#don't worry. eliot's not dead. this is not an mc death

[trekscribbles]

The Bushwhack Job: Chapter Four

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

(Disclaimer: This is a relatively rough draft and subject to change when I post to AO3. I'm just overly excited and want to share what I have.)

Three bodies had been recovered from the destroyed LanCast building.

It took several hours to discover that much. Nate had insisted they leave the hotel as Eliot instructed, falling back on one of the contingency plans the two of them probably talked about when they were alone in the bar. Parker didn’t ask. She didn’t want to think about worst-case scenarios.

Once secured in a new hotel across town, Hardison had done whatever he usually did to get their information, and came up with a police report of the accident.

Three bodies. No identification. Awaiting coroner’s report.

They took the news in silence. They climbed into Lucille in silence, they drove to the morgue in silence, and they entered the cold building in silence. Hardison and Parker donned their FBI disguises, with Nate and Sophie wearing the appropriately stricken expressions of worried loved ones. It was late, but the badges got them in, and an assistant met them at the door and led them to the lab where the autopsies were being performed.

“Special Agent Thomas,” Hardison said, flashing his badge to the medical examiner. “This is Special Agent Hagen. We’re invistigating the incident at the LanCast building.”

The medical examiner, whose nametag identified her as “Dr. M. Morton”, glanced at Nate and Sophie. “We haven’t been able to identify the victims yet. Are you hoping to find someone? I can only speak with immediate family.”

“Our son,” Sophie said in an unsteady voice. “He may have been inside the building when it—when it…”

Nate put a hand on her arm, and Hardison cleared his throat to bring the doctor’s attention back to him. 

“What can you tell us about the victims?”

“Not much, I’m afraid.” She gestured at the three bodies, which her assistant had hastily covered in white cloths. “The remains were badly damaged by the fire. They were all male, all aged late-twenties to mid-thirties.”

“Anything else?” Parker asked, her stomach dropping. “Height? Clothes? Anything they may have had on them?”

“These two are around 6’2”, 6’3”. This one is shorter, maybe 5’7”.” Dr. Morton indicated the body in the middle and frowned when Sophie gave a little gasp of dismay. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Does that match the description of your son?”

Sophie nodded, pale-faced and trembling.

Dr. Morton gave her a sympathetic look and lifted an evidence bag from the tray at the body’s feet. “We found this on him,” she said, holding it out to Sophie. “Do you recognize it?”

They all leaned in, and Parker felt the heat leave her body in a rush.

Eliot’s necklace.

Sophie’s knees gave out. Nate caught her as she fell, but she sank to the ground with her face in her hands, shaking. “It’s him,” she sobbed, her voice muffled. “He’s ours. It’s Eliot.”

A strange, distant buzzing sound filled Parker’s ears, and for a moment, it was all she could hear. Hardison spoke beside her, and Sophie went on crying, but the words were lost to the static hum inside her head. The doctor asked them something, and Nate stared straight through her as if she didn’t exist. He wasn’t old enough to be Eliot’s dad, but suddenly he looked it.

They can’t handle it, said a cold, detached voice in her brain. They’re falling apart. Who’s going to hold them together?

Eliot. But Eliot was gone, and Eliot couldn’t be gone, and it didn’t matter whether he was gone or not, because he wasn’t here.

Parker was.

She blinked, and all the noise slammed back into her, and her brain caught up to what Dr. Morton was saying.

“—so sorry I have to ask, but it would help if we could get a DNA sample to verify his identity.”

“Yes,” Parker said. “A DNA sample. I’ll just—this is a shock for them. I’m going to take them out and give them a moment.”

Dr. Morton nodded. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Parker glanced at Hardison, who was blinking at the body under the sheet, his eyes wide and wet. She put her hand on his shoulder to turn him away. “Sir,” she said to Nate. “Ma’am. Let’s go. We can talk outside.”

Nate looked at her, but there was a strange emptiness in his eyes that made her feel tiny and hopeless. “Sir,” she repeated. “Please come with me.”

“Sophie,” he murmured, breaking eye contact with Parker to crouch at Sophie’s side. “Come on, honey. Stand up.”

“I don’t want to leave him,” Sophie said, her voice thick and broken. “Please, he can’t stay here, not with these men. Please, can’t we—?”

Parker took Sophie’s elbow and pulled her gently to her feet, guiding her toward the door. Nate and Hardison followed, but Parker didn’t look back. She had to get them out. 

Eliot would get them out.

She brought them to the van, and took the driver’s seat after getting them safely inside. Hardison was crying now, too, but Nate sat in absolute, unmoving silence. She drove to the hotel, parked, waited for someone to open the door.

No one did.

“We don’t know,” Hardison said after a few minutes. His face was dry, but his voice still sounded uneven. “He could have lost the necklace. It doesn’t prove anything.”

Sophie shook her head, but had to try twice before she could get her words out. “He would have called. He would have found us if he wasn’t…”

Dead. The word slammed itself against the inside of Parker’s skull, over and over again like a security alarm she hadn’t accounted for.

Dead, dead, dead.

Adapt to the situation, the voice in her head said. First things first. Take care of your team.

She opened her door. Hardison followed her, helping Sophie from the back, but Nate stayed where we was in the passenger seat. Parker moved around the van to open his door, but he didn’t look at her.

“Go inside,” she said, her voice low and steady. “We’re not done.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“Lancaster knew about us,” she said. “He set a trap for Eliot and me. We have to finish this, or he’ll keep coming after us. After Hardison and Sophie.”

He looked up then, his eyes still hollow, his hands loose in his lap.

“This is what Eliot would do,” Parker said.

Nate lifted one hand and set it over his face. He took a breath, two, and exhaled so heavily that his shoulders shook.

“What would Eliot say if it was one of us?” he asked.

Parker shook her head. “It wouldn’t have been anyone else.”

“What does it say about me that I couldn’t stop this?” Nate asked, and Parker heard the unspoken again in the way his voice hitched at the end.

“I don’t know,” Parker whispered. “But we need you. Lancaster is going to try again, and we need you.”

Nate nodded, dropping his hand once more. He stood unsteadily and followed the others across the parking lot toward the door.

Parker watched them go, slipping her hand into her pocket to remove the evidence bag she’d taken when Dr. Morton's back was turned. She opened it, picked out the necklace, and clasped it around her neck, tucking the cold metal charm under her shirt so it laid flat against her skin.

Then she followed what was left of her team inside the hotel.