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For Breanna, it starts with one small observation.
“Hey, since when did you start using a girl character?” She asks, squinting at the screen.
She’s sure she’s not imagining the way Harry briefly stiffens, but after barely a second the tension is gone and he’s just blinking owlishly at her. “Oh, uh—Becky wanted to design a character to play, and I thought it’d be fun to give it a spin. I can switch back if you’re having trouble finding me on the map—”
“Nah,” Breanna says, watching him like a hawk for his reaction. It’s definitely relief. Huh. “Becky gave you an ice attack buff. Your other avatar can wait.”
Harry grins. “I told her to stack stats in range and aim, too.”
Breanna fist bumps him and goes back to focusing on the game. It might be nothing. It’s probably nothing. Almost definitely nothing. It’s just kind of itching at the back of her brain, that’s all.
The next time they play, Harry uses his old avatar until Breanna asks him to switch to the new one. He flushed and sheepishly restarts as the female character, but Breanna sees him grinning like crazy out of the corner of her eye when he thinks she’s not looking any more.
Breanna decides to run a test and makes her character deliberately wander off in the wrong direction under the guise of searching for enemies to farm for rewards. Once she deems herself suitably far away and equally suitably close to the spider lair she knows is over here somewhere, she clears her throat.
“Harry, where are you? I need you over here.” She makes her character bounce in place. “There’s a spider nest.”
“Give me a minute,” Harry says, starting the arduous process of running to her.
“You have to be patient with her,” Breanna says, ostensibly to the spider currently trying to perform a walk cycle into the side of a tree. “All her stats are in range fighting, not speed.”
She dares a glance in Harry’s direction. He’s absolutely lit up, shoulders hunched and fully beaming.
She decides to push it a little further. “I think she can try shooting from where she is, actually.”
“Okay!” Harry says eagerly and without question, his wide smile somehow audible.
(His wide smile? She thinks, recalling an older sister.)
It could still be nothing. But Harry is her friend, and her instincts are telling her something’s up. How many times has Sophie told her to believe in herself and go with her gut? Sure, then it was for cons, but that doesn’t matter. The same instincts that told her she could bring Emily onto their side, the ones that knew Bronwyn’s assistant could be so much more, that got her friends and her team out of serious jams—that’s what’s telling her something’s going on with Harry.
Besides, he might not necessarily be her best friend, but she’s almost certainly his next to Sophie. And what are friends for if not helping each other?
She’s had people be that for her before. Foster siblings who looked at her and asked if she needed someone to talk to about why she didn’t always feel right in her body. Returning the favor is something like an honor.
“Hold still,” Breanna says for the third or fourth time as she applies the adhesive to Harry’s forehead. “You’re gonna look so nasty.”
“I can’t hold still with you blocking the TV,” he complains. “You can’t put on a documentary and expect me not to watch.”
“You weren’t supposed to get invested in it,” Breanna dismisses. “I just put it on so you could hear the audio and wouldn’t be bored the whole time we’re doing this ‘cause you’re, like, the old man equivalent of an iPad baby.”
“I’m not old,” he sulks. “I’m 52. I’m young and cool. And your generation is the one without any attention span.”
“Nice try. That is old.” Breanna sticks her tongue out a little as she focuses on making Harry’s head look split open.
“You know, this kind of reminds me of when my daughter was little,” Harry says fondly. “Just not the part where we’re faking a horrible accident. She’d practice putting makeup on with some old stuff of Grace’s, and she liked to make me a test subject.”
“That’s cool,” Breanna says, ears subconsciously pricking. “I was never really as into that kind of stuff as some other kids. I mean, I got good at this kind of makeup, and I can make it work for cons, but… Sometimes I feel like doing liner or whatever, but that’s kind of it.”
“I don’t think you’re missing out on much,” Harry says. His voice is ever-so-slightly forced. “Special effects are more practical.”
“True,” Breanna agrees. She swallows down the annoyance of succumbing to the version of herself every jerk in high school wanted her to be and says, “But, y’know, if you were willing to be a test subject again, maybe I could get some more practice in.”
