Chapter Four: looking on another day
"Does anybody know
If we're looking out on the day
Of another dream?

If you can't get what you want
Then you come with me"
- "On Melancholy Hill" by The Gorillaz

"Who do you want me to be?"

It wasn't quite the answer Joseph was expecting when he asked for Sophie's name, but from the satisfied smile on her face, it looked like he might be forced to play along. He shifted in his seat and sighed, tilting his head as he mentally flicked through the various identities she had played out during their sessions.

"Michelle. She seemed like an interesting character."

It was amazing to watch her melt into the persona, her body language shifting just enough to let him know that something was different, the look on her face going from predatory to a bright smile.

"I did not think you wanted to see me again," she said, the French accent rolling off her tongue.

"Of course I did." He fumbled for his pencil and leaned back into his chair. "Now, let's get started."

"Oh, you want me to dance for you now?" She stood in a liquid movement, walking towards him, her hips swaying. "You are impatient today."

He swallowed hard as she bent over, her nose almost brushing against his. Her lips curved into a seductive smirk, and she settled into his lap, her legs straddling his thighs.

"I don't think this is such a good idea," he stammered.

He tried to push her off, but she grabbed his hands and placed them on her hips, gyrating a little and scooting closer.

"But this is what I do."

She rolled her hips into his, and he couldn't help groaning in the back of his throat, his body already starting to respond to her weight against him. She draped her arms around his neck and slid even closer until she was flush against him, her hips moving in a constant, torturous slow rhythm.

Her lips brushed against his ear as she murmured, "You wanted me to do this, even if you would never say it."

"No." But it came out half-strangled, and the way his pants were tenting was a clear indication he was lying.

"Do not lie to me. You are not very good at it." She bent back at that moment in a graceful movement that shoved her breasts into his face and then straightened up, her body moving a little faster against him. "You see, I know things about you. About how much you want me."

The voice was still tinged with Michelle's thick accent, but the words were what he knew would come out of Sophie's mouth. That didn't stop him from thrusting up into her rocking hips.

"You come in here, thinking you know me, thinking you can manipulate me. But, you cannot because you do not understand how to control me. That is what this all is. Sex, your therapy sessions, this damn place."

She was gone in an instant, and when he opened his eyes to look up at her, she grinned.

"It is all about who has control and who does not."

He blinked because all he could think about was the fact she was about to leave him with a huge hard-on and a professional mess once anyone got a look at this tape.

"I don't understand."

She flashed him a smile, all teeth that chilled him to the bone. "Of course you do not."

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she sauntered out of the room; he slumped back in his chair and breathed slowly until his brain started functioning again.

As her words echoed in his head, he started to smile.

Parker was used to being ignored. It came from years of living in bad foster homes and then Archie's many absences after he took her on. It made her a better thief, and it also meant she heard a lot that people didn't think she did.

She looped her legs around the thick pole and swung back until she could grab the ledge, dangling from it; she slid her hands along the cool metal and flipped them so she could turn her body around and pull herself up.

"Impressive."

There were two doctors observing her as well as the mandatory five guards. This happened every week, but the doctors never talked much.

"Even without any aid, she can move like that. Imagine what she could do if her hands were different."

Parker gritted her teeth and flung herself off the ledge, stretching her body out in the air and then curling into a ball; her hands hit the ground first, and she used her momentum to roll and come out on her feet. Her palms stung. She ignored that and took off at a run, launching into a series of a few flips.

She crouched down and sprung up onto the lowest ledge. She used the small grips jutting out of the wall to clamber up to the ceiling. She stayed there for a little while, just listening.

"Would we have to change the texture of her skin to do that?"

"We'll need to experiment further to be sure, but I don't think it would require a change on her entire hand."

"She's incredibly strong already. Should we start her on a regimen of steroids?"

"I think so. If we go ahead and stabilize that part of her body, then we won't have to worry about that."

