Fathers 8/8
Title: Fathers
Author: Magpie
Rating: pg-13
Genre: Nate/Eliot, pre-Parker/Hardison, team!ficish, very slight ofc
Verse: BlackKing WhiteKnight!Verse
Summary: "Found You." Two words bring back a nightmare buried twenty years in Eliot's past. As things fall apart the only way to put themselve back together may be to face who it was who made them who they are.
Notes: The last chapter is here. It took a little longer than expected partially due to sucky writting on my part causing a massive re-edit and whatnot.
This has been a fun and interesting ride (though depressing) but the ride will continue on in this verse so don't be sad.
also, as you may have noticed, we have a lovely banner of awsome from faketoysoldier.
As usual, this nicely polished fic is brought to you by she who should be praised: Als_wonderland.
This short "Note" section is brought to you by: Packing for college causing chaos.
Warnings: Vauge and not so vauge implications of past sexual abuse, angst, and symbolisim.
Chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, Seven
By the literal definition of the word, Sophie was a bastard. She’d never known her father, never had a real last name. Her mother was a grifter; one of the best Europe had ever seen. There was a fairly good chance that Sophie was the illegitimate daughter of a duke, or earl, or equally important person of some European nation or another, but she was probably never going to find out.
Sophie had been trained to be a grifter more or less from the womb. Her mother had used her pregnancy and eventually the infant in her arms, and toddler at her knee to help pull off cons. Sophie had never had a real first name either. Her mother changed Sophie's name with every con and trained Sophie to be whoever her mother said she was.
It wasn’t until Sophie was eight or nine that she first named herself Eva and went through more than a couple self chosen names in the years since.
There was one name though. One name her mother had let slip when Sophie was fourteen and her mother had been high on painkillers after That Incident.
Matthew.
She’d said it like one would say the name of a lover. She’d said it in her true voice.
Sophie hung onto that name through the years. She didn’t know if it was a first or last name. She didn’t know if it was her father’s name. She just knew it was the name of someone her mother had loved.
Sophie liked to pretend that Matthew was her father and instead of being some calculated plan, Sophie had been an accident and her mother had simply loved Matthew too much to abort his child and so had chosen to raise her instead.
Sophie was good at lying herself.
After all, it had been how she’d gotten through her childhood, blissfully ignorant that there was anything wrong with her life.
It was strange, or ironic really, her mother taught Sophie to be a grifter but it was the one lesson Sophie learned on her own that proved most important. It was the one experience, Sophie’s mother had tried to withhold to keep her controllable.
When Sophie chose to name herself Eva at eight it was the first time she saw the world through her own eyes and not filtered by what her mother said.
It was like waking up for the first time.
It took years to put into words what she learned then, but those words stayed with her through the years since.
There is power in choosing your own identity.
It was a power to make a lie into truth because it was your choice, power to leave behind what you had been to become who you wanted to be.
There was power to find a life better than you were given.
The morning after Lawrence died, the smell of breakfast cooking pulled the scattered members of the Leverage team into the kitchen. As Sophie stood just outside the doorway, watching as Eliot and Joey talked and joked as they made breakfast, she thought of it again.
They’d all chosen their identities.
Maybe they weren’t exactly who life had made them to be, so much as who’d they chosen to become when life left them with few other options.
Instead of a victim, Eliot had chosen to become a protector. He’d taken a shattered and broken childhood and built a life out of it for himself and his sister. He chose to fight rather than suffocate, to control his demons rather than surrender.
Instead of getting lost in the shuffle of a world that titled her as “wrong” and giving up, becoming “right” or fading away, Parker had chosen to be wrong. She chose to live the life she wanted, to not care if it alienated most of the world. She was happy that way.
Instead of doing what was expected and following the norm Hardison had chosen to go off the grid and find out what he could do and who he could become.
Instead of dieing, instead of collapsing and imploding onto himself Nate had kept going. When he was destroyed he made a new identity and kept breathing, fighting, putting himself back together piece by piece.
Instead of remaining her mother’s prop, a blank slate that had no meaning without her mother, Sophie had broken free. She’d made her own identity.
They all had.
By the time breakfast had finished cooking the team had gathered in the kitchen and Eliot had given El a wooden spoon and orders to whack Hardison with it if he touched the waffles. Scott appeared, starting to carry plates to the table in the corner where they’d eaten breakfast the day before. Joey soon followed while Eliot took down plates, cups, and silverware and giving them to the team
The table was round and seemed big enough for just the four member of the Phillips family. The day before Joey had pulled up a fifth matching chair from nearby, squeezing in room for Parker while she and Eliot stood cooking breakfast.