“That’s—that’s okay,” Harry says after a thoughtful pause where he looked… hopeful, almost. He’s avoiding eye contact like crazy now, but not even pretending to look at the TV. “It’d probably be better to do that with Sophie, anyway. Right?”
“Maybe,” Breanna acknowledges. She dabs some more ooze (as Parker labeled it) onto his face. “Harry, you know we’re cool, right?”
“Of course we’re cool,” he says, sounding genuinely sad that she could ever think they weren’t. “Why wouldn’t we be cool?”
“No reason,” Breanna says hastily. “I was just checking. ‘Cause, you know, if there’s stuff you wanna talk about, you can always tell me about it. Rookies stick together, right?"
She holds out her knuckles and he bumps them with a small exhale of amusement. “I’m a lot more of a rookie than you are,” he says. He hesitates for a second. “You know, Sophie said the same thing the other day.”
Okay. So Breanna definitely isn’t hallucinating, then. If Sophie is picking up on it, it’s gotta be real. Or at least partially so.
“Yeah, ‘cause we’re friends,” Breanna says airily. “Trust me, you’re going to be the best-looking accident victim ever. Or worst-looking, I guess. Most convincing for sure.”
“Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to be a body on the side of the road getting an insurance payout,” Harry jokes, applying a wistful tone.
Breanna cackles and gets to work on his cheek. She’ll let the issue lie for now. They’ve got a con to pull off and she’s successfully reaffirmed to Harry that she’s in his corner. That’s the best she can do until things settle down a little bit. But with her and Sophie on the case, they can’t possibly go wrong.
“Oh, those are nice,” Breanna says, looking at the studs in Harry’s ears. “I forgot you had your ears pierced.”
“I thought they looked kind of intimidating.” Harry preens. “They worked for the Czechian.”
“I don’t think that’s what convinced Hammond to be scared of him,” Breanna says, but if Harry wants to believe that’s how intimidation works, whatever. More power to him. Curious, she asks, “Do you ever just wear earrings?”
“I don’t have any,” he says. “These are Sophie’s. I guess she said I could keep them, but I think they’re just for cons.”
“I’ve got some you could borrow, if you wanted,” Breanna says. “That one lady loaded me up with, like, fifty billion frog earrings.”
She imagines Harry with frogs dangling from his ears and can’t help but smile. It’s like Parker and her clip-on Christmas earrings that she stacks so she can wear all of them at once. He shrugs. “I think that’d make people ask me too many questions about frogs I didn’t know the answers to.”
“I guess.” Breanna taps her chin. “Sophie would probably take you shopping if you wanted.”
Harry inhales sharply and stops walking, nearly tripping before Breanna grabs his arm and pulls him along. Their role in the con—not the same one as when Parker threw a dummy at a moving vehicle and then Harry laid down in a ditch, that was last week—is so boring. Being the distraction always is. At least Harry gets to be a scary distraction. She’s just supposed to be his assistant.
“I have enough clothes,” Harry says finally.
“You have twenty versions of the same suit and whatever anybody else throws at you for cons,” Breanna says. “Sophie could at least introduce you to… her version of fashion. The kind that involves a bunch of shoes.”
Harry doesn’t say anything, and Breanna goes from looking ahead to looking at him. He immediately avoids eye contact, looking at the people they pass by, the sidewalk, the pigeons, the coffee shops, anything but her. Breanna can feel the tension she’s caused, tight like a coiled wire pinched in pliers. Okay. This is—right. Right.
There’s something she’s been thinking about a lot. Looking at Eliot looking at Parker and Alec when they’re piled on top of each other, Parker’s fingers grabbing her partners’ clothes. Looking at Sophie’s history on Alec’s files, the endless clicking of Astrid’s profile like she expects there to be something new this time. Looking at Harry.
“It’s okay for you to want what you want,” Breanna says.
“Huh?” Harry says.
“It’s okay for you to want what you want,” she repeats. “Like. You’re not a bad person for wanting something. Alec used to tell me that all the time. Like when I had a crush on a girl in my class but I thought I wasn’t good enough for her—straight A student, two perfect parents, didn’t get in trouble with teachers all the time for being too busy hacking the NSA to write essays. I thought I had to be better to want to—anyway. I told Alec. And he said that.”
