A/N: So, extreme and humble apologies for taking so long to update this. Unfortunately life happenes, and I was trying (unsuccessfully) to finish another monster that I've been working on for a few years now. Hopefully the next update won't take nearly so long. Reviews are love!

Eliot, I'm not moving to the other side of the country over this!"

Once Emily entered her house, Eliot had casually informed her that they were packing up her things and moving her, today. He couldn't even let her check on her dog before he decided to drop that bombshell. Poor Murphy, he'd been shut up alone, with no food, for days, and the house definitely smelled like it. She'd been cleaning up the mess when Eliot stormed into the kitchen after her, asking whether she'd heard him.

"I can't keep an eye on you if you're still in Boston!"

"You don't have to keep an eye on me! I'm a grown woman, not a child!"

"And look what just happened to you!"

Emily took a deep breath and silently ordered herself to calm down and not take a swing at Eliot. They had managed to make the entire drive from Colorado to Boston without arguing, and she hoped to keep that record going. No matter what Damien, or Eliot thought, she was a rational adult perfectly capable of making her own decisions. She wasn't moving to Portland because something bad happened and her babysitter suddenly got spooked.

"You really think things would have been different if I'd been in Oregon?"

"Yes, they would! 'cause then I would've known there was a problem a lot sooner!"

"Eliot, I'm not going! You'll just have to calm down, and Damien will have to get over the fact that I don't need a babysitter!"

"Damien has already broken out of jail. I'm gonna have a hard enough time convincing him not to try to kill Quinn. You really want to add this to it?"

"What do you mean, Damien's out of jail? When did he get out? Why would he do that?"

"For the same reason that I drove from Portland to Colorado."

"You told him about-?! What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I didn't tell him anything! That Harker guy sent him a video showing him everything! That's how I found out in the first place!"

Emily froze in the middle of her tirade, and sank into a kitchen chair. There was video of her being kidnapped? And Eliot had said that video showed everything. Harker had recorded her, and Quinn-?

"Oh God."

If anyone saw that—she wasn't aware she'd started hyperventilating until Eliot was shoving her head between her knees. Her career would be over—if anyone on the school board caught wind of it—

"The video's already been taken care of, so breath. No one's gonna see it."

"You don't know that! If that video's on the internet anyone could find it!"

"I do know it. I got someone who could delete it, and it's completely gone. He's excellent at what he does; no one will find a trace of it, anywhere. What bothers me more is how Andrew Harker even managed to find you."

That shouldn't have been possible. There was nothing, anywhere, to connect her with Damien Moreau. They'd gone to great lengths to make sure of that.

"I don't know. And I really don't want to try to puzzle it out today. Call me when you get back to Portland, and we'll try to figure it out."

Eliot crossed his arms and stared at her. She knew that look. It was the look that said she was an idiot.

"I know you didn't miss the part where I said you were coming with me."

"And I know you heard me say I am staying here. I'm not letting this completely upend my life, Eliot."

Eliot shook his head. Damn but the woman could be stubborn. She was definitely Damien's sister. Well, he could easily outmatch her stubborn, and when it came to her safety he was ready to be a bastard.

"Emily, we can either start boxing up the things you want to take with you, or I can carry you out to my truck kicking and screaming. One way or another you will be in my truck, and we will be on the road, today."

"I wish you would try it."

She couldn't say he didn't warn her. In five minutes he had a purse, phone, leashed dog, and a screaming Emily punching him ineffectually as he hauled her out to his truck. He dumped her unceremoniously in the passenger seat before climbing into the driver's seat. The mutt stared at him before licking his face as he put the truck in reverse and backed out of the driveway. He wasn't worried about Emily actually hurting him, and she wasn't fool enough to dive out of a moving truck. He reassessed that opinion when she did actually lunge for the door, and he was forced to activate the child locks.

"You're moving to Portland, Emily. Get used to it."

"You'd better sleep with your eyes open, Spencer, because I swear I'm going to get you."

"I know you don't want to move, Emily, but I promise it's for the best. You're completely on your own in Boston, now that I'm gone. Whoever sent Harker after you, I'm sure they probably sent others, and if he managed to find you, so can they. You'll be a hell of a lot safer in Portland, where you can start over."

