PART THREE: Brave and Wild

by angellwings

Chapter Two: Alone Time

Claire went with Eliot to the General Store to meet Nate and Kip. Kip was tall, broad shouldered, and scruffy. His face brightened a little too much for Eliot's liking when he spotted Claire. Claire hugged him briefly and then it was back to business.

"The reason I came back here was to help dad with the restaurant," Kip said honestly. "So, I'll do whatever y'all need me to do. Besides dad, nobody knows that restaurant better than me." Kip then turned to Eliot. "So, you're Roy, huh?"

"Roy?" Nate asked.

Eliot gave him a stern almost pleading look before Nate nodded his head in agreement.

"Right, your middle name. I forgot," Nate said with a smirk as he caught on to the act.

"Yeah, that's me," Eliot told him.

"Well, you, uh, you got a good one there, you know," Kip said as he motioned to Claire.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him with a chuckle. "Kip, stop. Seriously."

"Trust me, sometimes a guy needs to be reminded of these things," Kip told her. "It's easy to forget how good you have it sometimes."

"Trust me," Eliot said with a lop-sided grin. "I'm perfectly aware of what I've got, hoss. I don't need remindin'."

"I'm sure you don't," Kip said blank expression.

This no longer felt friendly. This felt like Kip was trying to tell Eliot he had competition.

"Well," Kip said with a smile. "I'd best get back to my day job," he told them. "Good to meet you Nate…Roy. Give me a call and let me know when you need me at the restaurant. I'll be there."

Eliot turned to Claire with a curious glance. "Something you wanna tell me, darlin'?"

She sighed. "He's an old friend, that's all."

"That's all?" Eliot asked with an amused grin. "Were we in the same room just now?"

She rolled her eyes at him and then turned back to Nate. "So, I don't know if Hardison's established aliases yet but Eliot's is going to have to be—"

"Roy Chapel, I'm guessing?" Nate asked.

"It's the alias I used on our vacation," Eliot told him. "Word got back to her family and they now know me as Roy Chapel."

"Alright, I'll let him know. He's going to hate it," Nate told them.

Claire smirked and nodded. "Good. Also, my family thinks we're married."

"So, now he has to fake marriage records too?" Nate asked. "Did you do this on purpose? To mess with him?"

"No," she said with a chuckle. "But it's certainly a perk."

"I'm assuming your family will expect him to stay with you?" Nate asked.

"Oh!" Claire said in surprise. "Yes, probably. I didn't even think of that." She brought a nail up to her mouth and nibbled on it nervously.

"Alright, I need to get back to Hardison and get him started on his part of this job," Nate told them both. "Eliot, we'll call you when we need you." Nate paused and turned back around to face them. "I believe you'll need these." He pulled out his wallet and then reached in and dug out two simple gold bands. He placed them in Eliot's hand with a smirk.

"You just carry those around with you?" Claire asked.

"I have 26 plans rolling around in my head at all times. At least ten of them include a fake marriage," Nate said with a grin.

"Good to know," she said with a nod. The look on her face clearly expressed her bewilderment at having 26 plans at one time. Claire was too impulsive to have more than one plan, let alone 26.

Eliot waved goodbye to Nate and then noticed Claire was still nervously chewing on her thumbnail as they left the store and headed back to her uncle.

"Is that a problem?" Eliot asked in concern. "That they would expect me to stay with you?"

"No, not a problem, really," she said nervously. "I just…no one's ever seen this part of my life before," she admitted. "You're gonna be the first."

Eliot took the hand she was nibbling on and pulled it away from her face. He held it in his as they walked down the sidewalk toward the stage. "It's not gonna change anything, Lanier. There's nothing for you to worry about." They stopped walking and Eliot reached for Claire's left hand. "If we're gonna do this, let's do it right."

She laughed and placed her left hand in his. He slipped the band on her left ring finger and then she took his left hand and did the same. They started walking again and Claire watched the sun reflect off the band for a few minutes before she spoke again. "You know I never really dreamed of a wedding like other girls. Every man I knew aside from my uncle and my…grandfather disappointed me somehow. And then with my mother being who she was—well, I always doubted whether or not love actually existed. Plus, my mother made marriage look like a business arrangement more than anything else."

"My life has always been heading in the opposite direction of commitment and marriage. I thought about it when I was younger but after everything that's happened and everything I've done…I can't really imagine how that would work," Eliot admitted to her.

"Now you get to find out. For the next week at least," Claire said with a playful wink. "C'mon, I parked the pick up around the corner. I wanna get back before my cousins and my aunt come home. If we get there after them they'll swarm you as soon as we walk in the door."

They walked around the block to where she parked the truck and Eliot stopped to take in the view. He recognized the truck immediately. It was a white and light blue 1965 Ford F-100. It had probably been in Claire's family for years. He imagined her grandfather probably drove it all the time. While he stood back to look at the truck, Claire climbed up in the driver seat in her flannel, cut off shorts, and cowboy boots. It was like a piece of one of his fantasy's coming to life. Good truck, strong willed woman, and a beautiful summer day. The only thing that would make this better is if they were driving off to a secluded cabin in woods some place to find a lake or a river. He wondered if Claire had ever gone fishing or if she'd like it. He'd have to ask her before the crew left North Carolina. Maybe they could sneak off for a couple of hours.

