Summary: Secrets have a way of making their way out into the open, even when they've been hidden by the best thieves in the world with the most amazing security.

Disclaimer: I don't own Leverage, can't even steal it (not Parker here), but I do plan on borrowing it for a bit since this mischievous bunny named Plot won't leave me alone.

Small Note: You need to know that is actually set sometime after The Boost Job and remember that there is a concussion involved here, thrown out of a car and all.

Okay, so this whole fiction is my first dive into the world of Leverage. I'm working on characterization, or at least attempting to get it in the ball park. I really thought my biggest problem would be Parker, but I'm quickly finding that Sophie is my biggest issue. Either way, any suggestions for any of them are welcome. Like I said, it's my first venture, so definitely a work in progress here.

Chapter 5

Parker stared at Nate, sitting at the edge of the bar with his fourth drink in hand. She had planned to go through whatever Hardison had found, just so she could get the information that her team was so obviously keeping from her, but right now Nate was her focus. He looked like foster father #3, who spent days and nights trying to ignore that the rest of the world existed. It had been one of her better homes, when he hadn't locked her in the closet and forgot about her for five days. It was five feet long, four feet wide, and seven feet tall, fairly standard for a closet. The lock had been…

What had she been thinking about? Oh yeah, Nate was trying to drink himself to death again. She really wished he'd stop that. If he succeeded, she wouldn't have him to pull her back when she was going to do something Eliot would call crazy or annoy him until he gave up and smiled. He smiled less than Eliot and that was saying something, even if they did have that same sideways look that stopped her in her tracks…sometimes. Nate was her rope, not letting her fall too far. Maybe she should try to do that for him too, but she's not so good at this. She wondered who the harness might be, but then settled on Sophie, Hardison, and maybe even Archie. It could be anyone but Eliot, who had his feet firmly planted on the ground, waiting in case someone had miscalculated the slightest bit, so he would catch them, any of them.

This was about Nate, though.

She pulls out the phone to call someone much better at helping in these situations, Sophie. Hardison would be next, because Eliot would just growl and turn over in his bed saying something was wrong with her to hide that he didn't know what was going on right now. She remembered that look well from the glass in the car as the car drove away from the grocery store, when she should have been waiting for her mom to come back. Sure, it'd been four days, but she'd been different since he died. He was confused and too stubborn to admit it.

They were all wrong and doing the wrong jobs. Sophie was being Eliot to her, while Hardison was Eliot to Sophie. She was being Sophie to Eliot and Nate, and now she was just confused. Sometimes, it was fun to swap jobs, but not right now. Nate needed to be Nate. Eliot needed to protect Sophie. Sophie needed to take care of them both. Hardison needed to find Chaos, and she needed to break into the hospital and steal a kidney for Eliot.

She left a quick message for Sophie about Nate, before scaling the wall outside McRory's and up to the window of the kitchen in Nate's apartment. There was one more thing she needed to do. She hoped Hardison hadn't found it, or if he had, he just looked over in favor of finding something to save their hitter. She couldn't lose them now, but she would if Hardison had found it and was waiting for the right time to let everyone know. She searched through the scattered paperwork from his research, thankful that he was messier than Eliot and left everything on the floor, target in mind. She'd steal it and then Hardison wouldn't have anything to back up his claim, if he knew, except the internet.

Well, crap, maybe she needed to be Nate now and figure out how to steal the internet. She'd have said Hardison if he wasn't the problem right now.

Everything would just be better when Eliot stopped playing hurt and get out of the bed. It would make everything work so much better.

Then again, maybe there was someone else who could help Sophie be safe and everyone else get back to their jobs. She looked down at her phone, knowing her speed dials by heart.

2. Hardison

3. Sophie

4. Eliot

5. Nate

6. Archie

Then, she pushed number seven and waited for the fairly familiar voice to pick up, saying hello. "We need help, Tara."

*LEVERAGE*

Sophie crossed the bar to find Nate nursing another drink, looking quite like he had when any job had led him even slightly toward Sam's death, and it was easy to see the parallels, even if the rest of the team were too blind or stubborn to mention it.

She'd convinced Hardison, using the slightest amount of neuro-linguistics to stay with Eliot and keep at it with the laptop. He was always better there, and safer. Despite the manipulation, though, it was for his own good. Hardison wasn't Eliot, no matter how adorable it was that he was trying to step-up when their hitter obviously couldn't.