“That’s true,” Harry agrees. “It’s okay to want things that will make you happy?”
He pitches his voice up like a question, and Breanna doesn’t think he’s totally getting it.
“Yeah, but it’s more than that,” she says. She nudges Harry with her elbow and he gasps, pretending she’s winded him. “It’s not just about it being okay. It’s about you deserving it, even if you fuck up.”
Harry stays silent. He looks over her shoulder like he’s spotted one of the people they’re supposed to be tricking with this little outing to nowhere. Breanna doesn’t dare turn her head to see what or who he’s spotted, just in case. Maybe that was a distraction tactic, though, because Harry doesn’t say anything for at least five minutes.
Finally, he exhales through his teeth. “You wouldn’t say that about one of our marks.”
“Our marks aren’t working on changing themselves. Or fixing what they did wrong.” Breanna shrugs one shoulder. “And the ones that are—then they’re not really our marks anymore. That’s what happened to Hurley. Didn’t he tell you about that?”
“He did,” Harry allows. “But I’ve helped worse people than he did escape actual justice. You’ve got my whole list.”
“It’s called your redemption list for a reason, Harry,” Breanna says. She pokes him on the shoulder. “Because you’re working on redeeming yourself. That’s why I know you deserve it.”
She decides to detour them into a coffee shop for some pastries before Harry can respond.
He seems to be in a daze for the rest of the day.
“Wait,” Harry says, waving his hands around. They all stop, Parker literally freezing mid-step. “Sophie? Breanna? Can I talk to you two alone? It’s not about the con, just a personal matter.”
“Of course,” Sophie says, sitting back down. Breanna obediently does the same, scooting in her chair so she’s closer to Sophie. Eliot and Parker exchange a look before shrugging, obviously deeming Alec more important than whatever Harry is up to. Breanna, increasingly suspicious of what this could be about, finds herself grateful for Harry’s timing. Sophie waits until the door opens and closes behind them before speaking again. “What’s going on?”
Harry smoothes his tie nervously. There’s definitely some excessive sweating going on. “Oh. Uh. Just. The two of you said I could talk to you about anything, right?”
“We did,” Sophie says, although Breanna’s not sure if she actually knew she’d reassured him separately.
“So I just wanted to ask—I mean say—” His eyes dart around the room. Breanna’s seen him on a con. Once he really gets into it, there’s no fear until a weapon shows up. In a courtroom, he’s confident even in the face of curveballs. But this is real panic. He smiles shakily, sitting back a bit after pausing for a good thirty seconds. “I guess we should call Eliot and Parker back here. I could use their input on this part of the con.”
“You just said it wasn’t about the con,” Breanna points out. But she knows they’ve already lost him.
“I made a mistake,” Harry says. His eyes soften a bit as he looks at her. “Everything’s okay. I just thought of a new angle we could…”
“Harry,” Sophie says gently— not Mr. Wilson—and Harry freezes like a deer in headlights. “Come over here. I’m going to tell you a story.”
Harry walks over like he’s walking to his own grave. Breanna scootches even closer to Sophie. Sophie catches her eye and smiles before turning her attention back to Harry.
“You know,” she says softly, “the two of you are the only people I’ve told about this since Nate.”
Breanna straightens. So this is a story not even the rest of the team knows, then. Harry must have the same thought, because he frowns. “What about Parker and Eliot? And Hardison?”
“They know a version of it,” Sophie says. “No doubt they’ve pieced some of it together, especially now that we’ve had Mr. Wilde and Astrid to illuminate some things—and Ramsey, I suppose. There are some judgments even I can’t slip out of. But you’ll be the first to hear it as one piece since I told Nate.” She laces her fingers and leans forward, resting her chin on the backs of her hands. “Harry, you can ask whatever questions you want. But I would appreciate both of your continued discretion.”
“Of course,” Harry says, and Breanna nods quickly. She’s pretty sure she knows what this is about.
“You know I used a different name when I was a little girl living on the street, when it was me and Arthur against the world,” Sophie says. Her voice is still so quiet. Breanna actually has to bend closer to hear better. “I’m not going to tell you what it was. I dare say I believe Arthur and I are the only ones left alive who really know it. And I didn’t live as a little girl.”