But there was no way it was big enough for the family and the team. The laid out dishware and the plates of steaming food left on the counter clearly meant the team was invited to eat wherever they felt like.
Eliot wasn’t given a chance to pick which way to go. As the kids started taking their seats they pulled him to sit down in the extra place set up between them.
Sophie wasn’t sure if she was relived to not have to sit through a Normal Family Breakfast or a little resentful they’d been shooed off in favor of normalcy and Eliot had been a part of it.
She still wasn’t sure when Joey spoke up, still holding a plate. “El, Marie, please tell your uncle what I always say about meals.”
“We eat them together.” El and Marie chorused with the kind of deadpan only accomplished by kids repeating something they’ve been told too many times. “Family eats together.”
Joey nodded, passing the plate to her husband and gesturing to him with her head toward the door behind her. Scott, seeming either used to doing as Joey told when food was involved (a wise choice if Joey was anything like her brother) or giving his wife leeway after the past few days, went without question.
“I’m sitting at the table.” Eliot said, his voice somewhere between “What do you want from me?” and the annoyance that Sophie was very familiar with him directing at Parker and Hardison.
She gave Sophie and the rest of the team a pointed look. Eliot’s expression was ranging toward the annoyed "Hardison’s doing something unreasonable again" look. “Look, I know you wanted a family breakfast but I ain’t kicking the team out. They’re my fam-“ He stopped.
Oh that was defiantly a glare they didn’t see too often, though Joey seemed mostly immune. Sophie absently wondered if Eliot wasn’t the only one good at conning or if little sisters were just naturally good at tricking somewhat stubborn older brothers into admitting something.
El put down the wooden spoon he’d been trying to twirl, picked up his and Marie’s plates. “Come on Mari.” He said to her. “We’re gonna need a bigger table.”
Breakfast reconvened a few minutes later on the back porch, having forsaken the family dinning room in favor of the open air with everyone finding some kind of seating in the vicinity of one another.
It was weird to be eating a “Family Breakfast”, but Sophie might admit it was nice. If she was pressed. Or offered more of the chamomile-mint tea.
Soon, with the good food (and what, was being a good cook genetic or something? Because Sophie was pretty sure neither Eliot nor Joey had learned to cook as kids) and company, the weirdness eased up a little. The chaos of the morning before returned without the shadow of missing members and impending threats.
On the swing on the far side of the porch, Joey sat shoulder to shoulder with her husband but not more than a few inches from contact with Eliot on her other side. El and Marie sat on the fence in front of them, double teaming their parents in an attempt to get out of school the next week to recover. It seemed almost cruel to Sophie that they were being so careless when no doubt their parents felt guilty. Then Eliot looked over from where he was chatting with Nate who was sitting nearby to mentioned they seemed to be recovering quickly.
Maybe Joey and Scott were too relived their kids seemed to have come through this mostly untraumatized, for the reminder to hurt.
She cocked her head to one side, reading body language, listening for subtext.
If she had to give her grifter’s opinion it would seem the entire family had inherited something Sophie was relatively certain came down from when Joey was a kid. Joking about a trauma was the way they acknowledged they’d be okay. It was the things they didn’t say that signaled an issue.
They’d be alright.
A little closer to the chair and little table Sophie was eating at, Hardison had turned around from his conversation with Parker on the porch stairs to talk to Nate. “Hey Nate? Can I take the van?”
“You finished your part of the wrap up?” Nate asked.
“Last night.” Hardison answered.
“How long?” He asked, a reasonable question considering the van and Eliot’s truck were the team’s only vehicles and they couldn’t really walk anywhere from here.
Hardison hesitated, making a little face. “I’m visitin’ someone I used to know around here. I might not be back until late.”
Nate sighed then dug out and tossed him the keys to the van. “You’ve got a flight back to Boston tomorrow morning.” Nate reminded him, off hand.
“I know, I know man. I’m the one who hacked it remember?” Eliot said something that made Nate turn his attention back to him so he missed Hardison returning to Parker muttering “Yeah dad I did my chores. I promise I’ll be home by curfew” under his breath.
Sophie just smiled.
“But, but I wanted to have adventures with Robin Ford and his merry thieves too!” Marie’s voice pitched at the exact level of an eight year old’s whine. “You didn’t say they were leaving tomorrow. It isn’t fair!”
Four sets of eyes (and raised eyebrows) looked toward Eliot.
Joey shook her head, turning to Eliot as if she was oblivious of the team’s scrutiny. “You should have never told them all those bedtime stories about your team when you were here a few months ago. I mean, I know you missed them, but I swear El spent half the summer fighting “Pharmas-cuiticle Dragons” and rescuing Marie from “Prince Sterling”. You got them started, brother.”