Parker narrowed her eyes and grabbed onto the nearest pole, sliding down it a little and wrapping her legs around the next one. She hung there for a moment, her hands reaching for the floor, before loosening her muscles enough to slip down the pole until her fingers rested against the floor.

She missed air ducts, but they didn't want for her to disappear into small spaces where they couldn't see her.

One of the doctors motioned to the guards. "We're done with her for the day. Thank you."

She watched the doctors leave the room, and she sighed when the guards stepped closer. She flipped her legs over her head and walked to the door all in one fluid movement, the guards trailing behind her.

Sterling didn't even look up from his work when Erik strode into his office. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'm here to offer you one last chance to work with me." Erik grinned and rocked back on his heels. "So what do you say?"

Sterling smirked and closed the file he had been looking at. "I'm afraid I will be unable to offer my assistance to your little project."

"That's too bad. I'll make sure your daughter knows that her father cares more about the welfare of criminals than hers."

"Ah, I wasn't done," Sterling said, raising a hand and motioning a man in a dark suit forward. "Erik, I would like for you to meet my good friend, Christopher."

"What the hell does he have to do with anything?"

"He's my new bodyguard, and he has a whole group of them that are currently keeping watch over Olivia. So don't think you can send one of your little teams after her without severe repercussions."

"Are you threatening me, Sterling?" Erik's face twisted in anger as he slammed his palms against the desk, leaning forward. "Do you really think you can play these stupid little games with me?"

"I'm betting on it, yes," Sterling replied calmly. "The first mistake you made was threatening my daughter. Please don't make another by assuming that I'm not serious about this."

"This is your last chance, Sterling."

"And this is your last chance to get out of my office before your kneecap has a tragic accident. Christopher here is very effective at doing his job."

Sterling leaned back in his chair and waved his fingers at Erik in a goodbye. Erik straightened up, fixing his suit jacket, and he turned on his heel. Sterling waited until the door closed behind Erik to let his brow crease with worry.

"They are the best, right, Christopher?"

Christopher smiled. "The favor I owe you is very large, Jim. My men will not let anything happen to her. I can promise that."

"Go stay with her and send someone else to me. I'd feel better if you were there."

"We can do the swap this evening when you go home."

"Good, good. Now we just need the last piece of this puzzle."

"What would that be?"

Sterling's eyes roamed over the map on his desk and the files he had pulled from Interpol and various other sources through less-than-legal means.

"Nathan Ford."

Joseph watched Erik pace the length of the control room and wiped his palms against his pants. They had just finished playing back the footage of his latest session with Sophie, and it was the calm before the storm.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" Erik finally spat out, whirling around to face Joseph. "We brought you here to find out what you can about them and Nathan Ford. Not to try to get lucky."

"You can see from the tape that I didn't instigate anything," Joseph replied in a weak voice.

"You didn't exactly push her off of you, either. I shouldn't have expected anything different from you, though, considering that you were about to lose your license over an affair with a patient."

"You still took me on. You obviously thought I was qualified enough for the job."

"You were the only one we could get." Erik stopped his pacing and looked back at the screens. "At least, the only one with the qualifications we needed."

"Are you implying that I don't have morals?"

"You don't. If you did, you would have never fucked a patient."

"A momentary lapse of judgment."

"That lasted for ten months. Has your wife left you, by the way?"

Joseph shook his head. "She likes holding this over my head. Besides, she would have to go back to work if we got a divorce."

"Well, have you found out anything useful? It's been a year." Erik moved to the control panel and played with the buttons until he pulled up footage from the last group session. "I would think that's enough time to crack them somehow."

"Parker twitches if you bring up her past, Hardison, or being abandoned by her team. Hardison is lying through his teeth, but he knows the lie so well that it's impossible for me to find fallacies in it. Eliot is more than likely lying, but he's not going to crack anytime soon. Sophie, well, I've made absolutely no progress with her." Joseph settled back into his chair. "I would almost say she was insane if I didn't know better."

Erik frowned. "What makes you think she isn't?"

