A/N – Warning: Here, as in life, there is some racism. I do not condone this, but some characters have to be the bad guys, yes? Also, hello AU. Just sayin. Also, this may be triggery if you've had bad experiences with fire.
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Alice hums as she skips down the warm sand of the beach, only half listening as her mother calls after her. The sand here on Cape Cod is nearly white, with bits of shells and strands of seaweed scattered across. She likes the squishy feel of the still-wet seaweed beneath her toes, she's never understood why the other kids squeal so loudly when it touches them. Alice is only seven; a tiny girl with sun-bleached hair and mosquito-bitten legs, but she's braver than all the other kids she knows.
"Alice!"
She ignores her mother's call again, busying herself with looking for the perfect seashell. She stops short when she hears a soft sound, seemingly coming from nowhere. Looking back briefly, Alice notes her mother still yards behind, distracted with trying to calm the screaming toddler in her arms. Alice smiles, knowing her baby brother will keep her mom busy for several minutes.
She hears the noise again, and finally looks down, jumping back slightly when she sees two wide eyes staring up at her.
She steps back to get a better look and starts to giggle. A young child's face is barely visible beneath the sand it's buried under, only eyes, nose, and a bit of forehead peeking through.
The noise comes again, and this time she realizes it's the sound of the child whimpering, and she immediately drops to her knees, ignoring the sting of seashells cutting into her skin, and begins to dig.
Luckily, the sand isn't that deep, just deep enough to keep the boy, as it turns out, too stuck to dig himself out in his panic.
When he's all dug out, Alice sits back on the sand, looking at him curiously. He's a few years younger than her, and so thin that he looks like he might snap if she poked him too hard, but she finds herself oddly drawn to him. She reaches out a hand to grab his arm and pull the boy up to a sitting position, stopping to marvel at the deep contrast in their skin tones. The boy is by far the darkest person she's ever seen in her life, seemingly even darker against her own sun-resistant skin.
"What's your name?" She asks the boy, who's looking at her with mild terror.
He just stares at her, big brown eyes going even wider.
"Come on, I won't hurt you," Alice urges, petting the boy's hand reassuringly.
The boy mumbles something under his breath, casting his gaze anywhere but on her.
"I'm Alice," she offers, giving him a bright grin.
The boy finally looks at her and gives her a small smile in return.
"I'm Alec," he says, drawing his knees up to rest his chin on.
Alice doesn't miss the tear tracks on his face.
"Some mean kids bury you in the sand?" she asks, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Alec just nods, biting his lip as fresh tears start up.
"Oh, don't cry!" Alice soothes, pulling the little boy closer and wrapping him up in a hug, "I'll be nice to you!"
"They kicked me and called me bad names," Alec sniffles, burrowing into the hug.
"I'm sorry," Alice says, rubbing his back.
After a few minutes, Alec stops sniffling and pulls away, but leaves his hands in Alice's.
"What did they call you?" Alice asks after a moment, unable to contain her curiosity.
Alec bites his lips again before answering.
"They called me 'dirty nigger boy' and said 'go back to Awabama.'"
Alice frowns, "What's a nigger?"
Alec shrugs, "Dunno, they just kept yelling it, and then they buried me and ran away."
"Are you from Alabama?" Alice asks, the idea of talking to someone who's flown in an airplane filling her young mind with excitement.
Alec shakes his head. "I wive on Apple Street."
"Where is that?" Alice asks, still smiling.
"On Apple Street," Alec repeats, giving Alice a slightly incredulous look.
"No, I mean..."
Alice is cut off by her mother's voice reaching her a second before the woman crouches down beside her, the baby on her lap.
"There you are, Allie! Didn't you hear me calling you?"
"Sorry, mommy," Alice says before turning her attention back to Alec.
"Alec, this is my mommy, mommy, this is Alec."
"Hello," Alice's mother says to Alec, kindly, "Where's your mommy, sweetheart?"
Alec shrugs and points a few yards away, "My nana feww asweep under her umbrewa, she's over there."
