Notes: Good news for the fandom, as of last night I have the rest of Fathers planed out, we have two more chapters and a epilouge to go.
Yesterday I bought Leverage Season One on DVD which will likely prove a very good thing for fans of my work and a Nintendo DS lite (and games) which will likely prove a very bad thing for fans of my work. Hopefully it will balance out a little.
Once more my internet is down and my internal Hardison is crying because I've been reduced to dial up.
Warnings: Vauge and not so vauge implications of sexual abuse, angst, people without doctorates trying to discus the stuff in feilds they don't have doctorates in, symbolisim.
No Christian Kanes or children were hurt in the making of this fic. Stay in school.
Fathers
Chapter Five: Conversation
Lawrence Kentucky
22 Years ago
"Elie… Elie… Come on big brother. Open the door." Joey's voice, muffled by the bathroom door tried to coax him out or at least let her in. Elie tried to steady his breathing, stop the sobs he knew she could hear, give her some kind of solid acknowledgement that he was okay. He should. He needed to pull himself together.
He pushed himself away from the toilet he'd lost what little he'd managed to choke down at dinner into, but his body felt as limp and he ended up flopping backwards. The cold tile against his body and the injuries That Man had left him with stole a soft cry from him, his usual self control all but completely stripped away.
He turned on his side and curled up into a ball.
He could hear Joey pounding on the bathroom door, calling his name as loudly as she dared.
He should tell her he was okay. He should tell her to be quiet before she woke That Man. He should let her in.
He should do a lot of things but right now he just… he just didn't care right now.
He was too fucking tired to care.
He closed his eyes and curled tighter. Without clothes between him and the floor the cold seeped into him, numbing him, calling him under. He felt hot blood crawl down his skin still leaking from…
He shuddered, feeling it again, seeing, smelling…
Hands touched his shoulder and he whirled, barely stopping before he hit his little sister. The girl had gone out into the hall and come into the bathroom through the door from his room.
Her eyes were wide, round, scared. She was only ten but she knew enough to realize, even if she mercifully didn't truly understand, that something had happened that was worse than the beatings he was routinely getting.
She didn't cry. Neither of them had cried in years. She just reached down, finger tips just barely brushing his cheek like she was afraid he was going to fall apart. It was then he realize that she hadn't cried in years. He'd been crying for awhile now.
He broke eye contact, scrubbing at his cheeks and trying desperately to pull himself back together. He just… he had to make this okay. He…
Joey sat next to him and pulled him into a hug, holding him like mama used to, the way that made you feel safe after a bad dream. Carefully, almost awkwardly like she wasn't sure, she ran a hand through his hair and made soft soothing noises like he'd done when she was younger and would run to him for protection from bad dreams.
She was protecting him from a bad reality.
He pulled away a little but she kept her hands on his shoulders, lightly, but keeping contact. "No Elie." She said softly, ducked and twisting her head until she could catch his eyes with hers. "Let me be the big brother for once."
He took a sharp breath, dropping his eyes from hers only to see the blood, vomit, and things he couldn't even identify the hug had smudged onto her clothes. She looked down and shrugged, brittle, broken smile on her face. "See, I'm already as dirty as you."
It would be a few more years before she would understand why that caused him to break down again. A few years to understand the full extent of the cruelty that had left that thirteen year old boy sobbing, naked and bleeding, on the bathroom floor or how he'd warped and twisted in the years that followed.
But even as she held the brother she'd never dreamed would falter, praying to god that she would be able to hold him together, she understood one thing.
It was something she'd never be able to forget, something she prayed she'd only have to do just this once.
Two months later she gave her last confession and never set foot in a church again.
oOo
There was a long moment where no one moved, almost no one breathed as the horror and shock wrapped around them.
When Sophie took a step forward Eliot's grip tightened around the boy and his posture changed, screaming a warning to anyone who'd seen him fight. Nate had taken half a step forward, eliciting the same reaction when Parker moved.
"Steady, steady." She whispered, her voice pitched strangely low and Nate almost wondered if she was imitating someone. Her eyes were locked on Eliot's, face showing only concentration but she moved with slow caution, her hands up just enough to keep them visible.
Eliot didn't withdraw further.
She crossed the barn floor, standing in front of Eliot, holding out her arms almost like she wanted him to hand the boy over. Brief recognition, his posture changed, and though something about his expression made it clear Parker *had* to be kidding him he relaxed his hold. Her head cocked to the side and she shrugged. "Fair point" evident in the way she moved.
