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Hardison’s the first to complain about Nate’s most recent plan. “We’re driving there? Seriously?”
Nate looks upward angrily, as if he’s trying to communicate with God, before leveling with the group. “Our covers were blown too recently for us to just waltz into airport security. So, yes, we’re going to drive.”
“Road trip!” Parker yells, throwing her arms in the air.
Hardison’s eyes widen. “But Nate, the job’s in Kansas! That’s – ”
“At least twenty-five hours,” Nate supplies. Hardison looks horrified.
“Well, we’re not doing it in one shot, right?” Sophie asks. When Nate doesn’t respond, she sighs. “Great.”
Parker is giddy with anticipation. “Road trip!”
Nate suggests that everyone packs quickly so that they can get there as soon as possible. The mark will only be at this conference in Topeka for a week, so time is of the essence. Sophie and Hardison leave, grumbling about personal space and packing and how it is possible for a team to get too close. Parker trails behind them, insisting that this is like Christmas morning, which earns her a, “Girl, don’t even go there!” from Hardison. Eliot seems the least affected by the news.
“You’re awfully quiet about this,” Nate calls out to Eliot as he heads towards the door.
Eliot shrugs. “I’ve been in worse.” He turns to leave, but pauses and looks over his shoulder at Nate. “Although, if Hardison gets annoying, I might have to take matters into my own hands.”
“Are we there yet?”
“Hardison, we left two hours ago!”
“There’s no way that was two hours! It’s definitely been five.”
Eliot mutters something under his breath about the true definition of vehicular homicide and returns to the case file that he and Parker are sharing. Nate smiles to himself in the driver’s seat. The trip hasn’t been bad so far, minus the struggle of fitting everything in the minivan they “borrowed.” Sophie called shotgun as soon as she saw the possibility of being road trip DJ, something that caused the rest of the team to share worrying looks. Hardison’s equipment and Sohpie’s luggage managed to overflow into the third row of seats, which forced Eliot to sit with Parker and Hardison in the middle. Whether or not Nate will regret forbidding Eliot ride on the roof (which he insisted on after seeing Parker tap the seat next to her gleefully) is anybody’s guess at this point. The one thing everyone agreed on was that Nate had to drive first because it was his client and his idea.
Nate doesn’t mind, not really, since most of his driving shift will be talking about the case and distracting Sophie from starting tedious car games. “I suggest we do a simple snatch and run,” he continues from a previous thought. “All our client wants is the papers proving the fraud, and they’ll definitely be on record at the company building in Topeka, since the CEO will be there.”
“This safe is a joke,” Parker muses over Eliot’s shoulder. “It’ll take me six minutes, tops.”
Hardison’s brow furrows as he clicks his keyboard at a lightning pace. “The safe’s not the problem.”
“Oh?” asks Nate.
“The company has increased security around the whole building due to the conference.”
Eliot strains his neck over Parker to look at Hardison’s screen. “Shit. That’s more guys and tech than Parker and I can handle without some sort of distraction.”
“I’m guessing that’s where I come in,” Sophie drawls, taking her shoes off to fit more comfortably in the car. “I’m glad I brought the right dress.”
“And in which of your fifty suitcases did you put it in?” Hardison quips.
Sophie glares at Hardison through the rear-view mirror. “A grifter has to prepare for every eventuality. And I did not bring fifty cases!”
“No, it was more like sixty.”
“Your tech stuff is taking up half the car!”
Hardison looks scandalized. “If we had taken Lucille, I wouldn’t have had to – ”
“Alright, children, settle down!” Nate orders. “No more fighting. Just work on your parts of the assignment and learn them. We’ll get out and stretch the next time we get gas and switch driving shifts, okay?”
The team falls into a comfortable silence, interrupted occasionally by Hardison asking to go to the bathroom. Nate relaxes at the wheel, knowing that his shift will be over soon. Surely not talking about the case will be easier on everyone.
