plurky bits n bobs
Empty Heart
The others just don't get it. Nate-- he's the only one who even comes close. But when push comes to shove, when you take a knife real sharp and just cut into the heart of it, Nate's still the best of them all. Underneath the black king's mask, he's still the white knight riding in to save the day, and it's something shiny and golden and good that beats under all that battered armor.
Parker's not like that. There's nothing bright or good at the core of her; if anyone dug into her with a knife, all they'd find is a lot of bright red blood and her chest empty like an open vault. Parker fits in nowhere like a jagged edge. She's not like other people, and she knows it, and that's just fine because other people are stupid. No discipline, no self control, no clue how deep and dark the world gets when you're small and alone and powerless, and beepy gizmos and charming smiles won't save you. They don't know that there's nothing you can count on, not your next meal, not the roof over your head, and not other people's promises. The things they do, all these big and impossible cons, it'll never last. Parker lives waiting for the card tower to fall, for it all to come crashing down around their ears. She's never been disappointed (she'll never be disappointed.)
Elliot and Parker, they're nothing alike, but something about him... she can tell that he gets it, that he's holding his breath just like her, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Parker hasn't gone digging around in Elliot with anything sharp (metaphorically or literally), but if she'd bet a twenty that if someone opened up the heart of him, all they'd find is a whole bunch of rocks. Just, rocks, big and rough and gray. Nobody can hurt rocks, just like nobody can take anything from an empty vault. Nobody can steal from Parker, not really. There's nothing there to take.
So, when the con goes sideways and people get hurt, bullets flying and all their plans go up in smoke, when Hardison turns into a big scared weenie and Sophie gasps and makes that scandalized face and Nate gets drunk as a skunk, egging them all on to do the impossible, Elliot looks at her and she looks at Elliot and they both wear the same expression, sort of what did you expect? This is crazy. People get hurt, and they cry, and they die, and that's just the tip of the crappy iceberg in this crappy world. No one can change that. So why do they bother trying?
She'd gone looking for Elliot once, after a job they'd pulled off by the skin of their teeth. Found him chopping onions in the kitchen, hacking at the cutting board like it'd murdered his grandma, and Parker suddenly didn't know what to say, how to put a voice to all the questions that came crowding up behind her teeth, so she just sat around and bothered him until he snapped and shook the knife in her direction. “What the hell, Parker?! Nobody's making you stay. You don't like the smell, get out of the kitchen.”
And... it's true. She understands now, a little. Nobody's making her stay. She can leave any time. Her escape bag with its fake passport and cash and toothpaste is packed and ready; Parker can turn a corner and become someone else entirely. A little blood isn't the end of the world, a blown up building or two means it's just Tuesday. People get hurt, and they cry, and they die, and that's just the tip of the crappy iceberg in this crappy world, and Parker can take that. Better than all the rest of them except Elliot, and between the two of them they'll get it done, and never let the rest of the team realize there was any doubt in the first place.
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The others just don't get it. Nate-- he's the only one who even comes close. But when push comes to shove, when you take a knife real sharp and just cut into the heart of it, Nate's still the best of them all. Underneath the black king's mask, he's still the white knight riding in to save the day, and it's something shiny and golden and good that beats under all that battered armor.
Parker's not like that. There's nothing bright or good at the core of her; if anyone dug into her with a knife, all they'd find is a lot of bright red blood and her chest empty like an open vault. Parker fits in nowhere like a jagged edge. She's not like other people, and she knows it, and that's just fine because other people are stupid. No discipline, no self control, no clue how deep and dark the world gets when you're small and alone and powerless, and beepy gizmos and charming smiles won't save you. They don't know that there's nothing you can count on, not your next meal, not the roof over your head, and not other people's promises. The things they do, all these big and impossible cons, it'll never last. Parker lives waiting for the card tower to fall, for it all to come crashing down around their ears. She's never been disappointed (she'll never be disappointed.)
Elliot and Parker, they're nothing alike, but something about him... she can tell that he gets it, that he's holding his breath just like her, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Parker hasn't gone digging around in Elliot with anything sharp (metaphorically or literally), but if she'd bet a twenty that if someone opened up the heart of him, all they'd find is a whole bunch of rocks. Just, rocks, big and rough and gray. Nobody can hurt rocks, just like nobody can take anything from an empty vault. Nobody can steal from Parker, not really. There's nothing there to take.
So, when the con goes sideways and people get hurt, bullets flying and all their plans go up in smoke, when Hardison turns into a big scared weenie and Sophie gasps and makes that scandalized face and Nate gets drunk as a skunk, egging them all on to do the impossible, Elliot looks at her and she looks at Elliot and they both wear the same expression, sort of what did you expect? This is crazy. People get hurt, and they cry, and they die, and that's just the tip of the crappy iceberg in this crappy world. No one can change that. So why do they bother trying?
She'd gone looking for Elliot once, after a job they'd pulled off by the skin of their teeth. Found him chopping onions in the kitchen, hacking at the cutting board like it'd murdered his grandma, and Parker suddenly didn't know what to say, how to put a voice to all the questions that came crowding up behind her teeth, so she just sat around and bothered him until he snapped and shook the knife in her direction. “What the hell, Parker?! Nobody's making you stay. You don't like the smell, get out of the kitchen.”
And... it's true. She understands now, a little. Nobody's making her stay. She can leave any time. Her escape bag with its fake passport and cash and toothpaste is packed and ready; Parker can turn a corner and become someone else entirely. A little blood isn't the end of the world, a blown up building or two means it's just Tuesday. People get hurt, and they cry, and they die, and that's just the tip of the crappy iceberg in this crappy world, and Parker can take that. Better than all the rest of them except Elliot, and between the two of them they'll get it done, and never let the rest of the team realize there was any doubt in the first place.
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