31A/N: I was really excited when I saw this on the prompt list, in fact, it was one of the things that made me decide on that particular list. I love Parker's bunny, it's just one more of those things about her that leaves us wondering: who is she really? And how did she come to be The Thief that we all know and love? I hope this sheds some light on it for you. :) Thank you to every one who has read, reviewed, favorited, and followed, it means a lot. Please R&R!
Disclaimer: I don't own Leverage.
~Bunny~
Nobody knew quite where Parker's bunny had come from, or why she guarded it more closely than she did even her priceless gems, but they knew that it was important to her. And for something to be important to Parker, it must be very, very special. Her past was something she guarded fiercely, and that bunny was more a part of her history than anything else. Before Archie found her, before she got caught boosting cars, even before she ran away from the foster homes, she had that rabbit, and she wouldn't ever let anyone take it from her.
It was Nick's, actually. Parker's brother had carried that bunny with him everywhere. It was what he had been holding onto when the social worker had driven up to the daycare and told the boy and his sister that their parents wouldn't be coming back. After that he held onto it no matter what, and he bit more than a few people who tried to get him to put it down.
When Parker and Nick were put in the system they went to their first home together. The foster mom was nice enough (even if she did try to make them eat cabbage), but after less than six months, just as Parker and Nick were beginning to like it there, they were moved. They never found out why. A quick succession of three other homes followed, each as horrible as the last, which they stayed at hardly long enough to mention, but when they came to the fourth home they knew almost immediately that they would be happy. When they got there, the family had made a room up just for them, with a comfy double bed so the siblings could stay together, lots of toys and books, and a big bay window. The family had kids too; a girl who was about four years older than Parker, another one who was just younger than Nick, and a boy in between. The Anderson kids loved to play outside, and they played all sorts of games; freeze-tag and sardines, kick-ball, and the oldest girl, Emily, even taught Parker how to ride a bike. Parker and Nick passed two happy years at that house. They played and laughed, and before long, it felt like home. Nick still held onto his bunny, but that was ok, the Andersons never even mentioned it, anyway.
On the morning of Nick's sixth birthday, Parker decided that it was time for him to learn to ride a bike. All the Andersons were busy, but that was ok with Parker, this was something she wanted to do with just Nick. She pulled out the bike, a blue one with red and orange flames on it, and the morning passed in a happy blur. Parker showed Nick how to sit on the bicycle, taught him how to peddle, and even worked out a way for him to hold onto Bunny while he rode. It was wonderful.
Parker held onto the back of Nick's bike, keeping him upright while he peddled up and down the Andersons' driveway. They were turning back toward the road for almost the tenth time when Parker decided to let go. Her face beamed with sisterly pride as she watched Nick speed down the driveway on his own, and she laughed. Nick looked back at her for a brief second, a smile on his face. But then it all changed so quickly. Parker's pride quickly turned to horror as she saw the car barreling around the corner. She screamed for him to stop, but he was already there.
A horn blared.
Tires squealed.
There was a crash.
And Parker screamed again.
Her knees buckled under her and she fell to the pavement, unable to do anything but let out her fear and anguish and horror in a tormented shriek as she, with unbelieving eyes, watched the car that had hit her brother pull away as if nothing had happened.
The world seemed muffled to her. There was a roar in her ears that drowned out everything else as Mrs. Anderson ran out of the house, and as she yelled at Emily to call 911. Parker stared until her eyes watered, and she screamed until her throat was hoarse. The last thing she saw was Nick's Bunny, hurled almost ten yards from his crooked, outstretched hand, and then the world went black.
The next few days passed in a haze. It seemed like she was stuck in one place while the world whirled around her. Child services came, letting her stay just long enough to go to Nicks funeral, and then they whisked her away, not even letting the Andersons say goodbye. From that time forward, Parker was different. Gone was the girl who smiled and laughed, who always seemed to be able to make the most of a situation, and in her place was a silent, sullen child who clutched at her stuffed rabbit and refused to make eye contact with anyone.