Parker snores. It’s not particularly pig-sounding, but it’s loud and after half an hour it eats away at everyone’s patience. She warned them over lunch, with her mouth full, that she tends to crash after eating. “A power nap,” is what she called it. She falls asleep halfway through Hardison’s Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers soundtrack, and her head falls on Eliot’s shoulder. He pretends to be annoyed, but adjusts to make her more comfortable. That’s how they stay for a while: Hardison at the wheel, humming along to Rohan’s theme like it was some pop song; Nate looking over case notes (again); Sophie propping her head on one hand to look out the window, and Parker relaxing into Eliot’s side. Sophie and Eliot are itching to say something, restless from being unoccupied and sitting still, but there’s no opportunity to do so.
That is, until Hardison reaches for the next CD.
“We’re not going to another Lord of the Rings soundtrack, are we?” Sophie inquires tiredly.
Hardison smiles. “Actually, I was going to round off my shift with – ”
“Say Return of the King, Hardison,” Eliot snaps in a loud whisper, attempting to keep Parker asleep. “Say it and see what happens.”
“Maybe we could have some variety,” Nate suggests.
“Y’all don’t appreciate the majesty of this music!”
“Not after an hour of it, no!” Sophie yells in frustration.
Parker bolts awake, startling Eliot and Sophie. “What’d I miss?”
Another round of squabbles fills the car as they recall what happened. Nate’s certain that they’re going to get in an accident at one point, or at least pulled over, for Hardison is barely looking at the road and he narrowly misses a few cars merging from another exit. Each party arguing escalates until Sophie screams, “AND PARKER’S SNORES MAKE A FOGHORN SOUND LIKE A CRICKET!”
The car falls silent. Hurt, Parker turns to Eliot. “Am I really that loud?”
“Kinda,” he says sheepishly.
“You could’ve woken me up.”
Eliot doesn’t know what to say, and looks to Hardison in the rear-view mirror for assistance. “Babe, you looked so peaceful, none of us wanted to disturb you,” he replies easily.
That line seems to work, for Parker brightens up instantly and the tension in the car evaporates. She adds that Hardison should probably change things up with the music, and Hardison agrees (too easily, Eliot thinks). He pulls out another disc from his CD case and laughs a little to himself as he puts it in.
Sophie lifts her sunglasses to peer at Hardison. “What’re you putting on?”
“You’ll see.”
The sound of trumpets and drums fills the car, and Hardison laughs. Parker immediately recognizes the sound – probably from spending too much time with Hardison – and starts singing to it as much as one can sing along to instrumentals.
“Dammit, Hardison!”
Nate smiles. “Star Wars?”
“Hey, you guys asked for variety.” No one argues with Hardison’s logic and they begin to swap stories about their encounters with the movies. Sophie saw the third of the original trilogy on a date, and admits that she remembers the movie more than the date. Eliot and Nate reminisce watching them with their fathers and friends, that the action was good and the characters were relatable. Eliot even wanted to be Han Solo for a time. For Hardison, all the movies were more of a lifestyle than a simple entertaining experience. He speaks of them in the impassioned way he talks about Parker or technology or Lucille, and everyone listens.
“I never really watched them growing up,” Parker confesses after a lull in conversation. “No one really showed them to me before Hardison, and I guess I still don’t get it.”
“What?!” Hardison gapes at her from behind the wheel. “We’ll have to fix that. It starts a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…” And Hardison starts his animated retelling of all the movies, with Eliot and Sophie chipping in every so often and Nate reminding him that he was, in fact, driving, and could he please not miss the exit this time, if it could be avoided? By the time Hardison finishes, the team is an hour outside Salt Lake City, the van is running out of gas, and everyone is hungry.
“Nice job telling the story, Hardison,” Sophie remarks as everyone makes their way to the rest stop, stretching out limbs and back knots as they go. “You’ll make an excellent grifter.”
Whatever time was lost with Hardison’s irregular driving route, Parker makes up for with sheer erratic tendencies. Everyone is thankful that her shift is mostly in the highways of Utah and Wyoming that hold very few cars at night; it hasn’t been forty minutes when she passes her fifth car for the hell of it.
“Jesus, Parker!” Eliot roars from behind Hardison, who is riding shotgun. “The whole point of us driving was to not get caught by police!”
Hardison gives him a withering look, but his knuckles are white around the arms of his seat. “Come on, she’s going to get us there faster.”
“Yeah, and I’d like to get there in one piece!”