"He's lost time," Nate supplied, and Sophie wonders to herself why that's such a revelation for Nate. Eliot was looking at them all like virtual strangers, despite the fact he knew their names, like he had back before they'd backed his play in Kentucky with the horses and his ex-something. She'd heard of them, but still wondered exactly what a promise ring made someone. It was one of those cultural tidbits that she stored away for use, but never completely understood.

"Yes, he has," she answered softly, watching him takes another sip, "but you knew that before. It's why you went to get a newspaper, to show him without hurting that pride he cares so much about."

She can see Nate thinking. She'd pointed out multiple times that it was his fatal flaw. Sophie reached over putting her hand over his, the one holding the alcohol, and gently pushing it back down to the bar.

"Eliot knows something I don't," he said, blatantly ignoring the brunette at his side, before mumbling, "it's almost too much to ignore."

"What is, Nate," Sophie queried.

"I need to get back to the hospital," he amended in a hurry, before promptly standing, pouring the rest of the alcohol down his throat, grabbing Sophie's hand, and leading her out to the Tesla.

"Will you just tell me what the bloody hell we are doing Nate," Sophie questioned again, not really expecting an answer.

"Eliot knew that I was going to be a match, Soph," Nate finally answered.

Sophie looked back at him before playing the scene over in her mind, remembering Eliot's body language, tone of voice, and the way his eyes kept darting to Nate, even before the doctor told them Nate was a match.

Now who's conning us, she asked slightly bitterly, knowing she would never say it aloud, and watched the road fly by as Nate drove seventy miles per hour in a fifty-five zone.

*LEVERAGE*

Eliot kept trying to get the kid to leave, but Hardison simply sat, pecking away at the keyboard, again avoiding eye contact. He didn't know what was more aggravating, the fact that he'd just parked himself there and wouldn't leave or the fact that he was avidly avoiding even looking at him, but was hyper aware of every move he made toward the freakin' door, even if it was the bathroom.

He'd figured out a long while ago, despite how much he told them to go away, they weren't. Well, except for Nate, who hadn't resurfaced since he'd spat his own words back at him, and damn if he didn't feel himself want to go fix it. When the hell had that happened anyway? He was getting soft after only a few weeks with these crazy people, he thought, barely considering the possibility that it was something lingering in the back of his mind, like memories that just hadn't quite resurfaced.

He went still, again clutching a weapon he had stuffed under the hospital pillow, as he heard gentle footfalls slowly stepping into the room. He loosened his grip upon seeing the ever-familiar brunette and her disapproving glare, box in hand.

"What did you do this time," she asked, not even attempting to disguise the anger and concern in her voice, pulling Hardison away from whatever computer nonsense he was doing to dart his eyes back and forth between the hitter and the unknown female glaring intensely at the patient.

"Car wreck," Eliot said simply.

"Of course," the girl responded, sarcasm apparent in her voice.

"Apparently, need a transplant," Eliot continued, ignoring the tone, well used to his sister's condescension. She never had agreed with the violence he was so partial to using, said it was no way to get what you want out of life.

He could see that she was about to go talk to a doctor, knowing she'd get more information, even if it was misinformation, out of him than Eliot himself. At least, he had the forethought to give her his latest alias.

"Box, Lizzy," he commanded. She glared back at him, "what's so damn important about this old box?"

He didn't respond, simply took the proffered item, shuffling through it, looking for the one thing he would probably need soon. If Lizzy wasn't a match, then Ford was his only shot, and no matter how much he hated the idea of telling the man the truth about all of this, he was a survivor. He would swallow his pride and do what he had to do.

Lizzy walked out the door, down the hall to find a doctor, ignoring the guy gaping in the corner of her brother's hospital room. She wasn't particularly watching as she navigated the hospital, just focused on getting tested and pulling her bull-headed brother out of the fire once again.

She felt a body crash into hers, but muttered an apology and continued. She never noticed that something had slipped out of her wallet, onto the floor, and into the sight of a man she'd never met, but her brother knew all too well.

Nathan Ford picked up the small photo, calling out to the girl who didn't respond, before glancing at it.

"Emily," he whispered, only audible to Sophie, who stand right next to him.

"Emily? Wasn't that the name of the girl from middle school, you mentioned on the job with Stark," she asked, but Nate didn't respond, simply stared at the photo.

Both Sophie and Nate were startled into movement at the familiar shout of joy that usually signaled Hardison had found something.

A/N: Before anyone says anything negative, I do like Tara's character, not as much as the others, but I do. Plus, they are stretched a little thin here, and no one is really talking to anyone. Hope you enjoyed it and I'd like to say thank you to all of you who did the story alerts or commented. I appreciate it!