Harry stops breathing. Breanna doesn’t. She knows this part. Not that Sophie’s ever said it out loud. But she doesn’t… She’d asked Breanna once, with eyes that read every last inch of her, what pronouns she’d like to use on the con. And from that, Breanna had understood. Like looking in a mirror. Nah, Breanna’s not the same person as Sophie. As—she steals another look at Harry. But sometimes it doesn’t feel right, being a girl. She knew just from how Sophie asked that she understood it from the other way around.
“It’s so strange, isn’t it?” Sophie says. Her voice gets louder and stronger, fingers no longer holding up her chin and now tapping angrily on the counter in front of her. “To have someone tell you how much easier you had it when they have no idea how awful it was. Billy told me once that I was lucky. He’d seen what happened to girls on the street, you know. He said I had something over them. Like I should have been grateful. When the truth was that I was as much a girl as any of the ones he knew, only admitting it would have made me acceptable to hurt.”
Breanna doesn’t think Harry’s taken a breath in at least a minute. She thinks about one of her older sisters, squarely between her and Alec in age. She’d been seventeen when she wound up with Nana, only a few inches from aging out. She hadn’t exactly been closeted when she’d shown up, but she’d been hurt and alone, a Black girl growing up in a cruel system where any femininity would be punished.
She still lives with Nana. She’s everyone’s favorite big sister.
“Things were different in those days,” Sophie says. “I’m sure you remember. I fought tooth and nail for a shred of recognition as a woman. Arthur didn’t care much, once he understood that this was who I really was and that nothing would make me waver in it. We had larger problems to deal with and greater cons to run. Ramsey needed a girl on their side for what they were trying their hand at, and I made sure it was me.”
Harry must have started breathing at some point, because his throat bobs nervously. “But Astrid,” he ventures quietly. “You…”
“Stepmother, Harry,” Sophie reminds him. “William knew. They wanted to take me off the con when we realized the depths of his feelings for me. They thought I was going to get myself killed, and that meant the end of the money. I knew I was playing with fire, but I thought I would be safe if he caught me.” She smiles. “Of course, he’d known from the start. Not that I was playing him, but that who I was didn’t match what I looked like. Can you even imagine what that was like? Having an older man who cared for me, who treated me gently, who believed in me as a woman at that time?”
Somehow, the first person Breanna thinks of is the Jackal. Hiding away and telling no one the truth of who she was. Hiding her other life from the woman she loved. Hiding the woman she loved from the rest of the world.
Breanna’s grown up in a world that was more accepting than that one. Not everywhere. Not of everything. There’d been a girl she’d gone out with in her freshman year of high school whose parents didn’t care that their daughter was a lesbian but had a problem with her girlfriend not being as white as they were. A few weeks later, they’d broken up because a boy in her class threw a rock through Nana’s window to scare her away from the girl he had a crush on. There’s a whole lot of places that keep things just how they used to be. But she hadn’t had to hide from Nana. She hadn’t…
“Our marriage wasn't legal, but it was enough for us.” Sophie bows her head. “But you two know how that turned out. I thought it would hurt less, since Astrid wasn’t mine by blood. That she could be any other little girl I’d met as a conwoman, any other child of any other mark. Of course, that’s not how family works.”
“I think you would’ve been a good mom if you’d had a better chance,” Breanna blurts out, because Harry looks so pale she’s worried he’s going to faint and she hasn’t said anything in a while.
“Thank you, Breanna,” Sophie says with a smile. “I’m not so sure about that. But as I said, William knew. It was on his dime that I came into my own as a woman. Most people don’t see the scars, and if they do, they don’t know what they’re actually from. The procedures have only gotten more advanced now, of course, but for the time I had the best money could buy. I never looked back.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Harry asks shakily. He keeps smoothing his tie over and over again.
Sophie stands and leans until she’s completely bent over the counter, one hand coming up to adjust Harry’s tie herself. “Because I think every woman needs a friend who understands what she’s been through, and in our line of work that tends to be short supply.”
“Women?” Harry squeaks, maybe trying for humor.
“No, friends,” Sophie says, tugging his tie a little. “But you have Breanna and I. And the rest of the team, if you’d like to tell them after you’ve been able to tell yourself. We care about you, Ms. Wilson.”