"Well, why don't we go wake her up?" she says, reaching out the hand not holding the baby out to Alec.
Alec just nods and gets up, still holding on to Alice with the other hand. Alice just walks along, swinging their hands as they go.
Alec's nana is just waking up as they approach, and smiles widely as she sees them approaching.
"Who's your friend, baby?" she asks him. Alice immediately loves the woman's voice, it's deep but smooth, and naturally melodic.
Alec grins up at his nana, showing off his missing teeth.
"Awice," he says, proudly.
"It's good to meet you, Alice," Nana says, reaching out to shake the little girl's hand.
Alice fumbles at first, not used to being treated like an adult, but manages to shake the woman's hand after a moment.
"Say goodbye to your new friend, Allie," her mother interrupts gently, "We need to get going."
Alice looks down at the tiny fingers still wrapped around hers and frowns.
"I don't want to."
Her mother and Alec's nana chuckle at the same time, sharing a knowing glance.
"Sorry, Miss Alice," Nana says, "But we have to go, too. Maybe you'll see Alec at the beach again sometime."
"Okay," Alice says after a moment, as she tries to pull her hand away. Alec relinquishes her hand, but then wraps his little arms around her waist instead.
Alice gives him a long hug before pulling away to crouch down to his height.
"Hey," she says, smiling, "Don't be sad. I'm sure we'll see each other lots of times. We come to the beach every week in summer."
Alec looks up at her with watery eyes, but he smiles and nods, finally allowing himself to be led away by Nana.
Alice watches them go with a smile that turns sad when Alec doesn't look back.
"Don't worry," her mom says, tugging her hand, "We'll be back in a few days, I'm sure you'll see him again."
Alice nods and pulls on her dress over her bathing suit and slips back into her sandals.
The sun is setting and the baby is getting hungry.
Her mom smiles down at her and Alice smiles back, squinting in the orange light.
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The next day, all that's left from the fire is Alice, wrapped in a scratchy wool blanket and trying to understand how her entire family is suddenly gone.
She doesn't think of Alec again for a long time.
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20 Years Later
Los Angeles, CA
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"Dammit, Eliot, not again!"
Parker cringes and runs past her roommate and his latest conquest, who are merrily bouncing away on the couch.
Eliot grunts, but she can't tell if it's in response to her, or the girl attached to his dick. She doesn't stick around long enough to find out, quickly locking herself in her room and turning on some music.
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Some time later, a knock on her door shakes Parker out of her thoughts and she pauses the music to open it, revealing a sheepish looking Eliot. She notes absently that his hair is wet, so at least he had the decency to shower before talking to her.
"What?" she says, glaring.
Eliot gives her a small grin, "Sorry. I didn't think you'd be home until later."
Parker sighs, "El, you have a bed. In your bedroom. Use it."
"She jumped on me! What was I supposed to do?"
Parker just rolls her eyes, "That girl was five foot nothing and maybe a hundred pounds. You could have carried her. To a surface that we don't share."
Eliot says nothing, knowing it's pointless to argue with Parker when he's in the wrong.
"How about I make us some french toast?" Eliot says instead, holding back a grin when Parker quickly disguises her interest. "Come on, you can tell me all about your crazy boss again."
"It's ten at night, Eliot," Parker says, rolling her eyes.
Eliot just stares.
"Well, I guess there's never a bad time for french toast," Parker says, conceding with a small shrug.
"There we go," Eliot says, moving aside to let Parker lead the way to the kitchen. "Just... don't touch the counter until I clean it."
"Dammit, Eliot!"
Parker continues to curse him out under her breath, but Eliot just smiles and sets about cleaning.
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"So, you gonna see her again?" Parker asks, finishing off the last of her food with a happy sigh.
Eliot quirks an eyebrow but says nothing.
"Right," Parker says, "Dumb question. Did you at least get her name?"
"Of course!" Eliot says, "It was Rachel. Or maybe Renee. Ramona? Hmm."
Parker just shakes her head mockingly.
"Oh, shut up," Eliot says, "She knew what it was. Not like we were gonna get hitched."
