Archive of Our Own ^beta

Eliot woke up suddenly several times that night, and Parker just scrunched his hair and shushed him until he settled again. It was comfy, sleeping perched on top of Eliot. He was solid. Even when he needed comfort, he was solid. Actually, Parker was starting to think that that made things even better.

Parker had to take care of her boys, just like they had to take care of her. That was one of the reasons she felt so much more comfortable being taken care of, now that they were back. It was like a job, keeping her post, being ready to help. But it was also enough like bed rest that Alec would approve.

They had a lazy morning, staying in bed and cuddling each other. There were many soft kisses and reassuring squeezes between them all.

Eventually Eliot and Alec got up, Eliot to make food and Alec to start coffee. Parker hobbled after on her crutches, but quickly settled in to watch them work.

"So did you steal me something?" she asked them.

"Oh yeah!" Hardison brightened, going for his luggage. He tossed her a small package.

"Don't spoil your appetite," Eliot warned. "Got breakfast planned, so don't fill up on Pretz snacks. They don't count as real food, even if I shoplifted 'em for you myself."

Parker turned the package over curiously, trying to figure out what it was. "What, pretzels? You stole me special Japanese pretzels!" Her boys were the best.

"They're s'posed to taste like blueberry on one end an' cheese on the other," Eliot told her, "but I wouldn't hold my breath. Alec picked 'em out, I just did the lift."

She beamed at the two. "They're perfect." She squirreled them away under the side table, being good, waiting for breakfast. And she pulled out a box.

"I stole you guys something Japanese too," she told them, and tossed Hardison a stuffed Pikachu. He crinkled his nose at it adorably, grinning, appreciating it the way she hadn't appreciated the tiny bear with the crutch. She preferred her green things that did things, Hardy and George, given to her by her boys. But Alec was more like Amy, and Parker was pleased to see she'd extrapolated correctly from that to give a good gift.

Eliot was more like her, in a lot of ways. But still a puzzle.

"Eliot, are you ready for your welcome home present?" She held up the box, wiggling it.

"Oatmeal's almost ready, yeah." He looked at her in suspicion as he approached with her bowl. "Did you go out shoplifting on your crutches?"

"Nah, Alec taught me to hack online stores a couple weeks ago. Overnight shipping. You said adapt."

"I did, didn't I." He opened the box, and then just stared for a minute.

It was a shirt, so it was useful, and it was about something he liked. "It says wolf," she told him, in case he didn't know, then play-growled at him. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah, Parker, it's great," he said, but he didn't take it out of the box.

"Put it on, put it on," she urged. Frowned thoughtfully when he still didn't move. Picked up her oatmeal and began to eat.

It tasted like reassurance. Like home and comfort and routine.

The shirt was red. It shined bright with Eliotishness, like wearing your heart on your sleeve. Maybe he wasn't quite ready for that.

Hardison always shone out all Hardisony, always had his heart pouring out love. He always tried to get Parker to shine too, to be herself and to be happy with other people. But he never pushed.

Parker wanted to see Eliot's heart shine out more often, because it was beautiful and dangerous and fierce. She didn't want to push the way Nate pushed people, but maybe she'd push a little.

She had a theory about Eliot, and from his reaction she thought it was right.

He was changing, and he wasn't quite comfortable enough with his real self to wear it like that, wanted to change more first, wanted to be more sure.

Hardison had brought two more bowls to the couch, sitting next to Parker and settling in with his breakfast. Eliot set the box down on the footstool next to Parker's foot, and then sat there, facing the other two, to eat.

"It's still like putting on someone else, isn't it," she sympathized. "Like Alice. Alice is all my fake normal put together with a lot of the new things I've learned to be, and she helps me understand why people are the way they are and remember that I'm turning into someone new. I'll never be quite Alice but we're getting closer and closer to really being the same, to having the same heart. Sometimes I understand why she likes animals and doesn't want to eat them. Sometimes I just know a lot of animals need to eat other animals to survive."

It helped her say all this out loud that Hardison was mushed up against her side with an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder.

"Changing your heart is the hardest," she told Eliot, "but changing the way you look helps sometimes."

Eliot cradled his bowl in his lap as he thought about how to respond. "I kinda get that," he said, "but I've tried it before and it doesn't always work." He reached up to push his hair out of his face the way he sometimes did when he was frustrated.

