Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. Real Life is being a real pain lately. I hope it is worth the wait and I will try to get the next chapter up more quickly. As always, feedback is most welcome and thanks to those who have taken the time to review previous chapters.

Once in the hallway, Sophie turned to Nate, "Nate, do you really think leaving her alone is a good idea? She's been through a lot."

"She has," Nate agreed, "She needs some space to process it all. You would too."

Sophie nodded, "Poor girl."

Nate and Sophie joined the others downstairs. Eliot was in the kitchen, with Parker perched on the counter.

"Waffles," She grinned brightly.

"Hey Hardison," Nate walked over to the hacker, who was back at his computer, "What else did you dig up on our guest?"

"Not much," Hardison frowned, "It's really weird. She has no criminal record. Not even any suspicion of wrong doing," Hardison pointed at his screen, "You run her father or her brother and well, they are suspected of just about everything. Cops just couldn't make anything stick."

"What else," Nate leaned against the table.

"There's some news articles where she got her picture taken while volunteering at animal shelters, which it seems like she does a lot," Hardison scrolled down, "She attended a branch campus of the University of Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania. She worked at the local mall during the school year. Graduated. Looks like she was engaged once but it fell apart. That's it. She's clean."

"What about her mother," Sophie wondered, "She hasn't mentioned her mother at all."

"Probably because she passed away a year after Vicky graduated from college. Cancer," Hardison flipped the screen so that the team could see the obituary.

Parker hopped off the counter and came to take a closer look at the photo, "Wow, Vicky really looks like her mom."

"Red hair, green eyes, and lovely," Sophie observed, "If it wasn't for the age difference, they could pass for sisters."

"When Vicky is feeling more up to it we're going to need to ask some more questions," Nate said, "But she's had enough for now. Hardison, I want you to look into the brother. See if there's been any activity on his accounts or any sign that he may not be dead after all."

"You think he's alive?" Sophie asked.

"There's no body," Nate shrugged, "But that doesn't necessarily mean anything with the mob. Still, it doesn't hurt to check."

Eliot, who had been listening quietly as he concentrated on his cooking, set the finished product on the counter.

"Self-serve," Eliot said, quickly preparing plates for him and Vicky, "Help yourselves."

Placing the plates and two glasses of orange juice on the tray, Eliot headed up the stairs.

"Don't get crumbs in my bed," Nate called after him.

When Eliot entered Nate's bedroom, he found Vicky propped up against the pillows with her brow furrowed, and a deep frown upon her face.

Vicky heard him and lifted her head, forcing a halfhearted smile.

Eliot smiled back and crossed the room to place the tray across her lap. He removed his plate and glass of juice and sat them on the nightstand.

"I brought you a little bit of everything. Dig in but go slowly. Don't want to upset your stomach," He instructed, sitting in the chair next to the bed and digging into his own plate.

"You made this?" Vicky said, spearing a piece of waffle.

"Yeah, Eliot shrugged, "It's a hobby."

Vicky lifted the piece of waffle and took a bite, "Mmmmmm," She moaned appreciatively, "They are amazing. Waffles have always been a weakness of mine."

"Thanks," Eliot smiled, and then pointed his fork at her as she quickly speared another bite, "Slow." The hitter nodded with approval when she carefully chewed the next bite before swallowing.

They ate in a comfortable silence but Eliot could tell by the far off look in those green eyes that Victoria was thinking very hard. He let her have her space. Seeing her eyes begin to lower, Eliot took the tray from her lap.

"I need to change the bandages on your feet," Eliot said, "Then you can rest."

Vicky frowned and unconsciously pulled her feet closer to her body.

"It shouldn't be so bad this time," Eliot reassured, seeing her hesitation, "When I'm finished you can have another pain pill."

Eliot gathered fresh gauze and the container of burn cream. Pulling her feet into his lap, he gently removed the bandages from her feet.

