it at this very particular moment. She could feel his breath, soft against the back of her neck and his body, lined up against her own, firm muscle under soft skin.

With a smile, she relaxed and let her eyes close, thinking of what had happened the night before.

They had barely closed (and locked, cause they were still paranoid thieves, after all) the door when Parker stopped and pressed herself to him, anticipation in every line of her body. Eliot met her lips with his own and, not for the first time, she found herself enjoying the lack of height difference between them. He seemed surprisingly yielding, requesting her attention and acceptance, capturing it with his care. She gave in willingly, letting him take control and direct their interaction. His hands slid down her ribcage, ruffling her shirt, to her hips and around to her backside. He found purchase on her thighs and simply lifted, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist.

Carrying her, he walked her deeper into the room, towards the huge bed, never relinquishing his hold on her lips. Her breath hitched as he gently set her down on the floor in front of the bed. Pulling back, their eyes met and something electric passed between them.

“Eliot,” she breathed, looking deep into his eyes, noting that only a slim ring of blue was visible around his pupils.

“Parker,” he rumbled, tongue peeking out as he wet his lips.

And just like that, the small modicum of control she had snapped.

She pulled him close and fell back onto the bed recapturing his lips with hers, rough and primal. Her fierceness and passion matched his own usual approach to things, demanded he obey her, cede to her demands and follow her lead. As he mouthed her neck hungrily, she gasped silently and arched towards him, sucking in a breath as one of his hands worked its way under her shirt, bare skin on bare skin. The new sensation made her moan with need and frantically tug her shirt up and throw out of the way. But she wanted more, so she grabbed his flannel shirt and jerked it open, buttons scattering all over the room, never to be found again. Something dark flashed in his eyes before he shucked both the ruined flannel and T-shirt, then covered her body with his. Mapping a trail down from her neck with his tongue, he lowered his head to her breast, lavishing his mouth on one nipple, drawing it in and suckling, while stroking the other. She writhed beneath him, thoughts fleeing, quickly replaced with need and sensations.

He trailed his tongue (hot, wet and tingle inducing) across her overheated skin, lower and lower until she couldn’t stand it anymore and her fingers scrambled for the buttons on his jeans. She wanted to feel him against her, skin on skin, a comfort she seldom desired or indulged in. She made quick work of freeing him, nimble hands more than a match for the now snug denim. His hands slid to the waistband of her own pants, eyes darting up to smile at hers as he noted the lack of underwear, and he dragged them slowly, sensually down her legs, blunt nails scraping lightly in their wake. She trembled as her blood burned and her toes curled in anticipation.

Eliot drew back for a moment, his eyes roaming across her body and savoring the feel of her against him. She quivered beneath him, recognizing the desire washing through him as mirroring her own. He lowered his head to the flat plane of her stomach, eyes locked on her own as he ghosted lingering kisses on every inch of her now exposed skin. Her hands rose to his head and fisted in his hair (she found that she really, really liked being able to wind her fingers in the long strands and tug gently) and she felt his warm breath between her legs. She wanted to growl in frustration or even use his hair to pull him into place as he made no move to use his mouth where she really wanted it. Instead, he moved to the inside of her thighs, strong, skilled fingers and tongue seemingly everywhere at once. The sensations were a blessed torment and, as she finally decided she really needed to force him where she wanted, he slid one blunt finger inside her and all complaints slipped from her mind. She reacted strongly, pushing into his hand in order to draw him deeper, rolling her hips when he added another finger and began to slowly pump them in and out.

Allowing herself to surrender to the pleasure rippling through her body, she languidly moved with him, writhing on the comforter as he added his tongue to encourage her rapidly building pleasure. Circling her clit with the tip of her tongue, he never touched, and she shuddered and twitched anytime it got too near. Wordlessly, she begged him to stop the torture, to make her lose control and, after a moment, she realized the soft gasps and cries she was hearing were coming from her own mouth. In response, he latched his mouth onto that sensitive nub and sucked gently, his teeth worrying almost imperceptibly, soft but present. Her body spasmed with the intensity of her orgasm and she shuddered, body tightening and relaxing as he coaxed her through the aftershocks.