"Lying is the way she makes her living. Besides, she's carrying on an affair with Maggie Collins. For every piece of her life we try to control, she finds a way to take some back."

"What are you going to do to get the answers we need?"

Joseph smiled and pointed to the board where all of their pictures were placed, his focus lingering on Sophie's. "We completely strip them of control over their lives."

"And? How should we do that?" Erik sighed and started pacing again with his irritation. "I need results soon, or it's my neck on the line."

"Isolate Parker completely from everyone around her. She'll start to turn feral, but she'll be much easier to break. Force Eliot to lose control against someone. Let him kill again. Reverting back to who he used to be will upset his equilibrium. Hardison is already on the edge. He really only needs a push." Joseph clasped his hands together and smiled. "As for Miss Devereaux, we need to strip her of her identity. Go ahead with the surgery."

"Do you think they'll be able to lead you to Ford after that?" Erik's eyes lit up and a smile danced across his face.

"You'll have everything you need."

Maggie crawled into bed beside Sophie, wrapping her arms around Sophie's waist.

"No one's seen Parker for three days," she said softly as Sophie shifted in the small space. "Do you think she escaped?"

"It's a new experiment. They're isolating her."

Sophie traced her fingers down Maggie's arm and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Maggie smiled a little, hooking her foot around Sophie's nearest leg and pulling her a little closer.

"How do you know that?"

"Joseph told me. Apparently, it's not a secret."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Sophie nuzzled her nose into Maggie's neck. "I'm not a mind reader."

"Could have fooled me."

"Don't be a smartass."

Maggie laughed a little. "They're not going to take you away from me, are they?"

"I don't think so. Are you that attached already?" Sophie pressed her lips against Maggie's neck.

"Maybe you shouldn't think so much of yourself," Maggie replied, playing a little with Sophie's thick hair. "But, these people are going to do something to you."

Sophie sighed. "I've had to see the doctors more this week. They've been talking about surgery."

"What kind?"

"I don't have the details."

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

Sophie didn't answer; she scratched her nails along Maggie's back through the thin material of her shirt. Maggie hummed approvingly at that and let her grip on Sophie's waist loosen a little bit.

"Sophie?"

"It's sweet that you trust me so much."

Maggie frowned. "So you are lying to me."

"I'm keeping a secret."

"Soph…"

"Don't." Sophie rolled onto her back and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm trying to do the right thing."

"By not telling me anything?"

"The less you know sometimes, the better off you are. Don't worry, Maggie. I'm going to be all right."

Maggie sat up and tilted her head to the side as she traced her fingers along Sophie's cheek. "That is a lie."

She slid out of the bed and moved to her own. The room felt a little colder, but she was used to that after this nightly routine. She listened as Sophie turned onto her side and faced the wall. Maggie huddled into her own body and closed her eyes.

Eliot shrugged his shoulders as the doctor stepped away, a used syringe in his hands; this was a daily procedure now, and he could already feel the added bulk the steroids were forcing his body to take on.

This was something new. He had heard the doctors talking about a drug, something about increasing his pain threshold. A grim smile spread over his face; if that was true, his pain tolerance was going to be ridiculous.

A nurse moved to his side and pushed him down into a chair. He obeyed without any hesitation, which was a worrying impulse. This was all only conditioning after all, but it had been a very long time since he had responded so willingly to another's directions.

He was handed a cup of water and a few word puzzles to play with. He heard the doctor step out of the room, and even as he worked on his puzzles, he tracked the two nurses and three guards in the room by the sound of their footsteps and conversations.

No stint in captivity was going to make him completely lose his edge.

He estimated that it was about thirty minutes later when the two doctors came back with a couple of orderlies lugging a block of cement behind them. They settled the block with a dull thud on the white floor and left.

"Mr. Spencer, we have a few tests we would like to conduct now."

The formality of this place still got to him sometimes, but Eliot stood up and turned in a fluid motion; an added benefit of whatever they were putting into his system was the increased ease of the way his body responded to his mental commands.