Parker frowned, watching that. "Why do you keep your hair so long?" she asked.

Eliot scowled. "I wanted to be someone else from who I was in the Army. Turns out I liked the second guy even less. But I'm still workin' out how not to be him."

"Do you want to look different than either of them?" Parker asked.

"Yeah," Eliot said, nodding. "Maybe I do."

"Wait," Hardison interrupted, "Are you suggestin' that Eliot cut his hair?" He pouted.

"You can still play with mine," Parker consoled him, patting his knee.

"I don't like strangers near my face with a blade," he told them. "No strangers."

"I bet Amy could do it," Parker suggested. "She's good with hair."

A couple of days later, Amy cut Eliot's hair with much ceremony, while the other two looked on, Hardison shedding a fake tear at the loss of his ability to braid their heads together while the three were watching movies.

It was shorter but not short, the length where it would mostly stay out of his way but he still looked just as badass.

Eliot looked in the mirror when she was done and gave a curt nod of approval.

But later that night, Parker caught him staring at it in the bathroom mirror, toothbrush momentarily forgotten.

"You really think it's right? That it's me?" he asked when she came up behind him and curled her arms around him, leaving her crutches leaned up against the sink.

"Yeah," she said, ruffling it. "Soft short fur, good for petting. Good for our good wolf."

"But you're still you," Alec added, coming up on Eliot's other side and kissing him on the cheek.

"Keep reminding me who I am now," Eliot whispered to them. "Please."

"We'll do better than that. We'll remind you who you want to be, and how close you're getting. Like you remind me."

"We're all gonna keep changing," Hardison said. "But we'll still be us. We change together."

They're runnin' this one alone because Nate an' Sophie have been pullin' away even more. Whatever it is Nate's got planned in the long term, he's putting it in motion more than he has been.

Things are good just with the three of them, though. Especially now that Parker's knee is better.

This job's runnin' without a hitch, so far. The three of them work together like they were built for it, so smooth and easy, like an engine.

He an' Hardison both watch as Parker makes her way through the laser grid. It's what she does, but it's also a show put on just for them, the way her body moves and the control she has over it and everything else that is phenomenal about Parker at work.

"Never get tired o' that," Hardison says, grinning, and offers a fist. Eliot joins in the celebration with enthusiasm. This is work, and they have to keep focus, but it doesn't hurt to have that added edge, that motivation to get done and home that comes from being reminded of one of Parker's stripteases.

They're wrapping it up and heading home when Eliot's phone rings.

The number is not one he's happy to see.

There are parts of his life he's intentionally left far behind.

He tells Riley he doesn't do wetwork anymore.

Riley swears. "That's like Picasso throwing away his paintbrush."

Thing is, Eliot knows what he means. Eliot's always been an artist with a knife, one way or another. He's not about that anymore. He has new art. But he remembers being that person.

He hangs up the phone. But he has a feeling this isn't gonna be so easy to ignore.

"That's that thing - thing you don't do anymore," Parker realizes.

"No, I don't," he agrees.

"So we keep walking."

Good girl reminding him who he is now, but the thing is....

"The thing is, just 'cause I'm not doing it doesn't mean it ain't gettin' done."

The thing about the darkness of the world he left behind is that ignoring it isn't good enough, not on days like this. On days like this, when it comes back to find him, he has to fight it.

Or else he's not as good a man as he knows he can be.

But the other thing is... gettin' back into that circle, wadin' into the muck, sometimes it means playing the part of who he used to be.

Like he'd had to with Moreau.

Eliot can be who he needs to be. Even with Hardison maybe drownin' right next to him. Even if he hates it. He can play the part.

Maybe he's more like Sophie than he'd thought. Shuffle and deal out the right card for the right occasion.

Thing is, he wants to stack the deck. Change it 'round. Make sure he never has to deal out a black card any more. Leave behind first the spades of the gravedigger and eventually, the clubs of the hitter. But decks don't work if they're all diamonds and hearts.

Well, if your game is poker.

Hardison's been teachin' him Magic, and that's a game where you build your own deck. Works better if it's all one color, one type, maybe two, if you're tricky about it. Doesn't matter what's in the deck you're playin' against. You play your own kinda cards.

This crew? Maybe Magic's their game.

Maybe Eliot can learn to draw somethin' red, every time.

