A/N: I know, I should be working on the Undead Job. I'm sorry, but I've had this one sitting on my desktop for ages, and I was so proud of it, I had to post it... it's NaNoWiMo, though, (google it), so I'm probably not going to be posting anything until December. Don't worry, though, I promise I'll be back. Don't own anything. Enjoy :D
"Parker," Nate called, knocking gently on the door to the warehouse. "It's time to go."
No answer. "Told you so," Sophie said knowingly, but there was nothing smug in her tone.
"Parker, running away from the truth is not going to help," Nate said more firmly, pushing against the door. Locked.
"And maybe forcing her to go isn't going to help either, ever think of that?" muttered Elliot, kneading the sides of his forehead. Only the dark circles under his eyes revealed that he had been crying.
"Here," Sophie said softly, moving Nate aside and punching in the code on the door. "Parker? We're coming in." She led the way into the desolate warehouse, empty except for a tiny arrangement in the very center, illuminated by a blinding spotlight. Shelves and mirrors, fully equipped with all sorts of illegal-looking devices, surrounded a queen bed, white on white, completely impersonal. In the middle of the bed huddled a young woman, knees up to her chest, big stuffed rabbit held tight.
Parker didn't acknowledge their presence as they entered, hair forming a gold curtain around her face. "Parker?" Sophie asked softly, sitting down next to her, close but not quite touching. "I know this is hard for you, but it would mean a lot to me if you could come with us." Parker stubbornly, wordlessly shook her head, and Elliot dropped down on the other side of her.
"Listen, sweetheart," he started. "You're hurting right now. I get that. We're all hurting. But this will help, I promise. Closure and all that." Still, she shook her head and Nate, who had stayed out of the circle of light, unable to deal with anyone else's pain just now, stepped up.
"You're the greatest thief of the century, maybe even of all time. You leap off buildings for fun, face death on a daily basis. What's so scary about a wooden box and a hole in the ground?"
Finally, a response. She glared up at him, eyes blazing. "I'm not afraid of anything!"
"Oh, really? Prove it."
"Fine," she said, tossing her hair back. "No big deal." But it was.
"Come on, cowgirl," Elliot said. "That's right." He headed out, shooting a killer glare at Nate, Parker trailing after like a puppy.
"Really, did you have to be so harsh?" Sophie asked, laying a hand on his arm and letting the two younger theives leave ahead of them.
"It got her moving, didn't it?" he demanded flatly, not meeting her gaze. "It was exactly what she needed."
"Nate, please talk," she said, moving around front of him, preventing him from leaving. "You're scaring me."
"I can't do this right now," he said, raising a shaking hand to his face. "It's not so easy for all of us to just open up."
"You know, you're not the only one who misses him!" she exclaimed, suddenly angry. "And it's not just about you! Elliot barely sleeps at all any more, spends hours down in the basement tearing apart punching bags. And Parker? She's never going to love again, it's as simple as that. She was already broken, Nate, and now she's past the point of any hope of repair. But you don't see any of that, do you? You just see your own pain, your own..." But she broke down crying. Nate gathered her into his arms, stroking her hair, breathing in her familiar scent.
"I lost a son once," he murmured, throat dry, unsure if she could even hear him. "I don't know if I can survive it again."
"Again, man?" complained the hacker. "Why am I always the one getting attached to bombs?" Though he tried for light-heartedness, his face shined with a layer of sweat and his voice cracked up an octave.
"Just shut up and let me do this," Elliot growled, examining the device strapped to Hardison's chest. It was a black cube, wires protruding out of it and linking back in. The neon numbers proclaimed '4:32' and was counting down far too quickly. "If I cut the right cord..."
"If you cut the wrong cord, it blows," Hardison said through gritted teeth. "Listen, Elliot. You've gotta get out of here while you still have time."
"I'm not going anywhere! If I choose randomly..."
"Then we both die," Hardison said. "I'm not kidding. You've gotta go. It's safe outside."
Outside, the hitter and thief sat silently, side by side, as different as could be. He slouched, she sat up straight. His face was creased into a frown, hers was expressionless. His hands clenched and unclenched in fists, hers loosely clasped her rabbit.
"So, how are you... how are you doing?" he asked gruffly, uncomfortably. He really, really didn't want to have a feelings talk with Parker, but someone had too before she went and did something stupid.
"It's like there's a hole," she said, thumping her chest with a fist. "Right here."