He was pleased to see that the burns were no longer so red nor her feet so swollen. "They look a lot better already," Eliot said. He finished applying the burn cream and rewrapped her feet. He gave her two more pills and a glass of water, which she accepted without protest.

"Now rest," Eliot ordered quietly, helping her to slip under the blankets.

As her eyes drifted close, Eliot reached out to brush a lock of red hair from her face. She smiled sweetly as her breathing evened out and she drifted into sleep. Letting his fingers linger, Eliot traced the bruising on her cheek, noting absently that it had gone down some from the previous day.

Pulling his hand back, Eliot sank into the chair by the bed, firmly telling himself that the funny feeling in his chest was his imagination.

When Vicky next opened her eyes she was alone. She lay still, taking the time to gauge how she was feeling.

Her ribs still stung like a swarm of angry bees and her body ached, but her head was clearer now.

After a few more minutes she found that it was too quiet. Restless, she eased herself upright, forcing herself to breathe as her ribs protested.

"This is gonna suck," She muttered as she stood, putting her full weight on her bandaged feet. It hurt and she sucked in a breath.

Vicky wondered what her hosts were up to, and holding an arm across her ribs, she limped awkwardly out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

Her memory of the apartment was hazy but she found herself turning instinctively to the left and smirked when she found herself at the top of the stairs. Gripping the rails with both hands, she started down.

The team was scattered about the apartment while a movie played on the TV. It was Star Trek and she could see that the hacker was totally engrossed. Hardison lounged on the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen.

It didn't take long for her eyes to focus on the person she was really looking for. Eliot sat in a chair, now dressed in a blue t-shirt and blue jeans. Parker sat on the floor next to his chair absently poking Eliot's leg.

Sophie and Nate sat together in the kitchen speaking quietly.

Vicky was half-way down the stairs before Eliot heard her and looked up.

"What the hell are you thinking?" He demanded, "Are you trying to hurt yourself?" Eliot jumped up and stalked to the stairs.

Hardison and Parker shared a look, and the hacker paused the movie in favor of the far more interesting show in front of them.

"No," she panted, "I'm not trying to hurt myself," she paused and a crooked little grin quirked her lips, "As to what I am thinking? Well, at this particular moment, I'm trying to decide if sitting down and scooting the rest of the way on my ass is an option."

Eliot just stared at her a moment and she knew that he was fighting a smile. He lost that battle with a sigh and shook his head.

Eliot held out his hands for hers, "C'mon. Just a few more steps."

Vicky took his hands, allowing him to support some of her weight as she forced herself down the last three steps. She smiled victoriously as her feet settled on the hardwood floor.

"See? I'm fine," She looked up at him to see him roll his eyes.

"Let's get you to the couch," Eliot said, wrapping a supporting arm around her waist, being careful of her ribs, "Move Hardison."

"Yeah, yeah," Hardison moved to the chair Eliot had abandoned. He smiled at the glare the hitter shot him.

Sinking gratefully onto the soft cushions, Vicky was sheepishly aware that all eyes were on her. She was also aware that Eliot was standing over her, working very hard to appear disapproving. Slowly, she raised her eyes to his and waited. Three, two, one . . .

"You should be resting," Eliot said, crossing his arms.

"I'm not tired," Vicky said, "And . . . It was too quiet up there."

"You should have called for one of us to help you," Eliot insisted.

"Possibly," Vicky allowed, "But I made it, didn't I?"

"Only through sheer bullheadedness," Eliot retorted.

"Not sure you're one to talk there, man," Hardison pointed out, "Just sayin'."

Eliot closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "Just say something next time, okay? You would have been real sorry if you had fallen on those steps. You could have completely broken your ribs. Punctured a lung."

"Okay, okay," Vicky surrendered, "I'll be good. Promise."

Eliot stalked over to the fridge and pulled two ice packs out of the freezer. Returning to the couch, he handed them to the girl, "Put those on your ribs."

Wisely, she did as instructed without comment. Vicky shifted on the couch, trying to find a less painful position.

"Here," Eliot arranged the pillows against the arm of the chair, "Lay back. It'll take some of the pressure off those ribs."

