Title: The End, the Middle, the Beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage or its characters and I make no profit from this. It's all for fun.

Spoilers: None, I think.

Pairing: Nate/Parker

Summary: A trip to Las Vegas changes everything. Nate/Parker

Author's note: It's been done. It's been done for every show, nearly every couple, and I had to do it for this one (but I'm fairly certain at least that it hasn't been done for N/P because I am fairly certain I am one of maybe four people in the world who writes them, and I've read everything else).

I am not looking to surprise anyone with the basic idea; I'm looking to explore what happens in the event of something like this.

Thanks to all consistent reviewers/readers (jojobevco, housefan87, zombienath, agenttofutti, AgainstTheEveningSky, Erin, Leverage3621), even the silent ones (you know who you are) and all the rest who drop by occasionally looking for something different. I know I am out of my mind to start posting another story when I'm not done with the last one. To all who care, rest assured that both will be finished!

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At a time like this, there was one rule that always came into Parker's head – not something to necessarily live by, but one to definitely keep in mind for situations like these.

No matter how bad a situation is, it can always, always get worse.

Her first thought, upon waking (after recognition of the incredible pain hammering inside her head) was that she didn't know where she was.

Her second thought was that she certainly wasn't in her own room.

Her third was that she could probably slip out, because the room seemed empty on a quick glance.

The quick succession of those three thoughts ensured the day was starting off about five times worse than normal. She had no idea what was to come.

Parker shut her eyes and didn't want to open them again because she knew the pain would only magnify. "Am I dead? I must be dead. If I'm not, then I wish I were," she muttered. She took several deep breaths to try and stop the pounding. She hoped the night before was fun, because if it wasn't, this so wasn't worth it. Though, since she couldn't remember last night, perhaps it wasn't worth it either way.

She ventured a quick look around and registered she was in a bed in a room she didn't recognize. Very slowly bits and pieces came back. They were in Las Vegas (didn't everything happen in Vegas?) for some type of marketing convention, trying to infiltrate one of the largest advertising firms in the country. And last night…well that was completely blank. And from the way she felt, maybe that was for the best.

She laid there for a few moments, simply breathing quietly. Panic rose within her at a steady rate as she considered that anything might have happened last night – and with anyone. What if she was in some sociopath's hotel room? What if he was in the bathroom right now, sharpening his knives and waiting for her to wake up?

Not that she thought she couldn't take care of herself. She'd made sure of that a long time ago after some not so pleasant experiences.

Yes, she'd learned how to defend herself. But that didn't mean she'd learned how to turn off being afraid.

She decided the best course of action was to try and leave before whoever's room this was made an appearance. Thankfully, the bed was empty aside from herself. She threw the covers off and scanned the room more thoroughly. It was nice. Expensive. "What the hell happened?" She whispered, hoping the words might somehow jog her memory.

"Why don't you tell me?" Someone answered from behind her. No, not just someone. She knew that voice, and she told herself all she felt was shock simply to deny to herself that the first thought she'd had upon hearing his voice was relief (not a serial killer after all!) followed immediately by panic.

Because if she thought it was bad when she was in a stranger's hotel room, she had no damn idea what the proper adjective was to describe learning that she was in Nate's room.

She turned very slowly, partly to delay the inevitable, and partly so that her head wouldn't explode. "Explain." She said, trying for her deadliest tone, though it came out more as a pathetic whisper, which made her wince, but only on the inside. He must have come from the bathroom because he handed her a glass of water and two aspirins.

"No, no," the look of bewilderment mixed with horror, anger, and concern on his face was, she suspected, equally mirrored on hers. "You tell me, because you are the one in my room."

Was that true? Well it wasn't her room and if it wasn't a stranger's it must be his. This room was much nicer than the one she had checked into 3 days before. Wait a minute.

"You booked yourself a suite and I got a single room?" She accused, but only to allow herself to forget for a moment what was most important.

"Stop focusing on the trivial," Nate winced as his voice rose and he rubbed his head, before continuing more calmly. "Let's put it another way. Do you remember anything from last night?"

She shrugged in response and thought about how truly awful this situation was becoming. Waking up in bed with someone, neither remembering the night before, and to have it be Nate of all people. Though she'd been happier to see him than she would a random stranger, it was worse in other ways. They had to work together and things could get awkward. Not that she wasn't used to dealing with strange or uncomfortable situations, but it bothered her on another level.

Nate was her friend, despite how hard she'd tried to prevent that from happening (with all of them, really). Before today, she'd been fairly sure that, barring all else, she at least had his respect. She did her job and did it well and she contributed to a good cause in a way she never had in her life before he pulled them all together. And she secretly – hidden from all others and most the time even from herself – loved him for that.

And now? What must he think of her now? Whatever standing she'd had in his eyes was gone as soon as he saw her this morning. She was sure of it.

She couldn't even look in his eyes, because she was sure what she would see. Disappointment for sure, disgust maybe, and most certainly regret, perhaps that he'd ever considered someone as unstable as her to work with his team.