He walked to the stand in front of the doctors, noting the way the guards at the door rested their fingers on their guns' triggers. He scoffed internally at their paranoia.

"What do you want me to do?"

The taller doctor motioned to the cement block and stepped back. "Strike the block with the heel of your hand as hard as you can."

"I could damage my hand permanently if I do that," Eliot protested.

"Nonsense. You know how to handle your body and prevent damage. Now, go ahead."

Eliot huffed at the fact that his concerns were ignored, but they were right. Apparently they had been paying attention. He took a deep breath and drove his hand against the block, using his hips to provide the momentum he needed.

He grunted, but it felt like hitting a pillow.

The short, skinny doctor nodded his head in approval. "Good, good. Now, describe how it felt. Is there any pain?"

"No." Eliot examined his hand, looking for any broken skin or fractures in his bones. "It didn't hurt at all."

Both doctors started making notes on their charts while a nurse moved to his side and inspected his hand, bending the fingers and prodding at the point of impact on his palm. Eliot kept his focus on the doctors because it was obvious they were pleased.

"You thought I might actually hurt myself," he accused.

The tall doctor looked up and fixed a superior look on Eliot. "These are experimental treatments, so there are always some risks involved, yes. But, we've tested this drug on other individuals and knew the results. This just confirms that you haven't had an unusual reaction. As of yet, anyway."

Eliot growled and moved forward, but the orderly jerked him back. He stopped short. He tried again, but at the pull on his arm, he immediately stood still. There was something else in his system.

"What else did you do to me?"

"It's just a mild dose of an inhibitor to keep you under control. We would prefer to not have to resort to crude methods of punishment for any bad behavior." The short doctor had a smug smile on his face that Eliot really wanted to punch off. "Nurse, we're done with Mr. Spencer for the day. If you will please have him escorted back to his room and have someone check on him every twenty minutes to make sure none of the drugs react oddly with his systems."

The guards at the door were grabbing onto him before he even had time to register their movement, and he reluctantly let them lead him back to his room. When the door shut behind him, he started pacing the room, clenching his fists at his side and unclenching them, resisting the urge to beat the crap out of the wall.

He ended up losing that battle, and the nurse was very surprised when she came by twenty minutes later to find Eliot cradling his right hand against his chest, a mess of blood and broken fingers.

Hardison shuddered when the nurse pricked his finger and wiped the small drop of blood that welled up onto a testing strip. She repeated the same process on his other hand and walked off.

He waited, fiddling with the keyboard she had put in front of him; it had been so long since he had been anywhere near any sort of technology that he could almost feel tremors coursing through his body. Eliot would make fun of his pseudo-addiction if they were able to talk, but no one had even seen Eliot for a few days.

Or Parker, for that matter, which worried him more.

The lights dimmed around him, and he glanced nervously over his shoulder to make sure there were no sudden surprises headed his way. The nurse just nodded at the keyboard and flipped a switch.

The wall lit up into six separate screens that were so reminiscent of their old headquarters that he wanted to cry.

He waited for some sort of instructions, but after a few minutes of silence, he pulled the keyboard closer and started exploring.

The icons, the documents, everything was eerily similar, like what he had stored on his laptop when he was taken in. He moved to click on the shortcut for WoW, but the nurse cleared her throat.

"Am I supposed to be doing something specific?" he asked, a little irritated about the situation. "Because I sure haven't heard anything about that."

"This time is not for you to participate in idle games." The shortcut suddenly disappeared, and he caught the movement of her fingers on a separate keyboard. "Besides, your connection to the Internet will only allow you to have limited access."

He sat back, breathing hard as he tried to keep from throwing the keyboard at the screens. "You want me to go back through the files I encrypted."

She didn't answer, but that was a pretty good confirmation by his reckoning.

"Fuck this, man. I ain't helping you."

"Your cooperation is vital at this time. Innocent people have been hurt by your refusal to help us find your missing teammate."

"And how many people will we hurt when you make us into a twisted version of the Justice League?"