He turned to face her, seriously studying her for the first time since the incident. She was much thinner than before, her clothes hanging loose on her frame, bones in her hands standing out clearly. Her eyes were red with enormous dark circles underneath, and her cheeks was bordered on gray. A crease in her brow suggested a permanent frown. At least she was talking to him again. She had refused to do even that for a week.
"Are you eating?" he asked anxiously. "Sleeping okay?"
Her expression didn't change as she shrugged. "I had some cereal yesterday, and orange soda this morning. I sleep... sometimes."
"God," he muttered, shaking his head. "That settles it. I'm going to talk to Sophie and see if you can stay with her."
She shook her head vehemently, giving him a faceful of hair. "No," she repeated. "I can't yet."
"Parker." He reached out to touch her, but she flinched away. Elliot realized that none of them but Sophie had touched her at all since it happened, and even the grifter couldn't do so without recieving a dirty look for her troubles. She really was unlearning everything she had gained. He ignored it and pushed her hair back behind her ear."You're not taking care of yourself."
"Why should I?" she retorted angrily, tears shining in her eyes. "It doesn't matter."
"Of course it does!" Elliot shouted, then closed his eyes as he took a moment to regain control. "Parker, we all still care about you. I know it would absolutely kill Nate to lose you too."
She wiped her face off with her bunny's ear. "I just miss him."
"We all do."
"Do it already!" Nate ordered into the earpiece. "Elliot, either cut the wire or get out of there. You're running out of time!"
The clock read 3:23.
"No, dude. You'd better not," Hardison warned, twisting in the chair to try to get away from the hitter. "There are twenty different wires. There's no way you're going to choose the right one!" "So what, you just expect him to leave you there?" Sophie demanded over the comm, voice shaking. "Parker, where are you?" demanded Hardison, ignoring her. "On my way," she answered, voice tight. "But I'm not going to get there in time." "Good," Hardison said softly. "Listen, sweetheart, you know..." But he broke off, shaking his head. "Ellliot, cut the wire," Parker told him firmly. "I'm almost there."
There were no more than a dozen or so people there. The four of them, of course, plus his fabled nana, a brother none of them had known about, a few old friends no one recognized, two or three clients, and a homeless man. Sophie cried all through the service, Elliot practically holding her up while Nate was off drinking down all the alcohol the church had to offer. Parker stood off on her own, head bowed, stuffed animal trailing in the dirt. The box stayed closed, empty, and Elliot wasn't the only one to morbidly wonder just where the bits and pieces of their friend were now.
Unsure of what to do, they had simply made an anonymous phone call to his foster mother, figuring one solid police investigation would land all of them in jail. And the death of Alec Hardison, hacker extrodinaire? There would be more than just one police investigation. Besides, they figured that since she had raised him, she had the right to make the decisions. Then she made all the wrong decisions and each one of them had regretted agreeing to it.
The service was read by a priest who didn't know anything about anything, and preached in a monotone about heaven and how 'good men' would all be welcome. Good men. Right, because he was such a 'good' man. And that was entirely aside from the fact that despite his nana's constant bible pounding, he was one of the least religious people they knew. The coffin was a horrible mahogony wood, and of course, she wanted it burried in Ohio where he had grown up.
At last, the coffin was carried over to the hole and lowered in slowly, too slowly. They didn't bother with the whole handful of dirt thing- no, the grave diggers just shoveled the soil in as fast as they could. The tombstone simply read his name and said "Love is all the wealth you need." His mystery brother had picked it. The entire team hated it with a passion.
One by one, the visitors trickled out, until only his mother, brother, and team were left.
"If you'd appreciate it, I'd like some time alone with my son," the woman said icily.
"We were more of his family than you were!" Parker spat vindictively, not caring whether or not it was true, but Elliot grabbed her and dragged her away. "We'll just wait until they leave. Don't worry," he murmured, looking around for the others. Sophie had collapsed cross-legged, leaning back against an old, worn away gravestone. Nate stood awkwardly beside her, champage glass clutched practically to point of shattering in his hand.
"Come on," Elliot said, pulling her towards the pair. "There they are."
"Are you seriously doing this?" Hardison asked, not even attempting levity anymore. "What sort of honor is there in going down with me?"
"You're my best freaking friend," Elliot said harshly, stopping his fiddling for a second to meet the hacker's eyes. "Even if I don't always show it."