Parker shrugs easily enough.
"Marriage is stupid anyway," she says, idly dragging her fork through the leftover syrup.
"Mm-hm," Eliot says, agreeing.
"It might be nice though," Parker continues on as if he wasn't there, "Just to have someone to come home to every night, ya know?"
"Hey," Eliot says, suddenly serious, "You know I'm always here for you, right?"
Parker looks up at him with surprise evident on her face.
"I didn't mean.." she says, but Eliot cuts her off.
"I'm nobody's idea of a husband," he says, "but you and me..."
"We're good roommates," Parker offers.
Eliot scoffs. "It's been three years," he says, "We're awesome roommates. But we're also friends. Hell, you're probably my best friend."
"Oh," Parker says, looking down at her hands where they've gripped her plate without her realization.
"Jesus, Parker, you look like I just kicked your puppy or something," Eliot says, frowning.
Parker looks up quickly.
"I'm sorry," she says, and that surprises Eliot even more.
Parker's never been one for making apologies.
"Hey," Eliot says, trying to lighten the mood, "How'd this get so depressing? Let's go watch some shit blow up, yeah? No work tomorrow."
Parker rolls her eyes but doesn't disagree.
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The credits of the nondescript action movie Eliot picked roll and Parker stretches out her leg muscles, stiff from being tucked under her for too long. Beside her, Eliot's fast asleep against the arm of the blanket covered couch, his long-ish hair a mess across his face. Parker snorts at the amusing sight before reaching out and brushing the hair back and tucking it securely behind his ear.
"You're my best friend, too," she says in a whisper.
Eliot sleeps on, and Parker retreats to her room.
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She's too wired to sleep, the familiar frantic energy buzzing through her skin. Even after all these years, she can barely contain the visible twitching when it gets this bad.
Breathing deeply, she grabs the metal trash bin from the floor and refills it with scraps of paper for this very purpose. She sits cross-legged on the bed, the bin between her legs, but not touching her skin.
She's shaking so much that the first three matches burn out before she can even get near the bin, but the fourth one is the charm and the paper ignites almost immediately.
Parker sits and watches the fire burn, her hands hovering just out of burning range, until there's nothing left but black and smoke.
Tucking the bin securely back into the corner, Parker can breathe normally again.
Her blanket smells like burning, and she knows it's sick, but she burrows into the smell, letting it overwhelm her, and she finally sleeps.
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Hardison is running late. And of course, there's also an incredibly long line at the newly opened coffee shop. Hardison sighs, but knows he won't be able to function at work without some coffee. He thought life would be easier once he finally graduated college, but so far the only difference is he gets paid to wake up at the crack of dawn instead of paying to do so.
Actually not a bad distinction, he supposes, as he finally nears the front of the line.
"What can I get you?" the barista asks in a bored tone, and it takes him a moment to make his tired brain focus on her face.
When he finally does, he forgets to breathe for a long moment.
"Hello?" the girl says, looking up at him with a wary expression.
Shaking his thoughts clear, Hardison finally responds.
"Sorry," he says, "Rough morning."
She just nods and takes his order, passing it along to another worker and motioning Hardison to move aside for the next customer.
He does so, but he keeps staring, unable to help himself. Something about the girl is achingly familiar, but he can't place her. A quick look at her nametag tells him her name is Parker, but it means nothing to him.
He cracks when she hands him the drink and just asks.
"Do I know you?" he says, fully aware that he may sound like a creeper, but unable to stop himself.
Parker, to her credit, just looks mildly stressed out by the rush of people, not creeped out by the six foot plus black man hovering at her station.
"I don't think so," she says, but she's looking at him too, "You do seem kind of familiar, though."
"Maybe we went to school together?"
"No," she says, "I was home schooled a lot."
"College then?" Hardison asks, wracking his brain.
Parker shakes her head, "Never went."
"Oh," Hardison says, "You just seem..."
"PARKER!"
They both turn at the loud voice calling her name, taking in the beautiful but pissed off looking brunette currently glaring at Parker.
