See Chapter 1 for disclaimers, etc.

Author's apologies: Sorry about that little unexpected hiatus (double apologies to the Eliot fans among you :)) - I went on a last minute "snow-venture" and failed to pack the devices that connect to internet type things. This seemed like a good idea at the time (my electronics have a bad history with last minute adventures of even the mildly damp kind), but I wasn't really thinking about the fact hat I had left three quarters of a story adrift on the ether seas. Anyway, here, finally, is the fourth and final chapter - thanks for sticking with it!

"It's Eliot's turn first," Parker says. "He hasn't told his story yet."

Nate looks back at Parker as she speaks. Both she and Hardison have turned expectant eyes on Eliot – Nate can't quite tell if their expectation is more curiousity, or the sense of sibling fairness that demands not only the same number of marshmallows in everyone's cup of hot chocolate, but the same number of green beans on everyone's dinner plates.

Eliot looks resigned – and wary. Not a great start for a Christmas gift of trust. He unfolds his arms, setting the beer to one side.

"Couple of months ago," he says, each word coming out like it's being dragged over ground glass, "I drove down to Oklahoma...Went to see my dad."

There's a pregnant silence when Eliot stops, everyone waiting for the story that follows. When none is forthcoming, the other four exchange glances.

"And...?" Hardison prompts.

Eliot frowns.

"And what?" he demands.

"This was after we took down that Save!More store, right?" Hardison asks. He gets a terse nod from Eliot and continues. "So, you went to see your dad and then what happened?"

"And then I came back," Eliot growls.

Hardison, Parker and Sophie all protest that this can't count as Eliot's story.

"You said a story or a secret, Sophie," Eliot counters. "This was a secret."

The silence this time falls somewhere between awkward and embarrassed.

"Nah, man, it wasn't," Hardison admits at last.

"What?" Eliot's growl is tipping from annoyed into fierce.

"What, what?" Hardison's tone has its own undercurrent of annoyance. "That job really got under your skin, and then you dropped out of sight for four days. You think we wouldn't worry? I just pinged your phone, is all – we saw where you were headed and figured it was all good unless you were gone too long."

"Dammit, Hardison," Eliot's growling properly now. "Ain't you ever heard of privacy?"

"Ain't you ever heard of leaving a note?" Hardison demands in his turn. "Seriously, man. Just a text saying 'Headed out of town for a few day. See you Sunday.' Is that too much to ask?"

Eliot's response this time doesn't make it into words. Nate stays silent, expecting Eliot to follow it up by leaving. He doesn't, though. And after a moment, Sophie's voice drops into the fray, cutting across the tension.

"Why was it meant to be a secret, Eliot?" she asks.

Eliot's eyes go to Sophie's and then Nate's as he shakes his head in repsonse.

"Because he hadn't be home in, what?, eighteen?, nineteen? years," Hardison fills in.

"Hardison!" Eliot explodes.

Nate suppresses a smile.

"It's Eliot's story," he reminds Hardison. "Let him tell it his way."

"But he isn't!" Hardison protests.

"Hardison," Sophie and Nate chorus in exasperation, and he subsides muttering.

"So, eighteen years?" Sophie asks. "That sounds like a story."

Eliot looks at her, eyes flickering guiltily to Hardison and Parker, then to Nate.

"We had a fight," he says, reluctantly. "Night before I left to join the army. He told me if I walked out the door, not to come back."

"Why -?" Parker starts to ask, but stops, pressing her lips tightly closed and shaking her head.

"Must have been quite the reunion," Nate comments. "What did he say?"

Eliot crosses his arms again.

"Nothing," he says. "He wasn't home."

No-one has a response to that.

"Felt like an idiot," Eliot admits after a moment. "There were lights on, but no-one was answering the door. Stood on that front porch for damn-near thirty minutes before I realised it was Thursday night during football season – whole town was down at the high school for the pep rally...Players' families always used to leave the front lights on those nights. My sister and her kid moved back home a year or so back, and he's old enough now to be on the high school team."

"You didn't wait for them to come home?" Hardison interrupts, apparently not interested in the sociology of small-town Oklahoma.

Eliot shakes his head.

