Sophie walked into the Pub, silently removing the black wreath from the door. She left the "Closed due to death in the Family" sign posted. They would open again tomorrow, but for one more day the restaurant would remain silent.
Well, not exactly silent. Someone was in the kitchen, putting away the delivery of fresh produce and supplies. Everything had been donated to a food bank when they'd agreed to close up for a week. The rest of the staff would be back in tomorrow to try to resume a semblance of normalcy in their lives, even though they all knew that would not, could not, happen.
Laying the wreath on a side table Sophie made her way to the back. She avoiding looking into the kitchen, into Eliot's domain. It looked too empty these days, and she knew it would, regardless of what was going on there.
Stepping into the office she thought about everything that had gone on in the last few days, and still found herself unable to fully grasp the situation. Most of the past 7 days were a bit of a blur. Nate had called a few of Eliot's contacts, and let them spread the word. He had been sure to call Quinn himself. Despite their initial meeting, Quinn and Eliot had forged a rather unique bond of friendship recently, and he deserved to here the news directly. His first reaction had been expected, asking who needed to be killed in retaliation. It took some convincing to assure the young hitter that no such actions were needed in this case. He promised to stay in touch with the team, and to be there in a heartbeat if his assistance was ever needed. Sophie remembered calling Tara to let her know what had happened. The blonde grifter had tried to be cool and detached, but it didn't take too long until the two women were both sobbing into the phone and trying to comfort each other long distance. She had offered to come to Portland, but Sophie assured her there was little point at this time. There would be no service or wake. The team had considered it, but given the circumstances, it didn't seem like a reasonable action. Besides, Eliot hated ceremony and formality. He'd rather everyone just had a quiet (or not so quiet) drink in his memory and move forward. That's what they were now trying to do.
She sat beside Nate, who had barely looked up to acknowledge her arrival. "Still sorting through his papers?" she asked softly.
"I can't get over how organized he was about all of this." Nate shook his head. "I can't believe how much preparation he put into his – his death. God Sophie, my will still includes Maggie and Sam, and here I look at Eliot's affairs and he had every detail mapped out. Not just the will – everything. The contingencies he thought out. Not just what to do if he died, but what to do if he was injured and couldn't take care of… What to do if he'd gone missing." Nate's voice broke slightly. "What to do if he died and there was no body to prove it, or if we couldn't go to the authorities. He lived every day fully expecting to die before the end of it."
"No Nate, not expecting to – ready to. He knew the chances he took, and he knew why he took them. Just the fact that he was so organized about it showed that."
"He shouldn't have been so damned detached about it. Maybe if he cared a bit more, he wouldn't have taken so many chances."
"Is that what you told Shelly? What you've been telling Parker and Hardison?"
"Of course not."
"No – you reminded them that every decision Eliot made was made out of concern and compassion, even though he'd never admit that to anyone, even himself. Eliot cared in the only way he could. He told me once that he knew he was going to Hell for the life he'd led, but if he could help balance the scales some, then he could accept the consequences. Personally, I think the scales were balanced years ago, but I gave up trying to convince him of that. He did what he did because it kept him sane, kept him stable. Kept him from going off the deep end."
"From sinking all the way down." Nate nodded mostly to himself at a remembered conversation.
"Exactly. So how do you think he'd respond to your reaction?"
Nate grinned, just a little. "He'd be pissed."
"No kidding." She smiled back at him. "So, did you find addresses and keys?"
"Of course – like I said, he was incredibly organized."
The envelope Eliot had left in their office safe included consent for Nate to take care of every aspect of the estate. He'd been given power of attorney for all matters financial and medical. His money was all set up in trusts, with Nate having full signing authority. Properties were jointly listed, and Nate and Sophie decided there was no point in postponing the inevitable any longer. Today they would begin packing up those properties and moving forward. Parker and Hardison had been left out of the discussion. They were still in shock, not yet fully ready to deal with the new reality, and the senior team members had no desire to force anything this emotional onto them yet. The time would come that they would have to face the facts, but that time did not have to be today.
Grabbing his jacket from the back of the seat, Nate stood. He pocketed one of the sets of keys, took Sophie by the hand and they quietly left the office.
From her perch on the roof, Parker watched the duo head out. She wondered where they were headed, knowing there were no jobs in the works. Maybe it had something to do with the restaurant opening again. Maybe they were just getting out for a bit. Just going out, just doing normal things again. Parker doubted she would ever feel like doing normal things again. Eliot would have laughed at that, and told her she'd never done them before, so why start now. She smiled, hearing that laugh in her head. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned, expecting to see him there.