"This is selfish of you." Her voice was cool and hard, and Hardison really wished he was a fighter like Eliot. And capable of hitting a woman.

He shook his head. "Whatever, man. You're not very good at the manipulation stuff."

The screens flickered, and he was now looking at a feed of Parker in a small room attempting to claw her way up the walls. She turned to the camera and snarled, her eyes wild and wide.

"How long has she been in there?" he asked quietly, trying to pretend like he wasn't about to make a charge for the door in an ill-advised rescue attempt.

"Four days. We were hoping the isolation might make her more willing to cooperate, but she's only been acting like a wild animal."

"Let her out of there."

"If you can give us the information in those encrypted files, then we will be happy to do so."

He watched the screens as he debated his options. Those files held valuable information on Nate and the team, including the small amount of information he had kept from when he had set them up to go into hiding. He didn't know if it would actually help them, but he also had no clue where Nate was or what the man was doing.

It was a gamble, and he knew the odds were stacked against him.

Swallowing back the bile rising in his throat, he picked up the keyboard and pulled up the files; his fingers trembled as he entered the codes and the documents started coming up. He was tempted to just start deleting them, but he quashed that flight of fancy down. Parker needed him to do this, and it was safer to bet that Nate was smart enough to get off the grid.

"There, that's all of them." Hardison tossed the keyboard aside. He felt at that moment that he might be happy if he never touched another computer again. "Let her go."

"I'm afraid we can't do that right away."

"But you said…"

"That we would let her out of the room. And we will. When we feel it is the right time."

He lunged for her, then, and he heard the tell-tale buzz before he felt the crackling electricity surge through his body.

Sophie heard the medical wing's doors open, but she couldn't turn her head to see her newest visitor. There had been a constant parade of doctors and nurses at her bedside ever since the surgery, poking and prodding at her.

Her skin itched underneath the bandages covering her face; they had tied her hands to the rails of the bed to keep her from trying to scratch at it.

"I heard you were recovering well."

She rolled her eyes at the sound of Joseph's voice, then winced when she felt a stabbing pain in her eye sockets.

"It doesn't feel like it."

There was a scrape of a chair being pulling up to the bed and the familiar sound of Joseph sitting down and situating his weight against the hard plastic. She also caught the sound of faint shuffling in the background, which probably meant there were a few guards on her door.

She had heard that Maggie had tried to fight her way into the medical wing a few days ago; her imaginings of the incident always brought a smile to her face. Well, they would if she could smile.

"Well, some pain is to be expected. When the scars heal, you will be the most beautiful woman in the world, bar none."

"I don't want that."

He sighed heavily, and she wanted to huff back to be contrary. "You'll look like a woman in her mid-twenties, no wrinkles, perfect features, even a perfect body. Every woman wants that."

"You're assuming a lot." She took a deep breath and tightened her fingers around the rails. "Asshole."

"Why don't you explain it to me?"

"I want to see Maggie."

"The doctors feel it's best if you don't have any visitors."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm a medical professional. Checking in on you is part of my job."

"Go away." She was aware she was whining, but the pain caused by talking was making her nauseated. "You're just wasting your time."

He sighed, and his plastic chair creaked. "You said that this isn't something you want. Why? Isn't being beautiful your job?"

"I think you have me confused with a whore." She closed her eyes. "If you think that all I need to be a good grifter is to be the most beautiful woman in the room, then you don't know anything at all."

"It can't hurt you."

"Wrong."

"Then, how?"

"Figure it out yourself." She turned her head a little away from him to indicate she was through talking. "I'm going to take a nap."

He didn't say anything else, but he was still there. She had never noticed before how loudly he breathed; and through his mouth, too, which was annoying. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, and she wondered why she was in so much pain. She had about a hundred different tubes and needles stuck in her. Surely one was supposed to have at least morphine in it.

"You're used to being able to fade away if you want to." His voice startled her. "But, that's not part of your job anymore. You'll need to get used to it."