After several long moments, she opened her glazed, unfocused eyes and found Eliot above her, resting on his elbows, wide eyes noting every nuance of emotion as they played across her face. When she grinned, he nudged her legs further apart, entering her slowly and she gasped quietly as he moved within her. He moaned faintly and burrowed his face into her neck, lips pressed to her skin, soft, rapid puffs of breath sending shivers through her body, causing her muscles to clench and squeeze him even more.

Suddenly he stopped, sheathed completely in her body. He was, as always, in complete control of his body, but for once he seemed to be struggling to hold onto that control. He began to move with more urgency and, instinctively, her legs came up to wrap around his waist, holding tight, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, moving in a sort of synchronous pleasure not found outside this particular activity, or a really successful high stakes job. Time was irrelevant, both speeding by in a heady rush and wonderfully, body tinglingly dragging on.

Sensation and feeling surrounded them, infused them, harkened them back to more basic needs as they filled their need for each other, for comfort, warmth, friendship, understanding and even love. Eliot’s thrusts grew more and more rapid and they crested a wave of pleasure until they lay panting, still joined and moving slowly, still overly sensitive bodies humming with sensation.

Carefully, Eliot rolled them over, so as not to crush her beneath his broader, heavier frame. After a while, she raised her head and looked him in the eye. He smiled softly at her and she grinned and giggled.

“Next time,” she said breathily, her eyes ticking to the big, floor to ceiling windows, “Against them. Looking out.”

Eliot rolled his head around and considered the view before saying, “We can defiantly do that.”

And they had. Twice.

*************************************************

When Sophie led Nate into the hotel restaurant for breakfast on their first morning, she spotted Eliot and Parker immediately. Actually, anyone who entered the swanky dining room probably noticed them, as they did not naturally blend into this environment. She was fairly certain that with the appropriate clothing and personas, they’d be, on the surface, indistinguishable from the other wealthy guests, but they were not in the midst of a job. Eliot was being Eliot and Parker was being Parker.

The pair were sitting at a table, a nervous looking waiter having just delivered their breakfasts. Parker was perched in her chair, clad in an interesting outfit, even by her standards. She was wearing a white, v-neck t-shirt with three olive diamonds lined up vertically on the right side layered over a long sleeved, olive and pink striped hoodie. Her dark wash, five pocket denim mini skirt was tame enough, but paired with knee high, olive, black and blue argyle socks with calf high, slouchy, buckled black leather boots. A pair of large neon blue plastic framed sunglasses sat by her plate.

Clearly the other patrons thought she was deranged. Her meal of white bread slathered in mustard and raspberry jelly and lucky charms (marshmallows only, the cereal bits picked out) hold the milk, didn’t help.

Eliot was slumped in his own chair, tucked neatly into a corner so he could warily eye the room. When he caught someone staring for too long, he’d fix a glare on them that would chill a polar bear to it’s bones. He was wearing yet another variation of his usual outfit of battered, boot-cut jeans, a worn t-shirt, white and a light weight Haas work shirt with contrasting Oxford stripes in aged blue, white and antiqued red. His boots were heavy, brown and quite possibly steel toed. His meal at least was more normal, the pile of omelet, bacon, sausage and toast probably a bit bigger than the kitchens were used to, but not too odd.

Though the room was fairly crowded, none of the tables adjacent to them were occupied. It was as if Eliot’s general aura of menace was creating a buffer around them, but, since they were guests at the hotel, no one could say anything about them. The only people willing to venture anywhere near them were the staff (and they were reluctant) and the wandering children of various diners. It was actually fairly interesting.

“Well,” Nate said with a smirk, “I see we fit in.”