Sophie, who now sits between Eliot and Nate in the back seat, reveals her own CD from the depths of her purse. “Parker, I think it’s time for some relaxing tunes.”
Before anyone can think of a reason to say no, Parker agrees, either out of impulse or insanity. The gang braces themselves for the unexpected, and is pleasantly surprised when they are brought back to the 80s with a few notes of Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding out for a Hero.” At first, no one says anything, too afraid to be “that person” who sings in the car. Then Parker bellows, “I NEED A HERO!” and everyone’s reservations are gone. Sophie, who of course knows all the lyrics, joins in at the verses. Hardison makes his voice higher to compete with Sophie, and Parker laughs so hard she has trouble breathing. The sun setting behind the minivan paints them all with an orange-pink glow as the sky dissolves into darker blues and purples.
Nate shakes his head and settles backwards to try and get a few hours’ sleep before the early morning shift, which he promised Sophie he’d be awake with her for. He doesn’t really know how he’s going to get any sleep, especially when Hardison is attempting to beatbox the 80s drum beat, but failing so horribly that even Eliot stifles a laugh. Eventually, though, when the CD moves into a 50s crooners section, Nate drifts off to Sophie quietly butchering Frank Sinatra.
He is roused again around ten-thirty. Without even opening his eyes, Nate can tell that Sophie has fallen asleep, and she is hugging one of his arms close to her. His eyelids flutter open to the sound of Eliot and Hardison having a hushed argument.
“That can’t be right, Hardison. Check again!”
Hardison is hunched over his laptop and furiously typing. “I’m telling you, he’s dead!”
“Who’s dead?” Nate rasps out, slipping his arm from Sophie’s grasp and putting it around her to draw her to his chest. He starts to notice other things that weren’t there when he fell asleep, like the empty bottle of orange soda next to Hardison and Parker’s yawning and the intense music softly spewing from the speakers.
“Riff!” Hardison says, like it’s obvious. “This is the scene where he and Bernardo rumble and they both get stabbed!”
“He was my favorite,” Eliot grumbles. “Fucking Sharks.”
Nate gives Parker a questioning look. “Sophie has the whole West Side Story album on here, and Hardison’s been reading us the plot of the show as the songs go along,” she clarifies.
“Tony’s a dumbass,” Hardison declares.
Eliot grunts in agreement. “Totally would’ve lost in that knife fight with Bernardo.”
“I hate to interrupt, but where are we?” Nate asks, sitting up slightly.
“Almost out of gas, and almost to Fort Steele,” Parker chirps, though he can tell she’s getting tired. “I cut fifteen minutes off of our travel time!”
Eliot smirks. “Cutting off God knows how many cars in the process.”
Just for that, Parker makes an acutely sharp switch into another lane, causing Eliot to fly slightly from his seat. “Come on, Parker!” he yells.
Nate goes about waking Sophie up, so that by the time the car pulls off the highway at a twenty-four hour gas station, everyone gets out to use the bathroom. Just from the reflection from the convenience store’s glass doors, the team can see the state they’re in. Despite the nap, Parker looks dog-tired and her ponytail is starting to come undone. Hardison spilled orange soda on himself at some point, so his clothes are sticky and he angrily throws the bottle away – with more force than is probably necessary. Nate’s clothes are rumpled, something he tries to fix while waiting for the bathroom, before giving up. For one who is usually so put together, Sophie’s outfit and hair are in complete disarray, though Nate finds himself checking her out anyway. Eliot is the least visibly fazed; he just glowers at everything more than usual.
To the attendant at the convenience store, they look like quite the motley crew. No one tries to convince him otherwise.
Sophie buys enough caffeinated drinks to stimulate a small army and is suddenly raring to drive. Nate sets up shop in the seat next to her, quickly hiding her CDs in the glove box. The remaining three groggily pile into the back seats, Parker again sandwiched between Eliot and Hardison.
Nate and Sophie chat away in the front seats about old times in Paris and Italy for the first hour or so. Sometimes Sophie thinks that this whole business with the team for the last five years is another chase, for Nate likes to skate around his feelings more than a hockey player on the ice, but she forgives him every time because while Nate is flawed, he has the biggest heart of any man she’s ever known (and she’s met her fair share of men). Even now, she notices him glancing in the rear-view mirror at the rest of the team periodically, like he’s watching his children. In a way, they’ve all become an extremely dysfunctional family; Lord knows most of them haven’t had a proper family to compare it to, but it works. They work.
