"Sorry I'm late. Had to get a few things together." Eliot tossed a garment bag onto the end of the desk as he sat down.

"OK – what is wrong with this picture?" Hardison asked, staring at the case. "I thought you never packed for our jobs. I mean other than your basic menacing hardware and a spare bandana."

"Yeah – about the job…" Eliot seemed a loss for words, which was strange. Not that he was a verbal sort, but he rarely had trouble speaking his mind. "Do we have to go today? I mean, is there anything that won't keep a couple of days. You know, if we couldn't head out…" he just basically ran out of steam.

"What's going on Eliot? You OK?"

"Yeah – I'm fine. I just have something I kinda need to do – actually somewhere to be. Can't really put it off."

"You need to be somewhere, you are travelling with a suit – at least I assume that's whats's in there – and you don't want to talk about. You running off to get married or something."

"Oh – shotgun wedding I bet" Parker piped in.

"Now that is one I want to see. Eliot standing at the alter all nervo-"

"GUYS" Nate cut in on the teasing. Eliot wasn't reacting at all. That wasn't normal by any definition. "What's going on Eliot?"

Eliot stood up and walked over to the window, looking away from the team. "My dad". He stopped and tried to start again. "My dad died last night. I thought maybe I should try to go home, but maybe…ah hell, I don't know."

The room was quiet.

"Damn man – I'm sorry. I wouldn't 'ave been yanking your chain if I'd…Damn"

"S'OK Hardison. No harm."

"Have you got a flight booked? Let me get you in first class."

"Hardison, I'm OK. I got it covered.

"Need company?" Nate offered.

Eliot turned around with a surprised, then grateful look on his face. "Thanks – but no. I need the time to figure out how I'm going to deal with the rest of the family, and everyone, once I get there. I got get my story together for them. But really. Thank you."

"Don't worry about the job. There's nothing there that won't keep a few days."

"OK – if you're sure. I'm going to head out. Funeral is day after tomorrow so I should be back that evening. We can get back to it the next day." He had made his way toward the door as he spoke and was reaching out for the handle when Parker grabbed his arm. She spun him gently around and hugged him. He stood still, not quite know how to react at first. After a few seconds he quickly hugged back, then pushed her away. "I'm fine girl – don't go getting all sentimental on me unless you want that to change."

"Now what?" Hardison asked after the door closed. Nate had already pulled out his cell phone. "Sophie – change in travel plans."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was getting dark as Eliot waited outside the funeral home in his rented truck. He'd watched friends and family come and go most of the day. He knew many of them, even though for several it had been literally decades since he'd last seen them. His sister and her family had been in there most of the day, coming out for a bit at lunch. He'd watched as she scanned the area a few times, but he knew from years of experience how to remain invisible. Each time her shoulders slumped a bit further when she went back inside. But he waited – as one by one cars pulled away, including hers.

Finally, minutes before closing there were only two vehicles left – a car and a van. Had to be the staff. He got out of the truck and walked to the door, holding the handle a moment before opening. The receptionist turned toward the sound, starting to say they were closing for the night, when she got a better look. "Good evening Mr. Spencer. Your sister said you would probably be late getting in. I'm so sorry for your loss. Please, take as much time as you need." She gestured toward a room that was still dimly lit.

He walked in with his eyes down, slowly raising them as he approached the far wall. The casket was plain, undoubtedly his dad's own choice. Nothing showy about the Spencer clan. He was surprised by how relieved he was that the casket was closed. Cancer is a mean way to go, and seeing his dad wasted down like that was not an image he wanted to carry with him for the rest of his life. Of course, if he had known what was going on, he would have had to deal with that memory. He would have come home, no matter how unwelcome he was. But there was no word, no notice of what was coming. Only the call to a rarely used phone number, from his cousin Stephen letting him know that dad was gone, and a couple of quick details on the arrangements. Stephen didn't even ask if Eliot would attend.

He reached out and laid his hand on the box, not really expecting to feel much of anything. He tried to summon up some kind of emotion, but there was just an overwhelming numbness. He glanced at the collection of photos on the far table: Mom and Dad, dad with friends, with the grandkids, in front of the store. One photo, faded by age, included Eliot. It was a family picnic, and he was all of about 3 years old. That was the only sign George Spencer had had a son. Looking up again, he noticed for the first time there was a mirror on the wall. What startled him was what he saw in the reflection. Nate, Sophie, Parker and Hardison all sat perfectly still at the far end of the room, waiting for him to acknowledge their presence. He turned, shaking his head slightly. How had he not realized he wasn't alone in the room? So much for the ever alert Eliot.

