Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage.
Everything was a blur.
She let her body take control, her well-honed senses automatically guiding her towards the exit.
And thank god for that, because she had no control over the tears that streamed down her cheeks, or over the memories that had been locked away tightly all this time, now threatening to drown her.
Through a maze of hallways, out the door, and into the blinding sunlight...
Parker ran.
It was all she knew to do, and it worked, most of the time; from museum guards to INTERPOL officers, she prided herself in being one of the very few thieves who could disappear as quickly as one could pick locks or crack safes.
"You can run away from anything, kiddo," Archie had once told her.
But he was wrong.
Because no matter how fast her feet pummeled against the cement sidewalk, no matter how many blocks she put in between her and the psychic, the memory of her brother only grew stronger.
Her brother. Her only family. Beaming as he admired the red bicycle, gleefully touching every surface with his little fingers. Their secret. Sneaking away from the cold, prying eyes of their foster parents, to the playground where they took turns riding the bicycle. Their bicycle. Whizzing up and down empty streets, adrenaline pumping through their veins, screaming with joy. With freedom.
A van roared past Parker, and she found herself unable to move. Frozen to the spot, as the memory seized every fiber of her being.
Screaming, as her brother tumbled under the car they'd both failed to see coming. A sickening crunch of bone and metal. Her shock-addled brain unable to distinguish between the red of the entangled mess that became of the bicycle, and her brother's bloodied body.
It took all she had not to crumble right then and there, in the middle of the city sidewalk. She forced herself to breathe. In, and out. In, and out.
Slowly, she became aware of her long blond hair clinging to her wet face, and the voices in her ear. Nate, Hardison, and Eliot.
"Parker? Parker!"
How much have they heard? How much do they know? How could they trust her now, the crying thief who had gotten her own brother killed?
"Parker—"
Nate's voice was cut off as she removed the earpiece, and gripped it in a tight fist, drowning out all sound.
She considered chucking the thing as far as she possibly can. Then she would start running, away from the voices calling her name, to a strange city where she was only Parker, the thief— nothing more, nothing less.
Parker raised her arm, ready to throw it away.
Ready to run. Away from the wreckage, away from the approaching ambulance. She had learned to hate the sound of sirens a long time ago, even before the foster homes and parents. Now they were coming for her brother. No longer her brother. No one left to call family, and nowhere to call home. All alone.
She felt the earpiece tingle against her grip, as her team continued to seek her out, their voices seeping through her skin.
But she was no longer alone.
No more running away.
Taking in a shuddering breath, she lowered her arm, and willed herself to take a step. One after another. It was much harder than she had imagined, but Parker wouldn't be Parker if she didn't push herself through the pain.
Her brother, on the red bicycle. Hair flying in the sunlight and wind.
One after another. She just had to make it home.
He would smile for Parker, a special kind of smile that nobody else knew about. And for her brother, she smiled back.
Her body had taken control once more, and before long she found herself unlocking the door and stumbling through.
In the familiar silence of the office living room, Parker finally allowed herself to crumble onto the floor, leaning heavily into the couch, breathless.
Everything was a blur, until she heard footsteps.
"Parker?"
No longer alone.
No more running away.