"Where are you?" She asked. "Where did you go? Who are you?"
He took in a deep breath and let it out, relaxing one tiny bit at a time. He licked his lips and answered. "Eliot Spencer. The picnic house…" He closed his eyes and opened them again. "And that's where…"
"'ncle Elie?" The crying boy broke the moment and Eliot looked down at the boy, horror crossing his face once more.
"El?" He asked, his voice more gravely than normal but softer all the same. "Hey buddy, you okay?"
Parker turned back to the others with a look that clearly said "Get over here already, what are you waiting for?" In the back of his mind Nate wondered when they'd all become fluent in reading expressions that contained mostly variations of squints.
The next words the boy spoke eased away the horror just a little. "Yeah. I think so… He just cut my hands." The boy unclenched his fists to show jagged cuts on both the palms. "He… he still has Marie. I told him to let her go 'cause" He swallowed hard, obviously trying to stop crying. "I'm her big brother an' you an' mama always say I have to protect her but he just cut my hands and rubbed the blood on my clothes and left me here." He let his head drop forward, letting Eliot hold him.
The relief on Eliot face was almost painful to see. Nate didn't know what game That Man had been playing at but the same sick feeling in his stomach that he'd had at the start returned.
Sophie came forward, taking the boys hands gently to examine and being her most soothing she could be. "That's alright, it alright. We'll get her back but you need to be safe now. Did he say anything else to you or your sister?"
Intelligent blue eyes far too like Eliot's blinked at her before looking to the others. "You're 'ncle Elie's friends aren't you? He told us about you." He looked back to Sophie something half between a laugh and a sob breaking from his throat. "Marie always wanted to meet you all." He turned back to Eliot and ducked his head against his chest, no longer crying but looking very like he wasn't to far away from checking out for a long while.
Eliot looked down at the boy and then up at the others. He opened his mouth to say something, having as hard a time as the rest of them at figuring out something to say to this. Finally he said. "El said That Man told him to tell me he'd be in touch. We should go back to Joey. She could be in danger if she's alone."
No one said anything as they left the barn and got back into the van and drove home. El fell asleep almost the moment he was safely buckled in, nestled against Eliot.
Joey was waiting for them by the door, taking in the sight of their grim faces and Eliot carrying her son she let out a strangled sob. Eliot shook his head. "No, Jo'. He's alright. Just a couple cuts. No mess."
"Marie?" She asked, opening the door to let them in.
"I… I'm sorry. He still has her." Eliot looked down at the boy in his arms. "I think… I think she'll be safer than…" He trailed off and Joey nodded and they both turned to head up the stairs like they barely even noticed the rest of the team. They probably didn't. They were being taken back to a private hell.
A personal nightmare that allowed little room for everyone else.
There was silence. None of them just… they needed to do something but they were all still processing.
He was the man with the plan though so he had to do something. "Hardison set up so you can trace any calls. Parker, do whatever you'd do to get ready, we might need you sneaking in somewhere. Sophie go see if Eliot or Josephine need help."
They all nodded, turning to do as told.
Nate went after Parker, waiting until she'd gone out onto the back porch to call to her. "Parker."
She turned giving him a confused look. "What?"
He caught up with her. "Back there?" He asked, trying to understand what had happened. Parker had the social skills and subtly of a sledge hammer. How she'd been the one to reach Eliot was a mystery. Considering they might need to reach him again in the near future he would like that mystery solved.
She turned away, climbing to perch on the porch railings. "He was having a flashback." She said. "Reliving something that happened to him before." She explained like she thought Nate might not understand. "It happens sometimes to abused kids. Other people to." She added the later bit like an afterthought. "A long time ago one of my foster parents had a foster kid who'd come from a really bad place. She got flashbacks a lot and he'd help her wake up. I figured since I can only act when I imitate people I'd try what he did." She looked over at Nate, giving a small Parker smile. "But the 'steady steady' was from when Eliot tried to teach me how to ride and I spooked the horse."
Nate sighed, processing, feeling a slight pain in his chest when he had a feeling he knew exactly who the girl she was talking about was. This mess was dredging up more than just Eliot's past.
He nodded and turned away, he had other things to do. "Hey Nate?" She called and he turned back. "You said we're. Before. You said 'we're thieves'." It took Nate a moment to remember what she meant another to admit it may have been a Freudian slip. She just smiled her Parker smile. "So you admitted you're a black king. Now just admit you're repelling with Eliot and things might go a little better."