Sophie didn’t think she’d actually seen Eliot look embarrassed before.
Though she was pretty sure she now understood how he’d gotten so good at reining in his frustration when it came to Parker and Hardison.
As the team was giving him a hard time, Eliot turned to give a withering glare toward his little sister who only grinned impishly back at him. But just as Eliot was turning back to say something to Nate, Sophie just caught the hint of a smile on the Hitter’s face that made Sophie’s own smile soften.
She didn’t need to be a grifter to read it. As annoyed as Eliot acted he was just happy to see Joey smiling.
“Well I can’t vouch for my ‘merry men’” Nate’s voice broke through Sophie’s reverie. He was looking over towards El and Marie. “But if your parents don’t mind Eliot and I could probably stay for a few days, and you’re uncle's pretty good at finding adventure.”
The kids swarmed their parents.
Eliot turned, giving Nate a smile that made Sophie wonder how she’d missed what was between the two of them as long as she had.
Things quieted down a little bit after that, and Sophie drank her tea and read the others and tried not to let herself get bogged down in what she felt about that relationship.
Then Parker slid into the seat next to her and whispered. “I want to date Hardison. Coffee with Peggy went wrong. I know things go wrong but I don’t want this to go wrong. You know how make things not go wrong. Can you teach me how to make things not go wrong?”
Sophie looked over to Parker, blinking a few times to try to process before answering slowly. “Alright. How about after he leaves this afternoon.”
Parker nodded. “Okay.” And slid out of her seat to rejoin the others.
She sipped more of her tea and wondered just what she’d agreed to.
But at least it gave her something to think about. Or try anyway, though it seemed an impending lesson on making relationships work (with Parker) wouldn’t do the trick of letting her not think about things like the last few days had.
In everything that had happened, her anger had been mostly lost, buried under a slow burning hate at the man who’d hurt Eliot, and left to smolder forgotten in the face of eminent danger and pain to the team. It mystified her that she’d simply let it go so easily even when, if she let herself dwell on it, she would still be pissed off to all hell.
So she didn’t think about it. She finished breakfast and watched with a strange mixture of amusement and heartache as Scott and Nate cleaned up the plates and washed the dishes with a similar level of familiarity with the task. She wandered through the house, Marie’s room where she and Parker would be sleeping that night her vague destination. She didn’t really have anything to do until the meeting with Parker later.
She made it to Marie’s room and dug through the bag she’d brought, surprised to find the book Eliot had leant her. Apparently she or someone else had shoved it in her bag after Eliot left it when he walked out.
With nothing better to do she sat down and started to reread it.
As the noise and chaos of the house shifted and changed with activities as members of the team and family came and went, Sophie relocated to find new quiet places. She wasn’t used to being the anti-social one of the group (and when Eliot was the social one, no less) but considering the circumstances, she was relatively sure the others understood. Even a grifter couldn’t do much about being the woman your host’s beloved brother’s boyfriend almost dated. That she wasn’t very good with children did not help matters.
It was a little past ten that night when the kids were tucked into bed and Sophie was mostly recovered from an interesting lesson on relationships with Parker, when Eliot and Nate set up a chess game in the living room.
After Nate turned on the front porch light.
Hardison still wasn’t home yet and Nate and Eliot were waiting up. To make sure son and little brother returned home safely.
It was probably a good thing they’d chosen this family rather than being born to it, cause that sentence mixed with Nate and Eliot sleeping together? And Hardison and Parker wanting to date each other?
No they wouldn’t all be adding “incest” to their rap sheets. Not at all.
She turned away and climbed the stairs, leaving them to their chess games, physical and other. She sighed, thinking about it, soon to be behind closed doors in private for a time and ready to get royally pissed off like she knew she would the moment she let herself think about it properly.
But that was lying to herself. She was still angry and still upset about Nate and Eliot, and months of being played the fool, but mostly she was hurt. That in itself was an oddity. And she was willing to mask and put up with her own hurt, which was further strangeness.
She decided it was the job, and everything she’d seen and everything they’d been pulled through. It was hard to be mad at someone you cared about when they were going through what Eliot had been put through recently. She just needed a little space. Some distance would help.
Saturday morning Parker and Hardison flew back to Boston and Sophie got on a plane for Paris. Nate and Eliot would be staying at the Phillips a few more days to “finish the wrap up”. Sophie had a feeling neither of them were particularly comfortable with admitting that the visit was turning into the equivalent of Eliot bringing his boyfriend home to meet his parents.
