Eliot woke up frowning.
That wasn’t, in and of itself, unusual. The unusual part was how he immediately went to the computers and booted up one of Hardison’s enhanced locator programs and started typing in fragments of information.
Parker stared over his shoulder, fascinated and unwilling to disturb him until he sat back and stared at the screen with an expression that looked like anger but Parker knew was concern.
“Who’s she?” Parker asked, forgetting that Eliot probably hadn’t noticed she was there, with how focused he’d been on the computer. Eliot was usually really good at noticing her, after all.
He hissed quietly, and batted at her. “You can read.”
Parker petted his hair. He didn’t want to admit he liked it, but he soothed under her touch as she skimmed the information. “I mean, yeah, you pulled up Nile Freeman’s information, but I want to know why.”
“She’s not dead.” Eliot sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Ignore the part where it says she was killed in action. I want to know who wrote that in, because if they’ve got someone on their team who actually understands technology now, that... changes things.”
“Eliot.” Parker perched herself on the desk between Eliot and the computer, making the snap decision to talk loud enough that Hardison might actually wake up himself. “What sort of team is she part of? And how do you know she’s part of it? She looks like a pretty ordinary Marine, from what Hardison’s gathered.”
Eliot closed his eyes. It wasn’t the same expression as his I don’t talk about Moreau face, or the one that came up when Hardison tried to ask him about Stargate. It was more of a Fuck I hope this makes sense face, which Parker usually saw in the middle of cons. “Please don’t make me explain this twice.”
Parker rolled her eyes and threw Hardison’s custom-made Baby Yoda over at the bed. It clunked against him, and he sat up with a yelp. “What the— Babe, I told you not to throw Baby Yoda at me anymore! It’s too precious!”
“Eliot has something to share,” Parker said over her partner’s protests. “Come listen.”
Hardison shut up immediately. As he got dressed, Eliot told them about immortals, and about meeting them “on a job”. Parker didn’t ask him how old he was, but she caught Hardison’s eyes narrowing at the same omission, especially when he muttered something about how they saw each other in dreams. “She’s got to be one of them,” Eliot finished with. “And if you’re awake enough for it, I want to know who rewrote her file to say KIA.”
“Can do.” Hardison pressed a kiss to Eliot’s forehead as he poured himself into his overly-fancy Gamer Chair 9000 (which wasn’t actually called that but he sputtered in such entertaining ways when she called it that). “Let me just…”
Parker traded amused smiles with Eliot as Hardison sank into his hyper-focused Research Mode. “Come on,” she said quietly, standing. “Make him some breakfast so that he doesn’t crash when he’s done.”
Eliot never needed much prompting to make food. He even let her slice up the onions today, which Parker took as a sign of his unsettled mood and his way of thanking her for listening and making sure that everything ticked along in their lives. Parker didn’t think she needed to be thanked for that; they were between jobs, and she was beginning to get the antsy itch in the back of her brain that meant she’d need to do something soon, and this immortal squad of Eliot’s was much more interesting than anything she’d have come up with herself.
Plus, if she was reading Eliot right, they might make some new friends by the end of this.
Once Eliot finished cooking, Parker helped him bring the food—elaborate omelets and fresh-squeezed orange juice, which was Eliot’s eternal protest against Hardison’s orange soda—upstairs; he didn’t need her help, but if she opened doors for him it went more smoothly for everyone involved.
Hardison spun around on his chair as soon as they entered, delight spreading across his face. “Oh, hell yeah, food!” He made grabby hands until Eliot set a plate in front of him and then started eating, talking between bites. “Pretty sure that this guy named James Copley did it. Ex-CIA, which puts him a step ahead of certain other favorite people of ours, in that he left.”
“Where is he now?” Parker prompted, before Hardison could get distracted with a diatribe about Sterling. Even if Interpol and the CIA were different, the point still stood.
“Right, I was getting there.” Hardison pressed a button and the big screen lit up with a fairly low-key—for Hardison—display of information. “Last known location was Essex, but his info has all the signs of someone who recently buried their traces. For instance, he was recently seen being buddy-buddy with Merrick Corp, but I dragged these out of the mainframe’s archives, I think just in time.”
These were two images from security cameras overlaid with identifying labels. The first was a single blurry frame that showed Copley and Nile Freeman exiting a car and heading towards the Merrick HQ. The second showed Nile Freeman and Steven Merrick falling out a window.
Eliot snorted at that. “She’s got style.”
“I like her.” Parker grinned, even as she took in the complete lack of safety equipment. “He can’t have survived this. Eliot, you’re certain she did?”
“Yeah.” He fiddled with his utensils, a sure sign of his distraction. “Can you find where they went?”
Hardison’s smile sweetened. “Honey, do you even need to ask?”
“Alec,” Eliot growled.
“Hey, hey, you know I’m the best!” Hardison rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. “All signs point to them heading back towards the Middle East. If they don’t know their destination yet, neither can I.”
“It’s a start.” Eliot sighed and glanced at them. “I’d say you didn’t need to come with me, that this is personal, but—”
“We work together,” Parker finished. She bounced to her feet. They’d definitely be making some new friends. “So, time to steal some immortals?”
Eliot groaned, “Parker,” and Hardison burst out laughing, and Parker couldn’t wait to see how this all turned out.