Without further explanation she stood on the rail and shimmied up onto the roof overhead. She peeked back over the lip, grinned a little and retreated further.
Nate stood on the porch for a little while, looking out over the yard. He could almost hear the sound of giggling kids as they ran around. A swing hung from the branch of a big oak tree not too different than the one that once hung in his backyard.
He let out a breath.
It was all too much. Jobs with children being hurt were hard. Jobs with his team being hurt were hard. Memories were painful and this? He'd known for years that Eliot had been abused, that it had probably been worse than he'd ever admit to. But seeing it laid out like this? That shattered look on Eliot's face when El might have been brutalized, the fact that it was just that man toying with Eliot…
He needed a drink.
He'd been better about that lately but he really just needed a drink. He didn't want to think about That Man, or the traumatized Phillips children, or that Eliot might not come back to them from this, or how his own Father had run out like Eliot had and ended up commiting suicide, or that Hardison had become so jumpy when they'd driven closer to the county line for a reason Nate could only guess had to be personal, or that his suspicions about Parker had been almost confirmed or that Sophie knew and god knew what would happen next with that.
He wanted a drink.
Instead he got Hardison ducking out the back door. "Hey, Nate, we're all set up and El's asleep. Sophie's trying to get Joey to rest. Eliot shut himself up in the guest bedroom and I think I saw Parker sneaking along on the roofs so she might be in there with him."
Nate nodded leaning back in the porch swing he'd found himself sitting on. He should be planning but he felt exhausted right now, even more than he should be. It took him a moment to realize it was because he and Eliot had been up Very late the night before. Eliot had gotten into a bar fight after work and come home with his blood pumping the way Nate should probably be worried that violence tends to get Eliot.
He'd only gotten a couple hours sleep. It hadn't mattered at the time. Eliot barely slept and the couch in Nate's office had been very comfortable for a reason.
Had it really been less than a day?
"You know you really should pay more attention when I do my job." Hardison's voice broke through his reverie. "I mean really. How many times have you asked me to track someone via cell-phone and I carefully, in simple small non-technobabble words told you that I couldn't *only* because they were turned off. Then you two decide you're going to get a place together and try to keep it off the map but NEVER turn your phones off."
Nate looked over at Hardison. It took a minute to realize what Hardison was getting at before Nate could start glaring. "You were tracking us?"
"No, but when I got a break on a case at four in the morning and I couldn't get in touch with either of you but you're cell phone's were on I figured you might be in trouble I looked to see where you were. When you were in the same place I was worried, right up to the point where I went to the location to try to see if you were being held hostage or something and I could help or you know, stand and watch as Eliot beat the shit out of everyone."
Nate winced, imagining what Hardison might have found. "And…"
"Apparently the landlord's daughter is about as insomniac as I am. Seriously, the girl was "doing her rounds" watering plants or something when she saw me in the hallway. I guess I kinda startled her. As she was helping me wash the pepper spray out of my eyes and apologiesing for it she found out I was looking for you and started complaining about how she wished more couples were like you two and how these days the only nice men were gay."
He winced, but at least Hardison hadn't checked the video feeds or something.
"That not what I wanted to say though…" Hardison said with a sigh, going over to lean against the porch railings.
"After I found out about The Black Knight, and stopped being pissed, I started doing research. I mean, I figured it was probably something that only happens when you live like we do so there wouldn't be much but what could it hurt." He tapped his fingers against the rail, visibly agitated by his train of thought, not wanting to say what he was about to say. "I read something, didn't think much of it, but after today. What if it isn't some new thing, just a new version of something?"
He turned, facing Nate, sitting perched on the railing of the porch. "Dissociative Identity Disorder, what most call spilt personalities. I mean, I think we're missing the big one cause other than the fact he's mildly less scary in normal life than he is in a fight there's no real second personality…" Hardison trailed off. "I mean he has some symptoms but we're talking about things that are normal for all of us." He was strangely still now and Nate almost had to wonder at the change to their youngest team mate. "I kept reading though and a couple other things I saw made just as much sense. I didn't have much to go on but… with all this." He let out a long slow sigh, looking at his hands.