But she couldn't afford to think of that now. She locked everything away, determined to get through this and out of the room before she could see anything that might confirm her fears. If she kept denying it – everything, the night before, today – maybe they could forget it and go back to how they were before. The way she was before. A precarious balance of doing the wrong things for the right reasons, with only Nathan Ford to steady her when she started to dangerously tip toward the old patterns of behavior that were so easy to fall into.

She knew as well as the rest of them that if it weren't for him, they'd all be working alone, doing what they did best for money, or pride, or to prove something to someone who probably didn't even exist.

It was cosmically hilarious that it took a night she didn't remember to realize in an instant that what she had with Nate and his team was no longer a way to keep amused or busy or polish her skills. It was how she stayed sane.

She would not give it up. Not without a hell of a fight.

"Parker?" Nate asked.

She shook herself out of her thoughts and absently realized something. She was still wearing clothes. And so was Nate for that matter.

"Nate, I'm still dressed," she said with immense relief. "That's good!"

"Parker, I hate to break this to you," Nate told her, quickly swallowing his own aspirin, "But while I'll grant that you are dressed, those are my clothes."

"No they're –" she glanced down. "Oh no. We're back to very bad."

He sat down on his side of the bed and they both looked anywhere but at each other. The tension between them grew higher, and tauter, until he broke it. "I've got nothing," he said. "The last thing I remember is gambling last night. By myself. I know you were all around, but I can't remember anything else."

"I remember playing blackjack," she offered, though that did nothing to help the situation. "Maybe the others can tell us. I hope. Or maybe I'd rather not know." She paused for a moment, sensing an opportunity to escape. "I think I'm gonna go."

"Yeah that'd probably be best." Nate said quickly. "Obviously we just had too much to drink and came up here and fell asleep. And that's absolutely it."

"Yes, exactly. And neither of us has to mention it or think of this ever again," she added, knowing already it was a lie.

"I like the sound of that," Nate agreed, with such enthusiasm that she felt it sting.

"I can't find my shoes, wouldn't I have worn some up here?" She said half to herself as she looked around in vain. Her overwhelming desire to flee soon overrode any concern she had about shoes she may or may not have been wearing. "I don't need them, I'll just go."

"Yeah, who needs shoes?" Nate agreed, and to his credit, his voice only faltered a little bit when he added, "I like…not wearing them."

Parker picked up her jacket and quickly checked the pockets, beyond thrilled when she found the keycard to her room. "I still have it! Great, think how awkward that would have been if I'd had to go down to reception…" she trailed off. "Yeah, bye."

She managed to get out of the suite (seriously, a bedroom, living room, and kitchenette?) without looking at Nate even once more.

And fate surely was not on her side today, because right as she pulled the door shut behind her, she turned around to find none other than Hardison.

"Hey, Parker, I didn't know you were on this floor." He smiled. "Was last night crazy or was last night crazy?"

"Crazy is not the right word," she muttered, then a bit louder, "I really don't remember."

"Trust me, you had fun." Hardison winked at her and dear God, what did he mean by that? "You're up early, though."

"It's 11," she tried to edge past him.

"Exactly," Hardison said. "I'm going to see Nate, want to tag along?"

"No!" She yelled without thinking.

"Sorry," he said, affronted, and then frowned, looking her up and down, "Are you wearing men's clothes?"

"No, these are my normal clothes. That I…always wear."

"Uh huh, hey I get it. Keep your secrets close, right? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, that's what the commercials tell me. A lady never kisses and tells." He couldn't have sounded more lascivious if he'd tried.

"You're an idiot," Parker informed him and stormed away. He shrugged and went back to scanning room numbers, searching for 4016. Except that was the one right in front of him. Which couldn't be right, because that was Parker's room. He pulled out the list Sophie had given to all of them and frowned when he saw 4016 next to Nate's name. According to the list, Parker's room was 18 floors down.

Either Sophie had mixed up the rooms or…suspicion dawned as he knocked on 4016. After a minute, Nate opened the door and Hardison simply stared, a comprehension dawning that he didn't want to accept.

"Can I help you?" Nate asked with impatience.

Hardison glanced down the hall where Parker had disappeared, then to Nate, then back to the hall. Had he imagined her? Maybe a ghost was haunting the hotel. A ghost who looked and sounded and acted like Parker. Alright, the scenario was unlikely, but he had to concede it was at least as unlikely as the fact that Parker had just left Nate's hotel room. Wearing men's clothes. And last night…

He almost didn't want to ask. But something made him. "Hey Nate, have a good night?" When Nate only stared at him blankly, Hardison decided he had to be a little more obvious. "Enjoy any…good company?"

He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't the confusing flurry of emotions that crossed his friend's face. Guilt, sadness, worry? And ending on anger. The door slammed in his face before Hardison could attempt to speak again. He'd been wrong, it wasn't anger. It was fury.

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TBC - I'll never leave anything unfinished (though I'm afraid I've gone insane with having two unfinished stories going at the same time!) I welcome all feedback!