“I think they’re sleeping now,” Nate murmurs.
Sophie looks behind her and smiles. Parker is lying down, her head in Hardison’s lap and her legs on top of Eilot’s. Her snores are barely a sniffle now. One of Hardison’s arms supports his head while the other drapes over Parker’s torso, his fingers in her hair. Eliot is stiffer (Nate and Sophie guess that this is due to his war experiences), though one hand is uncharacteristically loose, his fingertips grazing Parker’s free hand.
“Even Eliot, do you think?”
Nate chuckles. “Even the great Eliot Spencer needs to rest more than an hour and a half sometimes.”
As if he hears his name, Eliot twitches and shudders in the back seat, and wakes up for an instant. His eyes are wild and sweat beads his forehead. Parker immediately feels the disturbance and moves into action by grasping Eliot’s hand. Another hand – Hardison’s, Eliot recognizes – reaches over to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. Eliot’s breathing returns to normal as he looks between Parker and Hardison, almost to check that they’re real. The three then settle into their new positions and fall back asleep.
This all happens so quickly that Sophie and Nate barely register what has occurred. Sophie gives Nate her concerned look, and he takes one of her hands in his. “They’re all right,” he says quietly. “They’ve got us.”
Sophie passes a sign welcoming them to Denver not long after, and she and Nate strike up conversation again. The three sleeping in the back adjust a few more times, once because Hardison has trouble breathing and grips at his throat violently, another time because Parker wakes up with silent tears and takes turns hugging Hardison and Eliot, telling them not to leave her. Sophie muses that they seem accustomed to this sort of routine, and she assumes that Nate is thinking the same thing, but no one says anything. They know what the nightmares are about.
Nate still holds Sophie’s hand as they cross the Kansas border to switch shifts. It’s four in the morning.
Eliot likes watching the sunrise. It fascinates him how quickly the sky can turn bright colors from something so dark. He tells this to Parker next to him, in a low voice so that no one else will hear, because he knows she’ll understand what he means. She’s surprisingly alert for six AM and agrees with him wholeheartedly. His one hand grips the steering wheel while the other taps absentmindedly to the country radio station crackling through the car. Nate and Sophie dozed off a while ago and Hardison is far from a morning person, so Parker volunteers to keep Eliot company.
They don’t mind the silence, but share a sentence or two every ten miles or so. “I grew up in a place like this,” Eliot says wistfully.
Parker cocks her head at the landscape, currently bathed in pale blues and pinks. “It’s flat,” she concludes, “but you can see a lot of sky.”
“Sure can.”
“Can you believe we’ve done over a thousand miles?”
Eliot snorts. “Nope. I thought for sure I was going to kill Hardison somewhere around the seven hundred-mile mark.”
“Gee, thanks,” says a voice behind him.
“Good morning!” Parker beams.
Hardison groans as he stretches. “That’s your opinion. What time is it?”
“Six-fifteen. Three hours to go!”
Hardison lets out a string of unenthusiastic curses under his breath and takes out his laptop to check their hotel reservations. He tells the group for the millionth time that this trip had better be worth it because he felt like he’d aged ten years since leaving Portland. Parker tells him to stop being such a baby; the ride hadn’t been that bad. “Although,” she admits, “I do think we need to pack more food next time.” She holds up the empty cooler as evidence.
This suddenly reminds Hardison of how hungry he is, and he and Parker start to whine about how they’ve lost so much weight since the last time they ate – it must’ve been years ago. Eliot grits his teeth and bites out threats of marooning them in remote Kansas towns if they didn’t shut up. This is what finally wakes Nate and Sophie up. They five argue about food for so long that they don’t notice the GPS telling them that they have arrived at their hotel.
They are all more disheveled than before, but recover quickly after showering and flopping on their beds. When Sophie suggests lunch (even though it’s only ten in the morning), they all practically sprint back to the minivan. Only Parker remains just outside the car door, grinning.
“What?” asks Sophie.
Parker laughs. “I can’t wait for the trip back!”