After the Andersons, Parker never stayed at one home more than a few months, either because the family was awful, or because she made trouble. She travelled from home to home, never really caring what she had with her, but always keeping Bunny close. If she lost him, she would lose her last piece of Nick. The last foster home she stayed at was the one where she found out how good of a thief she was. The man there was always angry, and one day, while Parker was hiding like she usually did when he came home, he took Bunny. That was his first mistake. His second mistake was goading her on. Later, when nobody else was around, Parker broke into the man's room and took Bunny back. She took a few other things as well, and was about to leave the house for good when she had a better idea. She was angry at the man. He had taken something from her, so she would take something from him. She blew the house up. It was easier than she expected; the propane sitting in the back yard was practically an open invitation.
Throughout the next years, when her life was changing too quickly for her to keep track of, Bunny was her one constant. He knew more about her than anyone else did, and she would never let him go. Wherever she found to sleep, she always made sure there was a safe place for him to stay while she was out. This paid off when Kelly left her behind and she got caught. She hadn't even seen them coming, but before she could do anything, the police were on her, and they took her to Juvie.
During the six months she was there, she had time to think. Time to think about people and their nature. All her life had been one long succession of people letting her down and leaving. First her parents (even though she could barely remember them) then the early string of foster parents, then Nick, then all the other foster parents, and now Kelly. As she processed this, she came to one conclusion: people were going to disappoint her. Whether it was because of things they couldn't help, like her parents and Nick, or because of selfishness, like everyone else, they were always, always, going to leave her. And they would always, always, let her down. She couldn't trust anyone except herself. Well, herself and Bunny. An inanimate object couldn't really let you down. If you kept it close, it could be as constant as time itself.
All those six long months Parker waited and worried, and thought about trying to get out more than once, but she knew that she couldn't make it out on her own, and if she got caught trying, it would just mean more time before she was out. More time before she could get back to Bunny.
She was finally released from Juvie and was put back in the system, but she got away again almost immediately. The first place she went was to the warehouse where she had hidden Bunny. He was a little musty, and had a few moth-holes, but he was there. Parker held him close and went out the same way she had come in.
Not long after that she met Archie. He taught her and trained her, and for the first time in a very long time she didn't run. She stayed, and she learned, and she liked it. She grew up under his instruction; the world's greatest thief passing on his knowledge to the next generation. Then one day, when he thought she was "finished", he disappeared. He left her a note, telling her not to look for him, and to forge her own path. He didn't say goodbye, and he didn't say he would miss her, he was simply gone. Now it was just her and Bunny again, like it always had been. They travelled the world together, she and Bunny, and she racked up a reputation for herself as the uncatchable, perfect thief. She would go and get her diamonds, or art, or whatever it was she was stealing, and she would take it back to where she had her most precious treasure: Bunny. She had little stashes in every city she visited, and she never stayed in one place long. That is, until she met Nathan Ford. There was something different about him, about the way he – they – helped people. It made her curious.
Her curiosity slowly morphed into something else. So slowly, in fact, that Parker didn't even know when it happened. But somehow, she started to trust these people. She – the perfect thief who didn't need anyone and who relied only upon herself, who knew from experience that to trust people was to set yourself up for a let-down – started to trust them, to need them. This scared her, but she found that it wasn't necessarily a bad scary. She liked it. And, unlike everyone else in her life that had let her down or disappointed her, they didn't. Nate, Sophie, Eliot, and Hardison were different. They stayed. And even if one or two of them went away for a while, they never really left.
Hardison once asked Parker about her Bunny, why it was that she always took it wherever she went, and what it meant to her. Parker debated telling him about it. Other people had asked her those exact questions, but she had always refused to tell them. Now, as she looked into Alec's eyes, she knew that he deserved an answer. He had proved himself over and over again, and she knew that he would continue to do so. Home, she told him, wasn't a place for her, it was an object, a feeling. What feeling? He asked. Parker didn't even hesitate. A feeling of absolute trust. The knowledge that, no matter what, one thing would always be there. Hardison nodded slowly, gently turning the stuffed animal over in his hands. So she needed Bunny to feel like she was home. He stated. Parker looked from the downcast expression on his face to the well-worn lump of cloth and fabric in his hands. She looked long and hard at the matted fur and moth-holes, the one missing eye and the ragged ears. She looked from that to Hardison's wistful face, and she came to a realization. She took the rabbit from Hardison and set it on the floor. She took his hands and looked up into his eyes. Did she need Bunny to feel home? She asked him, and smiled.
Not anymore.
A/N: Awwww... Family feels. ^_^ I hope you liked it, and thank you so much for reading!
Next up: Little Birds