The chair legs squealed against the floor when he stood up, and she winced at the assault on her ears. There was a click of a button, then the pain slowly started melting away, leaving behind a vague light-headedness and the urge to sleep.

Hardison didn't look up when Maggie sat down beside him. It was a beautiful day, the kind that drew Parker to rooftops with her ziplines and rigs, and he had been allowed out into the courtyard for a few hours.

"Sophie's still in the medical wing." Maggie's hand brushed against his shoulder.

He nodded his head. "They won't let Eliot outside. Afraid he might try to fight his way out of here."

"What about Parker? Do you know where she is?"

"They still have her locked up." He formed his left hand into a fist then relaxed his fingers. "It's been two weeks."

A breeze drifted through the small courtyard, and he could smell the scent of Maggie's shampoo. Jasmine. The bastards were doing this on purpose.

"They have to let her out soon," she murmured.

"I gave them files on Nate." He shook his head and pressed his thumb into the palm of his hand.

"Will they be able to get any useful information from the files?"

"No idea. I thought if I did it, they would let Parker out of that room. She looked…I've never seen her like that. Not even when we all started working together."

"How bad is it?"

"I have no idea. They might have broken her." He turned to look at her. "I heard about your fight with the guards over Sophie. What's going on?"

A look between bemusement and worry crossed her face, and she gave him a hesitant smile. "Nothing like what everyone seems to think. We're friends. But, I'm worried about her."

"Why? What did they do to her?"

"You don't know?"

From the way Maggie stiffened and withdrew from his side, her face closing off, he picked up that he was missing out on some very valuable information that he should have had. Which meant that he probably missed out while he was agonizing over Parker and what he had done.

"No. People don't just go around telling me things."

"It was extensive plastic surgery."

"Where on her body? Her face?"

Maggie started to answer, but the doors behind them opened and a few more guards came out. When they moved to the side, Sophie stepped outside, blinking against the sunlight. Hardison's breath caught in his throat as he watched her walk into the courtyard, her movements stiff like she was in pain or incredibly uncomfortable.

"Sweet fucking Jesus," he whispered, tracking her with his eyes.

Maggie had her eyes trained on Sophie as well, her mouth hanging a little open. Hardison couldn't blame her. Knowing and seeing were two very different things.

"It's like seeing her twenty years ago. And not," Maggie finally said.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and ducked his head as Sophie turned to look back at him. "Really fucking weird."

"Do you think she's okay?"

He glanced over at Maggie and almost grinned at the way she was fidgeting on the concrete step, looking like she wanted to run over there and hug Sophie and also like she might just want to stay right there with him.

"I think she's pissed."

Maggie nodded her head. "She looks like it. I just…God, I can't get over how fucked up this is. I can't imagine how she's feeling."

"Go over there and find out."

She shot him a hesitant look. "Why don't you?"

"Rules of playing this game. No direct contact. She'd probably beat me off with the first guard she could grab."

"Okay." Maggie stood up and took a deep breath. She started to walk off and turned back around to face him. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Hardison. You tried to do the right thing."

"I sold Nate out for a worthless deal." He gave her a thin smile. "Might have sounded like the right thing, but it was a shitty idea."

"You're a good man, Hardison. Which is why all of this is so much harder on you."

She smiled at him and walked away; he leaned back on his elbows and watched as Maggie sidled up to Sophie. He was tempted to relax and ignore the reunion, but the way Sophie drew away from Maggie, shaking, kept his attention.

Sophie was losing it, but Maggie looked so unperturbed, even glancing over her shoulder back at him with a nod of her head. He had to fight the urge to bolt upright. It was a signal, the best Sophie could give him. They were losing ground. Fast.

Eliot looked up to see Maggie headed straight for him. She sank down next to him on the bench but didn't say anything; he watched her for a moment, wondering at the slightly wild expression in her eyes, but when she kept staring right in front of her, he turned his attention elsewhere.

"How are you?"

Her voice was strained and quiet, but he heard her.