"Sorry, Sophie!" Parker calls back, before turning back to Hardison, "You should go, I need to get back to work."
Hardison smiles, "I got ya. My boss is kinda a bitch, too. I mean, honestly, would it kill people to just be nice?"
Parker laughs and Hardison immediately wants to make her do it again.
"Don't worry," she says, giving him a half grin, "I'll be nice to you."
She's back to work before Hardison can process what she's said, but it makes him smile all the way to work.
Not even Ford's daily office meeting can put a damper on his mood.
It's not until much later that night, when he's getting ready for bed does that little voice ring in his head again.
I'll be nice to you.
He knows that girl, he's sure of it! If only he could remember why.
Sighing, he settles into the cool sheets, pushing the thoughts out of his head for the time being.
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"I hate my job," Parker announces as she walks in the door, to a thankfully fully clothed Eliot on the sofa.
Eliot just pats the place beside him.
Parker drops her bag by the door and collapses on the couch, letting Eliot pull her against his shoulder.
They're silent for a while as Parker just decompresses from the day. Some discovery channel show is playing in the background, but she pays it no mind as Eliot strokes her hair soothingly.
"Are you sniffing me again?" she asks suddenly, when she realizes Eliot's been quiet too long.
"No!" Eliot says, too quickly. "OK, maybe a little. You smell good."
Parker laughs, "I smell like overpriced coffee and college students."
"I like both those things," Eliot says, and she doesn't need to look up to know that he's smirking.
"Freak."
Eliot just shrugs, not disagreeing.
"We all hate our jobs, Parker, it's the natural order of things."
"Liar," Parker says, yawning against Eliot's shoulder, "You love your job."
"True," Eliot says, laughing, "But I'm a freak, remember?"
"You just love all those freshmen girls signing up for self defense classes," Parker retorts with another yawn.
"Hey, I'm a professional," Eliot days, defending himself, "If they choose to come back when they're no longer under my instruction..."
"Then you have no problem with them just being under you," Parker finishes the thought, but there's only fondness in her voice.
"They can be on top, too!" Eliot insists, still smirking, "I'm not picky."
"Tired," Parker mumbles, yawning again.
Eliot give her a shake, "Come on, it's too early to sleep, I made chicken, go eat."
"Aw," Parker says, only slightly mockingly, "you're such a good wife."
"I ain't putting out," Eliot says, standing and tugging Parker up with him.
"Liar," she says again, "You'd totally put out."
Eliot pauses for a moment before shrugging.
"Touche."
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"Yes, Nana, everything's fine, I promise."
Hardison only half listens as his Nana rambles on about the latest antics all her foster kids have gotten into. She does finally notice his silence and calls him out on it.
"Sorry, Nana, I'm just tired. Long day at work. Yeah, I'll call you tomorrow, promise."
Hardison disconnects and slips the phone back into his pocket before settling into his most comfortable chair and closing his eyes.
Some nights, nights like these, he wonders what he's doing with his life. Sure, he graduated college with honors, and he was a nice solid job at an I.T company, he knows he is, by most respects, a successful man.
But some days, usually after his boss has taken over yet another small business, he feels sick to his stomach. He knows it's just business, in his mind, anyway, but that doesn't stop him from feeling like it's wrong.
He did always suffer from bleeding heart syndrome.
A thought occurs to him, and he's ringing back his Nana before he's fully processed it.
"Hey, Nana," he says after she's done making fun of him for calling right back, "Did I ever know a girl named Parker when I was a kid? White girl, blonde, hazel eyes."
He sighs when his Nana says she's sure she's never heard of a Parker before.
"OK, Nana, thanks anyway. Love you, too, bye."
The oven dings and Hardison shakes away the thoughts again as he pulls his pizza out.
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Parker runs into Hardison again a few days later, literally. She's trying to leave after an early shift and he's trying to get in, and they collide. He's apologizing before he recognizes her but stops and grins widely when he does.
"Hey," he says, still smiling.
Parker, despite her very long morning, can't help but smile back.
