A/N: For those of you who haven't seen Leverage before, I'd suggest looking it up on Wiki. It is seriously an awesome tv show; watch it if only for Christian Kane, who was amazing in Angel as Lindsey.
There are so few Leverage discipline fics, that I felt I must add at least one to the count. I've had Writer's Block for ages, so I hope this isn't too horrible or rushed. If you like it, be sure to review! This is also very AU and a bit OOC, so don't be too shocked if they act a bit different than in the show.

Also, since I've never attempted to break into the White House, I can't claim to know anything accurate about its security. I just took what I've seen from some of the episodes and tried to integrate it in my fic. Please be kind.

Disclaimer: I own nothing Leverage.

Spoilers: First episode of Season 1 till practically the Third season. Be warned.

Warning: Will contain corporal punishment a.k.a. spanking of adults. Hit the back button if this isn't your thing.

Dude, Where's My Car?

She hadn't… meant to do it, per se.

She'd meant to do something, sure, but not this. You'd have to have a death wish to want to so much as touch Eliot Spencer's car, and she – well. It might seem like she had a death wish when it came to things like breaking into unbreakable security systems and jumping off incredibly high buildings, but not a death wish when it involved Eliot and his ability to kill you with his pinky.

"You… you… how could…"

If his heavy breathing and spastic clenching and unclenching of fists was any indication, Parker gathered he probably wasn't speechless from joy.

Funny how true it was that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

Flash Back: Last Week

"There's some thing wrong with her!"

Something wrong.

Something wrong.

Parker could almost feel the enamel of her teeth wearing down from how hard she was clenching her jaw, and made an effort to relax it.

Something wrong. With her.

When the team had first come together, she'd had her doubts. Before she'd known that Dubenich was the one to cheat them out of their money – her three-hundred grand – she'd been prepared to kill them all on the spot. Well, she'd brought a gun, anyway, and she would have done it if they hadn't given her her money. Really.

But then Nate had figured everything out, and they'd taken down the bastard. And… eh. She hadn't needed the gun.

Since then they'd separated, gotten back together, separated again, gotten back together again…

They'd had their rough times, sure; which team doesn't? But she'd started to… actually like them. Some of them more then others, but mostly she'd just…

Wanted to stay. And that had never happened before. She'd never before felt this feeling of… camaraderie. Family.

And she'd put away the gun and never even considered using it again.

…Until today, that is.

"-something wrong with her. Something wrong with her. Something wrong-"

You could find family in the strangest of places.

Nate: while he had his problems, he was probably the closest thing to a father she had. He kept her in check when she was about to cross a line, supplied a moral compass where her upbringing had never allowed for one, and always made sure they, she, got through whatever game they were running alive.

Sophie: when Sophie had pulled a con on them, her own team, that had hurt, a little bit. But Sophie was… sort of like the big sister slash aunt, who was always there to lend an ear, whisper advice on fashion or how to pull off a job, and was the mostly-dependable female presence that had also been lacking in her life. So she'd forgiven her easily enough, and come to see her as part of the family again.

Hardison: …well. He wasn't a brother by any stretch of the imagination, despite his attentiveness to detail, his utter dependability, intelligence, attractiveness, talent, attractiveness…

She hadn't been looking for a family, but she'd found one in the most unlikely of places.

…And then… there was Eliot.

The nice thing about working above a bar, Parker thought absently to herself as she headed towards the door, Is that… you're working above a bar.

Hardison opened his mouth – maybe to ask a her opinion on the job, maybe to ask about the closed look that was doubtless on her face – but she brushed past him, intent on reaching her goal and slamming down on the emotions trying to reach the surface.

Eliot: the big, hulking, bullying, unintelligent hick of a brother-ish figure. An imbecile who couldn't crack a safe if you gave him the combination, a dimwit who wouldn't know sensitivity if it slammed him in the face.

Eliot, the guy who never wasted a second in reminding her she was Off. Wrong.

"That's twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag."

"There's something wrong with her!"

"There's something wrong with you, kid! You hear me? Hey! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

A while had passed before she realized someone was trying to get her attention. It was even longer before she recognized that person as Hardison, and realized that the glass in her hand was empty, having been filled and re-emptied a number of times.

"Hey, hey! Parker? Parker, you with me girl?"

His worried, if slightly blurred, face appeared in her line of vision, and she gave him a (hopefully) winning smile.

"Alec! What're you… doin' here?" Too many thoughts, too many thoughts. More alcohol!

"I-wait, since when am I Alec? I… nevermind. I just wanted to ask if you were okay."

Parker widened her smile even further, not noticing his eyes narrow at the unnaturally bright grin. "Why certainly, everythin's-everythings jus' fine. Whydaya ask?"

"Uh… you just… you didn't look so hot upstairs, you know, so I thought maybe I should check on you…" He let the sentence trail off, and she wasn't so drunk that she didn't notice the way he was scrutinizing her.

Wanting to get back to her dreary thoughts despite his rather welcoming presence, she decided to pull a Sophie.

