Notes: Dedicated to my wonderful beta, ALS_wonderland who started this chapter.
Fathers
Chapter 4: Hindsight
Of all the counties in all the states of all the world they just had to be headed to Indiana County Kentucky.
Somewhere in the back of his mind Hardison was itching to say that, to make a movie reference because Casablanca was an awesome movie and should be quoted more often.
But they'd ask why he knew that county and what it meant to him and for once Hardison had no interest in sharing. There were some things you just didn't share. Some things went unmentioned. Wasn't this whole case a sign that some things just went unsaid?
So Hardison didn't mention that he'd been born in Indiana County and raised just over the county line in Hardoaks. He didn't say his biological mother was just fifty or so miles west of them, probably drunk or high in front of the tv in her trailer. He wouldn't say one word that coming back to Indiana county was about as sickening as any of his other "homecomings" had been.
The team knew he was a foster kid but in their minds there was a different kind of disconnect then those that kept them from thinking about the hell Eliot had been through and the abuse heaped on Parker to make them who they were, but there was a disconnect all the same. Statistics alone said that Nana couldn't have been his first and last foster home.
Before that and in between? Every time he'd been thrown from one foster home to another there'd be a brief little trip back to Indiana County, back to his mother's trailer and the smell of burnt food and close quarters and his mother's screaming at him. She never hit him, sometimes he almost wished she had because he thought at least then the social services would stop trying to send him "home".
That wasn't home. Home was five miles away in the old house they'd had before his dad died. His dad was an engineer, getting into computer technology when the clunky modems of the nineties were still the stuff of science fiction. More than that he was a black man who'd been the youngest child in a family of sharecroppers who worked and saved and studied until he could get into college and get his degree and try to give his family a better life.
His mother had told him so. One of his few good memories he had of the woman was on her better nights she'd tell him about his father and his history saying what Nana would say years later. "If you know where you come from it's easier to see where you should go."
Hardison had to admit, growing up with those stories was probably why he'd taken to technology, why he'd become who he was.
As they rolled up the driveway to Eliot's sister's house, hauntingly so similar to the one he'd seen in pictures, Hardison made a small offering to the man upstairs. If this homecoming of Eliot's ended alright, with the kids safely home and Eliot in one piece and the team okay, he'd take a side trip those fifty miles to see his mother for the first time in nearly fifteen years. If Eliot survived this homecoming Hardison could survive one of his own.
oOo
Eliot drove. The Picnic House, as the kids always called the old abandoned barn and fields where their mother took them for picnics, wasn't more than a thirty minute drive even when he was being careful to drive at the speed limit. The last thing he wanted to do was get pulled over and go through the mess of police. He couldn't be late. The children couldn't afford it.
Somewhere behind his eyes he could feel a migraine building. It was pounding to a level that would have impaired him if he wasn't as used to functioning when he was barely able to stand. Distantly he knew that it was on of many signs that something wasn't right, that he was toeing a very fine line but it was mostly drowned out by the white noise filling up his head and the task that lay ahead.
oOo
The dust had barely been raised by the tires of Eliot's truck before the team was racing back to their van to follow. A woman came bolting out of the house calling for Eliot even as she ran to the team putting a hand on Nate's shoulder. "Stop… he's gone."
"That's why we're going after him." Parker said in her "I'm trying to be reasonable" voice.
The woman Nate was somewhat certain was Josephine shook her head. "No you don't get it. He's gone, he won't stop for you. I couldn't even talk him down earlier."
It took Nate a moment to register what she meant. Gone. He swallowed the bile in his throat when he realized she meant Eliot was gone. "Black Knight?" He let the words slip out softly. He'd never actually seen Eliot stay that way for longer than a few minutes in the heat of a fight.
She nodded. "I think so."
He looked after the truck, long gone from view, remembering Eliot's words when they left. The white knight had been left vulnerable to a black rook or black knight. He swallowed the most recent in a long line of waves of panic, keeping his head to focus on the job.
Josephine dropped her hand, clenching it into a fist and then letting it go. "Theres no reasoning with him now. Elie's gone to meet with That Man. He… I…" She was wavering looking at all of them, back up the road, faltering and trying to breath through the kind of panic Nate had a feeling he understood.
He met Sophie's eyes and nodded. He might understand but Sophie would be better at handling it, and Nate was needed elsewhere.
Sophie put a gentle hand on Josephine's shoulder, leading her back into the house. For a moment Nate, Parker, and Hardison stared at each other, trying to think of something Anything to do. Hardison had spent most of the trip looking through information and records but had been distracted, upset. Nate knew he had to be taking this hard. He, Parker, and Eliot had been getting close, almost like siblings in Nate's mind. Though distantly Nate wondered if it was something other than discovering exactly how bad "not a chick flick", the closest Eliot had ever come to describing his child hood, was.