"When did you guys get here? I never saw you come in."

Nate spoke for them. "We were here first thing this morning. Not sure when you planned on showing up. Figured you might want a friendly face or two waiting for."

Sophie walked over and reached out to him, but he subtly turned away from the touch. "I'm so sorry Eliot. I wish there was more we could do."

"This – being here. That means…well…everything. You – you didn't have…" Eliot couldn't figure out what he wanted to say, and that was beginning to tick him off. He hated being out of control, and right now that was exactly where he was.

"We can wait outside if you'd like a couple of minutes."

"It's OK guys, I'm not staying. I've got a motel room outside of town" – he hadn't wanted to risk running into anyone – "and I'm heading back in the morning. That's why you shouldn't have come."

"You're not staying for the service?"

"Don't think I'd be a welcome inclusion." He nodded his head toward the family photos. "They don't need the stress."

"What about what you need?" Parker asked, concerned by the attitude of her friend. "Don't you have a say in this?"

"Yeah sweetheart I do, and that's why I'm not sticking around. You guys really should not have come."

"Eliot, relax. It was our call, and we're good with whatever you want us to do. One thing though. Your sister gave me this." Nate passed over a key. "She thought we might see you tonight, and said there was something at the house for you. And we are supposed to tell you to attend the family visitation at 11 tomorrow morning. It will be extremely private – invitation only, so you don't have to worry about prying eyes." He hesitated for a moment, then added "or judgements."

Eliot studied the key without looking up. What could be at the house for him? There wasn't anything left there anymore for him. He started to hand it back, but Nate wouldn't take it. "She said you're supposed to leave it in 'the usual place'."

Eliot flashed a quick grin. "Behind the mailbox – worst hiding place in the world."

"Go to the house Eliot. We'll head back to our hotel and talk to you in the morning. You can decide then what your plans are."

They left as Eliot turned for one last look at the casket, and then went to the reception desk, pulling an envelope from his pocket. "This should cover everything. Anything already paid needs to go back to my sister. Anything extra in the envelope – well, use it next time somebody can't afford something."

"Of course sir. And again, my sympathies on your loss. I knew your dad – he was a good guy. "

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The key slid easily into the front lock, and Eliot reached up and dropped it into the small slot behind the mailbox – safe for the next time. No real point in locking it with the key right there, but you couldn't tell his family anything. Doors around here usually weren't locked anyway. The house smelled fresh, but then the windows had been open all day to air it out.

He was surprised by how little had changed over the years. The TV was bigger, newer, but still sat in the same spot. The "dad chair" had been recovered, but was still the same one. He could see the dent in the front leg from where he had kicked it years ago in one of many moments of frustration.

Down the hall, second door on the left - he wondered had had been done with his room. Probably storage. He stared in with his mouth hanging slightly open. Everything was almost exactly has he had left it. Sports ribbons and trophies on the wall and desk. The closet had been emptied out, but most of the rest was like stepping into a time warp. After a moment Eliot felt unbelievably uncomfortable in there, as if he had violated the memory of a lost child. He quickly stepped back and pulled the door closed.

Kitchen table was the same too, he noted as he walked through the place. Red Formica table top. Thing was probably worth something to a collector at this point. It was bare, except for an envelope. One word "Eliot" on it – in writing he recognized instantly. He put it in his pocket and turned to leave, but stopped. A few steps got him to the fridge. Yup – always count on a few cold ones in the fridge. He grabbed a bottle, and, pulling out a chair from the table, he sat down, retrieved the letter and unfolded the pages. The first sentence made his blood pressure go up – Dammit it Nate!

Eliot:

I had a visit from a friend of yours.That Nate fella sure can talk.Smooth as any snake oil salesman I've heard, and I've heard plenty of them. Gotta give him points for determination though. Kept his foot in the door no matter what I threatened him with.Finally decided it was easier to hear him out than kick him out.

Like I said, he can spin a tale.Told me all kinds of stuff about you and what you've been doing with yourself for the last couple of decades.Course he left a lot of gaps along the way, and I have a pretty good idea of what filled those times too.