"Drove by the high school," he says. "The whole town was there...I'd forgotten how that felt: everyone being so caught up in it all...It was like, in this one place and one way, time had completely stood still. I hung around until the parking lot started to empty out enough that people would start to notice and be alarmed by the strange truck just sitting there. When my dad and my sister and nephew came out, I didn't have to hear the argument they were having to know it was about whether he had to come home for dinner because it was a school night, or if he could go out for burgers with some of the team – I think we had that argument after every pep rally every year that I played football...although the kid must have skills I didn't because he ran off to join his friends and I don't remember winning that privilege until my senior year..."

Eliot trails off, then seems to decide that since he's said this much, he may as well finish. He takes a breath.

"Anyhow, they looked happy, you know?" he continues. "Like they'd found a good place in their lives and things are going according to plan this time. That's all I was looking to know, so I left before one of the nosy old ladies could decide I was trouble and called the sheriff on me. I drove back up here and, well, that was that...Not much of a story, really, when you get down to it."

Eliot shrugs with a feigned nonchalance as he draws his story to a close. Sophie and Hardison both give small smiles, apparently satisfied with what he's shared. Parker is frowning, but Eliot's not sure if it's because she doesn't get why he didn't stay and speak to his dad, or because he didn't explain what a pep rally is – either or both is equally likely, but Eliot's not going to encourage her by asking. Nate, on the other hand, is keeping his face studiously blank.

"Spit it out, Nate," Eliot tells him. He'd rather deal with whatever Nate's issue is now than have it lurking in corners to bite them later.

"What?" Nate raises an eyebrow innocently.

"Whatever it is that's stuck in your craw," Eliot huffs. "Just say it."

"Okay," Nate says, raising his eyes with the challenge now clearly showing. "You said that seeing your family happy was all you needed, but what about them?"

"What do you mean?" Eliot asks, voice heading down towards a growl again.

"Look, I get it was a bad fight," Nate says, holding his hands up in submission on this point, "but, as a father, I can tell you that, no matter what it was about or what happened after, he'd want you to come home."

"You can't know that, Nate," Eliot tells him, flatly.

"No?" Nate asks. "I can tell you this, if Sam were alive, there is nothing I couldn't forgive him for, and nothing I wouldn't ask his forgiveness for, if it meant having him back in my life today."

"Yeah, well, if there's one piece of silver lining in the way things turned out, be glad you never had to put that theory to the test," Eliot's words lash out at Nate, countering hurt with hurt before he can stop it.

There's a moment in which even the room seems to hold its breath, but Eliot reins the anger back in before Nate's finished his flinch.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. "I didn't mean it like that."

Nate waves the apology aside.

"You might be right," he concedes. "The only thing I can imagine hurting worse than the way I lost Sam is the thought that my son could be out in the world somewhere, thinking I didn't love him enough to forgive him."

By rights, it is Eliot's turn to flinch. He doesn't, though. Looking Nate right in the eye, Eliot shrugs.

"Maybe," he says. "But if Sam had grown up to be everything you raised him not to be, would you really want him there to keep that disappointment bouncing back and forth between you?"

"If that's how you thought it would go, why did you drive down there?" Sophie interjects.

Eliot turns a rueful gaze on her.

"I probably shouldn't have," he says. "Martin on that Save!More job kind of reminded me of my dad and made me want to go make sure he was doing all right. And it was right after the Spanish flu thing in DC that Hardison and Parker and I stopped, and I guess I let that kind of go to my head and thought it would be okay to visit this time, and ... I don't know...Seeing my dad with my nephew, in the place where I grew up, though, made it clear what a stupid idea that was."

Nate grunts in exasperated disagreement.

"I'm going to say it again, Eliot," he says obstinately. "As a father, there is nothing my son could do that would be such a disappointment that I would want him to stay away. I think you should give your father the chance to prove that to you."

Eliot shakes his head, frustrated by Nate's refusal to see what he is saying.

"I'm a killer and a thief, Nate," Eliot says, laying each word out with deliberation. "I won't ask my father to pretend to be okay with that."

The words carry a conviction that seems to quell even Nate's argument. The silence that follows them expands, pushing outwards between the members of the team until, finally, it's left to Eliot to break it.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I guess that wasn't quite what Sophie had in mind when she suggested this for Christmas gifts."