"Hi," she says, hands still pressed against Hardison's chest where she had steadied herself.
"We should probably get out of the doorway," Hardison says after a moment, shrugging towards the growing line of newly caffeinated patrons.
"Right," Parker says, trying to get around him.
Hardison steps back into the sunshine, watching the way Parker's hair shines as she follows.
"Don't you want coffee?" she asks him, squinting up against the bright light.
Hardison shrugs ruefully, "Not really. I just wanted to see if you were working."
They start walking together without really talking about it, just moving in the general direction of 'away from work'.
"I hate my job," Parker says by way of a conversation starter.
Hardison takes it in stride.
"Me, too," he confesses, "The corporate world is full of some bad bad people."
"What do you do?" she asks.
Hardison shrugs again, "I'm just an I.T guy, nothing fancy. But I see a lot of shady records being kept, and altered. Course, it ain't my business, but still, it's just skeevy, you know?"
Parker nods. "My roommate says everyone hates their job. Except him, but he's a freak."
"He?" Hardison can't help but ask.
"We've never had sex," Parker responds, straight to the point, "I'm probably the only girl between the ages of 18 and 30 in L.A. that he hasn't slept with."
"Oh, man, my sister's 20, why'd you have to put that in my head?" Hardison whines, only half joking.
Parker tilts her head and laughs. "Your sister ever complain about a vertically challenged redneck that never called her back?"
"Nah," Hardison replies, "The last guy she got all upset about was some blonde hippie with a guitar."
"Musicians," Parker says, laughing like that says it all.
"Amen to that," Hardison says, grinning.
They walk for a minute in companionable silence until Hardison realizes he's not sure where he's going.
"Hey," he says, "Want to grab some lunch? Somewhere without coffee?"
Parker shrugs, "Why not?"
It's not exactly a resounding yes, but it's more than Hardison was expecting. He decides to take it as win.
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When Parker gets home a few hours later, she's still smiling, and not even the rhythmic thumping coming from Eliot's room can ruin it.
At least it wasn't the couch this time.
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The next morning Parker is surprised to find a girl sitting in her kitchen, seated on one of the bar stools, eating cereal. She's more surprised by the fact that the girl isn't wearing any clothes.
"Hi..." she says, slightly warily.
The girl, a stunning, exotic looking, brunette looks up and offers Parker a quick smile.
"Good morning," she says, and Parker catches a trace of an accent she can't place.
Parker finds herself trying not to stare at the other woman, but she's just so very naked. And apparently completely at ease with being so, in a stranger's kitchen.
"So," Parker says, as she makes her way to the fridge to get the juice, "You're a friend of Eliot's?"
The woman laughs, a smoky but still seductive sound, "We have known each other a long time, yes."
"You're not one of his students." It's not a question.
"Quite the opposite," she replies, "he was mine."
"I'm Parker, by the way."
She'd reach out to shake the other woman's hand, but, naked and all.
"Mikel," she says, and Parker thinks it suits her.
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"I see you two have met," Eliot says as he walks into the kitchen, staring at Mikel unabashedly.
Mikel just hums her agreement and goes on eating.
Parker nods, before deciding it's just too early for this much casual nudity, and excuses herself to go shower for work.
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Hardison is waiting for her when she shows up at work, and she tries to be annoyed, but all she can manage is happy with a side of sarcastic.
"Don't you have an actual job to go to?" she asks, "instead of just loitering at mine."
"I go in at 10," he replies, "I just wanted to see you. And get some coffee. It's a win/win situation, really."
"I only met you a week ago," Parker says, teasingly, "Don't you think it's too soon to be stalking me?"
"Do you really mind?" Hardison says, looking at her with honest concern.
All Parker can do is smile.
"Good," Hardison says, "Then you should come out with me tonight after work. Anywhere you want."
"I get off at five, but I'll want to go home and change," Parker says, gesturing to her uniform.
"I'm done at six," Hardison says, "I can pick you up around seven, does that work?"
"Perfect," Parker says, before rattling off her address.