He doesn't pretend, this time, when he wades into the shadows. He's his new self, and it shines out proud. And it works, 'cause they're there with him.

The three of 'em get in. They get the file. They get out.

The target's a 911 administrator.

Eliot has a bad feeling about that.

But all they can do is save her, then they'll worry about whatever else is goin' on.

He runs this part, tells 'em the factors, what he can do, what else needs to be done an' tells 'em to get it done. A mastermind he ain't, though, so they can work out the details.

They still ask.

"You stole a Michelangelo with tinfoil and chewing gum," he reminds them. "Figure it out!"

And they do.

The two of 'em are amazing and Eliot doesn't want to live in a world without them in it.

Especially after what Vance tells 'em, there's only one answer to this puzzle.

Terrorism.

Visions of bombs and guns and massive events of violence bloom in Eliot's mind's eye. He knows his team can get 'im the truck, but after that?

"Where do we start?" they ask.

"We start with getting you two on a plane outta here. You didn't sign up for this. Trust me."

He can do this. He can be this person if he needs to be. Be the mastermind and team all rolled into one. For them. To keep 'em out of this.

They're not havin' it, though.

Hardison starts in, being ridiculous as usual. "And you? You're going to handle this by yourself? Come on, she's a lady, man. She needs the right touch. What you gonna do with your big punchin' hands? Punch the screens? No."

Parker pulls the trump card.

"We agreed we all change. Better or worse, we change together."

They need him safe and whole. They need him comin' up red. They need the person he's on his way to bein'.

He knows that. He also needs them to remind him, every now an' then.

He sighs. "What do they got on the gunman?"

They find an old lab.

Hardison's right. The place is fuckin' creepy.

They find some paperwork, and a name.

Coldwater Health Sciences Foundation.

Hardison says, "Foundation was a precursor to the CDC."

Oh, that's a bad string of letters to hear right now.

That could change everything.

Hardison's on his phone now. "Was, uh, privately funded government disease research shut down in 1934. This lab was forgotten."

"How do you lose track of a whole laboratory?" Parker asks.

Eliot almost wants to laugh. Way too easily, is the answer. "There's over 200 tons of uranium missing from the United States nuclear storage."

"The air force lost a hydrogen bomb off the coast of Georgia," Hardison contributes. "Thing's still swimming in the water."

"Countries are big things, Parker. A lot of secrets slip through the cracks." Part of him wishes he didn't know this stuff. But he can't afford not to know right now. None of them can.

"You should see this," Parker says.

Eliot feels a chill down the back of his neck. This is it, he thinks. This is what they're lookin' for. He makes himself look.

"The case is vacuum-sealed."

"Do not tell me what's inside." Alec, he feels it too. That dread, that denial. The cold knowledge that they are about to find out exactly what they're facing.

They need to know.

"Says... influenza 1918."

The world shifts under their feet. The shape of everything changes.

Germ warfare is a whole different kind of threat.

There's nowhere any of them can run, not far enough to get away from that.

It's Hardison that unfreezes first. "Get out. Now! Get out! Now! Go! Go! Get out!"

Best way to keep 'em safe now would be to get all their cards on the table, to use every bit of talent the three of 'em together had to try an' solve this.

He needs them here, to keep them safe.

To keep everyone safe.

Her boys were freaking out.

They got overwhelmed by the idea of so many people being in danger. She could see it in Hardison's eyes, hear it in his voice.

"The Spanish flu killed fifty million people during World War I, and now somebody's got it." He sounded tired, he sounded like he was waiting to wake up from a nightmare.

"Look, we can do this," Parker told him. "Just treat it like any other job."

That's how she handled the bad jobs. Got above it, kept her distance. But Hardison had that creature looking out through his eyes, his heart so close to the surface. He couldn't keep his distance from this.

"This isn't just any other job!"

Parker didn't know how to help.

"All right. Stay focused," Eliot said to Hardison.

"I am focused!"

The creature in him was frightened, was ready for fight or flight, and the look in his eyes screamed flight, flight, flight!

"That bug in there killed fifty million people! FIFTY! And that was when the population was lower!"

"Now?" Parker asked. She needed to know what they were facing.

"Now? A hundred and fifty million people. A hundred fifty million dead. Hey, we're thieves, man, and we're good at what we do, but this is way, way out of our league. And you expect us to go catch some psycho with a city killer? A country killer?"