“You were a kid,” Harry says faintly. “I…”
“Nate died when he was in his fifties,” Sophie says, and Harry recoils a little. “But for some people, that’s only the middle of their life. Or the beginning of the rest of it.”
“It’s never too late,” Breanna says. “You already changed your life once, right?”
“There’s a difference between realizing how awful I was and—” Harry swallows thickly, fidgeting in the chair. Harry tries to continue but it comes out as a small strangled noise instead.
“I mean, is there?” Breanna asks, recalling what Harry had said about not being any better than a mark. What that had meant about Harry not deserving any kind of happiness. “Both of them change your life.”
“You’re already with us,” Sophie says, and the hand she puts on Breanna’s arm with a light squeeze says everything about why Breanna thinks she might’ve been a good mother. “Don’t you want to be yourself while you’re at it?”
Harry’s mouth opens and closes a few more times. Finally—“I feel like you two are ganging up on me.”
“If we don’t look out for each other, who will?” Sophie says. “That’s what our team does. We look out for each other. No matter the situation, we stay together.”
Harry looks at Breanna, expression pleading for help. Breanna’s pretty sure it’s not really about a fear of Sophie, though. Or even about a fear of the truth. “I told you we’re cool,” she says. “Remember how I told you you deserve to want to be who you want to be?”
“What?” Sophie says, brow wrinkling.
“No, I got it,” Harry says. And Breanna is pretty sure that’s true. Harry got it. She got it. “I… That’s part of why I thought I could—this. We… Breanna and I are cool.”
“Secret’s safe with me,” Breanna says, holding out her hand for a fist bump. “But you can tell me if you want to talk about it, you know? Like Sophie said, we’ve gotta stick together, and the two of us—girl, we’re Team Rookie for life, you know what I’m saying?”
Maybe it’s just the anxiety getting to her, or maybe Breanna’s pleading expression works, because Harry laughs a little.
“I told you, I’m more of a rookie than you are,” she says, then yelps with concern when Breanna tries to climb over the counter to give her a hug instead of going around it. “Careful!”
“Parker can do it, and so can I,” Breanna says determinedly, managing to slither over. She wraps her arms around Harry, who makes a little “oof” sound even though there’s no way she actually knocked the wind out of her. She hugs back like she usually does. Breanna imagines it’s the same way she hugs Becky.
“Don’t tell them,” Harry says, half-muffled. “Please.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, Ms. Wilson,” Sophie says as Breanna steps back. “Both of us know the value of keeping certain things discrete. Until you’re ready, we won’t speak a word of it to anyone. Right, Breanna?”
“Of course,” Breanna agrees. The terror of outing is one thing all three of them have in common. She gives Harry a thumbs-up that she nervously returns. “You know you’re safe with me.”
Breanna doesn’t mean to overhear the hushed conversation her microphones pick up on Harry and Sophie having after their job is done. She feels slimy for listening in on her friends when that’s supposed to be saved for their marks, but… it’s only a few hushed words.
“I know you’ve used a lot of names,” Harry says quietly. Breanna knows it’s quiet because the audio is slightly fuzzy. “Can I… Is it okay if I ask…”
“I’m not going to tell you,” Sophie says firmly.
“Not that,” Harry says hastily. “When you knew Astrid’s father. William. What name did he know you as, again?”
Sophie mulls it over for a second. Breanna holds her breath.
“Charlotte,” Sophie says finally. “For a long time I thought that would always be my name. I truly loved the way he said it.”
Breanna stops listening in and snips that audio out of the final log. It won’t be enough to escape Alec’s notice if he decides to really comb through things, but most people don’t have the skills it takes to retrieve files that have been that thoroughly deleted. Besides, Alec doesn’t have any reason to look through those logs. Nobody ever does unless something bad happens.
Harry’s secret is hidden for a bit longer.
“What’re we doing?” Harry asks, leaning over and looking at Breanna’s computer. “Why do you have a whole bunch of Pinterest tabs open?”
“Damn, maybe I just want to make poor imitations of animals made out of fruit,” Breanna says before cracking. “Fine. It’s just a bunch of women’s suits. The pants situation on most of them is kinda screwed up, though. Lotta weird belts, too.”
