Disclaimer: As usual, I do not own Ocean's 11, Ocean's 12, or Ocean's 13. If I did, I would be rich.

Chapter Four

"Eh, Bash! Come help me get out of this bloody dress!" Moira called as she charged into the suite the team shared, pulling off her four inch heels as she did.

"Sorry, Moi. Gotta go ge' a new transistor," the other Brit said apologetically, kissing her cheek as he slipped past her.

Moira caught his arm quickly and implored him, "Please, Bash." Her expression clearly said I need your help and support, my friend.

"I'll help," Linus offered sheepishly from his seat on the couch.

"Oi, Rusty! Help her," Basher commanded, catching Rusty's attention from where he sat playing solitaire. Linus froze, glancing at the far more confident man.

Moira looked at him sceptically as she walked past him to the room she and Basher shared. Rusty gave the young one a vexed look as he followed Moira into her room silently, closing the door behind him.

As she heard the door close, Moira turned, throwing the wig on her bed. "Linus, you didn't- Oh...Well, unzip me." She turned, offering her back to him. The sequined dress only came half way up her back, but the top of the zipper rested squarely on the part of the back that she could not reach.

Rusty walked over to her and gently placed one hand on the top of her dress. That tan, warm hand gently caressed her spine as he pulled the zipper down to the base of her spine. He slid his arms around her and asked gently, "What's wrong?"

Moira crossed her arms to grasp his hands tightly. She was shaking. "Right before getting into this ghastly dress, I made a call to my great uncle. I haven't talked to any of my family save him and my father in ten years. It turns out, my entire family is dead save my father."

"When did they die?" Rusty asked gently, guiding her over to sit on the bed beside him.

"Five years ago. Their boat sank; they didn't have a chance," she admitted, turning to press her face into his chest. No matter how annoyed or angry she was with him, she had known him for too long not to take comfort when he offered it.

"And he never told you. Why now?" Rusty said, realizing why she was upset. After all, she obviously hadn't cared for any of her family save her great uncle.

"Because he died an hour later," she said bluntly.

Only now did Rusty understand fully what was so distressing for her. Her only remaining family was her dad. If she ever wished to reconcile with any of them, she could not.

"And how are you?" he asked gently.

"I'm glad my mother is dead. I know I shouldn't be, but she was a disgusting, conceited, shallow bitch that leeched my father's money. My father...he cared for me, but he sent me off to a boarding school early on to protect me from my mother," she explained before attempting to school her face back into her very British mask of indifference.

"Will you be okay?" Rusty asked cautiously, confused at her apparent lack of grief. Instead, she appeared at the same time shocked and pleased.

"I'll be fine," she said dismissively, suddenly pushing away from him to stand fully.

Rusty sighed and turned to leave as Moira slipped her stilettos off her feet, shrinking her down to a mere 5'2".

"Rusty," Moira called, turning to look at him sadly as she held the front of her dress up. He could not help but turn back to look at her, eyes resigned despite seeing much more of her slim body than normal.

"Thank you," she said honestly with a sad smile.

He nodded and left, closing the door silently behind him.