You always were a handful boy.If there was a way to find trouble you could stumble on it without looking. Natural talent.Drove your mother crazy it did, but she kept insisting your heart was in the right place.It was just that damn temper.Guess that came from my side of the family.Your grandpa was the same.Always jumping into things without thinking it through.Taking care of everybody's problems.Couldn't even see what was going on at home most of the time, but show him some down on his luck drifter and he was all over the problem.I could see him in you from the time you took your first steps.You came home with more skinned knuckles and black eyes than any other 10 kids put together.Should have put you over my knee dozens of times, but your mom kept telling me it wouldn't do any good, and I'm guessing she was right. Besides, I figured you wouldn't have stood for it. I couldn't figure out how I had raised a bully, till she pointed out to me the only kids you were taking on were the ones who had bullied someone else.I hadn't picked up on it but she did.The weak kids weren't afraid of you – but the strong ones sure as hell were.

I knew you weren't going to stick around.You said you couldn't handle this town, but I think it was the other way around. This town couldn't handle you.You needed more. God knows I wanted you to take over the business, but you – cooped up in a hole in the wall hardware store?Never happen.You'd have ended up killing some poor guy who caught you with the wrong question on a bad day. Don't know why I fought you so hard on that.It felt like I was losing you, and it was just too soon after your mom passed for me to see someone else leave – and maybe not come back. So what did I do – I made sure you wouldn't come back. But it was on my terms.Started a fight that almost came to blows. Guess maybe some of those attitude issues come from me after all.

I heard of some of your travels.Family let me know when they got a letter, but I never asked to read them.Aimee told me about some of your visits, but usually long after you had moved on.By the way boy – you made a big mistake letting that one get away.BIG! Course you probably figured that out by now.

I knew it was a good thing you were doing – serving your country.Saying my boy was in uniform had some respectability. But then things seemed to change. Folks stopped hearing from you as much, and what you did send sounded off somehow – like it was just part of the story.Then nothing, just enough that we knew you were OK, and sometimes not even that for the longest time.I knew you – knew that meant you were doing things you shouldn't be, or that you didn't want to talk about.And that meant you were in trouble.
You never knew, but we'd get calls sometimes.People looking for you – not particularly polite in how they asked. I figured out then I didn't want to know any more about what you had become.

Eliot put the letter down on the table. This was the last thing he wanted to know. That his dad had found out about the thug – the monster - his son had become. He went to the fridge for another beer, but his stomach rolled at the thought of it. He stared back at the remaining pages. "Well done Dad – you succeeded in getting back at me from beyond. Not that I don't have it coming." He picked up the offending pages, switched off the light and head out to the chair on the back deck, stopping short when he saw Nate sitting there.

"Sophie thought someone should check up on you – I was elected."

"Really?" Eliot spoke through clenched teeth. "It wasn't your idea at all to stick your nose in where it doesn't belong. Yeah, 'cause it's not like you would interfere – maybe visit folks who you had no business talking to!" He waved the letter at Nate.

"Ah – your dad mentioned that? Eliot, I –"

"Save it Nate, I know what you were trying to do. And I probably should appreciate it but right now I am looking for something to hit, so you really might be better off heading back to the hotel for the night."

"Nah – I think I'm safe."

Eliot glared at him for almost a minute without blinking, but Nate just held onto the slight smirk on his face. Surrendering, Eliot turned, went back in and grabbed the beer he had passed on and an extra, leaving the letter inside. "I know it's not your first choice, but dad wasn't a whiskey guy".

"Yea – that's what he told me wh…" Eliot's look cut the sentence short. "You going to finish the letter?"

"No."

"Eliot…"

"No – not now. I'll take it with me in the morning, but not now."

"Read it before you leave Eliot."

They sat for a while, not saying anything else. Nate left after about 30 minutes. Eliot headed back to the kitchen, looked down at the table, and picked up the letter. He leaned against the fridge door and started reading.

Then one day, outta the blue, you showed up at the door. I watched you out the window a few months back when you came by.Saw your truck coming up the road and, well, I just knew who it was. Didn't make a move to let you back in.

Eliot felt the breath rush out of him on reading that, and remembering the day. He had knocked at the door, sure that someone was home. Called out a couple of times, so that his dad would know it was him. When there was no response, he left, sure in his heart he wasn't wanted there anymore. Now he knew that to be true. Dammit Nate, thanks for making sure I found that out tonight. Screw it – letter can't get any worse. Let's get the rest over with.