“Looking to change up your style?” Harry says lightly, fulfilling her original mission of giving Breanna a bowl of the ice cream they got for free from the shop they just saved. “I know you’ve got a whole closet for cons, but I think your rotation of three suits is enough.”
“Uh. Looking for stuff for you, actually,” Breanna admits, taking a bite of ice cream and avoiding eye contact. “If you’re going to stick with suits, you can just wear different ones. None of them really screamed Harry, though. I think people on Pinterest have bad taste.”
Harry flushes a little. “...What about Charlotte?”
“Hm?” Breanna pauses mid-spoonful
She flushes further, cheeks getting even redder. “Is that okay?”
“‘Course it’s okay,” Breanna says. She grins wide enough to strain her cheeks, utterly failing at feigning a casual attitude. She thinks on her feet, remembering that Harry—that Charlotte doesn’t know she heard her talking to Sophie. “How’d you pick that?”
“Oh. Uh. It’s just—a friend’s name,” Charlotte says, rubbing the back of her neck. “Someone who told me she knew what I was going through. And I’ve actually always liked the name, so I thought… But I haven’t actually told that friend yet. You’re, um, you’re the first to know.”
Breanna clasps her heart. “I’m honored. But I’ve got a good feeling that friend is going to be thrilled.”
“Yeah,” Charlotte says. She can’t keep the smile off her face. “I think she will be, too.”
Breanna ruminates on what she wants to say next, eating her ice cream slowly. She really doesn’t want to ruin the mood, and it’s not like any good will come of trying to pressure Charlotte into coming out to the rest of the team. But this isn’t about that. It’s about making her happy. “Have you said anything to Becky yet?”
Charlotte freezes. “No.”
“I think she’ll be happy for you,” Breanna says. “I mean, I know I don’t know know her, but I know she loves you. She might take some time to adjust, but… Y’know, she’s your daughter, and you two are doing good right now, right?”
“Yeah,” she says. “We are. I’ve been thinking about it, but I don’t want to turn her life on its head any more than I already have.”
“You gotta stop thinking about it like that,” Breanna says, pointing at her with her spoon and unfortunately losing some of her ice cream when it slides off and onto the floor. “Sure, yeah, you might’ve taken her for a bit of a ride. But this stuff, and Leverage International stuff, that’s not turning your life upside-down, that’s putting it back right the way it’s supposed to be.”
“...Huh,” Charlotte says. “...You know, Breanna, you’re a good friend.”
Breanna’s stomach squeezes. The smile is back. Her cheeks are aching a little, actually. “Thanks.”
“I’m gonna do it,” Charlotte says at random in the middle of a con.
“Stay on track,” Sophie warns. “We can’t afford to have anyone go rogue. Stick with the plan.”
“Not that,” Charlotte says. “I mean—it. I’m gonna do it. When we get back, once this is done, I’ve got some stuff to tell the team.”
“Nice,” Breanna says from her vantage point on the balcony where her binoculars are trained on the guy two buildings over who’s got a gun pointed at their mark. Trying to ruin someone’s life and reputation is hard when you also have to protect them from the pissed-off Russian mob sniper trying to execute him for double crossing their operation, who knew. “I’ve got something I can give you for luck.”
“Aw, really?” Charlotte beams. Breanna can’t actually see her, but she knows it’s true.
“Stay on task, please, Harry,” Eliot mutters.
(Breanna does give her the good luck charm later. It’s a little Sylveon pin. She doesn’t actually know if Charlotte’s ever played Pokémon, although she’s pretty sure she at least has some familiarity with it the way almost everyone does. But Sylveon is cute and cuddly looking and it’s already the trans pride colors so it’s not like anybody would look twice at it the way they would at pretty much every other pride pin Breanna’s ever seen.
Charlotte starts tearing up over it. Breanna gets another hug.)
Charlotte paces back and forth on the stage in front of the screens, one hand shoved in her pocket and the other rubbing the back of her neck. She took the time to pin Breanna’s gift to the inside of her pocket. She’d said she’d done it like that so it looked like it was peeking out. Breanna wonders if Becky ever did stuff like that the way Breanna did, carting around little stuffed animals in school bags with just their heads unzipped.