Lifting her feet onto the couch, Vicky settled back and found that while not completely comfortable, it was a big improvement.

Eliot looked around and saw all other spots were taken. Sighing, he picked up Vicky's feet and sat down on the couch, placing her bandaged feet in his lap. It was better for her to have them elevated anyway. "Put the movie back on, Hardison."

"I was just waiting until ya'll was done," Hardison hastily hit the play button when Eliot shot him a warning look.

Vicky snuggled down into the couch. Her life was a mess and she had no idea how to fix it. Her father dead. Her brother missing. One wrong move could get her killed and the pain and grief and loss made her head spin. She knew she would have to face it soon and it scared her. Yet, in this moment, she knew she was safe. She focused her eyes on the movie, dozing off as the Vulcan homeland was torn to dust.

Sophie was fascinated by the interaction between Eliot and Vicky. Most women would have been intimidated by Eliot's gruff demeanor but Vicky didn't even seem to notice. Indeed, she hadn't blinked when Eliot had placed her bandaged feet in his lap. She was at ease with the hitter.

Very interesting, Sophie thought

When Vicky next opened her eyes, the TV was off. Soft clicking drew blurry eyes to the table where Hardison was working at his laptop. Parker sat next to the hacker, her eyes also fixed on the screen. Nate, Sophie, and Eliot were nowhere in sight.

At some point, someone had removed the ice packs and covered her with a blanket. Flipping the blanket back, Vicky sat up slowly, grimacing at the ache in her ribs. Feeling stiff, Vicky decided it was time to move around some more.

Placing her feet carefully on the floor, Vicky stood, a groan escaping her lips as her body told her just how very much it hated her at that particular moment.

"Hey, you okay?"

Turning her head, she realized that Hardison and Parker had noticed her movements and were watching her. Hardison was half out of her chair looking as if he wanted to help her but wasn't sure it'd be okay.

"I'm okay," Vicky waved him off, "Just sore."

Slowly maneuvering her way towards the table, Vicky gestured at the otherwise empty rooms. "Where is everyone?"

"Nate and Sophie went out to eat," Parker replied, "Eliot went to get some things from his place."

Vicky shuffled toward the hacker and thief, only now realizing how far she had to be from the last pain pill. She set her green eyes upon the chair next to Hardison and commanded her feet to move.

"You are a very determined person," Hardison commented as Vicky reached the chair and eased her extremely unhappy body into it.

"Yup," Vicky panted, giving him a tired smile, "Stubborn as they come."

Parker stood up and skipped to the fridge, returning with a bottle of water. She handed it to Vicky.

"Thanks," Vicky unscrewed the lid with shaking hands and took a sip.

The screaming in her muscles was dying down and as the pain receded a bit, Vicky noticed for the first time what Hardison had been doing at his laptop. Her father's face stared back at her, and she realized she was looking at police documents regarding her father's activities.

"Let me see," Vicky said sitting up straighter and scooting her chair closer.

"Uh, I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Hardison turned the laptop towards him, only to have the redhead pull it back. "You know, they say ignorance is bliss," Hardison held his hands up, "Just saying."

"They're my family," Vicky said, "I already know that they broke the law. I'm sure I already know most of it. I know my father and my brother. They . . . they weren't monsters. How bad could it be?"

Green eyes scanned the reports. Drugs, theft, blackmail, none of it really surprised her. The blackmail she'd known about for a long time, though not where her father kept the evidence he used to do it. Jackson and Harry had been wrong about that. Clicking to go to the next page of the file, she froze. Dear God.

It was a news article from three years ago. A local dealer had been shot to death in his home and it was suspected that her father had ordered the hit. What chilled her heart and stopped the blood in her veins was the captioned picture of the dealer's five year old daughter.

The child was adorable. Blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a dimpled smile. In her arms, she clutched a teddy bear and waved at the camera. Jenny, as the caption identified her, had been caught in the crossfire and shot in the chest. She'd died at the scene.