Though lacking living parents, it seemed Marie and El had taken over the role of deciding whether or not Nate was good enough for their Uncle. Even with her situation as it was, it was hard not to smile at what she’d witnessed. After having been given the most child friendly explanation possible to describe how their uncle was dating a guy, El and Marie had started interrogating Nate, tag-team style. The subjects ranged from Nate’s policy on ice-cream after dinner, to how many horses he owned, to what kind of movies their uncle liked.
Though Sophie had to explain to Parker afterwards that almost no part of that was typical when dating.
Sophie was halfway to Paris when she realized that for the first time in her life she wasn’t already daydreaming about what she’d do when she arrived. Instead, she was wondering if it really was a good idea to leave Hardison and Parker alone for a few days, if Eliot was as alright as he seemed to be, if Nate was actually alright being around a couple of kids or if he’d end up crashing and drinking.
She wasn’t thinking about the shopping or the shoes. She was thinking about her family. And really, even if she’d never used that term for them before, it was the only way she knew to describe them, and she suspected they were the reason why her priorities and feelings were all out of order. She’d never had a family before, and she wasn’t really sure what to do about having one now.
It wasn’t until she was riding towards her hotel, that she realized that while she might be trying to give herself a little bit of space and perspective, Paris wasn’t where she wanted to do it.
It was only a few hours later that she was on another plane back to the US, back to Kentucky. She landed and hired a car to take her to the little town called Lawrence.
She had a plan. It had been a long time since she’d done a solo con. But she been successful in sweet-talking her way into the good graces of a couple members of the Lawrence family. And to be honest, the damage she could do wasn’t quite as widespread as that of two others in her family.
She stayed two days, poking around, grifting her way in and out of conversations, gathering information, making two lists of names.
Wednesday morning, Sophie arrived back in Boston. She made her way to Nate’s apartment for the weekly staff meeting he hosted in his living room.
The rest of the team had gathered and were sorting through the pre-staff-meeting chaos when she arrived. There were a few happy greetings thrown her way, They’d known she’d be back.
If she was honest with herself she’d known she’d be back too.
Things slipped into the normal routine quickly. Eliot was grumbling about meetings being a waste of time, Hardison was taking personal offense to that, and Parker was moving in Simon and cooking popcorn in Nate’s microwave. Apparently she’d remembered that from last week.
Sophie went through her own normal routine, getting some tea and grabbing the box of wafers she kept on hand. It had been a long time since breakfast.
As she walked through her routine, she let her hands work, slipping copies of her lists into Parker and Hardison’s pockets. They’d find them later. Parker’s “bad” list was annotated with notes on the items of value owned by the various corrupt members of the Lawrence family. She indicated the businesses they owned on Hardison’s and left the rest up to his imagination.
A week later, after the two thieves disappeared over the weekend, Sophie got a news alert from Hardison. It was an article from a small Kentucky paper about a series of disasters and thefts that had bankrupted more than a dozen members of the extended Lawrence family.
Later, Sophie would check the My Sister’s Keeper website, to find it had a new layout and was announcing that, due to the generous donations of several individuals, the fund would be increasing the number of scholarships given out every year.
None of them spoke about the occurrence in Kentucky, but when the following Friday rolled around, Eliot told the crew they all needed a change of pace from pizza, beer, and leaving Nate’s apartment a wreck. He gave them an address and a time, and left, muttering about needing to go grocery shopping.
The lavish dinner they shared at Eliot’s place that night said enough.
Two weeks after everything had gone down in the little town, after Eliot’s stepfather came back and a family matter became a matter for families, after Sophie found out, and Eliot had killed, and everything that had happened, sitting around a little table in Eliot’s loft, laughing and talking like nothing had changed, Sophie found she was ready to accept. Something had changed. For better, for worse, something had changed and she might as well acknowledge it and move on. (Seems she’d changed as well. They all had.)
Taking advantage of a lull in the normal conversation and chaos, as everyone was oohing and awing over the desserts Eliot had set before them, Sophie raised her glass. “To family?”
There was an awkward moment where the others reacted a word they almost never spoke out loud to describe themselves, even if it had been obvious for a while.
Then Eliot raised his own glass. “What she said.”
The others responded a moment later, chorusing. “To family.”
They toasted and dug into their desserts, conversation coming back and laughter restarting and Sophie just smiled.
She may have never known her father. She may have left her mother, family, and anything resembling her “true” identity behind her when she ran off at fourteen.
But there was power in choosing your own identity, and choosing your family. Where they came from was different as the people they’d been made to be, but together they’d figure out where to go next.
And really, that was the important part.