"You coming, Spencer?" Claire asked as she leaned out the driver's side window and smirked at him. It was as if she knew exactly what he'd been thinking about. Hell, she might have. "You wanna drive?" She asked.

"Hell no," Eliot said with a smirk. "I'd like to have the image of you driving this truck in my head for a long time to come. It's pretty nice view to have."

She rolled her eyes at him playfully. "Good ol' boys and their trucks. I will never understand it."

They drove a little ways out of town to a cozy yellow farmhouse. Claire led him quickly up the stairs on the porch, through the living room, and up the stairs to the bedroom at the end of the hall. She shut the door and locked it behind her. The whole time she'd kept her eyes peeled for any other people in the house. They never ran across anyone.

"What was that about?" Eliot asked in amusement.

"My aunt and my cousins should be home any minute. I wanted to get you in here to talk to you before they corner you," Claire said with a chuckle before she pulled him toward the bed and sat them both down.

The pale pink bedspread suddenly made him realize where he was. Claire's childhood bedroom. The posters on the wall dated it well beyond any kid that would currently be living in the house. He pointed to one in particular and flashed her a teasing grin. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Shut up, okay? Achy Breaky Heart was a cultural phenomenon," she said with a playfully defensive expression.

"Wow," he said with a chuckle. "Was it the mullet? I hear girls loved the mullet."

"Business in the front, party in the back. It really was a versatile look," Claire said with a laugh.

"And that kid?" Eliot asked as he pointed to another poster.

"Jonathan Taylor Thomas," Claire told him proudly. "I thought he was so adorable. Never missed an episode of Home Improvement—well until mom and I left, that is."

"So, this is where Claire Lanier spent her early years?" Eliot asked as he leaned back on the bed and glanced around. "It looks like it hasn't been touched."

"It hasn't," she told him. Suddenly she looked very far away. His brow furrowed and he reached for her hand.

"Hey, you okay?"

"My grandparents wouldn't let anyone clean out my room," she told him. "They kept it just as I left it. Everette said no one was allowed inside except to clean it. Gram didn't want anyone 'invading my privacy'. They were so determined that Everette didn't have the heart to touch it…even after they died."

He had a feeling that was coming. He hadn't seen them or heard her mention her grandparents, but still he sucked in a breath as the words left her lips. He knew she'd been looking forward to seeing them again and now she never would.

"Last year, Eliot. Gram died last year and Grandpa died a few months before that," She told him. He heard her sniffle and then saw her use her free hand to wipe her eyes. "I can't believe all that time I was gone I never thought that they might…How stupid was I? I mean I didn't think they were going to live forever, did I?"

He squeezed her hand and then pulled her into his side. "Not stupid. Hopeful. There's a difference."

"Everything is different now. It's been tough. Everette is married and he has kids. Turns out that's the one good thing that came from me being taken away from here. He didn't have to look after me any more and so he had more time to focus on himself and start a family of his own. He has two kids. And a wife. When I was a kid he never even had serious girlfriends. None that I remember anyway. I had all these ideas that I'd come back and things would be exactly as I left them. I should have known better."

Eliot shoved a few stuffed animals out of the way and then laid both himself and Claire back on the bed. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she quickly snuggled into his side. There really wasn't anything he could say to make this better and he had a feeling she didn't really want him to make it better. She just wanted him to be there for her. He could certainly do that. She rested her head against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his middle.

"I missed so much. I finally got what I wanted after all these years and I still feel…I feel—"

"Incomplete?" Eliot asked knowingly.

"Yes. God, yes. I thought I'd thought of all the things my mother and Moreau had taken from me, but I was wrong. I just found one more. Time. Time that I could have spent with my grandparents or getting to know my little cousins. I missed practically everything. I missed Everette's wedding! I can never get any of those things back. They're just…gone."

"No, you can't get those back," he said thoughtfully. "But you're here now. You've got time with them now. You don't have to miss anything else. Just keep telling yourself that. It won't fix it but it might at least offer some comfort." He rubbed her arm soothingly as they both looked up at her bedroom ceiling.

There was a pause before Eliot cleared his throat and playfully poked her waist. "There's a Tim McGraw poster on your ceiling."

"Man looked good in a cowboy hat, Eliot. I couldn't help myself," she told him with a watery laugh.

"How did a 12 year old you get that up there?" He asked in disbelief.

"Very carefully and with a very tall ladder," she answered.

"So, what were all those stages being set up for in town?" Eliot asked after a prolonged moment of comfortable silence. "The Festival isn't for another week."

"It's a local tradition. We have music and pageants and town exclusive events the week leading up to the Festival," she told him. "Lanier's Building Supply sponsers the stage you saw us on today. We've got a rotating slate of local musicians playing from 4-9 all week long. There's a bonfire every night. It's good small town fun."