Sophie sighed and strode over to the other two. Stopping by their table, she chided, “Stop threatening people with your eyes, Eliot!”

He looked at her unapologetically as Nate dropped into one of the spare chairs. He looked casual, but not entirely out of place in his grey cotton pants, pale blue Oxford shirt and charcoal Hush Puppies. Sophie knew she looked at home in the swanky hotel, resplendent in her rose and blush wrap dress in a vibrant print with delicate cascading ruffles, nude platform pumps and tasteful platinum jewelry.

With a sigh, she sat as well, smoothing her skirt and nodding to the least skittish looking member of the wait staff. The young man slowly approached, carefully keeping himself in Eliot’s line of sight, a sure sign he had seen the results of approaching Eliot from behind. They placed their orders and he scampered away eagerly.

“So,” Nate began, looking at the two who were eating their meals, “You two do anything interesting last night?”

Sophie was also interested in the answer to that question, as she hoped they hadn’t stolen any priceless works of art until the end of their vacation. Things were always easier if you pulled a heist on the way out of town.

The silent glance Eliot tossed to Parker did not bode well for Sophie’s hopes, and the blond smiled brightly as she finished her bite of bread. “Oh yes,” she said, a happy little smile on her face that Sophie usually associated with jobs that involved huge piles of money.

Nate exchanged a glance with Sophie. Parker was happy and Eliot didn’t want to tell them what they’d done. This might be a bad thing. “You two didn’t knock over MOMA yet, did you?” Nate asked with a nervous chuckle.

Mouth full of Omelet and sausage, Eliot shook his head and mumbled, “No.”

Parker laughed at Nate. “Of course not, everyone knows that museum security is always tight during an upgrade. You go in right after,” she said as if he had made a funny joke. Sophie found it a bit odd that Eliot seemed to relax, sharing a little smile with the blond, who continued, “No, we stayed in and had lots of sex.”

Nate and Eliot both choked, Nate on his coffee, Eliot on his breakfast. Sophie

just looked between Parker and the retrieval specialist, who seemed quite adept at performing the Heimlich maneuver on himself. “Oh, you did, did you?” she asked in amusement. “That’s lovely, but perhaps something to be worked in to conversation with a bit more finesse.”

Parker cocked her head to the side. “Did I overshare?”

“Just a bit, Buttercup,” Eliot rasped, sipping his tea to sooth his throat. “’S okay.”

Nate just seemed uncomfortable with the whole situation now and Sophie knew he was trying his hardest to repress the memory of Parker’s admission. Unperturbed, she said, “Well, I hope you do plan to venture out of the hotel at some point. It’s a lovely city.”

Eliot nodded, his own cheeks stained faintly with a rare slight blush. Parker seemed happy her verbal gaffe hadn’t deterred Sophie. “Nope,” the blond said, “After breakfast we’re going to go see if Hardison want’s to wake up and come to Staten Island with us.”

Sophie blinked, unsure why that would be their destination of choice. Why Staten Island?”

“Jacques Marchais Museum of Tibetan Art is there,” Parker informed her. “I want to get the lay of the place and Eliot wants to visit the temple and gardens.”

“Sounds lovely,” Sophie assured her with a smile.

“So,” Eliot said, clearly trying to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, “What’s on the books for you two.”

“We’re going to Barney’s,” Sophie informed him with a happy sigh. It had been to long since she’d been to that particular bit of shopping nirvana.

“Barney’s?” Nate said, obviously alarmed. “I thought you said a spa. I was okay with getting a massage while you do…what you do at a spa.”

Sophie smiled triumphantly and Parker grinned too, knowing the grifter had got one over on Nate. Eliot offered Nate a sympathetic look as Sophie said, “Did I forget to mention that the spa we have reservations at is on Barney’s ground level. While we’re there we might as well enjoy a bit of shopping.”

Eliot, and even Parker, looked at Nate in pity. The hitter reached over and clapped the older man on the shoulder bracingly. “Stay strong, man.”