Previous Chapter
Next: Concerning Late Nights, Backfired Schemes, and Apartment Keys
Author: Magpie
Rating: pg-13
Genre: Nate/Eliot, pre-Parker/Hardison, team!ficish, very slight ofc
Verse: BlackKing WhiteKnight!Verse
Summary: "Found You." Two words bring back a nightmare buried twenty years in Eliot's past. As things fall apart the only way to put themselve back together may be to face who it was who made them who they are.
Notes: The last chapter is here. It took a little longer than expected partially due to sucky writting on my part causing a massive re-edit and whatnot.
This has been a fun and interesting ride (though depressing) but the ride will continue on in this verse so don't be sad.
also, as you may have noticed, we have a lovely banner of awsome from faketoysoldier.
As usual, this nicely polished fic is brought to you by she who should be praised: Als_wonderland.
This short "Note" section is brought to you by: Packing for college causing chaos.
Warnings: Vauge and not so vauge implications of past sexual abuse, angst, and symbolisim.
Chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, Seven
By the literal definition of the word, Sophie was a bastard. She’d never known her father, never had a real last name. Her mother was a grifter; one of the best Europe had ever seen. There was a fairly good chance that Sophie was the illegitimate daughter of a duke, or earl, or equally important person of some European nation or another, but she was probably never going to find out.
Sophie had been trained to be a grifter more or less from the womb. Her mother had used her pregnancy and eventually the infant in her arms, and toddler at her knee to help pull off cons. Sophie had never had a real first name either. Her mother changed Sophie's name with every con and trained Sophie to be whoever her mother said she was.
It wasn’t until Sophie was eight or nine that she first named herself Eva and went through more than a couple self chosen names in the years since.
There was one name though. One name her mother had let slip when Sophie was fourteen and her mother had been high on painkillers after That Incident.
Matthew.
She’d said it like one would say the name of a lover. She’d said it in her true voice.
Sophie hung onto that name through the years. She didn’t know if it was a first or last name. She didn’t know if it was her father’s name. She just knew it was the name of someone her mother had loved.
Sophie liked to pretend that Matthew was her father and instead of being some calculated plan, Sophie had been an accident and her mother had simply loved Matthew too much to abort his child and so had chosen to raise her instead.
Sophie was good at lying herself.
After all, it had been how she’d gotten through her childhood, blissfully ignorant that there was anything wrong with her life.
It was strange, or ironic really, her mother taught Sophie to be a grifter but it was the one lesson Sophie learned on her own that proved most important. It was the one experience, Sophie’s mother had tried to withhold to keep her controllable.
When Sophie chose to name herself Eva at eight it was the first time she saw the world through her own eyes and not filtered by what her mother said.
It was like waking up for the first time.
It took years to put into words what she learned then, but those words stayed with her through the years since.
There is power in choosing your own identity.
It was a power to make a lie into truth because it was your choice, power to leave behind what you had been to become who you wanted to be.
There was power to find a life better than you were given.
The morning after Lawrence died, the smell of breakfast cooking pulled the scattered members of the Leverage team into the kitchen. As Sophie stood just outside the doorway, watching as Eliot and Joey talked and joked as they made breakfast, she thought of it again.
They’d all chosen their identities.
Maybe they weren’t exactly who life had made them to be, so much as who’d they chosen to become when life left them with few other options.
Instead of a victim, Eliot had chosen to become a protector. He’d taken a shattered and broken childhood and built a life out of it for himself and his sister. He chose to fight rather than suffocate, to control his demons rather than surrender.
Instead of getting lost in the shuffle of a world that titled her as “wrong” and giving up, becoming “right” or fading away, Parker had chosen to be wrong. She chose to live the life she wanted, to not care if it alienated most of the world. She was happy that way.
Instead of doing what was expected and following the norm Hardison had chosen to go off the grid and find out what he could do and who he could become.
Instead of dieing, instead of collapsing and imploding onto himself Nate had kept going. When he was destroyed he made a new identity and kept breathing, fighting, putting himself back together piece by piece.
Instead of remaining her mother’s prop, a blank slate that had no meaning without her mother, Sophie had broken free. She’d made her own identity.
They all had.
By the time breakfast had finished cooking the team had gathered in the kitchen and Eliot had given El a wooden spoon and orders to whack Hardison with it if he touched the waffles. Scott appeared, starting to carry plates to the table in the corner where they’d eaten breakfast the day before. Joey soon followed while Eliot took down plates, cups, and silverware and giving them to the team
The table was round and seemed big enough for just the four member of the Phillips family. The day before Joey had pulled up a fifth matching chair from nearby, squeezing in room for Parker while she and Eliot stood cooking breakfast.