"You scared?" Eliot asked him softly.

"You're damn right." Hardison made to bolt.

Eliot caught him by the wrist, waiting for Hardison to look him in the eye. "I'm not," he said, smiling. "I got the best thief and the smartest guy I know chasing this guy."

Alec still looked like he wanted to escape, to run. Eliot grabbed him, firm and warm, by the back of his neck, and made him look back into Eliot's steady gaze. Into where his own heart stood firm and unafraid, that heart of a wolf. "Hey. Listen to me. You're the smartest guy I've ever known, Hardison. I need that brain to get me to him. 'Cause you know if I lay my hands on him, it's done." His lip twitched like he really was a wolf, ready to bite and never let go. "Get me to 'im."

Their hearts saw each other.

Eliot was so brave, and he made both of them brave too.

Hardison was still scared, still vibrating with it, and he looked down, around, looked for an escape, but he wasn't trying to run anymore. Alec was preparing to fight.

Alec wasn't usually a fighter but he could be a vicious animal, like a mother bear when their cubs are threatened. They were his to protect, they were all Alec's, and it didn't matter that they were all different animals with different instincts, they were his, Parker knew this, they were his pack and now that he knew he had to fight, he would fight with all he had.

"He has to weaponize it," Alec told them.

Eliot kept him steady. "Good. That's a good start."

Parker needed to take point, with them tied up in each other. "We find the lab."

"He doesn't need a lab. He needs pigs."

They found the farm.

The rudimentary lab, the dead farmer, the run full of lifeless pigs that stretched out into the distance.

So many dead animals. So many snuffed-out souls. Just laying there to be seen. Open to the sky.

"Not like every other job," Parker was forced to agree.

They found the connections, shared their info with Vance.

"Burn it," Hardison told the man.

It should have been an ending. But it didn't feel like an ending, not when they couldn't see it finished. Not when they couldn't gloat.

There wouldn't be much to gloat about when this was over, Parker suspected. But still. All three of them had the instincts of different animals, different kinds of criminals. And all their instincts said the fight was not over.

They all think they're goin' to find another victim. Research his connections, why the terrorist might be targetin' these people, what he might be up to.

This time, when the world changes under their feet, it's literal.

Hardison goes in first. The floor clicks, and quick as lightning, Eliot grabs his jacket, stopping the man in his tracks. "Hey!" he warns.

Things aren't how they thought they were. Again.

An' this time, it's gonna kill all three o'them. Right here an' now.

"Eliot? Eliot?" Hardison is startin' to panic, but, thank the heavens, he's stayin' still.

"Did you hear a click? Wood floors don't click."

"You mean I'm standing on..."

"Yeah. He put a pressure plate underneath the flooring." Eliot sinks down into a crouch, gettin' a better look at the claymore.

"Creative," Hardison comments, sounding disgusted. At least it's somethin' other than fear.

"Pull him back." Her voice wavers.

The only thing that can make Parker lose her cool like that is when Hardison's in danger. They need to be cool about this. They need to think of a solution.

"I can't just pull him back. Explosion velocity of a claymore is four thousand feet per second, and we ain't that fast."

"Oh, you're just full of fun facts, ain't'cha?"

Sarcasm. Good, Hardison, good. Use all that. Push aside the panic.

Eliot's not doin' so hot himself with the whole stayin' cool, makin' a plan, thing. "Whole area in front of the door could be rigged." He doesn't see a way out.

Parker's voice firms up. "I got a plan."

Eliot watches as she climbs on top of Hardison. Eliot plants his hands on Alec's legs, helpin' him keep still as their girl maneuvers around, bracing her legs around Hardison's waist.

This could work.

"Hey," Parker says to Hardison, wrapping her arms around him briefly.

"Kiss for luck?" Hardison asks.

Parker smiles. "I don't believe in luck." And she bends backwards, slow and careful.

Confidence, trust and relaxation, exactly what Hardison needs right now. A reason to stay put. To stay strong.

These are the only people Eliot needs. They can do anything. When he's tapped out, they step up.

"I can see the connection. I just have to pull the wires." Parker reaches out.

A moment. Then she gives the barest sigh of relief, puts her hands on the floor and rights herself.

Hardison collapses.

"So we're thinkin'..." he ventures.

"Udall is Ahmed."

"Good. We're all on the same page."

They all are.