Speechless for a moment, Hardison just watched him. Then he spoke. "I'm really screwed, aren't I?"
"We're both going to get out of this," the hitter said firmly. "I promise."
"Promise?" Parker asked her rabbit seriously. She listened intently for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. I'll agree to that." She raised one eyebrow threateningly. "But you'd better not back out."
"Parker. Are you talking to your stuffed animal?" Sophie asked, leaning forwards. Parker glared at her without answer then turned back to the bunny. Two weeks ago, Sophie would have laughed and told her that tweny-six year old women didn't hold conversations with inanimate objects. But today, she simply sighed and sat back. After all, what was the point? Why try to fix something when not all of the pieces were there? Nate crouched down beside her and lay a gentle hand on the grifter's shoulder. Ignoring the faint smell of alcohol that accompanied his breath, she leaned into his touch, needing it more than he could know. But of course he knew, because all he wanted was for someone to be there for him.
"Hey, Sophie," Elliot spoke in an undertone. "I was thinking that maybe Parker could stay with you for a while. I don't think she's coping too well on her own."
"And how is she supposed to be coping, exactly?" Sophie demanded viciously. "How the hell are any of us supposed to be coping?" She took a deep breath, counted backwards from ten. "I'm sorry. You're right. Of course she-"
"I was actually wondering if all of you wanted to stay at my place for the next couple of nights," Nate put in. "I know you all agreed that you needed space, but we're still a team and I think we need to... you know... be together more."
"Yeah," Elliot agreed. "I would like that."
"That's it," Nate snapped, pacing back and forth in his living room. "Elliot, you have to get out of there! Only a minute left."
"I'm not leaving him," the hitter stated.
"Then cut the damn wire already!" Sophie said loudly. "Hurry."
"I'm still three minutes away," Parker panted over the com. "I'm not going to make it."
"Go," Hardison said, locking eyes with his friend. "Take care of them."
"I can't!" the cowboy exclaimed, anguished. "I can't!"
"Can't they hurry up?" Sophie complained, staring at the pair still standing over the grave. "Are they trying to drive us away?"
"Probably," said Nate. "The brother's a business man, did you know? And that foster mother, a real bible banger. I doubt they approved of his lifestyle, or of us."
"Is that why he wouldn't let me meet them?" Parker asked acutely. "Was he afraid I'd embarass him?"
"Oh, no, sweetie," Sophie said at once, pulling away from Nate and crouching down by her again. This time, Parker didn't flinch as the older woman wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "He was afraid they'd hurt you."
"Oh. They wouldn't have," she said matter of factly.
"I know that. He was just protecting you."
"Like he was protecting Elliot?" she demanded, eyes blazing. No one had an answer to that, but then Elliot wordlessly pointed over her shoulder. Nana and the business man brother had turned and were leaving the cemetary. As one, the four rose and slowly, slowly walked over to it. Unlike at the funeral, they stood together now, clutching each other for support. Not even Sophie was crying anymore, but as they stared at the foreboding stone, they all felt the same sick emptiness.
"No way in hell there's a god," Elliot said, voice trembling with rage. "No way in hell."
"I just can't believe he's gone," Sophie whispered. "That he's never coming back."
"His soda and computer bits are still lying around my apartement," Nate said. "I just can't get rid of them yet, you know?"
Then, to everyone's surprise, Parker chimed in. "But we still have each other. Right?"
"Of course," the other three said at once. Sophie finished for them. "And we're never going to leave."
"Leave. Just get out of here. They can't take care of themselves without you, you know that! Let me know you made it out."
"Goddamnit!" Elliot roared, rising and clutching his head. The clock was on 30 seconds.
"Elliot," Hardison said, voice low and level. "Please."
The hitter stared at his friend for a long second, then spoke. "I'm sorry. Forgive me." And he turned and ran.
His footsteps pounded through the building, his heart pounded in his head. Anger flowed through his veins, and fear. And disgust. That was the one moment in his life where he had truly and completely hated himself.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
And he burst out of the warehouse, flung himself as far away as possible. Then, for his eternal puratogry, he turned and forced himself to watch. An ear-shattering boom rattled the ground as the building burst into flames. Windows shattered, smoke rose up and away. And it was over. He was gone.
IMPORTANT A/N: So, this is going to be part of series. In each installation, a different one of them will have been strapped to the chair. They will all be written in different styles, under different circumstances. But they will all focus on death and how the others deal with it. Please review!