By Paths Coincident

Chapter 21

Eliot was back at the Brew Pub within 20 minutes looking like he'd just ridden in off the range in faded Levis, a wrinkled western-cut plaid shirt, scuffed cowboy boots, and a well-worn Stetson. No one was going to make the mistake of thinking Eliot was a noob on a ranch, Hardison reflected. He eyed with curiosity the heavy coat and carry-on pack Eliot had slung over his shoulder. Eliot did not normally fly with any sort of luggage, so what had he decided he couldn't live without on this upcoming job?

A zipping sound from the ceiling made both men look up as Parker landed between them. Hardison knew from past experience that the duffle she was carrying held only her rigs and ropes, a couple of changes of non-descript clothing, and a bag of cereal.

Eliot knew it, too. "Time to visit the closet," he told a disgruntled Parker. "If you're gonna be playing my girlfriend, you're gonna have to dress for it. Also, what part of 'it's still winter up there' are you not comprehending?"

When Parker turned to him, Hardison shrugged. "It's either pack here or shop there."

As the reluctant Parker shinnied back up her line, he and Eliot plodded up the stairs. Hardison's own luggage was suspiciously light of actual clothing and contained large amounts of electronic surveillance equipment and tools. Since he did not really know what role he would end up playing, he figured that a high quality suit and accessories would be a sufficient addition to his usual wardrobe. Anything else he needed could be purchased on the ground.

When Parker's duffle was heavier by a few pairs of jeans and shirts, a winter coat and boots, and the little number she'd danced in during the Fiddle con, they were ready to depart for the airport.

"Okay. I've made each of us a Canadian resident packet," Hardison said, handing out the RFid blocking document holders. "Here are your passports, your SIN cards, and your Alberta drivers' licenses. And Eliot, here's your Permanent Resident card. Not gonna be able to sell that as a Canadian accent, no way, no how."

Eliot shrugged acknowledgement of the point

"And here are your Alberta Health cards, Blue Cross cards, credit cards on the Bank of Montreal, and some Canadian cash." Hardison dealt the items to his team.

"Oooh! Pretty!" Parker smiled, fanning out a handful of bills. "Like a rainbow. Why can't we have pretty money?"

"Because we are a nation of soulless bureaucrats, mama," Hardison said. "Now put that away and have some toonies and loonies for the snack machines and the parking meters."

Eliot shoved the handful of change into his pockets. Parker made her coins disappear and then smirked impishly while pulling them out of Eliot's hair.

Eliot scowled and ducked his head away from her. "Let's go," he growled.

"One last thing," Hardison added as they headed out to Lucille 4, "because I care. Tim Horton's gift cards for y'all in case you need a coffee or a muffin or something. Mmmhmm."

They stopped, briefly in the Brew Pub to drop off Parker's carnivorous plant for Amy Palavi to babysit while they were gone. Amy had become used to the sudden addition of that responsibility. The note with Parker's care and feeding instructions was curling up on the edges with age and use. They left the plant where Amy would find it when she came in to work.

Hardison was pretty sure Amy had figured out at least part of what Leverage did. They were going to miss her when she was finished with her Arts degree. Nate had liked the Brew Pub as a headquarters because of the high turnover of restaurant staff, but somehow they'd managed to mess that up. None of their staff wanted to leave. Partly it was the exorbitant salaries Eliot insisted on paying them, but part of it was the fact that no matter how their chef grumbled and lost his temper and cursed at them over a missing ingredient or a botched technique or a sloppy presentation or an unsanitary practice, the entire crew adored him and followed him around like Mary's little lambs. It was, Hardison grinned to himself, cute. And someday, when he didn't value his fingers for typing, he was going to tell Eliot so.