Nate just groaned.

********************************************

Hardison, as it turned out, had little to no interest in visiting a Tibetan Art Museum. He had even less interest in being disturbed by two of his team mates at 7:45am when he had only gone to bed at 4. But this did not deter his disgustingly alert team mates, both of whom were in his room when he was sure they had not been when he locked up the night before.

He really hoped Parker had used her mad skills and popped the door open with no damage, because, when Eliot broke into places, he tended to simply kick doors in. Hardison suspected the hotel management would take issue if he were to employ this tactic on their property. Plus, the last time he’d done that when they weren’t in the middle of some urgent job, Nate actually sat all of them down and lectured them on why one does not destroy doors unnecessarily.

The distinct lack of pissed off hotel staff suggested the first option was more probable.

“Get up!” Parker was saying, obviously at a loss as to why he hadn’t jumped out of bed when heard a trip out to Staten Island was on offer.

“Meh!” he groaned, rolling over and tugging the plush comforter over his head. He really like the comforter. Maybe he’d ask someone where they got them so he could get one for his apartment.

Moments after the lovely darkness encased him, the cover was yanked back down. “Nooo!” he insisted, once again diving beneath the blanket.

“Come on!” Parker insisted, plopping down on the side of the bed and bouncing. Thanks to the high quality foamy mattress, he was barely jostled. “I thought you wanted to learn about art. You like Sophie’s asides when we’re doing a job.”

“In his defense, he’s usually more awake when Sophie goes off on an art ramble,” Eliot piped up, his voice sounding like it was coming from near the desk.

Alec peeked out from his cocoon to see that yes, Eliot had wandered from the door to the desk and had poked the idling computer. Seriously, the man had two modes of walking, stomp or silent. It was creepy.

Eliot looked and saw Hardison’s one bleary eye. “You stay up all night on this?” he questioned with a little smirk.

“Olytifor,” he mumbled into the blanket, watching a bit more intently as Eliot peered into the big FAO Schwartz bag. The hitter didn’t touch any of the packaged collectables, but he did pick up a large LEGO box.

“A pirate ship?”

Pulling the blanket out of the way, Alec said, “Pirates are cool, man.”

Eliot conceded that point with a shrug, then said, “You gonna be up for a ball game tonight? Yankees/Sox at 8.”

“Not gonna miss that,” he yawned, then looked over at Parker…who was no longer sitting on the bed.

A quick scan of the room found her rooting around in the mini bar. When she emerged, it was with a Starbucks iced mocha drink gripped tightly in her hand. “So that’s a no on the museum, but a yes on the ballgame,” she said, popping the top off and downing half the drink in two mouthfuls.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m just gonna catch up on my sleep for now. You two have fun.”

“Okay,” she said, sucking down the rest of the drink, then nodding toward the door. “Come on. Let’s hit the museum…well, not hit it, like I’d normally hit it…or like you’d normally hit it! Ha!”

Pleased by her strode toward the door. Hardison tossed Eliot a look and said, “Do you have any idea how much sugar and caffeine was in that?”

“Yup,” the hitter said, exiting at a more sedate pace.

From the hall they heard, “Eliot! Come on!”

As Eliot closed the door, Alec called out, “Have fun!”

************************************************************************

Exploring the museum was a pleasant experience, but it wasn’t the best venue to burn off Parker’s sugar high. So after a couple of hours perusing the exhibits and gardens, the pair found themselves wandering around the city, taking in the sights.

Oddly enough, as the day went on they found themselves more or less tripping over cordoned off crime scenes, police interviews or foot pursuits, joining crowds gathered to gawk at other people’s misfortune. Not that either Eliot or Parker were entertained by other’s suffering, but they liked to observe the cops. In their line of work, any insight into the minds of law enforcement professionals was a boon. Plus, some of the cops and crimes were interesting.