Putting her arm around his waist, she pressed her chest against him and said as sweetly as she could manage, "You're right, Hardi-Hardissson, I wasn' feelin' too hot. So I decided ta' hav'a drink to cool down."

Hardison aimed a rather wide-eyed glance at the-uh, arm around his middle, and said in a slightly unsettled voice, "Ah, ah, I don't think-Parker, I don't think it works like that. You know, maybe you've had enough."

Rolling her eyes discreetly, she pushed herself against him further and said emphatically, "M'good, actually, and I's fine. Thanks for… comin'g to check on me. Really, m'fine now."

"Uh, okay, if you're… if you're sure," he mumbled distractedly, eyes still fixed on her… arm.

Giving him a toothy grin, she gave him a quick squeeze and punched him in the arm a bit harder than she'd intended. "Thanks Hardison, that wass'really sweet of you."

Not seeming to notice the punch and still looking distracted, he and mumbled a quick, "Uh, sure," before fleeing out the front door.

"Sophie wass' right; men're so easy," she mumbled to herself around another full glass.

But not all of them.

As the bells on the front door jingled gently, Parker's thoughts drifted back to that dark, angry place she always tried to avoid.

She wasn't Wrong. She wasn't Crazy. So she was a little messed up, everyone was a little messed up; that didn't make her strange, or weird, or wrong, or crazy. Just because the famous 'Eliot Spencer' thought she was weird didn't make her abnormal.

"Like he knows. He'ss one to talk 'bout weird, goin' 'round killin people and-and-not having talent."

And for all she knew, maybe it wasn't even just him. Maybe Nate, maybe Sophie, maybe Alec thought so too.

And if they all thought that, then… then… that didn't make her… Wrong, did it?

"No," she hissed fiercely. "No."

She would show them. She would prove there was NOTHING WRONG with Parker, Security Circum, Infiltration and Alter, Thief extraordinaire.

And her eyes, watering? Allergies. That tightness, the pain-like feeling in her chest? Probably the alcohol. No, this wasn't getting to her. She was just… She just needed to prove her usefulness.

Yes. That was it. Because if she couldn't prove it to them, she couldn't prove it to herself. And then where would she be?

An idea entered her head – a dangerous idea, a stupid idea, an idea that she would never have considered if she were anywhere near sober or thinking straight. And idea that, while possibly suicidal and/or liable to land her in jail for the rest of her life, would prove to the rest of the team that she wasn't insane, unstable, or a liability.

A welcome sense of determination flowing through her, Parker smiled, downed the rest of her shot, and went off to finalize her plans.

Jump: Twenty-Two Hours Ago

"Are you-are you insane, girl? Do you have any idea how crazy this is?"

Two words, two words that were the reason behind this whole escapade. Fighting down a headache and the impulse to flinch at his choice of words, Parker smiled tightly at the receptionist and accepted her guest badge.

She waited until she was out of range of any eavesdroppers before hissing, "Not a good time, Hardison. What can you tell me about security?"

"Secu-girl, you do realize you are breaking into the WHITE HOUSE, don't you? I mean, do you-you're going to be caught! You could… arrested, Parker, you will get a-rres-ted!"

Fighting down her own misgivings, she heaved a bereaved sigh and spoke to the ceiling, "If you're not going to be helpful, I'm just going to take my ear piece out. I asked you to help because I know you're the only one who could help me pull this off, and I really need to do this. Please, Hardison?"

She heard him sigh – a typical Hardison sigh indicating reluctant agreement – and aimed her triumphant smile at a nearby guard, who jerked back in surprise.

"All right. But the moment I think it's going south, I'm telling the gang, you hear me?"

"I hear you," she murmured cheerfully. "Now tell me about the damn security."

Present:

From there, things had gone… well. South.

Twenty Hours Ago:

"Parker, Parker, come in! You need to get out NOW!"

She spun around a corner and waited till the swarm of guards ran past her before panting out, "What… do you… think I'm… doing, Hardison?"

Closing her eyes and blocking out the wailing of the sirens, she mapped out possible alternative escape routes in her head in case Plan A and B failed. The elevator shaft escape was a classic, and one of her favourites, but getting to the elevator, down the shaft and past security to the front doors was going to leave her wide open. Either way she wasn't going to get out of this without being recognized, but at the moment, she was more worried about being shot. She'd have to figure out some way of hiding her identity later.

Think, think, she thought fiercely, sifting rapidly through her thoughts for her mental map of the front entrance, searching desperately for a safe exit strategy.

"Look, Nate knows we're here, and the team's on their way. I'm trying my best to circumvent the security system and shut off the alarms and cameras, but the firewall's coming back on quick. Stick to the plan, and by the time you get to the State Floor, Eliot should be here. He's burning asphalt and probably breaking about fifteen state laws to do it, and he wanted me to tell you he's going to kick your ass into the next century for taking his car. Thanks for not telling me about that, by the way, he nearly chewed my ass out-"

Car. Eliot's car.

"That's it!" she whispered. "Hardison, I have an idea. Cover me until I reach the elevators, then get the hell out. I need you to leave something in Eliot's car for me…"

A/N: Like it so far? Keep your fingers crossed that my Muse doesn't die out on me!