Alec Hardison was having a lazy Sunday morning. He'd wasted most of it watching classic horror movies and playing World of Warcraft. By the time it was almost noon, he was bored of all his regular pastimes and wanted something else to do.

The office was too quiet. With Eliot in the kitchen and Parker out shopping with her friend, Peggy, Hardison had the place all to himself. It had been fun at first, but now the silence was getting to him.

As he sat there contemplating the credits of Night of the Living Dead, he thought about his recent conversation with Nate. Nate had asked if Hardison had gone through the previous owner's junk in the basement yet. Over the past three years, it had become almost a joke with his friends because he always found ways to avoid it. Nate had suggested there might be historical memorabilia from the Brew Pub's past down there, and this had piqued Hardison's interest. Maybe there was something he could make a cool display with.

As he thought about that and he thought about his boredom, he decided that looking at some old junk was better than sitting on his ass staring into space.

He got out of his chair and made his way down to the main floor. There were a handful of patrons eating, either a late breakfast or an early lunch, and Hardison nodded to them as he went across the dining room.

Amy, the waitress they sometimes recruited for their jobs, smiled at him. He smiled back but didn't say anything. Now that he'd made up his mind, he was intent on his mission.

Though it was late morning, the basement was dark. What windows existed down there were covered with grime and almost impossible to see through. Hardison turned on the light with a grimace, on the edge of changing his mind and putting this task off again. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of the old posters or pictures that could be down there waiting for him to find them. As he started down the stairs, an old plastic sign, one he'd noticed before on the rare occasions he hesitated in this part of the basement, caught his eye. He went over and picked it up, gently turning it over to see it said, "Bridgeport Brew Pub" in curly letters. Hardison couldn't help the smile that settled over his face as he carefully set it aside and reached for the box it had been lying on.

As the morning ended and the afternoon unfolded, Hardison became lost in his discoveries. Most of them were boring boxes of papers, but there were enough treasures mixed in to make the whole enterprise worth it.

He had quite a pile of stuff to bring upstairs when he discovered a door he hadn't known existed. It was small, small enough that even someone a foot shorter than he was would have to crouch to enter. The door had been buried behind boxes, and its discovery filled him with curiosity.

He promptly forgot what he was doing, moving aside the last few boxes blocking the door. The lock was a joke, and he didn't even need Parker's skills to get it open in mere seconds. Hardison couldn't understand why someone had even bothered to lock it at all.

When the door popped open, Hardison knelt to peer inside. It was dim and shadowy, and the basement's weak, naked bulb didn't penetrate far into the darkness.

He considered going in without a light but rejected the idea. Who knew what sorts of creepy crawlies could be hiding in there? He needed a flashlight. Luckily, Eliot kept a shelf of emergency supplies near the stairs. Hardison liked to make fun of his friend's need to be prepared, but, in truth, he was grateful for it.

The shelf was so organized, it only took a minute for him to find the flashlight. It was large and bright and probably overkill, but it felt reassuring in Hardison's hand. Sometimes, small, dark spaces made him uneasy. This feeling got worse when coupled with the possibility of dirt and germs.

Hardison paused as he heard the door at the top of the stairs open.

"Hardison?"

"Down here, baby girl."

He looked up to watch Parker coming down the stairs. She was slim and lithe, and he loved the way she moved. Grace. He couldn't think of any other word for it. Her body always went exactly where she wanted it to, never making a mistake.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"I thought it was finally time I went through this mess."

"Doesn't sound like fun." She frowned.

"I found some cool stuff, and check it." He gestured at the open door.

"A door."

"Yes."

"What's in there?" She skipped lightly down the last few stairs to join him.

"I don't know yet. It's too dark. I'm going to use Eliot's light."

"What if it's gold?" Parker's eyes lit up. "Or maybe diamonds!"

"In the basement of a brew pub?"

"Oh, maybe it will be filled with spiders! Maybe there will be rats!"

Hardison felt his stomach turn over. "Uh...Maybe you should go first."

Parker grinned at him and snatched the light from his hand. Hardison followed her, feeling slightly manipulated.

"How did shopping with Peggy go?"

"Fine," she answered, not bothering to turn to look at him.