"What's the plan Nate?" Parker asked, finally breaking the silence.
That was the question of the hour wasn't it?
oOo
Eliot stopped the truck a block away from the edge of the park. It added at least twenty minutes to the trip but habit and survival instinct dictated he leave his vehicle somewhere safe and out of sight.
He readjusted his gear, checking his knives and checking himself to make sure he was ready for whatever came. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to go into a situation "ready for anything" because you didn't have the team doing recon to make sure you knew what you were up against.
He wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, confusion flooding him when he saw something red drop onto his nose. He pulled his hand away, wiping the blood off and only belatedly noticing a rather deep cut on the pad of his thumb. He must of cut himself on one of his blades or… something.
He hadn't even felt it.
It was another sign that something was wrong.
His cell-phone went off, the ever annoying ringtone Hardison had hacked his phone to plant letting him know it was Sophie calling.
He should answer. He should wait for backup. Every instinct he had was screaming at him that he was being an idiot and needed to stop thinking strictly tactically about how to do this and think logically about why he shouldn't be doing this alone.
He shut off his cell, holding it in his hand for one brief moment before hurling it against a nearbye tree.
He wasn't even sure why he'd done it.
Pressing his fingers against the cut on his thumb to stem the flow of blood he started to walk.
oOo
They'd barely made it a few steps into the living room before Josephine just broke down. Sophie stumbled a little, helping the shaken woman to a couch and holding her as she sobbed, patting her back and playing her part. She might have little love for Eliot and she could be vindictive but she wasn't going to take it out on his little sister. Especially not when she was going through the kind of hell this day must have been for her.
While holding the sobbing woman and cooing appropriately comforting things Sophie was thinking. She'd spent most of the past few hours just trying to work through her feelings about the revelations and everything it all meant. She kept getting hung up on… well okay everything really.
She was so angry at Eliot but then… hearing that voice… Eliot as a child as he just broke down under what had happened had been heart wrenching. She wanted to help him. It didn't make her forgive him but she was more than her (now futile) love for Nate. It had made her realize even though she was close to wanting to wring both their necks for playing her for the fool all this time she still cared. She still wanted him (and them) to be okay.
And if Eliot (and this woman, and her kids, and the others) were going to be okay they all needed to think straight. Nate didn't seem to be having much luck in that field so she'd have to do.
She let go of Josephine. They had to go after Eliot. Even if they couldn't talk him down from doing something he'd regret, even if they couldn't save him when it had really mattered (twenty years ago) maybe they could prevent further damage.
"Where is Eliot going?" Sophie asked gently. The woman took a moment to answer but in the end Sophie had enough that they'd be able to use Hardison's GPS. "We have to go." Sophie whispered. "We'll bring him back. I promise."
Sophie got up and walked out the front door to meet the others. "We have to go." Sophie said. There was a breath, a pause, and then the flustered haphazard planning halted. Ocumez Razor said that the simplest solution was often the best and it looked like they would be going with that.
oOo
It took longer than Eliot remembered to get to the Picnic House, or maybe it just seemed longer. He was loosing track of time. Loosing track of… something. He felt mixed up and pulled apart like he had years ago, back on the streets and on the run and hurting.
He'd never really stopped hurting, but after four winters on the streets he'd managed to freeze over parts of himself that he couldn't handle. Helped along by his own fracturing mind he'd bottled it up, isolated, compartmentalized until it was something else, someone else, something that didn't feel and only fought. It hadn't been until years later he realized he created a monster in his own head.
The monster wasn't in his own head any more though. His parts were unfreezing and coming apart and he just…
He'd just hold it together a little longer. He'd save Eliot and Josephine and things would be okay. He could fall apart then.
He turned around a bend and broke through the tree line, the Picnic House was up ahead.
He headed straight for the open door, not checking his surroundings like he should. He couldn't make himself break that stride toward the door, even when he heard a car racing toward him he kept moving until he passed under that archway into the dark.
oOo
They'd driven over the speed limit, used Hardison's gadget to change lights to green, taken a lucky short cut and driven straight into the park and overland to the Picnic House. They saw Eliot ahead, crossing the fields to the barn like he was in a dream.
Or a nightmare.
They called to him, screeching to a halt and piling out of the van as he entered the barn.
There was a sound somewhere between a roar of anger and a cry of pain that echoed through the trees sending birds into flight and the team running.
Eliot stood in the rear of the barn lifting a sobbing twelve year old boy into a hug, blood staining the back of the boy's jeans and a look on Eliot's face Nate could only describe as shattered.