It's different, not having Nate here to push the pieces around the board. With the three of 'em, it's a different game, the lead changing by turns depending on what's needed. Parker stepping up when her boys are at a loss.

It's different, but it's good.

Udall's house was full of weird.

Not the nice weird, like Hardison's refrigerator full of orange soda or her old warehouse apartment. Like. A bomb that almost blew up Hardison. A refrigerator full of eggs with writing all over them, and instructions on how to kill the world.

A bad weird.

They figured it out, though. They figured out that the other property was a trap.

It made Eliot's wolf whine for his friend Vance.

"He's leadin' 'em right into an ambush. An' we sent 'im there."

She could hear the wobble in Eliot's voice. That was bad weird, too.

It made Hardison's eyes hard, though. It made him focus, and fight. Hardison's weapons were wifi and bluetooth and zeroes and ones. And he tore into Vance's car with those weapons, and made the machine scream.

They were in time. They saved Vance. They could hear his voice as he and his men regrouped.

Eliot howled in triumph, "BAAAAAAH! MY BOY!" and plowed into Hardison like an overexcited puppy, holding him tight. "That is what I'm talkin' about!"

That was right. Things were right again.

Except they were still on the trail of the man with the weapon that could kill a country if they didn't find it and burn it with fire before he could use it.

They were on the prowl, their pack, and she could see them clearly now. Their animal hearts guiding them, Eliot's wolf, Alec's bear, and her own cat, like the strays she'd seen, like the ones Alice's friend had, loving heights, seeming aloof and independent until they found someone to trust, then play-fighting and pushing hard for affection.

This wasn't a game, it was a hunt, a deadly serious one, but she was a cat at heart, and she jumped and played and took glee in it as her heart pounded with the adrenaline. As she twisted, dodged, and landed on her feet.

The others were close, they would be here soon, and she had to find their prey. Tease him out, poke and prod until he revealed himself.

There he was.

She took away the badwrong weapon. That was first, because the others were so worried about it. So when they caught up, their prey still had his gun.

He shot Eliot.

But Eliot was more worried about the bomb, even now. So Parker worked the job. Drew her claws across the glass.

Their prey was being annoying again, shooting at them, and she could see in Eliot's eyes that he was going to go after the guy again. She did her best to speak through her eyes, to tell Eliot to do it, but not to die. She would run. She would finish the badwrong weapon. Destroy it.

She spoke to Alec with her body, because that was all she needed him to know, right now. That he was loved. That they would both do their best to succeed, to live, to come back.

That they were his.

Eliot's fine. They're all fine.

The gun was small caliber and for a blessing both bullets had only really hit muscle. He'd been ducking down and reaching an arm out when the first shot hit, skimmed over top and to the outside of his lung and slanted just under his scapula, displaced with the motion as it was. Didn't even nick a rib. It's gonna suck moving his arm for a while, though, not to mention breathing... and of course walking because of the second shot, but he's fine.

He's kinda lookin' forward to the days of not bein' a hitter, though.

Maybe he really can be who he wants to be with them. Maybe he really can make it work.

Parker makes it work. She's all diamonds and hearts. Hearts always for them and the diamonds brought out at the right moments. People and tools shuffled together, but unlike Nate she never forgets which is which.

"Come on, part-time. For your country. By the time we wait for the bureaucrats to wake up, it'll be too late."

Vance is barkin' up the wrong tree there. Eliot tells 'im. "Yeah, I just met a guy that made that same argument. Couldn't wait for his country to catch up with him."

You can't force strategy. You can't be holdin' all the cards all the time. Eliot'll always be there if his country really needs him, Vance knows - called him less'n a year ago now for a cleanup, no wetwork, he knows him well enough not to ask that anymore. Eliot will always go where he sees he's needed.

An' he's not the man who swore that oath. Time's long up, for one thing. For another? He sees a lot of things clearer, now.

"Thing is, he did what he thought he had to do. I'll tell you something, Vance, I know firsthand. You become obsessed with beating your enemy, it's real easy to become him." Easy to lose track of who you are and who you want to be.

He doesn't ever want to lose track of that again.

He tells Vance who he is now, an' what he does. Most important, who with.

And Eliot Spencer walks away cradled between the other two, lets the world see his weakness and who he leans on.

He's a different man today than he's ever been. Because of these two, and their ways of drawin' out hearts.