A kid stole one once, saying she was too old for stuff like that. She called Alec, in tears, and Parker walked her through stealing it back.
“What’s going on?” Eliot asks, watching Charlotte hunch her shoulders. He must know something is wrong. He always does. Breanna wonders how he didn’t pick up on it.
“Harry, you can’t leave the team again,” Parker says. She’s sitting on the counter, legs swinging with enough control that she stops them before they hit the wood underneath. “I keep having to tell lawyers you’re ours and they can’t have you. It’s getting boring.”
“That’s—this is different.” Charlotte turns helplessly, and Breanna gives her a thumbs up. She nervously shoots one back. “It’s about me. It’s. I.”
“Do you want my help?” Sophie asks quietly, extending an olive branch. It doesn’t matter how loud the squeak of Charlotte’s shoes is, her voice cuts straight through.
Charlotte nods, fixed completely on Sophie. “Please?”
Sophie spreads her hands. “Introduce yourself to us. Just one of us, if you’d prefer.”
Charlotte still hesitates, and Breanna raises her hand and waves it over her head. “Oh! Me! Pick me!”
“What’re we doing here?” Eliot asks, watching Charlotte walk over to Breanna. “Introduce yourself…?”
“Hi,” Breanna says brightly. She grabs Charlotte’s hand and enthusiastically pumps it like she’s trying to win over a mark with her “gee whiz” attitude, making herself perfectly vulnerable and ready for a powerful figure to fuck her over and ruin her life. Few people can resist it. “Breanna Casey, former child and current leader of Leverage International.”
Parker hiccups a laugh at the same time Charlotte does, the latter shaking her head fondly and smiling at Breanna with open, honest hope.
“Charlotte Wilson,” she says. “Former corrupt lawyer, and former child, I guess. Current normal lawyer.”
Sophie is an excellent actress. Breanna has seen her play two cons to the same person, making them fully believe they were separate individuals who looked nothing alike. She’s seen her shed aliases and accents like Nana’s cat Uhura sheds fur. One time she watched Eliot get shot in front of her and didn’t let the mask slip even a centimeter.
Everybody hears the way she gasps when Charlotte says her name.
Her chair scrapes as she stands and all but runs to Charlotte’s side, reaching up to cup her face. “Oh, look at you, Ms. Wilson,” she whispers. Breanna is the closest, but with Parker and Eliot’s silence, they must hear her, too. “You didn’t tell me that’s what you’d chosen.”
“Good,” Parker says. She’s been studying Charlotte without blinking, but now she shrugs and prods Eliot. “Names are better when they’re stolen. Eliot, are you going to make us dinner?”
“Yeah, sure,” Eliot says absently. He stands too, and a part of Breanna bristles, even though she knows Eliot and she trusts him with her life and he’s accepting of her and Sophie and he’s with Parker and Alec and—he catches her eye and slowly dips his head to her, and she tries to calm herself down. It’s Eliot. It’s Eliot. He looks at Charlotte, face still held by Sophie. “This is why you’ve been freaking out?”
“Maybe?” Charlotte says.
“I know a guy,” Eliot says, which sounds like the start of a long, boring Eliot anecdote about a time he fought lions in the Roman coliseum or whatever. “I can have him hook you up. It’ll be paid for.”
“What? Oh!” Charlotte blinks. “That’s—that’s really—thank you. But it’s—one step at a time, and—I haven’t told Becky yet, or…”
“There’s no rush,” Sophie says. She lets go of Charlotte. “I’m very proud of you.”
“You are?” She brightens like she did when Breanna called her character she as a roundabout way of saying it to her. Bursting with joy.
“Very.” Sophie smiles, eyes teary.
Charlotte smiles wider. Breanna does too.
Maybe it won’t mean as much if she says it. But it can’t hurt, so she bumps her fist and adds—“Me, too.”
“Team Rookie for life,” Charlotte says sagely, and runs around the counter to give Breanna a hug. She takes a deep, shuddering breath that Breanna can feel go through her whole body. There’s a wet sound in the exhale. “You’re the best.”
“I know,” Breanna says, and hugs back.