Breathing in short gasps, Vicky scrolled further through the report. Her muscles locked in horror and she swallowed hard when she came across the crime scene photos.

"I think that's enough," Hardison saw the fine tremors working through her muscles. He reached for the laptop.

Vicky's hand flashed forward and gripped it tightly. "No. I-I have to know."

If Hardison or Parker said anything further, Vicky didn't hear. The only sound was the roaring in her ears.

Eliot opened the door to Nate's apartment, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Sharp blue eyes immediately noted that Vicky was no longer downstairs.

He spotted Hardison and Parker sitting at the table, "One of you damned well have better helped her back up those stairs," Eliot growled.

"Hey dude, we tried," Hardison defended, "She wouldn't let us. She's as stubborn as hell," The hacker crossed his arms, glaring pointedly at Eliot. "Reminds me of someone else I know."

"We've got other problems," Parker interrupted as Eliot's mouth opened to retort.

"What are you talking about?" Eliot dropped his duffle and moved closer.

"Take a look," Parker gestured towards the computer screen.

Turning the laptop towards him, Eliot scowled, "Damn it, Hardison! You let her look at this?"

"She didn't really ask," Hardison snapped.

"She was okay at first," Parker said, "Until she saw this," The blonde thief leaned in and opened the shooting report. Parker hit the button again and another photo of the girl popped up. This one showed the child lying on the floor, covered in blood and staring sightlessly.

"I don't think she knew," Hardison sighed, "Not about the murders at least. That's the one that really got to her."

Eliot stared at the picture of the little girl and bowed his head. Damn.

"Vicky went upstairs about a half hour ago," Parker frowned, "Wouldn't let us touch her."

"Said she needed to think," Hardison look at the screen and shook his head, "Can't really blame her."

"Stay here," Eliot instructed, turning and sprinting up the stairs.

Nate's bedroom door was closed. Eliot frowned as he tried to turn the knob. It was locked. "Vicky?" Eliot called, "Open the door, darlin'."

Receiving no answer, the hitter rammed his shoulder into the door, sending it flying open. Eliot's frown deepened when he didn't see her, but then realized that the bathroom door was open and the light on.

Eliot crossed the room, pausing just inside the bathroom door.

Vicky was sitting on the floor in front of the toilet, her arms resting on the seat, and her head pillowed on her arms. The contents of the toilet showed she'd been ill.

"Go away, Eliot," Vicky demanded without opening her eyes, "I'm quite happy where I am."

"Sorry, sweetheart. That's not happening," Eliot said softly.

Irritated green eyes slid open to glare at Eliot. He could see that they were red rimmed.

"What do you want?" Vicky sighed.

"Are you done?" Eliot gestured toward the mess in the toilet.

Gingerly, Vicky sat up and nodded, "Yeah. Think so," She ran a hand through her hair and grimaced both at disturbing the still healing bump on the back of her head and the greasiness of her hair, "Ew."

Stepping forward, Eliot flushed the toilet and extended his hand, "I'll make you a deal. Let me look at your feet and if they look okay, I'll see if Parker or Sophie has any girly shower stuff you can use."

Really wanting a shower to feel clean, Vicky nodded and took Eliot's hand, "Deal."

Eliot watched as some of the wariness fled from the redhead's eyes. He was definitely going to talk to her about what she'd seen on that computer screen, but it wouldn't do any good while she was so tightly wound. Some breathing room and a shower would relax her and make her more likely to talk to him.

Gently, he pulled her to feet, not missing the grimace as the action pulled at her ribs, "The shower should help with the soreness too."

Shrugging off Eliot's hands, Vicky walked slowly ahead of him towards the bed. Eliot let her go; staying close in case she lost her balance.

When Eliot sat next to her on the bed, Vicky carefully lifted her feet into his lap, used to the routine by now.