"Pageants? Like a Beauty Pageant?"

"Oh yes. Miss Barbecue Festival and Little Miss Barbecue Festival. Every year. In fact, you are looking at a Little Miss Barbecue Festival five time winner," she said with a grin.

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked with a disbelieving look.

She said nothing but pointed to her white and gold vanity in the corner that had five tiny tiaras placed on strategic display.

"Oh wow," he said with a grin. "Never would have guessed."

"Yeah, the pageants weren't my idea," she said with a sigh. "I preferred the talent competition but I had trouble winning every year so Mama thought I should shift my focus." She pointed to a shelf not far from the vanity that had three huge trophies displayed. "First place three times. Only three times. I competed in it every year."

"Starting at what age?" He asked her with a quirked brow.

"They wouldn't let me enter until I was 5," she told him. "Didn't get my first win till I was 8. Mama thought it was a huge waste of time."

"Where's all the other trophies?" He asked. "You know from the years you placed but didn't win?"

"Mama made me throw them out. To her not winning was a failure and I was not allowed to keep any reminders of failure," she said after a long pause. She seemed hesitant to talk about it. He remembered his little league tournament trophies he'd gotten as a kid. Only two of those were first place, but he'd been proud of each and every one of them. He would have been furious if his parents had made him throw any of his trophies away. He couldn't imagine that a parent would do that to a child. She must have sensed his shock because she continued to explain. "Mama was convinced I was going to be a star. She hadn't gotten out of this town so she wanted to make sure I did…and took her with me, of course. I was her ticket out. Or so she thought. She pushed me pretty hard with all of my lessons and competitions. It was just her way." She turned to look at him for a long moment and then swallowed thickly. "I've never told anyone that before."

"About the pageants or the trophies?" Eliot asked with a furrowed brow.

"Both," she answered simply.

"You mama sounds like a piece of work," he told her honestly.

She chuckled darkly and nodded. "You have no idea."

"I just realized something," he said with a smirk. "You missed high school, didn't you?"

"Yes?" She asked in confusion.

"So, you never had a chance to try and sneak a boy up to your room?" He asked as he met her eyes with a mischievous grin across his lips.

"Not until now, no," She answered with a chuckle.

"Then I guess we'd better make sure you get the full experience, huh?" Eliot asked as he rolled onto his side and pulled her body flush against his.

She laughed and her face flushed. "Have I mentioned how much I missed you, yet? Because I have." She kicked off her boots and then sat up so he could move his arm from her shoulders. She repositioned herself in the pillows so that her shoulders and head were supported and then motioned him forward with a coy curl of her finger. "Come on, Cowboy. I'm waiting."

He followed her lead and kicked off his own boots before joining her. She expected him to go straight for the lips so when he started trailing kisses down her jaw she sucked in a startled breath. He settled over her and unbuttoned the top of her flannel shirt to give him better access to her neck. She arched against him as he went back to kissing her. She put a hand under his chin and impatiently pulled his lips to hers. He adjusted to meet her lips easier and she responded by wrapping her legs around his waist. The kisses grew deeper and their hands roamed over each other. Now that they were back together, they were both acutely aware of how long they'd been apart. Eliot unbuttoned Claire's cut off shorts and slid the zipper on the fly down. She pried her lips from his long enough to let him slide them off her body. He tossed them aside before slipping off his shirt and then quickly began to kiss her again. She was addictive. He knew that and they'd been apart before. Before she came back to take care of him they'd been apart for five weeks. This time they'd only been apart for four. So, why did this time feel different? Why had it left them both with this hunger to be close?

"You were killing me in those shorts and boots, for the record," Eliot told her in between kisses. "You should wear them more often."

She laughed against his lips and shook her head. "I think that would prove to be a little too much of a distraction for you, Spencer."

"Not possible," Eliot said with a smirk. "You can never have too much of that kind of distraction. Besides you really shouldn't hide legs like these." He moved his lips to her neck again and began to trail kisses downward. His hand gently caressed the length of her leg, from her thigh to her toes. She sighed contentedly and let her head fall back against the pillows.

Eliot stopped kissing her when he realized she was laughing hysterically. He looked up at her with a furrowed brow as she brought a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but you were kissing me and then I looked up and saw him." She said as she pointed to the Tim McGraw poster on her bedroom ceiling. "Now I feel like we're being watched." He shook his head at her as she continued to giggle.

He stood up on the bed, careful not to step on Claire, and found he could reach the poster. "Sorry, brother. You gotta go," he told the poster as he peeled back the tape on the corners with a chuckle. "This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever done to get laid."

Claire laughed louder and harder than he'd ever heard her and he had to admit, it was probably the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Laughter was one of the more obvious signs she was healing, however slowly. He peeled back the last piece of tape and then shoved the poster in her trashcan by the bedroom door.

"Now that that's done," she said with a grin and soft laugh. "You are about to get so lucky."

That's where she was wrong. He already was.