But there was no way it was big enough for the family and the team. The laid out dishware and the plates of steaming food left on the counter clearly meant the team was invited to eat wherever they felt like.
Eliot wasn’t given a chance to pick which way to go. As the kids started taking their seats they pulled him to sit down in the extra place set up between them.
Sophie wasn’t sure if she was relived to not have to sit through a Normal Family Breakfast or a little resentful they’d been shooed off in favor of normalcy and Eliot had been a part of it.
She still wasn’t sure when Joey spoke up, still holding a plate. “El, Marie, please tell your uncle what I always say about meals.”
“We eat them together.” El and Marie chorused with the kind of deadpan only accomplished by kids repeating something they’ve been told too many times. “Family eats together.”
Joey nodded, passing the plate to her husband and gesturing to him with her head toward the door behind her. Scott, seeming either used to doing as Joey told when food was involved (a wise choice if Joey was anything like her brother) or giving his wife leeway after the past few days, went without question.
“I’m sitting at the table.” Eliot said, his voice somewhere between “What do you want from me?” and the annoyance that Sophie was very familiar with him directing at Parker and Hardison.
She gave Sophie and the rest of the team a pointed look. Eliot’s expression was ranging toward the annoyed "Hardison’s doing something unreasonable again" look. “Look, I know you wanted a family breakfast but I ain’t kicking the team out. They’re my fam-“ He stopped.
Oh that was defiantly a glare they didn’t see too often, though Joey seemed mostly immune. Sophie absently wondered if Eliot wasn’t the only one good at conning or if little sisters were just naturally good at tricking somewhat stubborn older brothers into admitting something.
El put down the wooden spoon he’d been trying to twirl, picked up his and Marie’s plates. “Come on Mari.” He said to her. “We’re gonna need a bigger table.”
Breakfast reconvened a few minutes later on the back porch, having forsaken the family dinning room in favor of the open air with everyone finding some kind of seating in the vicinity of one another.
It was weird to be eating a “Family Breakfast”, but Sophie might admit it was nice. If she was pressed. Or offered more of the chamomile-mint tea.
Soon, with the good food (and what, was being a good cook genetic or something? Because Sophie was pretty sure neither Eliot nor Joey had learned to cook as kids) and company, the weirdness eased up a little. The chaos of the morning before returned without the shadow of missing members and impending threats.
On the swing on the far side of the porch, Joey sat shoulder to shoulder with her husband but not more than a few inches from contact with Eliot on her other side. El and Marie sat on the fence in front of them, double teaming their parents in an attempt to get out of school the next week to recover. It seemed almost cruel to Sophie that they were being so careless when no doubt their parents felt guilty. Then Eliot looked over from where he was chatting with Nate who was sitting nearby to mentioned they seemed to be recovering quickly.
Maybe Joey and Scott were too relived their kids seemed to have come through this mostly untraumatized, for the reminder to hurt.
She cocked her head to one side, reading body language, listening for subtext.
If she had to give her grifter’s opinion it would seem the entire family had inherited something Sophie was relatively certain came down from when Joey was a kid. Joking about a trauma was the way they acknowledged they’d be okay. It was the things they didn’t say that signaled an issue.
They’d be alright.
A little closer to the chair and little table Sophie was eating at, Hardison had turned around from his conversation with Parker on the porch stairs to talk to Nate. “Hey Nate? Can I take the van?”
“You finished your part of the wrap up?” Nate asked.
“Last night.” Hardison answered.
“How long?” He asked, a reasonable question considering the van and Eliot’s truck were the team’s only vehicles and they couldn’t really walk anywhere from here.
Hardison hesitated, making a little face. “I’m visitin’ someone I used to know around here. I might not be back until late.”
Nate sighed then dug out and tossed him the keys to the van. “You’ve got a flight back to Boston tomorrow morning.” Nate reminded him, off hand.
“I know, I know man. I’m the one who hacked it remember?” Eliot said something that made Nate turn his attention back to him so he missed Hardison returning to Parker muttering “Yeah dad I did my chores. I promise I’ll be home by curfew” under his breath.
Sophie just smiled.
“But, but I wanted to have adventures with Robin Ford and his merry thieves too!” Marie’s voice pitched at the exact level of an eight year old’s whine. “You didn’t say they were leaving tomorrow. It isn’t fair!”
Four sets of eyes (and raised eyebrows) looked toward Eliot.
Joey shook her head, turning to Eliot as if she was oblivious of the team’s scrutiny. “You should have never told them all those bedtime stories about your team when you were here a few months ago. I mean, I know you missed them, but I swear El spent half the summer fighting “Pharmas-cuiticle Dragons” and rescuing Marie from “Prince Sterling”. You got them started, brother.”