Hardison watched her face transition from smile to shock to sorrow in the blink of an eye. She'd forgotten again, for just that moment. He brought reality back to her, and hated himself for doing so.
"What are you doing up here Hardison?"
"I was about to ask you the same question."
"Weeding the garden." Hardison looked at her with his mouth hanging open. Of all the possible answers he had considered, that had not even entered his mind.
"Eliot grows his herbs and stuff up here. Somebody has to take care of it until he bets back, so I got some books. At least now I know which ones are weeds and which ones are" she paused, looking down at the soil and the book perched beside it "cilantro."
He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to hide his reaction to her ongoing use of the present tense. He was less than successful.
"What? He's coming back Hardison, and he'll need these in the kitchen. I do not intend to have him mad at me for letting all of this d.." She caught herself. She would not use the word die in any context involving Eliot. If nobody said it, it wasn't true.
"Parker…"
"NO! He's coming back. Shelly was wrong. You're wrong. Eliot didn't get killed in some damned God-forsaken little village without anyone there for him. That's not right. That's not fair." He tried to reach for her but she leapt back. "You can't tell me that's what happened. I won't listen." She turned her back and took another step away, but this time Hardison was too fast for her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. When she tried to break free, he just pulled tighter. After a few moments of struggling she stopped moving, and the fury turned to frailty as she trembled against him.
"He's not coming home, is he?" She whispered in a voice almost to soft to be heard. "He's never coming home." Hardison said nothing, but gently kissed the top of her head. They lost track of how long they stood there, not moving, barely breathing. Finally, Parker slowly pulled back, rubbing a hand over her face to try to wipe away the tears. When she looked up at Hardison he had to bite his lip to fight off the grin.
"What?"
"You got yourself one pretty little mess there girl. How many weeds did you pull?"
She looked down and saw the garden dirt on her hands, and pictured what must have now transferred to her face. She too, found herself fighting the urge to laugh.
"Think I pulled more herbs than weeds. Guess I'm going to have to learn more about this if we're going to keep this garden going. For Eliot." Hardison's heart began to sink again until she finished her thought. "Eliot's memorial garden. As long as we keep it going, it keeps him with us – part of the kitchen."
"Damn girl – how'd you get to be so smart?"
"Good teachers."
Late that evening Nate and Sophie returned to the restaurant and settled in at a table. They were soon joined by the others, who had been called in for the informal meeting.
After an awkward couple of minutes, Hardison spoke.
"Kitchen is all set for tomorrow. Everything is set up – nothing's being changed."
"Yeah – we're keeping Eliot's menu, not that anyone can make the stuff as good as he did, but at least it will be his stuff."
Nate was relieved to here Parker talk about Eliot in the past tense at last. Her denial had been worrying all of them, but somehow she had found the strength to take the next step. He hoped that would make the next few minutes a little easier.
Without speaking, he reached over to the table beside them and retrieved the small box he had placed there on his arrival. It had been one of the first things he and Sophie found at Eliot's apartment. There was nothing fancy about it. A simple cardboard box labeled "for my friends" in faded ink. In a darker – newer – ink, friends had been crossed out, and family written beside it. It sat in the centre of a coffee table, with nothing near by. As they looked through the house Sophie found a space on the bookshelves where, she deduced, the box sat when Eliot was not on a job. Not out doing something from which he might not return. This had been left for them to find, and had likely been moved to that table innumerable times in the past.
He opened the box, as he had done at the apartment. This time though, he removed the contents and handed them out accordingly. Three envelopes were distributed and one, his, remained inside.
Hardison was the first to yield to his curiosity. Picking up the envelope he was surprised there was more weight to it than he had expected. As it was opened, a chain fell to the table. Picking it up he felt a chill move through him. Dog tags dangled from the end – Eliot's dog tags.
Parker stared, confused, but before she could speak Hardison started reading the note.
"I don't have a lot of me that I can leave to people. It's not who I am.But there are somethings, some very important things, that need to have a safe home when I'm gone.When I joined the service I was proud to wear the uniform. That time, those early days, helped me become someone other that a hot tempered out of control kid who could find more trouble than any other 10 folks combined.I learned discipline, and inner strength and what was really important in life.Then I started learning other stuff.And the more I learned, the less I wore the tags.Still was military, just not anything to be proud of anymore.I stopped being me, and the tags didn't represent anything anymore. I put them away.Put that part of me away.For years.I'd almost forgotten I owned them.Then, slowly, because of 4 people who saw past the exterior, that part of me started to wake up again. And after time, a lot of time, I was able to pull the tags out of the past and remember the kid who wore them.He still wasn't ever coming back, but I could at least remember who he'd been.The tags meant something again.I think you saw that in me in a way no one else did.Maybe it's 'cause you'll always be a bit of a kid yourself.That's a good thing.That hope and spirit are important.So you keep these for me now.Keep a little bit of both kids alive."