Eliot unwrapped her feet and carefully studied the bottoms. "You're a quick healer. You should be okay to shower. We just need to make sure both your feet and your stiches are good and dry afterwards." Moving, her feet from his lap gently, Eliot stood, "I'll unwrap your ribs and then go see what I can scrounge up for you."

Nodding, Vicky raised her arms, allowing Eliot to unwind the bandages. She grimaced as the sudden lack of support caused the aching to ratchet up a notch.

"Now stay here," Eliot ordered, pointing downward, "And I mean right here."

"I won't move," Vicky assured him.

Nodding in satisfaction, Eliot studied the girl in front of him. Not quite sure what made him do it, Eliot reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, "It'll be all right," he told her. "I'll be right back."

When Eliot walked down the stairs, he was relieved to see that Nate and Sophie had returned. They were gathered around Hardison's laptop, and Eliot was sure the hacker had filled them in.

"How is she?" Sophie asked, spotting Eliot.

"She's not saying much," Eliot said, "Do you have anything she could use to take a shower?"

Sophie thought a moment and nodded. "Of course, I keep some things in my office just in case. Come with me."

Eliot followed Sophie into her office, waiting at the door while Sophie opened a closet and pulled out a small duffle bag. Sophie dug through it, pulling out Paul Mitchell shampoo, conditioner, and Bath and Body Works Cherry Blossom scented bath gel. She pulled another smaller black bag from the duffle as well.

"That should do it," Sophie decided.

"Hey, Sophie, would you mind coming upstairs?" Eliot asked, "In case she needs help?"

"No, of course not," Sophie agreed, enjoying seeing Eliot shift uncomfortably. Top ranked hitter or not, underneath Eliot was really just a country boy at heart.

Sophie followed Eliot out of her office and up the stairs.

Eliot was pleased and surprised, to find Vicky waiting just where he'd left her, "Sophie has some stuff you can use. She's agreed to give you a hand."

"Thanks, Sophie," Vicky started to stand.

"Hold on," Eliot swooped in and lifted Vicky into his arms, "I don't want you walking on those feet when they are unwrapped just yet."

He carried her into the bathroom as he had earlier and again set her on her feet, "Keep an eye on her," Eliot murmured to Sophie as he left the room shutting the door behind him.

"Calgon, take me away," Vicky muttered, carefully leaning forward to turn on the facets and regulate the water temperature.

Sophie smiled, "Let me know if you need any help."

"I think I'm okay," Vicky assured her, turning her back to grip the neckline of her tank top and pull the shirt off, and then unhooked the bra underneath.

As Vicky undressed, Sophie set the shampoo and body wash inside the shower. She opened the black bag and pulled out an unused disposable razor and shaving cream. "You just do your thing and I'll sit here and read a magazine."

Nodding, Vicky stepped into the shower stall, drawing the curtain behind her. She turned on the showerhead and sighed as the warm water poured over her. Washing was harder than she thought it would be, due to her ribs, but she picked up the washcloth and started scrubbing.

Twenty minutes later, Vicky turned off the water and sighed. She opened the curtain to find Sophie holding out a towel.

"Thanks," Vicky took the fluffy ,blue towel and wrapped it around her body as she exited the shower. The warm water had eased her sore muscles and her mind. Vicky felt more clearheaded than she had in days.

"Why don't you sit down on the toilet and I'll help you brush out your hair?" Sophie suggested gently, urging the girl towards the toilet set.

Vicky allowed Sophie to push her down to sit and then sat quietly as the older woman ran a brush through her hair, gently working out the tangles, while being careful of the bump on the back of Vicky's head and the gash in her hairline. When Sophie was done brushing, she quickly braided the long, cinnamon color locks. She handed Vicky the blue sweats Sophie had purchased for her earlier. "We'll have to see about getting more clothes for you."

Discreetly, the grifter turned her back and began cleaning up a bit, while Vicky fought and grunted her way through getting dressed. Once Vicky was decent, Sophie opened the bathroom door to find Eliot waiting patiently in the chair by the bed.

"Is he part guard dog?" Vicky muttered behind Sophie.

