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Eliot Spencer was not sleeping. He was resting his eyes, and resisting the urge to glance at the strange thief currently at the wheel. At the start of the trip, he had figured the hardest thing he had to do was to convince Parker not to spill over where they were going, and to talk her into coming along. Turned out she had already copped to the fishing trip lie, and really hadn't asked for much clarification in regards the wedding, not whose it was or where it was being held. So that solved that.

He had not counted on the disturbing new problem that had arisen somewhere off the I-84 past Danbury. Not counted on that at all. It was alarming on so many levels, he wasn't quite ready to process it. Sure, he and Parker had shared looks. Sure, he'd be lying if he didn't admit she was a beautiful girl. But that was all he had allowed it to be. A locked away maybe, never to be explored for so many reasons. At first, her crazy ass ways had made him wary, then smile. Her innocence in general had put the brakes on any attempt at a casual fling just to scratch an itch. Parker didn't play like that. Until tonight. Damn she had all but ignited as she leaned in-between his legs and teased. And it was not a playful big brother tease either. It was a woman playing with a guy, and very nearly winning a very particular kind of game. And it had not been innocent. He wasn't sure whether to be proud she had the balls or terrified that she had discovered a multitude of new ways to torture him. Or scared for her, because she plainly had no idea what she was doing. Once, he might have thought less of her, thinking her sly for pulling that shit when Hardison was across the country playing dress up with strangers. But he knew her. She wasn't that chick. He had watched as awareness cascaded in her eyes, and witnessed the confused frown so fleeting as the teasing had grown intimate. There was no thought just reaction to her actions, and he couldn't condemn her for that. He had almost gotten used to her hugs now, her version of affection was throwing an arm about his and Hardison's neck and squeezing herself between them. It was a massive step from that and cheek kisses to what she had been pulling off back in the lay by. He winced, because if she was that good her first try, then H had no idea what was coming his way. That thought was a dark one, and imagining her teasing H like that stung. A lot. And he had no right to be stung by it.

He lifted an eyelid and watched her as she drove, bopping out of time to the radio. For a girl so smooth in a laser striped vault, she really was not that great a dancer he mused. Though he doubted she ever really got a chance to learn moves like most teens did. All her focus lay elsewhere whilst they were learning how to deal with guys and the secret language only women knew to drive them insane. Though she managed to do that without such skills he realised, albeit in an altogether different fashion. He wondered what she was thinking about, and if she was rattled by what happened, then decided not. Parker was not a worrier by nature. See a problem, work out a solution. Happy go lucky Parker. He'd only ever seen her out of her comfort zone a couple of times, and both were related to her childhood. That pissed him off. She was athletic, brainy and beautiful. Mad as a box of frogs, but still, she could have owned the world if things had gone differently. In a way, he guessed she was owning the world now, one theft at a time. It still didn't seem fair.

Closing his eye as she turned he felt his skin warm, under her scrutiny. He should have admitted being awake he thought, feeling like a dick, not wanting her to see him staring, and now caught in a fake sleeping position. Dumb ass. How old was he anyway? He snapped open his eyes, not willing to be fifteen again and she started, smiling at him faintly. Then she looked back to the road, and if he hadn't known better, he would swear she was anxious. Not that it showed on Parker, she had the best poker face in the business when required. Did she require one now? he wondered, then mocked himself for being a freakin' girl. Seriously, just sewn up a wound sustained saving kids from armed robbers and now he was getting goo goo eyed. Maybe 90 minutes a day wasn't enough sleep any more. Maybe he needed like 120.

"You can sleep Eliot. I know how to drive." She gave him an out and he took it, not caring it wasn't true.

"Yeah right. I saw you reverse into that lane back there when the cops passed. Probably got grit splattered all over my paint job."

"What your truck's bullet proof and not gravel proof?"

"It ain't a freakin' force field Parker! That shit scratches just like any other paint job."

"Huh." He got the tone she used when she had already lost interest. She wasn't much for manners was Parker. He resisted another new urge. The one to throttle the blasé right out of her. The radio was playing some old country stuff and he let his eyes close again, leaning back on the head rest. He tapped his thigh in time to the old McGraw tune, letting himself just be.

"Why didn't you become a rock star Eliot?" Parker's question slipped under his skin.

"Do not mock me Parker. I've had a very trying day." He refused to open his eyes again.

"I'm not mocking I'm asking. Honestly you try and have a regular-"

"I refer you to Rule Three of our arrangement." Not opening them. Ah shit. Opened.

"So it's personal? Really?" She glanced at him in surprise. "Huh. I thought personal meant families and secrets and-"

"I think you'll find a lot of things fall under the personal remit for the purposes of this journey."

"Cool." She shrugged nonchalantly, eyes on the road. Eliot wondered when he stopped even trying to be civil. Damn it.

"Never had a taste for it. Just liked playing guitar is all." That should do it. Rock star. Hah. He called her naive, but felt a glow of warmth in his gut anyway. Rock star my ass.