They exchange numbers and Parker reluctantly heads into work. Hardison waves like a dork through the glass, and it's enough to make her laugh, not even caring when Sophie glares at her.
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"Where are you headed?" Eliot asks, as Parker runs around getting ready, "And are you wearing makeup?"
"Shut up," Parker says, but there's not heat to her voice.
"Holy shit, you have a date,' Eliot says, shock clear on his face.
Parker just sticks out her tongue.
Eliot, however, is not discouraged in the least.
"Who is it? Why didn't you tell me about him? Or is it a her? You should wear that blue shirt you never wear."
Parker laughs at the string of words spilling from Eliot's mouth. "When did you become a girl, El?"
When he doesn't respond, she rolls her eyes and continues. "I met him a week ago at work. His name is Hardison, and he's really nice. And my shirt is fine."
Eliot's about to argue when the door buzzer sounds.
"Shit," Parker says, "I left my wallet on my bed, can you grab it?"
"Sure," Eliot says, heading towards her room as she buzzes Hardison up.
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Eliot sees no sign of the wallet on Parker's bed, so he searches the floor, figuring it must have fallen. "Aha!" he exclaims to himself as he sees the fallen wallet lying beside the trash bin. Scooping down to pick it up, he can't help but notice pile of blackened paper in the bin. He frowns, trying to find a reasonable explanation for what must have been a small fire. She hasn't done this in at least a year. At least not that he's been aware of.
He hears the front door open, and jumps to his feet, wallet in hand. He makes a note to talk to Parker about this later.
Introductions are brief, but Eliot finds himself liking Hardison immediately, waving the pair off with a cheerful "stay out late, have some fun!"
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"So, tell me about you," Hardison says, after they've ordered their food, gourmet pizza that Parker suggested.
Parker shrugs, "Not much to tell. You know where I work, you met Eliot, that's about it."
It doesn't take a genius to figure out he's hit a sensitive topic, but Hardison tries not to let it show.
"How about family? Friends? Hobbies? Creepy dolls hidden in your attic?" he says, trying to inject some humor into the situation.
Parker smiles, but the sadness is evident in her eyes. "We don't even have an attic," she says, "And mostly I just work and hang out with Eliot. I don't have many friends."
"Hey, that's cool," Hardison says, grinning, "Quality over quantity, right?"
That earns him a genuine smile, even if it's small. The unanswered question hangs in the air, but Hardison resolutely ignores it.
Parker answers anyway.
"My family died. Twenty years ago. I don't really talk about it."
Hardison's holding her hands in his own before he realizes what he's doing, but she doesn't pull away.
"I'm sorry, mama, I won't ask about it again."
Parker shrugs, "It's OK I mean, it's not really OK, you know? But it was a long time ago, and people get curious."
"Still. I'll shut up about it," Hardison says gently, before changing topics, "So, tell me about Eliot. How'd you end up roommates with a 'cowboy conquistador?'"
Parker snorts, "Please. He hasn't been back home in at least fifteen years, I don't think he counts as a cowboy anymore."
"But," Hardison encourages her.
Parker grudgingly smiles, "But he's a good guy. He's a martial arts instructor at a place a few blocks from us. I met him when I took his class. Turns out, his roommate took off with some girl, leaving him without half the rent."
"So you moved in?" Hardison asks.
"Pretty much," Parker says, "I lived in this really crappy studio apartment, and I figured it was a step up."
Hardison pauses to give Parker an appraising look.
"And he didn't even try to sleep with you?"
Parker laughs outright at that.
"Oh, he tried. The day I moved in. I told him no, he moved on. It was no big deal."
"So I don't have to retroactively defend your honor?" Hardison teases.
"You could try, if you wanted," Parker says, "But Eliot would probably floor you in under a minute. He's kinda short, but he's stronger than he looks. But, if you're going to try, please be shirtless."
Hardison nearly chokes on his water as her statement catches him off guard.
"And here I thought you were just a sweet little thing," he says, willing his breathing back to normal.
Parker just grins.