"Just fine?"

"We had fun. Shopping with her is different than shopping with Sophie."

Parker bent and peered through the doorway before turning on the light. "Oh!"

"What is it?" He hurried up beside her so he could see what she saw.

It was a small room, not much larger than his bathroom, and it was mostly empty. The only things inside were four pedestals. Each pedestal held an object made of wood.

"Shine your light on one of those."

The one she chose was an ornately carved box. The characters on it seemed to writhe together.

"Looks old," he continued, wondering if the box was worth something. Maybe it had been stolen.

"Maybe there's something inside!" Parker said with excitement.

She ducked into the room and, after a second of hesitation, Hardison followed her. He tried not to think about dust mites and rats. By the dust Parker was gleefully tracking through, no one had been in the room for a very long time.

Parker turned to hand him the light. She was in front of the box, but the room was so small that he took it easily. It made crazy shadows as it passed from one hand to the other, and Parker's face glowed briefly.

Hardison stepped forward to join her at the dais. "What's inside?"

Parker reached out and touched the lid. It was a small box, smaller than it looked from the doorway. It could have been someone's jewelry box. Maybe that's what it was, but Hardison doubted it. Up close, he could see that the swirling pattern was actually skeletons. They seemed to move, sliding in and around each other. Hardison had a sudden feeling of anxiety, his muscles knotting up.

"Wait."

But it was too late. Parker was already opening the top.

There was a smell, something stronger and deeper than could be explained by that one small box. It stank of dirt and rotten things. Of something Hardison couldn't even name. He coughed and stumbled back. Parker, however, was just peering into the box with a frown.

"I don't see anything."

He blinked watery eyes. "It's empty?"

"I don't know. I think so."

This was such a strange answer that he fought off his nausea and shined the light on the box. The outside of the box lit up more than he would have liked, given the skeletons, but the inside of the box remained pitch black. He couldn't see sides or a bottom, just a black emptiness.

"Parker," he said, his voice slightly strained, "I think we should get out of here."

"Are we taking the box?"

"No. Definitely not."

"How about the other stuff?" She waved a dainty, slim fingered hand around the room.

"No."

"Why not?"

He reached over and flipped the cover on the small box closed. The smell quickly dissipated, but his feelings of the creeps did not.

"They're evil, girl. Evil."

"Evil?"

"Come on. Let's just get out of here and forget these are even down here."

She shrugged, but her bright eyes darted around the room in curiosity. "Okay."

XXX

Eliot Spencer was softly humming to himself as he experimentally dropped a few more leaves into his soup. The song was one he hadn't been able to get out of his head for days, and he'd decided to stop fighting and just go with it.

The staff worked around him, politely asking him advice and getting him to taste and look at things. It was a slow day and, besides the after church crowd, the feeling was soft and unhurried. This was the main reason he mostly experimented Sundays. The rest of the time, the kitchen was hopping, and, when he was there, he was doing as much cooking as supervising.

He was about to taste his soup to see if it needed more seasoning when he froze. An odd feeling went over him, as if every hair on his body wanted to stand on end. The back of his neck prickled, and every instinct he had screamed danger.

Slowly, Eliot turned around, trying to ascertain what the danger was. The kitchen looked exactly the same. His crew was busily performing the day's tasks. There was a small trickle of laughter here and a soft conversation there, but everything was orderly.

In the next room, Eliot could hear the clinking of dishes and the rattle of ice. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

Despite that, the feeling of wrongness was enough to set his teeth on edge. Eliot put his spoon down beside the stove and went out into the main room. His eyes scanned the few diners and Amy, who was filling a couple of glasses.

As soon as it came, the creepy feeling left, but Eliot still stood there, his muscles clenched.

"Is there something wrong?" Amy asked, the concern plain in her voice.

"Did you see or hear anything unusual?"

"Nothing."

The sudden sound of voices announced the arrival of Parker and Hardison just before they came in from the small hallway that led to their bathrooms and the basement. Both of them were covered in dust, and Hardison looked a little freaked out. Parker, on the other hand, looked excited. Eliot didn't know which was worse.

"Where were you?" he demanded shortly.

"In the basement," Hardison answered without further explanation.