The first oddity they came across was when they were walking down the street in the second police precinct and suddenly Parker was shoved into Eliot’s side. When they looked up, they saw that the pushy passerby was in fact running at a brisk pace and dressed in a Bugs Bunny costume. Before they could even comment on an event that was strange even for them, two police detectives, a man and a woman, came hurtling around the corner, shouting for the sprinting hare to stop.

They assessed the situation for all of two seconds, then Eliot picked up a coconut from a vendors stand, dropped a few bucks into the man’s hand, then reared back and hurled the fruit. As with most projectiles he chose to launch at, well, anything, the coconut found its mark on the back of Bugs’ head. The Bunny dropped like a stone.

Making quick work of cuffing their dazed suspect, the detectives looked around, trying to locate the origin of the coconut, but the pair of thieves had already slipped off into the flow of humanity that constantly populated the streets of New York.

After that, as they were sitting down to enjoy lunch at a small diner, they overheard the group at the booth behind them discussing the unsub they were in the process of tracking. It was pretty clear the odd little array of people, a somber dark hared man of about 40, a goateed man about ten years his senior, a thirty something African American man, a thin, twenty something young guy, a pretty brunette in her thirties and a twenty something blond woman, were federal agents.

Their conversation was freaky, as they were apparently in town tracking some very unpleasant killer. But since they were having a meal, they were not talking about their case. No, they were discussing unique and interesting serial killer profiles. When they got to Ed Gein, who wore the skin of the women he murdered, they beat a hasty retreat, really, really not wanting to hear any more.

The next incident was in the eight district, where several uniforms and a pair of detectives had roped off an area outside a small Italian Deli. A body, one on the owners, lay cooling on the side walk. There was quite a large crowd gathered, even by New York crime scene standards, and they soon discovered they were all watching one of the detectives.

They were a nice looking pair, him tall and blonde, her a petite brunette. The man wore sunglasses and had his head tilted to the side as he listened to his partner speaking quietly. Something about his stance, the way he held himself and gripped his partner’s arm, never looking at the body struck the hitter as a bit odd. Eliot felt a jolt of surprise when he realized the man was blind, must be that cop he’d read about in the papers. The one who’d been shot and blinded in the line and sued to get back on the job. Good for him.

Eliot, like the rest of the crowd was staring off at the detective, so he was startled when Parker elbowed him in the ribs. He gave her a look that clearly asked what?

She gave him a wide eyed look, then, with a jerky nod, indicated he should look at the guy standing in front of them, right at the police tape. They couldn’t see his face, but one of his hands was behind his back, under his coat, pushing it up and to the side. Tucked into his belt was a large knife, bright fresh blood staining the blade and the denim it touched.

Turning back to Parker, he mouthed You gotta be kidding me!

She shrugged expansively and mouthed I know!

With a sigh, he glanced back at the man, who was now fingering the blade in a disconcerting manner. The crowd was still riveted on the novelty of the blind detective, so Eliot made a move.

One quick, smooth motion, a leg pulled up to the chest then shot out with impressive force, and the knife wielding loony was sent flying at the uniformed cop manning the police tape. “Oh my God, he’s got a knife!” Parker squealed in false fear.

Her words caused the crowd to scatter, and they drifted off into the distance, looking back once to see about three officers pinning nutso to the pavement.

In the 16th precinct they ran across a pair of detectives, a lovely brunette and burly, thick necked man, hauling a particularly sleazy looking guy out of an apartment building. The prisoner was loudly protesting this treatment, claiming, “The bitch is lying!”

Parker glared at the man as the detective stuffed him into a car. She really hated guys like that, but at least the male detective had bounced the jerks head off the door fame as he helped him in.

Not ten blocks away, they came across another cordoned off area, this one around a blown out shop front. Officers were guarding the scene and a group of techs were gathering bits of debris and evidence. A man with closely cropped brown hair was examining something a woman with a ton of brown curls had just pulled out of the wall, while a small, blond guy seemed to be swabbing the remains of the window.

