(More) 2 AM Conversations

After 03x08 (The Boost Job)

Eliot and Parker

Eliot's POV

"Parker!" Eliot barked, as the blonde rose from the table and headed toward the door.

He had been biding his time for hours, chatting amiably with the others over spaghetti, bantering with Nate about the Charger (which was still his, no matter what the papers said – it was the principle of the thing, damn it!). Eventually Hardison had excused himself to fiddle around with his EMP canon. Eliot couldn't quite follow the engineering patter, but whatever he intended to do, he had obviously been very excited about it. Nate and Sophie had taken his departure as their signal to head home as well, leaving him alone with Parker. She seemed to have forgotten her earlier fuck-up and his wholly justified irritation with her in the wake of their final meeting with the client. Eliot hadn't seen even the slightest indication that Nate planned to rebuke the thief for nearly getting him killed.

He would be willing to bet Sophie talked him out of it with some bullshit about not discouraging Parker from relating to other people.

Eliot, on the other hand, was more than willing to discourage their resident crazy person from random acts of kindness motivated by misguided empathy if it meant also discouraging her from compromising the entire freaking mission and getting him shot at and hit by a goddamn car!

She froze, midway to the door. He watched her decide whether to run for it, and felt a surge of relief when she chose to stay. The conversation was only going to get harder the longer they left it, and she was perfectly capable of avoiding him for days if she didn't want to talk. She turned around without moving her feet, keeping her weight on the leg closest to the door, knee slightly bent, ready to spring away if he made any move in her direction, or if she simply grew too uncomfortable with the discussion.

He raised an eyebrow at her, very obviously remaining in place. He even crossed his legs at the ankle, out in front of him, under the table, impeding his ability to stand quickly. Just because she had made strides toward acting and communicating like a normal person under Sophie's tutelage didn't mean that she didn't still instinctively react like a skittish animal, especially when she was on edge.

"Eliot," she answered warily, relaxing slightly in response to his posture.

"You already know what I'm gonna say, Parker." He kept his voice even and low.

She still tensed.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she said, too quickly, throwing the words between them defensively. "I didn't mean to get you hit by a car!"

"Doesn't change the fact you did," he pointed out.

"I know." She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, still poised to flee. "I'm sorry."

That time she actually did sound sorry. Great. Step one down. He sighed, and resisted the urge to rub his eyes. "Look, Park… I can't just say 'fine, don't do it again,' here. You know why?"

She hung her head slightly, hunching her shoulders. "'Cos it's only been a couple months since Wakefield?"

Well. He hadn't even thought of that. "I was gonna say 'cause I ain't sure you know why you did it, an' if you don't know why you did it, you can't promise you won't do it again, but actually, yeah, that's a good point."

"I was just… I was just trying to do the right thing," she muttered. "Both times. Maybe Archie's right – Nate did break me."

Eliot growled slightly under his breath. Fucking Archie. And at the same time, fucking Parker, because he couldn't be mad at her when she brought up her fucking awful past. Not without feeling like the world's biggest asshole, at least. If she could learn to manipulate people that effectively on purpose, she would rival… well, Nate, at least, as a grifter.

"You ain't broken, Parker," he grumbled. "It's… good, to want to do the right thing. But you gotta… ya gotta find some kinda balance. No more of this puttin' yourself an' your team at risk for other people, okay?"

She nodded and relaxed, coming back to the table. He waited. She wouldn't have sat back down if there wasn't something more she had to say. It took her a few minutes to work herself up to actually saying it, though.

"She reminded me of me," she said at last. "Josie. That's why I did it. I kept looking at her and seeing me, when I was with my crew up in Detroit. Is that weird?"

He shook his head sharply. "Nah. We all got history."

"I just… I just wanted to help her. I didn't want her to go down with the rest of that crew. I wanted her to… I wanted to tell her something I wish someone had told me, when I was her age," she said firmly, after a bit of wavering.

"I know." There wasn't really much more to say to that. Eliot let the silence stretch between them for a few seconds. "Would you have listened?"

"Listened to what?"

"If someone had told you those things you wish they had, when you were a kid. Would you have listened?"

She shrugged. "Maybe? Prob'ly not. I still felt like I had to try, though." She made a face that might have been disgust. "I don't like having feelings, Eliot!"

He laughed at that, and was almost surprised to hear a touch of bitterness to it. "It's easier to just be cold, isn't it? Empty? No emotions to compromise your objectivity, no morals makin' you second-guess yourself, no attachments 'cause it's safer that way…"

He was looking at his hands, scarred and stained with invisible blood, folded on the felt of the poker table, but he could see the thief shifting uncomfortably in his peripheral vision. "Do you miss it?" she asked suddenly. "The not-feeling?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. The word sounded gravelly as he said it. He cleared his throat. "It was… simpler."

"Me too," she nodded, looking utterly miserable. "I mean, other people make more sense now, a little, but I'm confusing. I'm confusing to myself!" She made another face, frowning intensely at her knees, now pulled up between her chest and the table. "Sometimes I wish I could go back to the way I used to be," she admitted. "But I tried, and I can't. I'm too different now. I have been for a while. It's no fun just stealing anymore like I used to."

Eliot wasn't exactly sure what she meant by that: Was 'just' stealing no longer fun because it wasn't exciting enough just to outwit security systems and acquire a meaninglessly large amount of money I'd there wasn't a con aspect as well? Because it was more fulfilling to help people, like their clients? Because she had realized that her crimes hurt others, and she only wanted to steal from people who deserved it? Because she didn't want to work alone anymore? Was 'just stealing' her personal shorthand for a larger and more complex idea? He couldn't even guess.

He did know one thing, though.

"I wouldn't go back if I could," he said decisively. "It's good to be able to act that way if you have to. To know what you got inside you, if you're pushed to it. But it's no way to live, like some kind of machine, or a monster. It's the feeling that makes us human, Parker."

She sighed, resting her chin on her knees and staring of into space. "Being human is hard."

He raised the last of his beer toward her in a silent salute. Don't I know it.