Sophie didn’t think she’d actually seen Eliot look embarrassed before.
Though she was pretty sure she now understood how he’d gotten so good at reining in his frustration when it came to Parker and Hardison.
As the team was giving him a hard time, Eliot turned to give a withering glare toward his little sister who only grinned impishly back at him. But just as Eliot was turning back to say something to Nate, Sophie just caught the hint of a smile on the Hitter’s face that made Sophie’s own smile soften.
She didn’t need to be a grifter to read it. As annoyed as Eliot acted he was just happy to see Joey smiling.
“Well I can’t vouch for my ‘merry men’” Nate’s voice broke through Sophie’s reverie. He was looking over towards El and Marie. “But if your parents don’t mind Eliot and I could probably stay for a few days, and you’re uncle's pretty good at finding adventure.”
The kids swarmed their parents.
Eliot turned, giving Nate a smile that made Sophie wonder how she’d missed what was between the two of them as long as she had.
Things quieted down a little bit after that, and Sophie drank her tea and read the others and tried not to let herself get bogged down in what she felt about that relationship.
Then Parker slid into the seat next to her and whispered. “I want to date Hardison. Coffee with Peggy went wrong. I know things go wrong but I don’t want this to go wrong. You know how make things not go wrong. Can you teach me how to make things not go wrong?”
Sophie looked over to Parker, blinking a few times to try to process before answering slowly. “Alright. How about after he leaves this afternoon.”
Parker nodded. “Okay.” And slid out of her seat to rejoin the others.
She sipped more of her tea and wondered just what she’d agreed to.
But at least it gave her something to think about. Or try anyway, though it seemed an impending lesson on making relationships work (with Parker) wouldn’t do the trick of letting her not think about things like the last few days had.
In everything that had happened, her anger had been mostly lost, buried under a slow burning hate at the man who’d hurt Eliot, and left to smolder forgotten in the face of eminent danger and pain to the team. It mystified her that she’d simply let it go so easily even when, if she let herself dwell on it, she would still be pissed off to all hell.
So she didn’t think about it. She finished breakfast and watched with a strange mixture of amusement and heartache as Scott and Nate cleaned up the plates and washed the dishes with a similar level of familiarity with the task. She wandered through the house, Marie’s room where she and Parker would be sleeping that night her vague destination. She didn’t really have anything to do until the meeting with Parker later.
She made it to Marie’s room and dug through the bag she’d brought, surprised to find the book Eliot had leant her. Apparently she or someone else had shoved it in her bag after Eliot left it when he walked out.
With nothing better to do she sat down and started to reread it.
As the noise and chaos of the house shifted and changed with activities as members of the team and family came and went, Sophie relocated to find new quiet places. She wasn’t used to being the anti-social one of the group (and when Eliot was the social one, no less) but considering the circumstances, she was relatively sure the others understood. Even a grifter couldn’t do much about being the woman your host’s beloved brother’s boyfriend almost dated. That she wasn’t very good with children did not help matters.
It was a little past ten that night when the kids were tucked into bed and Sophie was mostly recovered from an interesting lesson on relationships with Parker, when Eliot and Nate set up a chess game in the living room.
After Nate turned on the front porch light.
Hardison still wasn’t home yet and Nate and Eliot were waiting up. To make sure son and little brother returned home safely.
It was probably a good thing they’d chosen this family rather than being born to it, cause that sentence mixed with Nate and Eliot sleeping together? And Hardison and Parker wanting to date each other?
No they wouldn’t all be adding “incest” to their rap sheets. Not at all.
She turned away and climbed the stairs, leaving them to their chess games, physical and other. She sighed, thinking about it, soon to be behind closed doors in private for a time and ready to get royally pissed off like she knew she would the moment she let herself think about it properly.
But that was lying to herself. She was still angry and still upset about Nate and Eliot, and months of being played the fool, but mostly she was hurt. That in itself was an oddity. And she was willing to mask and put up with her own hurt, which was further strangeness.
She decided it was the job, and everything she’d seen and everything they’d been pulled through. It was hard to be mad at someone you cared about when they were going through what Eliot had been put through recently. She just needed a little space. Some distance would help.
Saturday morning Parker and Hardison flew back to Boston and Sophie got on a plane for Paris. Nate and Eliot would be staying at the Phillips a few more days to “finish the wrap up”. Sophie had a feeling neither of them were particularly comfortable with admitting that the visit was turning into the equivalent of Eliot bringing his boyfriend home to meet his parents.