"We found a weird box in a hidden room. It felt funny. Tingly on my fingers."

Against his better judgment, Eliot asked, "What?"

"I think we should just forget it's down there," Hardison told him. "Close and lock the door and forget about it"

"What door?" Eliot felt as if he were reading a book with a page missing.

"The one in the basement," Parker supplied cheerfully.

"Okay, either you two have got to start making sense, or I'm going back in the kitchen."

"What aren't you getting? There's a door in the basement. We opened it and found some creepy ass stuff, including an evil skeleton box," Hardison said.

"An evil box?" Eliot scoffed. "You been drinking?"

"You don't believe me? Go look for yourself."

Since it provided the opportunity to mock Hardison, Eliot was tempted, but he forgot about the box when there was a huge crash from the kitchen.

Rushing back in, he discovered the cooking staff all standing around with their mouths hanging open. There were shattered dishes and pots and pans scattered all around. The broken remains of a shelf, one that Eliot had been positive was both strong and secure, lay amongst the wreckage.

"What happened here?"

"It just collapsed," one of the braver workers—Tracy, who mostly chopped vegetables and did other small bits of prep work—told him.

"Collapsed?"

"Folded in on itself," Grayson, the chef under Eliot, the one who did most of the supervising when Eliot wasn't there, confirmed.

"Does anybody know why?" Nobody answered, so Eliot knelt to examine the mess. He couldn't see anything amiss. "All right, well, clean this up. Everything here can be replaced." He eyed the loose glass. "Anybody hurt?"

There was a chorus of negatives. That was something at least.

"What's going on?" Hardison asked from the door.

"An accident. Nothing important."

He took the scene in and nodded. "I guess I'd better order some stuff."

"I guess you'd better."

XXX

One Week Later

Sophie Devereaux paused in front of the Bridgeport Brew Pub for just an instant. The wind blew cold down the neck of her long coat, and she shivered and put up the collar. She thought about all the good times she'd had behind those doors and about how she sometimes missed it now that she'd become an almost completely honest member of society. It helped that once in awhile Nate looked the other way when Parker, Eliot, and Hardison asked her to come in on a job.

That was the only time she became different people now. The surprising thing was she didn't even mind. Though Sophie Devereaux hadn't been her real name, it was the one she'd slipped into the most easily. She'd lived in Sophie's skin for years and, as the years went by, the two of them started to merge until they were the same person. She didn't realize this until she suddenly found herself a part of a highly unconventional family, bound by a shared search for justice and, though they were reluctant to admit it, love. They knew her as Sophie. Even after they knew her real name, they called her Sophie. At first, she'd thought it was the shell that went with the name that they loved. It took her years to realize it was the person underneath.

Because Sophie Devereaux had come to mean being loved and accepted for who she really was, she'd let go of the other name, the name that hadn't really fit anymore, and become Sophie Devereaux permanently.

Thinking of the five years she's spent as part of the Leverage team made her smile, and she was still smiling as she went inside.

She was glad she and Nate had decided to stay in Portland. The original decision had been made so she wouldn't have to give up her acting students but, in the end, it was good just to be able to drop in on her friends whenever she wanted.

"Sophie!" Parker ambushed her at the door. The young thief was smiling widely and her eyes were shining.

"Hello, Parker. I've come for lunch. What's on the menu?"

"Chili. You should definitely have Eliot's chili."

"Where is Eliot?"

"He's playing in the kitchen."

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "Playing?"

"Throwing different things in a pot to see what comes out." She shrugged. "Do you want to see him?"

"Actually, I'd like some company if the three of you aren't busy."

"Sounds great. Be right back." With that, Parker rushed off towards the kitchen, presumably to find the others.

With a slight, fond shake of her head, Sophie went to find a seat. She let the hustle and bustle of the bar surround her, enjoying the activity. As she sat waiting for either Parker or a waitress, she closed her eyes to create a character for the moment. Now that she was mostly legit, she kept in practice with little games like this, games that put her in another woman's head. Karen, she decided. Her name was Karen, and she was a wealthy, lonely, recently divorced woman looking for someone to help her feel alive again.