"Now was that so hard?" She corn balled him and grinned his way and he stifled a laugh. Her accents were gettin' good.

"Has Sophie got you doing a British accent yet?" So far Hardison had cracked that one. His English accent messed Eliot up. Lord Huffington Barry Pugh or some shit, whatever it made him chuckle whenever he heard it.

"Nah. She got mad when I practised my Lock Stock on her." Dropping her voice an octave, she carried on,"Oi! Keep your fingers out of my soup!"

Eliot couldn't help grin. At least she managed the one line from that movie without cussin' in it. Accent sucked though.

"What d'you think?" He wasn't expecting to give feedback. Ah hell.

"Well, I think you should keep workin' on it darlin'. Sophie is scary talented with those accents. But she can't jump off a building less you're with her so don't sweat it."

Parker went quiet. He wondered if he should offer her food. Pink rocked out on the radio, singing about a pill. Tune was kinda catchy. They drove on, and Eliot gave up on a reply, going to rest his eyes again.

"Do you think stealing is a talent Eliot?" Jesus what now? He lifted his head and stared at her, hoping she saw his grimace, even from the corner of her eye. This was a lot of talking she was expecting for a guy who was supposed to be sleepin'.

"Whadya mean?" He had no clue. Parker was being Parker. Cryptic curious creature.

"Is it a talent or a skill?"

"Wha'sa difference?" He couldn't discern what she was getting at. And something in that warned him to tread carefully. A conversation with Parker could be more exhausting than navigating land mines in Serbia.

"You can learn a skill. A talent is a gift you just have, special to you. You got singing. Hardison got his knack for programming-"

"Hey that's a skill. And my singing is just nuthin' just-"

"You have a talent stop being un-Eliot like and own it. Hardison's talent is writing programmes, his skills help that talent, but that's like, super smart what he does. The talent came before the skill. You see?"

"Not really." Eliot all but groused at her, thoroughly pissed off with the whole Hardison being super smart comment which pissed him off that he was pissed off about it. Man if he smoked he would be lighting up about now. Fuck. H was a genius. No denying it. And she was still frickin' talkin'.

"And then Sophie, well that is a talent, you said so yourself."

"So what's Nate's talent?"

"Being able to do it all. " She sighed, and slumped in her seat and he ran a hand through his hair, vexed.

"I feel like you're cheatin' Rule Three here Parker."

"Whatever." She ignored him then, and leant one arm on the window frame so she could lean her head on her hand. The picture of fed up.

"Well, stealing isn't exactly a talent." He couldn't lie. Some folks stole using fists and guns and brute strength and it wasn't pretty. She went deadly still and he carried on, not sure where he was headed. "But to be the best like you, well hell yeah you need talents." He thought on it. "Talented athlete, for starters. You can't learn grace Parker. You got it or you ain't."

She looked around at him, an oncoming vehicle lighting her up with its headlights. Her eyes were wide and her smile genuine.

"You think I'm graceful?"

Eliot tugged at his shirt, feeling like the soft fabric was smothering him. How in hell had this started again? Had he not been explicit enough? Shit. Put this thing to bed Eliot he ordered, then mentally eviscerated himself for such an inappropriate analogy.

"Yes Parker. You have a lot of talents, you just put them all together and a thief comes out. So is stealing a talent? No. Are you a talented thief? Yes. Got it now?" Phew, he felt his hands clam up. This was worse than sitting through one of Sophie's plays for crying out loud.

"Thanks Eliot." She grinned at him so happily he figured the clammy hands were worth it, Then hated himself and growled.

"Wake me up at Westchester." He turned over to face the window, his arm sore but manageable even though he was now leaning on it.

"Okay I-"

"That was code for shut up Parker."

Finally she gave him some peace.

She greeted him with coffee when he woke, poking it through his open window and he lifted his head, bleary eyed, taking the Styrofoam cup automatically.

"Welcome to Westchester." She lifted her arms, as if to say, this is it. All of it. She also looked beyond awake, standing in a brightly lit forecourt of a gas station with a diner attached. Busy. Lots of people.

"Wha's the time?" He pushed hair from his face and took a slug of the steaming brew. It scalded his tongue and tasted like crap, but damn, coffee was coffee.

"Just gone eleven." It felt later to Eliot. He stretched, testing his arm. It was cool, just a little stiff. He had really been out he realised, feeling like he'd slept for hours.

"Any trouble?"

"Like what?" With a baffled shrug, she sipped her coffee and looked at him over the rim.

"With you Parker, could be anythin'. Anythin' at all." Getting all the knots from his muscles he stretched again and popped the door so he could walk a bit. Sleeping was good, but waking up after sucked if you made a truck seat your bed.

"No. No trouble." He knew she was lying. He stared over his shoulder and was about to demand all, when he noticed a few eyeballs on them, so checked himself. No need to draw attention.

"Hold this would ya? I'm going to the-" He whistled. "Stay in the truck." She nodded, and he felt her watching him as she made his may to the mens.