“Wonder what happened there?” Eliot mused as they passed, not to curious, but a bit unnerved by the number of crime scenes they’d happened upon.

“Acetone peroxide. 2 C9H18O6 + 21 O2 → 18 H2O + 18 CO2,” Parker rattled off. “Someone didn’t like that place.”

Grabbing her arm, Eliot hustled them away, hoping no one had overheard that little comment.

The final straw that had them booking it back to the hotel, determined to wait out the rest of the day there until it was time to head out to the stadium was almost running into two detectives who were exiting the Frick Museum, discussing the art theft they were investigating. Eliot was just relieved he recognized Detective Bobby Goren and managed to dive behind a street cart before the man saw him.

Parker gave him a ‘what are you doing’ look.

“That big cop over there,” he said, causing her to glance over at the towering man and his petite partner, “I know him. Good guy. But they’re looking into an art heist.”

She nodded. “And you don’t want them thinking you took the Goya and poking their noses into our business.”

He nodded. “Would you be too upset if we went back to the hotel now?”

Her smile turned devilish. “Nope. We still have a few hours to kill. I have no problem with spending them in my room.”

Taking her hand, he led her away from the museum. As they walked, he commented, “It’s been a strange day.”

*****************************************************

The next morning, Sophie found herself making her way to the dining room alone. Nate had chosen to sleep in and there had been no answer from Eliot, Parker or Hardison’s rooms. While she enjoyed the company of her teammates, sometimes a little alone time was pleasant. With Nate there was always that undercurrent of tension that neither of them was ready to address. With Parker, she felt a sense of responsibility, to look after the younger woman and help her integrate into more normal society. And Hardison just never stopped talking, be it about a con or a MMORPG or Doctor Who (which Sophie would definitely not admit she watched). Eliot was probably the easiest of the team just to be with. He was quite, didn’t expect her to chat or instruct or flirt.

In fact, he much preferred if she didn’t.

So when she saw the hitter ambling towards the restaurant, she wasn’t put out. Instead, she called, “Eliot.”

He stopped and turned, waiting for her to join him. Today, he was clad in blue jeans, obviously one of his newer pairs as they were not yet too faded, and a plain white t-shirt under a long sleeved white oxford. Of course, his boots completed the outfit and he had his hair loose with a few of those pretty beads on the ends of several small braids.

It was a good look for him.

As she stepped to his side, his eyes flicked up and down. “Mornin’ Sophie. New dress?”

The Ralph Lauren Silk Faux Wrap Dress in a blossoming floral print had been one of her favorite purchases of the previous day. It was set off perfectly by silver metallic, cross strap sandals and understated jewelry. She was glad somebody noticed, but was really waiting to see if Nate would even remember giving it the thumbs up from a chair outside the dressing room. She was fairly sure her had fallen into a shopping induced waking coma by that point, though he insisted he hadn’t.

“Yes,” she said happily, giving a little spin to show the garment from all angles. “How do I look?”

He gave a small snort, but smiled. “Fishing for compliments,” he said, amusement heavy in his voice. “You know you look great.”

She grinned. “One can never hear it too often though.”

He shook his head good naturedly, then gestured towards the dining room. “Breakfast?”

She nodded and took his arm, allowing him to lead as they followed a waitress, a young woman named Julie (as the waiters from yesterday had seen them coming and suddenly became very, very busy) showed them to their table.

Nibbling on fresh cranberry scones with orange marmalade, they perused the menu and enjoyed the peaceful quiet of the hall. Only two other tables were occupied, one by an annoyed couple in their 30‘s, the other by an elderly gentleman reading the Times, as they had missed the early breakfast rush.

“Did you three have fun at the game last night?” she questioned as they waited for their waitress to return with their pot of assam melody tea and juices, mango orange for her, Açai for him.