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Parker looks so happy when she gets back from her date that Eliot doesn't have the heart to question her about the trash bin. Instead, he determines to pay more attention to her and help if needed.
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Days turn into weeks and weeks fly by in a blur, and before she knows it, Parker is with Hardison at a fancy restaurant to celebrate their three month anniversary.
"This is silly," she says, not for the first time, "Three months doesn't need anything this fancy."
Hardison just wraps his arms around her from behind and rests his chin on her head.
"Just let me do something nice for us, mama, OK?"
Parker smiles against her will, but nods in surrender.
"Thank you," Hardison murmurs, swaying them gently to the soft music in the air.
Parker leans back and closes her eyes. She can enjoy this moment, letting Hardison's warmth push away the tremors that keep trying to surface.
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Parker doesn't go home with Hardison, feigning a migraine. He drops her off at home with a kiss. She knows she doesn't deserve him.
She burns through an entire Sunday paper that night, and falls asleep crying, the bin still beside her.
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Parker wakes up slowly, eyes still heavy and dried out from crying. She's barely conscious when she realizes there's somebody else on her bed.
"Eliot?" she says, confused, when she notices the man sitting besides her with an intense look on his face.
"Hey," he says, expression immediately softening.
"What's going on?"she asks, sitting up gingerly.
Eliot taps the trash bin that she's just noticed is in his lap.
"I thought you stopped doing this," Eliot says, careful to keep accusation out of his voice.
"I don'..."
"Please don't lie to me, Parker," Eliot says, "I know you better than that."
Parker sighs.
"I did stop. I was doing really good, I swear. And I never hurt myself anymore, I only burn the paper."
Eliot nods and places the bin on the floor before moving closer to Parker, so that they're not touching, but just barely.
"What happened to change that?" he asks, "I thought you were pretty happy, job stuff aside."
Parker's expression is a mix of so many emotions, Eliot can't name it.
"I am happy," she says, "Honestly. But it's just... it's been twenty years since the fire. Twenty years, and I still have nightmares. And I just..."
"It's OK," Eliot soothes, "You can tell me."
Parker looks up with a broken laugh, "I think I'm in love with Hardison."
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Well, that wasn't exactly what Eliot expected to hear, but he rolls with it.
"Hey, that's really good, Parker. I've never heard you say that about anyone in all the time I've known you."
"That's the problem!" Parker says, torn between yelling and crying again. "I can't love him! I can't love you. I can't love anyone."
"Sweetheart..." Eliot says, scrambling for the right words to say. But there are none.
"They all die, Eliot, everyone I love dies," Parker says, outright sobbing now.
She crumbles into him and he just holds on, whispering over and over that everything will be OK
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With much urging from Eliot, Parker joins a support group for survivors the next week. She doesn't say much to him about the sessions, but he thinks it's helping. She's stopped sobbing in her sleep, at least. Eliot just hopes she lets everyone help her.
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"I think I need to go home," Parker announces one night, as she and Hardison are curled up on his couch.
"Five more minutes," Hardison says, entirely too comfortable to get up at the moment.
"No," Parker says, "I meant home as in my hometown. My counseling group thinks I need to go and face my fear and get closure."
Hardison hums noncommittally. Over the last few months, since that night at the restaurant, Parker's filled him in on her life, and how the fire affected everything in it. He's proud of her for finally seeking help and comfort in the people that love her.
"And you think they're right?" he asks, no opinion evident in his voice either way.
Parker nods. "I really do."
"Then we'll go," Hardison grins, "Unless you want to go alone, of course."
"I want you there," she says, "I was ready to beg and everything."
"I don't mind a little begging," Hardison says, smirking playfully.
"Perv," Parker says, swatting his arm.
Hardison just grins, "Guilty." "So, where is 'home' anyway?"
"Cape Cod," Parker says through a yawn, "It's pretty boring, but the beach is nice. You'll like it."
Hardison nods absently, and it takes a full minute for her sentence to really register with the thoughts whirring around his head.
.
"You're Alice!' he exclaims suddenly.
Parker stares at him in surprise, "What?"
