Epilogue - Fighting Crime with . . . Limes!
Almost One Year Later
Hardison kicked back in his comfortable office chair, nicely padded and ergonomically 'just right'. He took a swig of his orange soda, before pulling his laptop on to his lap and poking at it, while he waited to hear what was going on in the outside world through his comms. Parker wouldn't be quiet for much longer, he'd lay money on it.
Tucked away in his own little office in the local FBI headquarters, he was a completely changed person on a year ago - even if Special Agent Eliot Spencer did insist on calling his office alternately the hellhole and the cubby. He'd fallen in love with his office and so he'd named her Lucille . . . he didn't love her as much as he loved Parker, but that was kind of a sore point at times . . . He and Parker danced around each other. They were definitely friends, maybe more . . . they had kissed and hugged and there'd even been some pretty heavy petting and then Parker had been strange so he'd backed off and let her have some space, because that was one thing that he'd never gone against his Nana's words on, no matter how close he'd become to being a career criminal. Always, without any question, he would treat a woman with respect.
Eliot laughed at the two of them, called them both kids, which Hardison could admit they kind of were next to his years of experience and seemingly endless wisdom (not all of which Hardison was sure was actual wisdom and wasn't just Eliot's opinion which he was going to share whether they wanted to hear it or not), oh, and a more than healthy dose of teasing.
Hardison worried about Parker when she was out on the job, but he just had to rely on the fact that his was the finger on the button making sure all the information they needed was perfect and that Eliot would protect her with his life, something else he had learned not to question. To call Eliot protective was an understatement; the man was unstoppable when it came to protecting Parker and innocent civilians and Hardison had seen him brush off more than one injury that would have laid a lesser man out.
Now though they were tracking their latest criminal out of the financial district and it appeared that he was heading for a farmer's market, probably hoping to get lost in the crowd. "He's going to get away!" Over the comms, Hardison heard the frustration in Parker's voice. "I'm going to throw something at him!"
Eliot snorted, "Have you practised since the last time you tried that? Or do I need to remind you what happened with the mangoes?"
"No! Okay!" Parker sounded pouty, Hardison could picture the cute little face she pulled when she was in a mood like that. He could also imagine perfectly the sardonic eyebrow raise that Eliot would be giving her. All of a sudden her tone changed and she said cheerily, "Actually I do remember you saying that you could have done better than me! So why don't you take this opportunity to prove it?"
"Did I?" he queried, seeming to give the matter some thought. "Hmmm, yep, you might be right, I did. You better get me some mangoes then."
Hardison wondered what had happened with the mangoes previously as it certainly wasn't anything that had happened while he had been their tech support, as he listened into Parker's hurried conversation with the guy selling fruit
"Eliot, he's got no mangoes . . . what do you want instead?"
"What's he got?"
"Peaches? Apricots? A melon? Strawberries? Limes?"
"Strawberries? What exactly do you think I'm going to do with a strawberry, girl!" There was a string of curse words before Hardison heard him say, "Limes . . . three limes and quickly!"
The next thing he heard was a "Wow!" from Parker. There was just the sound of their feet running and apologies as they pushed through the crowd to catch up with their man. "Hardison?" Parker said next, "We need transport - a pick up at the east exit of the farmer's market . . . and you're never going to believe this, Eliot took down our guy with two limes at ninety feet! Isn't that awesome?"
"Yeah, I guess that is kind of awesome," Hardison agreed. "How'd you do it, man?"
"It takes years of practise and a very distinctive throwing style," replied Eliot as Hardison heard him haul the guy to his feet and begin to push through the crowd. "Oh and while I remember, I've booked you two a table for dinner on Saturday night together at the restaurant where you had your first 'date'."
"Ooooh!" Parker said, excitedly.
"Ermmm, the first date didn't . . . they didn't do fortune cookies, man . . . I don't know how you manage to find so many restaurants that actually do fortune cookies . . ."
"Not that first date," Eliot grouched. "The one you went to from the Museum, Saturday is your first anniversary. This time, I'm not going to be on the other end of comms to help you guys out, so you need to get your acts together."
"Oh! That first date . . . First anniversary?" Hardison squeaked.
"Parker, darlin'. I think I will have some of those strawberries. Give me your comm and run get me some while I hang on to this idiot for the guys to arrive, will you?"
Parker dutifully handed over her comm, which Hardison thought was strange enough, but then Eliot began to speak to him directly. "Hardison, you told me you were intelligent . . . Yet you still haven't worked out the fortune cookies . . . What you do is you buy some yourself and you drop them by the restaurant earlier in the day and you tell them she'll order some and they just serve them up as per her request . . . You seriously never worked that out?"
"That's what you've been doing this whole time?" Hardison gasped. "You - You are a cheat!"
"Maybe, but at least we get to eat in decent places rather than always having to eat Chinese," Eliot griped back. "Oh, and while I remember, what I said when you started this whole thing with Parker . . . you hurt her and I will break both of your legs and dump you off a bridge. Don't forget that!"