Nate looked up at the ceiling above them, a hand scrubbing down his face. "Nearly all those diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder reported long-term abuse by a family member or someone they trust. Most often the abuse was sexual in nature." There is a short, pained pause before he continues, refusing to even consider that right now. "The disorder begins as a coping mechanism. The child compartmentalizes, pretends it happened to someone else, even force themselves to forget. It happens again and the pattern continues until a separate identity forms." He meets Hardison's eyes, a small bitter grin hinting across his face. "I've been trying to figure this out for nearly ten years."
Hardison nods looking down. "Got any theories?"
Nate looked out over the lawn again. "There were pieces I didn't have until now." Or didn't want to consider. "You?"
Hardison shrugged and muttered something. After a moment he said it louder. "It doesn't happen overnight. It's not one day you've got healthy kid and the next you've got two kids in the same mind. What if… what if he got out before the second one was defined? If instead of a second personality he's just been instinctively doing what he did before and tuning out. Only with all the violence once he's out he lashes out."
Nate stared into space. "Every time I've seen him go… he's either been badly hurt or he's seen someone been badly beaten…" His voice trailed off, remembering Parkers words. "Flashbacks… it triggers a flashback which triggers him to white out… that's why it hurts him not to let it go, he's stuck in the flashback…" He looked toward Hardison who gave a apologetic shrug. Nate was reminded of back on that damn plane where Hardison reminded him his knowledge of unknown fields was limited to what he could pull off the internet.
Neither of them were psychologists. "It doesn't matter." He said, standing. "We've got the best at what we do on this team but we're not doctors. Trying to give it a name won't help us deal with it."
Hardison shook his head. "It's good news. I mean, if I'm right then things are good." Nate turned, giving Hardison a look that seemed to adequately remind Hardison just how not good things were right now. "Right, they're bad right now, really bad. But Nate? If it's this… it's got a treatment. They say with treatment most patients get better. I know you said it was getting worse and this won't help at all but it might not be some bat-shit crazy mental disorder you only get after you're kill list starts to near four digits. It might have a name and some way to make it better, not just go away for awhile."
Somehow, Nate actually smiles a little, realizing what Hardison meant. There is something to be said for knowing your enemy. "There's one major flaw to your plan." Nate remarked, a tiny hint of humor on his voice. "I'm relatively sure any treatment would mean therapy. Getting Eliot to go to therapy…that's something I don't see happening."
Hardison almost laughed, a grin on his face. It eased something a little. Even after all they'd found out, after all the painful bits of Eliot's past they'd been dragged through he was still their Eliot, and the image of Eliot on a psychiatrist's couch talking about his feelings was still ridiculous.
Nate was continuing his aborted exit when Hardison stopped him one more time. "He'd go if you asked him you know." Nate turned back, confused. "He'd complain, and mumble, and threaten to punch someone but he'd go. Probably wouldn't even piss off the doctor, intentionally at least." He shook his head, disbelieving smile on his face as he watched Nate. "You don't get it do you? Eliot's not the type that say a lot, he lets what he does do the talking."
Nate swallowed, his heart pounding a little more than he'd like. "What does he say?"
Hardison shrugged. "I'm a talker and I don't know him as well as you do. But think of it this way. Whose the only member of the team whose never gone off the reservation? He complains and gets annoyed but he does what you tell him and never asks why, even off the job."
A memory jostled it's way through Nate's brain. That jury job, back when everyone thought Parker was just being Parker. Nate had told Eliot to go with her to check something he hadn't even specified out and after realizing Nate meant *now* he'd gone. He didn't ask why, or what until he needed to know to do his job.
Hardison's voice broke through his memory. "That's not just doing his job… that's trust and loyalty in quantities I didn't even know someone in our line could Have."
Nate nodded, muttering something… maybe thanks… and turned away. He'd reached the door when he turned back one last time. "What about the horse job?" He said, mentioning the one time he could think of Eliot had gone off the reservation.
The door opened without Nate's help and the man in question stepped onto the porch. "That was for family." Eliot said. He looked and sounded almost steady but a little bit off, resigned…
Afraid.
"Who did ya think Ame's was?" Parker said following him out the door.
Nate smiled bitterly. Ames… Amie. The family who'd helped him survive as a child. They'd come first, especially since their relationship had been in it's infancy.
Sophie stood in the doorway, hesitating a moment.
Parker let go of the door as soon as she was through and went to sit next to Hardison. Eliot caught the edge of it, keeping it from shutting and holding it open as Sophie sighed and stepped out onto the porch to join them.