"Possibly," Sophie laughed softly, "But you'll never find one more loyal or brave."

"Hey, quit talking about me like I'm a Rottweiler or something," Eliot smirked, as he stood and walked towards them.

"Your bite is definitely worse than your bark though," Sophie observed with a smile.

"Your bark doesn't seem all that bad," Vicky said, meeting his gaze steadily.

"That's because I haven't barked at ya yet, sweetheart," Eliot tilted his head, a mischievous spark in his eye, "Growled a little maybe."

Vicky laughed, "I feel like I should be scratching you behind the ears."

Eliot stopped in front of her and there was something new in his eyes that she couldn't identify, but it caused her breath to catch and her heart to speed up just a bit.

"How do you know I won't bite?" Eliot teased.

Vicky shifted to take a step towards him when Sophie cleared her throat breaking the moment.

"We should get Vicky's feet wrapped up, shouldn't we?" Sophie said casually.

"Yeah," Eliot blinked, his gaze shifting from Vicky to Sophie. He cleared his throat and turned back to Vicky. "Okay, up you go."

"Well, I think you can take it from here," Sophie said, watching as Eliot lifted Vicky into his arms and carried her across the room.

"Thanks, Soph," Eliot said, setting Vicky down on the bed and reaching for the gauze and bandages.

Vicky smiled at the older woman as Eliot dug through his kit, "Yes, thank you."

Sophie smiled back and left the room.

Vicky sat quietly while Eliot applied burn cream. Her thoughts drifted as she tried to find some balance between everything that had happened, everything she had learned, and where she went from here.

"You know it wasn't your fault, right?" The sound of Eliot's deep voice causing her to bring her head up.

"Excuse me?" Vicky blinked, confused.

"What your father did, you know that it's not your fault, right?" Eliot said, as he finished wrapping the bandages around her feet.

"I should have known," Vicky said, looking away, "I knew my Dad wasn't a saint. I knew that he broke the law on a daily basis but I never . . . well, I never thought he was a murderer. I was an idiot," She pulled her feet out of his lap.

"Vicky-"

"No, Eliot," Vicky cried, looked up at the hitter, "I should have known. What the hell did I think he was doing with the people who crossed him? I'm an idiot. I didn't see it because I didn't want to see."

"He was your father," Eliot said, softly, "You love him. It's only natural that you didn't want to see the worst."

Vicky stood and walked stiffly to the dresser, "It's my father's fault that that little girl is dead. Over drugs."

"She wasn't the intended target. That article said she was caught in the crossfire," Eliot's said, his voice closer now.

Vicky didn't turn around, "That doesn't change that she's dead and that my father ordered the hit. He's my father. How am I -," She broke off, shaking her head.

Vicky felt more than heard Eliot move closer until he stood directly behind her. She froze when he placed his hands gently on her shoulders.

"We don't choose our parents," Eliot said, "Your father made his own decisions. Those choices are on him, not you. Have you ever hurt anyone?"

"No," Vicky shook her head, "I went out of my way to stay out of it all. I love my father and my brother but I never wanted to be them."

"There you go. We all make our own choices. You can't blame yourself for theirs. That little girl's death isn't your fault," Eliot said. He turned Vicky to face him, vaguely surprised when she let him, "Look at me."

Vicky lifted her eyes until she met his. She saw compassion and understanding but no pity.

"Did your father love you?" Eliot asked gently.

"Yes," Vicky answered without hesitation.

"Then that's what you hang onto right now," Eliot said, "You'll figure out the rest."

Vicky looked up into Eliot's eyes for a long moment. He was right. She would find the answers. She didn't know how, but she would. She reached up and laid one of her hands over his. She caught her breath when Eliot lifted his hand from her shoulder and turned it so that her fingers were locked in his.

"You're not alone, Vicky," Eliot said, "The team will help you. I'll help you."

Vicky wanted to thank him, but couldn't speak past the tears locked in her throat. Instead, she gave him a shaky smile and squeezed his hand.