"You are Alice," Hardison repeats, "I remember you! I was only like four, but I remember your name. And your eyes. You're Alice."
Parker looks at him for a long moment, really looks, before smiling softly.
"Alec. I do remember you. You were so little then."
"Alec is my first name," Hardison says, "You knew that."
"I guess I just didn't put it together," Parker says, shrugging, "Parker's my middle name."
"Why the change?" Hardison asks out of curiosity.
Parker thinks for a minute before going with the simple truth, "Alice died that day. I'm not her anymore."
Hardison looks ready to reassure her or launch into a whole speech about identity and memories, but she cuts him off.
"It's not a bad thing," she says, "I like who I am now. Most days."
Hardison kisses her soundly, just because he can.
"I love who you are. Every day."
And really, there's nothing Parker can do but kiss him again.
.
.
Cape Cod
.
"How're you doing, baby?"
Parker doesn't speak, not yet, but she leans back into Hardison's embrace, letting him keep her steady. Somehow, she expected to find nothing here but an empty lot, or a barren piece of land and charred remains. But the reality is much harder to process.
A new house stands in the place of her childhood home. It's green and cheerful and the yard is filled with the laughter of children.
It aches so much that Parker's not sure she can stand much longer.
"We don't have to get any closer," Hardison says, reassuringly.
Parker shakes her head.
"No, I have to."
Hardison moves and takes her hand, holding tight as they cross the street to the house. Parker's shaking, but she's holding on.
He's never been more proud of her.
.
Parker is surprised to find that it hurts less than she thought it would, once they reach the little white fence of the house.
Up close, away from the demons in her head, this house is just another building. It's not hers anymore.
And then she looks down and can't decide whether to laugh or cry. She settles for a little bit of both as Hardison peeks down to see what's going on.
In the cement are four little hand prints, with the names "Alice" and "Jack" scrawled above them.
"They redid the sidewalk that year," Parker says, "I was so excited when my dad let us put our hand prints in the wet cement. Jack," her voice cracks on the name, but she continues, "Jack didn't understand any of it, but he like the feel of it. He just kept saying 'squishy.' It drove my mom nuts."
Hardison loops an arm around her waist and pulls her close as they look down at the names.
"It sounds like you had a lot of good memories here," he says.
Parker looks up at him and smiles, and even though her eyes are glassy and her cheeks are wet, Hardison knows she's happy in this moment.
"I did," she says, as if she's suddenly realized it. "It's been so long, that sometimes I forget that we had a really good life before the fire. I've been so angry, all this time. I forgot to remember the good, too."
Hardison just hugs her waist tighter, and together they walk away.
.
.
They make love on the beach, despite Hardison's worry about sand in bad places. Parker laughs and calls him a wimp, before stealing a blanket left by some long gone family. The moon is bright and the beach is abandoned, and it's more perfect than anything she's ever thought possible.
.
The air is surprisingly warm for a night on the beach, and they lie twined together, watching the stars.
"If this was a movie, we'd so get eaten by a giant beach monster right now," Parker says, but she makes no effort to move.
Hardison laughs, "what kind of crazy ass movies do you watch?"
"Cheesy horror movies," Parker says, "Sometimes I can't sleep and I don't want to wake you up."
Hardison just shakes his head fondly.
"What do you think would happen, then?" Parker asks.
Hardison doesn't hesitate for a second.
"Easy. You and me, we're a love story. This is the part where we profess our love for each other and then kiss as the credits roll."
Parker can't help but laugh, but she's already rolling to rest on Hardison's chest, until their lips are almost touching.
"Hey," she says, nudging Hardison's nose with her own.
"Yeah?" he replies, that ever present grin on his face.
"I love you."
For a moment, Hardison just stares. Six months, and Parker's never said the words.
If possible, his grin grows wider.
"I love you, too."
Parker laughs and moves to kiss him until she's had her fill. Which may or may not be for forever.
Hardison is more than OK with this.
"And roll credits," he says, holding on tight when Parker's laughter surrounds him.
.
.
The End