He shrugged. "Fine, I guess. What's going on?"

"I've missed seeing you."

"Yeah, same here. Maggie, what's going on?"

She whipped her head around and stared at him. "Nothing."

He felt the press of her fingers in his pocket; he smiled at her, and she grinned back, a little too widely. She left a moment later, and he relaxed back against the wall, waiting for a few minutes before standing and wandering to an empty hallway.

He pulled the scrap of paper from his pocket and read it.

Sophie's in the closet. She needs you.

It was Parker's handwriting, which he didn't quite understand. But he started off in the direction of the closet at a quick pace.

He let himself into the small room without knocking, and he ducked just in time to avoid Sophie's fist flying at his face. He pushed in the lock and leaned against the door.

"I'm sorry." She started pacing the small length of floor, her fingers plucking at the sleeves of her shirt. "I thought you were someone else. What are you doing here?"

"Was told you were freaking out."

She didn't answer, just kept up her pacing; he opted for not pushing at the moment and studied her face. He hadn't had an opportunity before then to examine the after-effects of her surgery, and it felt odd to think of her as Sophie when she looked so different. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that she looked so much younger or that her features were sharper.

She almost looked like a completely different person.

"What's going on, Soph?"

"Look at me." She whirled to face him, her face creased with disgust. "Look at what they did to me."

"That's not all that's bothering you." He noted the way she shifted her feet, the way her eyes darted around the room.

She shook her head. "No, it's…everything. Do you think he's ever going to come for us?"

He didn't even have to ask what she meant, and he started to open his mouth, confirm what she wanted to hear, but he stopped. He couldn't quite bring himself to give her false reassurances.

"I don't know. Maybe. Hopefully."

She turned away for a moment, then back, her mouth opening and closing like she was trying to speak and couldn't get the words out. He reached out to her, but she ignored him, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes.

She finally whispered, "Tara's dead."

"What? When? Who told you?"

"Joseph told me a few hours ago. I…they were trying to bring her in, use her as leverage against me. And, well, she killed herself rather than let them take her."

Her voice caught a few times, as stilted and unnatural as when she tried to deliver lines onstage. He could see it happening, Tara standing in front of all those men, her golden hair glinting in the sunlight, probably wind whipping that hair across her face. Probably used a gun. Make sure it was done properly.

He looked back at Sophie and saw the way she was chewing on her bottom lip, the shifts of muscle in her cheeks. It was the tell-tale crack of her officially losing her shit, and as the first shuddering sob slipped past her lips, he wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her weight against him and pressing his lips to her hair.

He could feel the tremors rocking her body; she twisted her hands in the front of his shirt. He rubbed her back and settled in to wait for this to ride out.

So he was a little surprised when she lifted her head and pulled his mouth down to hers.

"Soph, wait, no." He broke away from her grasp, but her fingers were already playing at the edge of his waistband.

"Please, Eliot." She looked a little deranged, and she pressed herself up against him. "I need this."

"We can't."

"Come on, it's just a little fuck in the closet. No one has to know."

He jerked her arms away from his body as she moved back in and held her still. "No."

He tightened his fingers against her skin, and she whimpered, "Don't."

The crazed look had fallen from her face, and now he could only see the desperation and fear. The pieces clicked into place, then, and he understood what she was after. He slipped his hands away and took a deep breath.

"Just this once," he murmured, pushing her hair away from her face and drawing her closer.

She closed the gap and pressed her lips to his, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth and slipping her tongue into his mouth. She was pushing harder and faster than he had anticipated, and he groaned when she stroked him through his sweatpants. He kept his hands in a light grip on her waist, waiting for her to tell him what to do even though he wanted to hold her tight against him.

Trailing her hands along the hem of his shirt, she forced it up his chest, breaking away from his mouth to slip the shirt over his head. She pulled off her own shirt and pants, moving back in to attack his mouth with her lips; she moaned when he slid his tongue over hers.