Though lacking living parents, it seemed Marie and El had taken over the role of deciding whether or not Nate was good enough for their Uncle. Even with her situation as it was, it was hard not to smile at what she’d witnessed. After having been given the most child friendly explanation possible to describe how their uncle was dating a guy, El and Marie had started interrogating Nate, tag-team style. The subjects ranged from Nate’s policy on ice-cream after dinner, to how many horses he owned, to what kind of movies their uncle liked.
Though Sophie had to explain to Parker afterwards that almost no part of that was typical when dating.
Sophie was halfway to Paris when she realized that for the first time in her life she wasn’t already daydreaming about what she’d do when she arrived. Instead, she was wondering if it really was a good idea to leave Hardison and Parker alone for a few days, if Eliot was as alright as he seemed to be, if Nate was actually alright being around a couple of kids or if he’d end up crashing and drinking.
She wasn’t thinking about the shopping or the shoes. She was thinking about her family. And really, even if she’d never used that term for them before, it was the only way she knew to describe them, and she suspected they were the reason why her priorities and feelings were all out of order. She’d never had a family before, and she wasn’t really sure what to do about having one now.
It wasn’t until she was riding towards her hotel, that she realized that while she might be trying to give herself a little bit of space and perspective, Paris wasn’t where she wanted to do it.
It was only a few hours later that she was on another plane back to the US, back to Kentucky. She landed and hired a car to take her to the little town called Lawrence.
She had a plan. It had been a long time since she’d done a solo con. But she been successful in sweet-talking her way into the good graces of a couple members of the Lawrence family. And to be honest, the damage she could do wasn’t quite as widespread as that of two others in her family.
She stayed two days, poking around, grifting her way in and out of conversations, gathering information, making two lists of names.
Wednesday morning, Sophie arrived back in Boston. She made her way to Nate’s apartment for the weekly staff meeting he hosted in his living room.
The rest of the team had gathered and were sorting through the pre-staff-meeting chaos when she arrived. There were a few happy greetings thrown her way, They’d known she’d be back.
If she was honest with herself she’d known she’d be back too.
Things slipped into the normal routine quickly. Eliot was grumbling about meetings being a waste of time, Hardison was taking personal offense to that, and Parker was moving in Simon and cooking popcorn in Nate’s microwave. Apparently she’d remembered that from last week.
Sophie went through her own normal routine, getting some tea and grabbing the box of wafers she kept on hand. It had been a long time since breakfast.
As she walked through her routine, she let her hands work, slipping copies of her lists into Parker and Hardison’s pockets. They’d find them later. Parker’s “bad” list was annotated with notes on the items of value owned by the various corrupt members of the Lawrence family. She indicated the businesses they owned on Hardison’s and left the rest up to his imagination.
A week later, after the two thieves disappeared over the weekend, Sophie got a news alert from Hardison. It was an article from a small Kentucky paper about a series of disasters and thefts that had bankrupted more than a dozen members of the extended Lawrence family.
Later, Sophie would check the My Sister’s Keeper website, to find it had a new layout and was announcing that, due to the generous donations of several individuals, the fund would be increasing the number of scholarships given out every year.
None of them spoke about the occurrence in Kentucky, but when the following Friday rolled around, Eliot told the crew they all needed a change of pace from pizza, beer, and leaving Nate’s apartment a wreck. He gave them an address and a time, and left, muttering about needing to go grocery shopping.
The lavish dinner they shared at Eliot’s place that night said enough.
Two weeks after everything had gone down in the little town, after Eliot’s stepfather came back and a family matter became a matter for families, after Sophie found out, and Eliot had killed, and everything that had happened, sitting around a little table in Eliot’s loft, laughing and talking like nothing had changed, Sophie found she was ready to accept. Something had changed. For better, for worse, something had changed and she might as well acknowledge it and move on. (Seems she’d changed as well. They all had.)
Taking advantage of a lull in the normal conversation and chaos, as everyone was oohing and awing over the desserts Eliot had set before them, Sophie raised her glass. “To family?”
There was an awkward moment where the others reacted a word they almost never spoke out loud to describe themselves, even if it had been obvious for a while.
Then Eliot raised his own glass. “What she said.”
The others responded a moment later, chorusing. “To family.”
They toasted and dug into their desserts, conversation coming back and laughter restarting and Sophie just smiled.
She may have never known her father. She may have left her mother, family, and anything resembling her “true” identity behind her when she ran off at fourteen.
But there was power in choosing your own identity, and choosing your family. Where they came from was different as the people they’d been made to be, but together they’d figure out where to go next.
And really, that was the important part.
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