Didn't make a move to let you back in.That's my BIG mistake. A couple days later your friend was at the door.

Like I said, he's a talker.Doesn't let me have much of a say in to start off, no matter how many times I try.Then he suddenly turns and stares me straight down. Hard to pull your eyes away from that stare, but undoubtedly you know that. 'Mr. Spencer' – he says – 'I'm going to tell you about some of the lives your son saved.Starting with mine.'

So he starts talking again, but it's different.There is a tone – a quality– in his voice that wasn't there before.The snake oil salesman is gone. He tells me about the worst moment in his life, and how you helped him get himself back together after that. And how you talked him out of killing a man that deserved it, so that he wouldn't have your nightmares. Then he tells me about a kidnapped girl, and about a little boy whose dad was beating on him who are safe because of you.About people who had had everything taken from them, and how you helped them get it back.About what you went through to protect your friends.Scared the hell of me some of what he said, cause I know he didn't tell me the worst of it.And he just kept talking.I don't know how long he was here, but I think he could have gone on for hours if I hadn't had to stop him.I couldn't listen to anymore. I'd been so wrong.

Some part of Eliot's mind was trying to remind him that breathing was a good idea. He reached around to find a chair, and almost missed the seat as he dropped down, shaking.

'You know what I find most amazing about your son Mr. Spencer?' your pal asked me. 'It's that he doesn't get who he is.He thinks like you do, that he's a fighter, a thug, a hitter – or worse. Someone in need of redemption.Eliot thinks I rescued him.He has no idea that it's the other way around.And no matter how many times or how many ways we try to get that through to him, he won't take it. He just won't accept it."

Ah son, that just about killed me, 'cause I think maybe that's my fault. And I didn't know how to fix it. I figured it was too late.Nate said I should think on it, and something would come to me, then he left. Gave me a number I could call you at.I tried. I started to call a couple of times, but couldn't find my voice.What the hell was I going to say after all this time? You'd think it would be easier, knowing you had already made the first move, but somehow that just made me feel I'd failed again.

Then I got the damned diagnosis.Tumors – too big and too many to do anything about.I shoulda called you then, but hated the idea that your last memories of me would be me wasting away. That I had only called to torture you with that.So, I took the cowards choice, and said nothing.

It has taken me a couple weeks to finish writing this letter – scared the whole time that I wouldn't get the chance to finish it.Shouldn't be this hard to tell your son you love him, and you're proud of him.But it is.That damned Spencer stubbornness I guess.You're a good man Eliot.I should have been smart enough to figure that out in time. Your friends did.Now it's your turn.Listen to your friends.Hell – they're the family you deserved.

I love you Eliot and I'm proud of who you are.

Eliot didn't know how long he sat, unmoving, at the kitchen table. He did know eventually his blurred vision returned to normal, as did his breathing. Shaking took a bit longer to go away, but after a point, he figured he was settled enough to stand up. Placing the empty beer bottle on the counter, he flipped off the light and headed out. Almost to the car he stopped and turned back to the front walkway. The wind-chimes were still hanging there. Eliot had made them in his first year of shop class, before deciding the home ec class would be a much better way to get the girls. He walked back and stretched up, just able to reach the hook to release the chimes, and carried them back to the truck.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The team was waiting in the coffee shop of his motel in the morning. He looked at Hardison.

"Yeah – like I couldn't hack a credit card to figure out where you were staying."

"What's the plan Eliot – you staying or heading home?"

"Both. I have a flight booked for 1:35. I'm going by the funeral home this morning for a bit. You guys don't have to stick around."

"What a coincidence" Sophie grinned. "We have a 1:35 flight as well."

"At least we will in a minute" Hardison mumbled as his fingers flew over the tablet keyboard.

Nate stood first, and signaled the others to join him. "We'll meet you at the airport." He turned to leave, but Eliot gently grabbed his arm. He met the hitter's eyes, saw the unspoken message, nodded, smiled and headed out. Parker and Hardison started squabbling about who would drive, and Sophie was wondering if there was someplace around to get a decent cappuccino. Eliot watched them leave. At the last moment, Nate turned back, tilted his head toward the team, and winked. Eliot grinned back. Family – nothing better.