Setting down his menu, Eliot nodded. “Good game. The Yankees spanked the Sox, so life is good,” he grinned, then grimaced. “But remind me never to let the two of them loose in a stadium concession area again.”

“How much damage was there?” Sophie asked, figuring the story would entail upended hot dog vendors and possibly some sort of tiny explosion, like a soda machine, or a keg. Anything bigger surely would have made the news.

“Unfortold damage to their gastro intestinal systems,” he muttered. “I swear, they tried to eat their body weights in lousy stadium foods. It’s gonna be a while before I can look at a hot dog, burrito or nachos without feeling sick.”

Sophie tutted sympathetically as their waitress approached, placing the delicate tea pot and glasses of juice down smoothly.

“Are you folks ready to order, then?” she asked politely, withdrawing a small order pad from an apron pocket.

Eliot motioned for Sophie to go first and the grifter said, “Yes, I’d like the Sweet Honeydew with berries and blueberry banana sauce to start and the Dill Crepes with eggs, salmon, caramelized onions and beurre blanc sauce. That sounds just lovely.”

“The crepes are excellent,” Julie agreed, making notations, then turned her eyes to Eliot. “And for you, sir?”

“Braised Grapefruit with fresh raspberries and the Smoked Wild Salmon Frittata with cheddar and fresh chive cream. Thanks,” he replied quickly, then paused and glanced at the closed menu. “Could I get the Belgian Waffles with berries and lavender infused pure maple syrup, too. Thanks.”

The waitress hurried off after they placed their orders and Sophie chuckled. “Weren’t you just extolling the horrors of over eating?” she teased him gently, wagging her scone in his general direction.

He shrugged and leaned back comfortably in his chair. “That was bad food,” he said with a smirk. “This here. Is Good Food.”

“Food snob,” she accused lightly.

“Do you have any idea what’s in a hot dog?”

“I don’t, nor do I care to,” she said quickly, hoping Eliot would not share that particular gem of information. Not that she ate hot dogs on a regular basis, but she did find them quite tasty on occasion.

Again he shrugged. “So, what’d you and Nate do last night?”

Now he was teasing. “We saw Waiting for Godot,” she informed him with a pleased smile. “It’s….”

“An existentialist play, I know. Two guys waiting for a third,” he said, holding up a hand to hold back Sophie’s review of the play. “Did Nate do something recently to tick you off, or is this years of anger being worked out?”

“What?”

“Spa. Shopping. Broadway,” he said, sitting up as Julie returned wit a tray laden with dishes. “It’s none too subtle man torture.”

Delicately, she let out an amused huff. Not a snort, a huff. “Man-torture?”

Taking a bite of his grapefruit, Eliot nodded, but waited to swallow before he answered. “Yup.”

Sampling her own starter, which was quite delicious, Sophie gazed across the table at the hitter who was quietly applying himself to his meal with gusto. She considered how best to answer his question. In a flash of insight, she realized that Eliot was a very good sounding board when one had a problem because he actually listened. Sure, he’d ask a few, initial questions, but then he’d sit back and let you talk it out. It was quite refreshing.

With a sigh, she placed her fork down on the table and pressed her palms together contemplatively. “The thing is,” she began slowly, then raised one hand to make a circling motion, “I feel like we’ve been in this state of orbiting each other for so long and neither of us knows how to snap out of it. It’s like we’re characters in a story, previously combative but with obvious Unresolved Sexual Tension, who resist going into a full blown relationship for a rather long time.

“And now that we could be together, we’ve sort of stuck in a rut. One of us makes some kind of gesture of affection, the other backs off. Over and over again…So we keep the gestures benign, just spend time together. I invite him to do something and he always says yes, no matter how much he knows he’ll hate it. I’ll do the same! Did you know we went to a magic expo a few weeks ago! A Magic Expo, Eliot!

“For God’s sake, we’re two rational adults. We should be able to do this! Why is this so bloody hard?!”

