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Parker never uses the doorbell. She almost never uses the door either.
The doorbell takes him by surprise. Hardison spends a moment collecting himself and forcing his heartbeat back under the range of healthy before he answers the door.
She looks up and down the hall, like she doesn't know he knows every inch of this building inside and out. Elliot is a little more subtle. Parker doesn't hide her confusion, shuffling her feet in the entryway.
Hardison cuts her off before she can ask any questions. "Look, it's not for the job. It's...it's for me, I just need to finish this."
Parker doesn't look any less confused but the anxious edge is gone. Elliot shrugs, sticks his hands in his pockets. Hardison hands off the slim folder, hoping the shake in his hand isn't as obvious as it seems to him.
"Hey, we gotcha man." Elliot claps him on the shoulder and Hardison almost falls over, impact too sudden, intense. He's too tense to keep himself together. He forces an answering grin.
His gaze slides away, some point between them. "Thanks, it means a lot to me." It sounds too heavy in the semi-dark of the hallway, supposed to be a little favor between friends.
He lets them back out, goes back to his computer for one last check.
He could have done it; breaking into some old records building isn't beyond his skills. He's just tired of waiting to be ready to do it.
~~~~
They come back with the box, one of those file boxes that looks like the bottom might fall out at any minute, finger smears in the layer of dust on the top. Of course they opened it, Hardison gave them a list of the things to check for inside, he can't do this more than once.
Elliot puts it on the table, brushes his hands together to clear the dust. Parker is watching him solemnly from the chair she helped herself to.
"I need, just hold on." He isn't fleeing, not exactly. He makes a round of his apartment, grabbing a small lock box that he'd left sitting on his bed, checking again that the rest of his world is as he left it.
He sets the lock box down next to the file box, opening both. The dust dances in the sunlight coming through the kitchen window.
"You guys don't need to..." He waves his hand, he's not sure if he means stay or go.
"We can stay." Parker says. Elliot leans against the doorway, as comfortable as he ever gets.
"Ok." Maybe he shouldn't feel relieved but it doesn't much matter.
The lock box only has a few things in it. Fifteen years as a foster kid and two years as a runaway hasn't left much evidence.
He pulls items out of the file box one by one, a few pictures, years of reports by social services, one file for each family and finally the Missing Persons Report. There's a picture of his mom, slim and beautiful in a summer dress, squinting from the sunshine on someone's front lawn. He sets it gently in the lock box.
The other picture shows two kids in front of a church. The boy has a brown tweed jacket, slacks that are too long for him and a bright red bow-tie. The girl wears an Easter dress, a little bit plain but cheery yellow, her shoes are scuffed at the toes and she doesn't have anything in her hair, the red bow-tie around her neck looks like it's seen better days. He stares at it for long moments before setting it in the lock box.
~~~~
The only thing left is a small stack of papers. The bedroom is too stuffy when he goes back, puts the lock box away, tucked under his bed.
Parker and Elliot are still in the kitchen when he gets back. He hadn't really thought this far ahead.
He doesn't look at Parker and Elliot, staring at the papers while they innocently accuse him. He thinks for a brief moment of keeping them, something tangible, he was here.
The idea dies as soon as he flips open the top folder, wrong name, wrong person, wrong life scribbled all over the neat little lines and boxes.
Parker sets a pair of beers on the table. Elliot sets a lighter on the stack of papers. "She can stay missing." Hardison flinches instinctively.
"Yeah."