She opened her eyes and looked around the room, seeing it from Karen's point of view. Which of these men would the divorcée consider worth her while? Her choices were less than spectacular.

There was an older guy in the corner, nursing a beer despite the fact that it was barely noon. He was balding and sporting a bad comb over. His eyes were already bleary. He was not the type of man Karen was looking for.

Besides him, there were only two other men sitting by themselves. One had a ring and screamed happily married. The other showed some promise. He was relatively good looking and well dressed enough to put Karen at ease. Unfortunately, he seemed to have an oddly intimate relationship with his cell phone.

Sophie's eyes did another search of the bar as Karen and landed on Eliot coming towards her. For a moment, she let herself see Eliot as Karen would. He was well built and attractive, giving off a sense of easy grace that spoke of the many things he could do well. She knew the normally harsh lines of his face often softened when he talked to a woman or a child, and this would definitely speak to a woman who'd been hurt as severely as Karen had.

"Why are you smiling at me like that?" Eliot demanded, taking the chair across from her.

"Bad day?" she asked pleasantly.

"Bad week," he growled.

"Really?" She let go of Karen completely and gave him her full attention. "What's going on?"

"It's like we're cursed." He leaned forward.

"That's because we are," Hardison interrupted as he and Parker arrived at the table.

"Cursed?"

"We have a ghost," Parker added.

"We're not cursed, damn it. And there's no ghost," Eliot said firmly. "It's just bad luck."

Sophie raised her eyebrows at him curiously.

"Some strange accidents," he explained. "Broken dishes, falling pictures, the stove caught on fire, that kind of thing."

"Things jumping off shelves and attacking people," Hardison added, his voice a little high. "People pushed down when there's no one there. A broken window."

"I think the ghost wants to play," Parker said seriously.

"Play? We'll be playing when a knife flies through the air and slits our throats."

"You're both overreacting." Eliot tried to speak over them.

Sophie listened to them bicker in fond amusement before cutting in with, "Where do you think this curse came from?"

"There is no curse."

"Oh, there's a curse," Hardison argued.

"Ghost. It's a ghost."

Eliot glared at Parker. "It's not a ghost." To Sophie, he said, "Hardison found a box in the basement he thinks is possessed."

"Excuse me. A creepy ass box. Creepy ass." Hardison looked indignant.

"It's really old," Parker said.

Interested, Sophie asked, "Can I see it?"

"Hardison wouldn't let me bring it up. He said it was evil."

"Evil," he agreed.

"Cursed, possessed, and evil?"

"I'm telling you, this smell came out of it like you wouldn't believe. It was rank."

"Don't forget that it had no bottom," Parker put in.

"No bottom?" Sophie studied Parker's face. "You mean...?"

"None. Nada."

"She's exaggerating," Eliot butted in before she could say more. "Can we change the subject?"

Parker leaned towards Sophie and whispered loudly, "I'll tell you later."

"So, where's Nate?" Eliot asked forcefully.

"Working." After retiring from Leverage, Nate had started freelancing for security companies. He was both busy and sober, and he was happier than Sophie had seen him since before Sam's death.

"On a Sunday?"

"It's for Rangeman. Their office is always open."

"Rangeman? From New Jersey?"

"You've heard of them?"

Eliot was about to answer when Parker interrupted. "Guys..." There was an odd note to her voice.

"What is it, Parker?"

She pointed, and Sophie followed her finger. A few feet away, one of the chairs had risen to a height slightly above that of its table. Sophie's first thought was that it was some kind of joke.

"Hardison?"

"Eliot, if you're doing that, I'm going to punch your face in," was Hardison's answer.

"It's not me, man. Why would I..." Eliot trailed off as the chair suddenly hurtled through the air towards them. "Down. Everybody down."

There were screams around the room as Sophie and the others dropped to the floor, ducking behind their table. The chair smashed against the wall, raining down splinters and sharp shards of wood.

"Is that an accident?" Hardison demanded. "Is that bad luck?"

Eliot's mouth was open in an uncharacteristic expression of surprise.

Parker peered out from under the table. "I wonder if it's going to throw another one."

Sophie was still feeling a little shocked and breathless. "Something strange is definitely going on here."

"So, what do we do?"

"I know someone. He should be able to help."