She took a couple of steps back and grabbed his hand; she pulled him away from the door and pushed him to the floor. A few cans of white powder tumbled off the shelves, but he ignored them as she ripped his pants off, flinging them to the side. He flicked her bra open and slipped it from her shoulders, rolling one nipple through his fingers. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. She settled on his stomach and reached behind her to grasp his cock, stroking him slowly. He could feel her wetness through her underwear.

He gritted his teeth to keep from being too loud and tugged at her underwear until she lifted enough off his body to finish slipping it off her hips.

When she resettled on his abdomen, her hand still working in a steady motion, he murmured, "Protection?"

She shook her head and leaned over to whisper her lips against his. "It's taken care of."

Something flashed in her eyes when he looked up at her, but then she lifted and sank down onto him in a smooth motion. He bit back a moan and settled his hands on her hips, splaying his fingers across her smooth skin. She started moving against him, grinding her hips and gripping his shoulder in her left hand, her nails digging into him.

It was hard and fast and dirty, and he let her guide the pace, let her pull one of his hands up to her breast and arch her back into him. She rubbed her fingers against her clit and used her free hand to push against his chest as her movements became more frantic.

When he felt her muscles clench around him and her mouth opened in a soundless cry, he grabbed her hips and thrust up into her twice before his release hit him.

He felt boneless after, and he kissed her; she tried to crawl off of him, but he looped an arm around her waist and held her against his chest, her head resting underneath his chin. She traced a delicate pattern on his chest with her fingers, and he hummed in approval. It was quiet but different from the silence they normally lived in.

"I killed someone," he finally said.

She shifted against him, lifting her head to look at him. "What happened?"

He sighed and drifted his hand down her back. "They put me in a room with a man. We were fighting, and I took him down. I…I wanted to stop, but I just kept hitting him."

He met her gaze, a little apprehensive, and was surprised to see her smiling softly; she brushed her lips against his and traced her fingers along his brow, smoothing out the wrinkles of his forehead.

"Things will be better eventually, Eliot," she murmured as she slid off of him, already pulling her clothes back on.

He sat up and watched her get dressed, catching the clothes she tossed in his direction. She slipped to the door as he slipped his pants back on; she turned and gave him a sad smile before leaving.

Joseph looked around the circle of chairs and tapped his pencil against his notepad. He was met with sullen looks.

"So, let's see if we can get something done today," he said, trying to smile. "I thought maybe a group session would benefit all of you since you've been so isolated."

Sophie looked at him and grinned; he shifted uncomfortably at that and focused on a black mark on the floor. Eliot growled something under his breath.

"Well, I think my first question would be about your pasts. Most of you have broken laws, hurt other people, and even killed."

"Your point?" Hardison asked with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I was wondering if you have any regrets."

Parker answered first. "No. I'm a thief. I haven't hurt anyone."

"I'm with Parker," Maggie piped up. "Well, except for the being a thief thing."

"I'll third that." Hardison leaned back in his chair and grinned. "We help people, man."

Eliot licked his lips and smirked. "I don't have any regrets, either."

Sophie looked from Eliot to Joseph, a dangerous smile playing with her lips. "Of course I don't have any regrets."

They all stood up at the same time, and Joseph fumbled with his pencil. He dropped it to the ground as they started filing out of the room. He started to reach for it, but found himself face-to-face with Sophie.

She handed the pencil to him and murmured, "I think the better question is: do you have any regrets?"

He clenched his pencil in his hand as she left; he heard a small crack and looked down to see that he had snapped it in two.

"Sir, there's someone here to see you."

Sterling looked up at the man who had walked into his office. He thought his name was Patrick, but he wasn't sure. He hadn't exactly bothered finding out, anyway.

"Who is it?"

"He just keeps saying he needs to see you. I don't know his name."

Sterling sighed and closed the file he had been examining. "Send him in, then."

Patrick nodded his head and left; a moment later, the door opened again, and Sterling grinned when he looked up.

"I was wondering when you would show up, Nate."

"Sterling. I'm here for a favor."