He used the facilities, and whilst washing his hands had a talk with himself in the mirror. It was an enlightening conversation, and he got the message. No more. Do not let this get out of control. Do not make something outta nothing. Hands scrubbed, he slicked his hair and tugged his shirt, then made a face at himself. What was he doin'? Sorting out his damn appearance? Like when had that ever mattered before. Half the time he was a mess on the job, even when in character, since his job involved, well, mess. Idiot, he mouthed at his own reflection, pointing at himself. Freakin' idiot.

He stalked back to the truck, since stomping was not his way no matter how much he could go for some stomping right now, and climbed in the drivers side. He started her up, and they got on the road again.

"So what is it Parker," he asked, taking back his coffee. He felt refreshed at least. She looked like she'd scrubbed up too. Definite perkiness going on with her.

"I don't want to say."

"Parker." A more frustrated intonation of her name was not humanly possible.

"I was listening to the radio and the George Washington Bridge is closed." Oh man. "So traffic's all headed to the Holland Tunnel."

"I freakin' hate driving in this damn city!" Eliot let his head fall back against the seat and cussed like a sailor. Parker sat quiet, a thoughtful expression on her face. "What?" He barked the question.

"What time do we need to be where we are going?" Still wouldn't ask where, he thought, stubborn cat.

"About midday. I was hopin' to get there before."

"So how many hours away are we now?" Straight forward enough but he sensed this was not going to be. At all.

"About six, give or take. Why you asking Parker? Makes no damn difference to the bridge being closed. Man," he shook his head, and thumped the wheel in annoyance,"I knew I'd be stuck in traffic. I should have just gotten a damn flight and-"

"So why didn't you?" Parker was genuinely curious.

"Because your boyfriend," yeah he said it, "spies on every one of my aliases, even the ones he ain't supposed to know about. And fishin' don't usually involve flyin'."

"Unless it's fly fishing." He looked at her and she made a face. "What? There is a thing called fly fishing. I saw it on Animal Planet."

"You watch Animal Planet?" Her confession surprised him sufficiently that he ask.

"Er, hello? I need to watch it to know what to do if an animal attacks. Horses aren't the only ones that I don't like." She shuddered in memory and he patted her arm, feeling guilty again.

"You did great though, you really did. You see that Monsters In Me show? That shit is freaky as hell. And you wonder why I grow my own food man." He shook his head, mind filled with images of the last episode he watched, so disgustingly fascinating.

"Yeah. The hookworm was urgh." She shook her head, recalling the details, and Eliot stopped and looked at her, aware he was doing the same. He smiled. She smiled back. Things were cool again.

He drove awhile before her silence rubbed him raw.

"Just spit out your plan Parker, 'cause you have one. I can smell it on you."

He watched as she barely restrained the urge to sniff herself.

"How about we skip the traffic jam and leave early tomorrow instead?"

"Friday night in New York darlin'? The kinda place we could get a room even I don't want to sleep in, we'll just have to sit it out. I'm over it already." Plus he was suspicious as hell she would want to stay in New York. No way was she robbing Tiffany's on this trip. No freakin' way. The station buzzed as a new frequency cut in and he set it again, very aware that she was fidgeting beside him. They were all but through Scarsdale when she finally burst out with it.

"What if I have somewhere we can stay? Even for a couple of hours. Rest, no stress, no cab drivers making you insane-" she had witnessed his ire at a truck driver earlier and it made her look meek at the wheel to his eternal shame-"just an easy night and we leave first thing, nice and refreshed. You don't want to get there and then sleep. It'll be like having jet lag for cars. Car jag."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Whatever, I have a place Eliot. Do you want to use it or not?" She sounded oddly nervous and giddy about it. It piqued his curiosity for sure. But he wasn't getting suckered in so easy. No doubt she wanted to con a room and loot Tiffany's. He wouldn't have it on his watch.

"Thanks Parker," he cleared his throat as her disappointment tell flared, "but I think we should just keep going." He looked in his dash for change, hating the stupid city once again. Freakin' toll roads every five minutes. If crestfallen had a face, it would be Parker's. He would not cave though.

After sitting in traffic on Central Park Avenue for the longest forty minutes of his life, and he was a man well versed in war, he turned to Parker who was watching a couple make out in their car since they had abandoned all hope of using it for its actual purpose ever again.

"Where?" His gruff command was answered instantly. She didn't even look embarrassed at being caught watching the couple. Minx.

"Take the Bronx River Parkway." Muttering to himself, he eased into the right lane and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and chewed the skin a little. A comfort gnaw.

"I-"

"Not one word darlin'." He was saying that an awful lot he felt like and she was ignoring it. He was sure of it.

"Same to you too." He looked at her, confused, brow furrowed and mouth ready to tell her what he thought of that when, "It's a secret. So you need to keep it. OK?"

Her earnest expression , a one off possibly, had his full attention. Eliot was honest to God flummoxed. And intrigued. He sat up a bit straighter in his seat and glanced at the traffic surrounding them. He weighed it up before looking back at her, direct in the eye so she saw he was being honest.

"I won't tell a soul Parker."

So much for Rule Three.