"No," Sophie stops him, and her eyes are shining with something suspiciously like tears as she looks around the group. "I asked that we share trust for Christmas, and everyone did that. It was perfect."

"Well," Eliot continues. "I'm going to call it a night. Hardison, let me know if any crises come up with the Brewpub; otherwise, I'll see you all after the New Year."

There's a round of good nights as he makes his way to the door, but the discomfort of the argument with Nate lingers, and his hand is already pushing the door open before Nate speaks.

"Eliot," Nate stops him, and Eliot pauses, looking back warily as if expecting a final volley in the exchange of shots. "Merry Christmas."

Considering Nate's earlier diatribes against the celebration of Christmas, Eliot isn't entirely sure what to make of this and he pauses, looking for hidden sarcasm. The twitching around the corners of Nate's lips when he recognises what Eliot is doing is, ironically, what convinces him of the sincerity.

Eliot huffs somehting that could be a laugh.

"Bah humbug," he says lightly, and with a final wave, leaves.

Nate turns back to the remainder of the team. Parker and Hardison are looking at him like he should have been able to fix Eliot's story to have a happy ending like he had theirs; Sophie is giving him a more considering look.

"What?" he asks her.

"You stopped arguing," she says. "I'm not sure I've seen that happen before."

"Yes, well," Nate prevaricates. "The phrase 'throwing sand against the tide' does spring to mind."

"What do you mean?" Parker asks.

Nate sighs.

"First, I met Eliot's father once," he says succinctly. "That reunion might go exactly the way Eliot expects. Second, even if I'm right, Eliot's not ready to be forgiven."

"Oh," Parker says.

She looks over at Hardison.

"You think we should go?"

Hardison nods.

"Yeah," he says. "It is Christmas, after all. Even if it is just a 'commercialization of a pagan blood-sacrifice festival.'"

Nate smiles to himself. It doesn't sound like Hardison has figured out yet that he'd been conned into thinking about some of the things Christmas should really mean – and Nate's not about to point it out.

Sophie wishes the younger thieves a Merry Christmas as they head towards the door.

"Where exactly are you going?" Nate asks, instead. "Or don't we want to know?"

Parker and Hardison exchange glances.

"Well," Hardison says, "since we don't have to pretend to be okay with being thieves and such –"

"Because we are thieves," Parker breaks in helpfully.

"What she said," Hardison agrees. "We thought maybe we'd go remind Eliot of that..."

"Ah," Nate says. He hides a satisfied smile. If his current plans play out as he hopes, the three younger members of the team are going to be just fine. Outwardly, he gives a resigned sigh. "Just put back whatever it is you decide to steal."

"Hardison?" Sophie calls as the door opens, and he looks back at her. "Remind him we're not pretending either?"

He gives her a thumbs up and ushers Parker out the door, shushing her quickly as she demands to know when they're exchanging the presents Nate thinks they haven't bou-... obtained.

Sophie and Nate exchange amused glances – as if they didn't know about the clandestine gifts!

"So," Sophie says, finishing her drink, "I hear a rumour that you are a very skilled trumpet player...care to put some of that talent to use in a Christmas celebration?"

Nate takes their glasses to the sink.

"That depends," he says. "Does this 'celebration' involve me being on stage with any or all of your acting students?"

Sophie raises an arch eyebrow.

"I had something a little more...private...in mind," she tells him. "But if you'd like some co-stars, I'm sure something could be arranged..."

Nate laughs.

"I don't think that would be very fair to them," he holds her coat for her to slide into. "Lead on, Ms. Devereaux. Your trumpet awaits."

The End.

Some extra author's notes:

1. Yes, there is a story about how Nate met Eliot's father. However, that particular plot bunny has a very co-dependent relationship with another one who unfortunately had to go into the witness protection program for awhile...

2. Please don't read this as an 'Eliot has low self esteem' story (or, if you do, please don't tell me that!). There is nothing wrong with Eliot's self-esteem - he knows his talents and his worth. But he has done some truly awful things (for good and bad reasons) at various point sin his life, and I don't think any of us would love him as much if he wasn't aware (and regretful) of the consequences of that for himself and the people in his life.