Her voice had grown progressively louder as she ranted and by the time she finished a few of the wait staff and the annoyed young couple were peering over at their table with keen interest. Fortunately, Sophie’s back was to the room, so she didn’t notice the attention she’d garnered. The look Eliot aimed out at the gawkers sent the staff scurrying for work and the couple ducking back down behind the centerpiece on their table.

“What?” Sophie asked, turning to look around and finding nothing amiss. With a sigh, she looked back at Eliot. “I just mean, somehow, you and Parker are…what exactly, I’m not sure, but it seems to work for you. You seem happy, not determined to drive each other insane.”

“You sure about that?” he asked between bites of his frittata. “The insane part, I mean, not the happy thing, cause we do drive each other nuts.”

“Still,” Sophie sighed, “any advice?”

Eliot sat back in his chair and scratched his chin lightly. “I don’t think the two situations compare, but I can say be very clear. Even smart guys like Nate can be stupid about women.”

Smiling a bit at that, she asked, “How did Parker let you know?”

A small, fond smile crept across his face, softening his features and lighting his eyes. Sophie always enjoyed the change that passed over the hitter when he was calm and happy. “There were little things, but of course I passed them off as Parker being Parker,” he informed her, then grinned broadly. “Then on April Fool’s, she doused me in glitter and nailed mistletoe up in my office. I finally took a hint.”

Sophie well remembered that day of glue, glitter, feathers and fear. No one had been quite certain what Parker would think constituted a funny prank. No one had been hurt, so they called it a victory, messy though it was. With a laugh, she asked, “So, what do you have planned for the day?”

Pushing his empty plate to the Side, Eliot said, “Well, first I’m gonna get some peppermint tea into Parker. Good for a bad stomach. Then try to do the same for Hardison. Interesting note, the human body can hold a dozen funnel cakes. It just regrets it after.”

“Oooh,” Sophie grimaced sympathetically. “Why would he eat 12?”

“Eyes were bigger than his gut,” Eliot grumbled. “How ’bout you? Plans?”

“A bit of shopping. Alone. Maybe work on how to broach a certain subject with Nate.”

“Have fun.”

“You too.”

*********************************************

The remained of their time in New York was blissfully without incident. Days were spent, shopping, sightseeing and generally unwinding.

After recovering from their stadium food induced stupors, Parker and Hardison convinced Eliot to spend the day lounging around the hotel. By the time Sophie returned from her shopping trip, she found them relaxing in the giant whirlpool tub in the hotel’s on site spa. At some point, Nate had found the trio and was immersed in the frothy water to his neck. All of them looked on the verge of taking a nap right there, but she knew they were all either too smart or too paranoid to sleep in the water.

“So, what have you three been up to today?” she asked, taking a seat on the edge of one of the chairs that surrounded the pool.

There were a series of tired murmurs, then Hardison said, “You in for some group sightseeing tomorrow?”

She smiled. “Sounds lovely,” she replied. “Any idea what you want to do?”

“Hayden Planetarium.”

“Go to Lido.”

“Guggenheim.”

“Museum of Sex.”

The reaction was comical. Slowly, four heads turned to regard Parker, eyes wide and mouths slightly agape.

“What?” the thief asked with a grin. “It’s a real place. I want to see the “Kink –Geography of the Erotic Imagination” exhibit.”

Amused and startled glances were exchanged all around and Hardison said, “I have no idea how to respond to that.”

Eliot gave himself a shake and said, “You respond, hell, yes.”

************************************************************************

The many and varied activities decide upon proved to be interesting and uneventful over the next few days. The Museum of Sex was unanimously voted the surprisingly favorite activity, a fun and quite intriguing place. Nights were occupied with shows, dinners and other nocturnal activities. After nearly a week, Nate indicated it was time to be heading back to Maine, back to work, or at least back to looking into new jobs.

No one protested. After all, the best part about traveling now was having a home to return to.

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