Sophie gulped her drink down, trying desperately to maintain a bit of composure. Nate dipped his head, smiling at how even now, Eliot could surprise them. Parker reached over to Hardison, gently squeezing his hand before picking up her own envelope. Once again, a chain was inside. This one had a small coin hanging from it. She looked to the others, but all were clearly as mystified as she was. She unfolded the short note.
"I know you don't keep things Parker. They don't matter to you. It's the money itself, more than what it does or what it gets, that you like.That, and the thrill of finding new ways to steal it.But sometimes things break through and take on meaning, whether we want them to or not.
I was on a job – the details don't matter. There are still things you don't need to know.When all was said and done, there was a young girl, 7, maybe 8 years old, left in what used to be a drug lord's village.She was alone, scared, and wickedly defiant.Took a lot of talking to convince her I wasn't just some mercenary looking for a pay out (although she wasn't far off with that idea).She wouldn't believe that I just wanted to take her home; take her back to her family.But finally she let down her barriers enough to share a little trust.When I walked her up to her home the next day and turned to leave she held onto my hand and begged me to wait for a minute.The minute dragged out as she was all but smothered in welcoming hugs from her family, who were all smart enough to not trust me in the least.But she pulled away and ran into what I guess was her room.A few minutes later she came out and pressed this coin into my hand.She said it wasn't much, but I knew it was all she had.I tried to tell her I couldn't take all she had and she smiled and looked at her family.This – she said pointing to them – is all I need.Nothing else.It was the best payment I ever got, and a hell of a lot more than I deserved, everything considered.Now you need to safeguard the only piece of currency that has ever actually mattered to me.I hope you understand why.
Hardison reached over and picked up the chain from the table. Before she could object, he had reached behind Parked and slipped it over her head, and watched it settle around her neck. He then did the same with his chain, pressing the dog tags against his chest. They looked to Sophie, and with shaky hands she picked up her letter. Once again, a chain fell, but this was a fine gold chain with a delicate porcelain yellow rose dangling from it. It was so un-Eliot she paused, wondering if there was some cosmic joke attached to this.
"I don't do sentimental. I don't hold onto things, so as a result, I don't have much to give. But what I do keep is important, and it needs to be left in the hands of someone who will understand that. This belonged to my mom." Sophie had to struggle to breath for a moment. She squeezed the small rose tightly but carefully into her palm and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Feeling Nate's hand on her arm she opened her eyes, focusing them back on the letter, knowing if she looked at the others she would not be able to go on. "I used to think she was the only person who would ever understand me. When everyone saw a fighter and a trouble maker, she saw a kid who just didn't know how to deal with his anger and insecurity.Just like you saw a man who, years later, still didn't have a clue.You saw past my self doubt – make that my self loathing – and forced me, and helped me, to find the guy underneath that.Given how deeply he was buried, that was one hell of an accomplishment.Mom would have liked you.She would have wanted you to have this.I know I do."
Nate did for her what Hardison had for Parker a few moments earlier. Pulling her hair out of the way, she allowed him to fasten the clasp and she felt the rose settle against her body. She knew she would never be taking it off.
Finally, Nate reached into the box and remove the last envelope. He couldn't keep the surprise off his face as he registered the absence of any weight. Sure enough, nothing fell to the table. His envelope contained only a single sheet of paper. He fought an underlying sense of despair as he picked up the document. He didn't know why Eliot would have deemed him unworthy of a tangible memory, and wasn't sure he wanted the others to hear the reasoning, but knew there was really no choice in the matter.
"I know you saved this until last Nate. It's how you work.And I know you are wondering why I left nothing to you.Look around you Nate.I am leaving you the most important thing in my world.I am leaving you my trust.My trust that you will take care of these people with every fibre of your being.My faith that you will not go back to the old ways, but that you will rally and take care of them in the ways I can't do anymore.I don't expect you to do my job, I expect you to notdo it.To not take on more than you can handle.To ask for help when you need it.Walk away when you have to.Listen to my annoying voice in your head telling you to back off. I'm leaving you my family to take care of.Nothing is more important to me Nate.Nothing."
They sat quietly together, each in their own world, but sharing the moment as only family can.