"I don't want to start over, Eliot. Or did you not get that?"

He did know. He knew just how much having to pull out and star over was going to hurt her. He wished he could give her the option of staying put, but he couldn't. Until they figured out exactly who hired Andrew Harker to take her, she remained exposed and at risk in Boston. The only thing he knew for sure was that this was connected to Damien, or Harker wouldn't have sent that video. The suspect list was still too long to risk leaving Emily where she was.

Hardison was working on getting Harker's phone records, and hopefully they could narrow down the list. That could still take days, though, and Eliot wasn't willing to wait days to get her moved. Damien was already headed for them, and he would want blood. Having Emily already safe was the only real chance to ty to calm him down. No one needed the carnage the enraged Croatian would bring down.

"I know, darlin'."

She didn't answer him, at least not verbally. He ignored the middle finger she stuck up at him. She had a right to be pissed off, and if she was taking it out on him she was at least not trying to dive out of the truck again.

The silence lasted for hours as he drove, and she stared out the window, absently scratching behind the dog's ears. Eliot let her have her space, keeping his eyes on the road and on the gas gauge. He was worried about that limp of hers. Spending so long seated like she was sure wasn't going to do her any favors. She needed to have it looked at as soon as possible. She didn't want any permanent reminders of what happened; the memories would be enough.

He didn't stop until the needle was almost on Empty, when he pulled into a gas station. Emily was slumped over, the dog wedged up against her. At least she'd managed to get some sleep. Quinn had mentioned finding her in a stable, and she hadn't slept at all on the drive from the ranch. When they finally reached Portland, he was putting her to be for two days straight.

He briefly considered just letting her sleep while he gassed up and then kept driving, but decided against it. She needed to stretch that leg, and walk the dog. He didn't want any accidents in the truck. And this truck stop had a diner; they would be able to eat before getting back on the road.

"Come on, Emily," he shook her until she moved, "it's time for a pit stop."

"Where are we?" she asked sleepily. She barely managed to avoid smacking the dog as she stretched, and he turned to climb onto Eliot's lap.

"Somewhere we can get gas and food. This'll be the last stop until we find a hotel. Walk the dog, then we'll get somethin' to eat."

As long as she didn't try anything stupid, she could get the dog walked while he filled up the truck, then they could get some food. Eliot wanted to get back on the road so they could make it as far as possible tonight. He didn't know what sort of start Damien had on them, but it would be much better if they made it back to Portland first.

He kept an eye out as she walked the dog. She didn't appear to be considering making a run for it, but he could never really tell with her. There was also the remote chance that they could be followed. If anyone had been watching the house, they would have seen him arrive and then leave with her. There was no such thing as paranoia when the bad things really happened. After he shut the dog back in the truck, he guided her into the diner.

The menu wasn't terribly varied, in fact it had less on it than the menu at the Brew Pub, but it was better than other dives he'd been in. They did at least have steak. It looked like they had a few things Emily would eat. The girl was a picky eater on a good day; there just wasn't much she ever liked. The waitress was friendly without being overly flirty, and the place was empty enough that it didn't take long at all for Emily's chicken to come out. The salad the waitress brought out while he waited on his steak was decent. He would have to leave a generous tip. He saw Emily messing with her phone a fair amount as they sat, and wondered if someone was—too many things could be done using her phone. He didn't like the fact that she even still had it.

"We should get you a new phone."

"I've been trying to get Damien, and let him know I'm alright. He's still not answering."

"The man's on the run, and no doubt on the way over here. He's probably on a burner phone, and I doubt he's checking his emails."

It would be much better if the man did check his messages. Then maybe they could prevent World War Three. He had no doubt that if Damien and Nate ended up anywhere near each other there would be blood. Damien had only agreed not to break out of prison, and not to send anyone after Eliot, in exchange for Eliot's looking after Emily. He never agreed not to go after Nate.

Dinner passed uneventfully, and eventually the waitress returned with the check. Eliot placed enough cash to cover the bill and tip on the small tray before pulling Emily's chair out. He couldn't completely mask the yawn that spilled out; she noticed.

"We should find a hotel."

"We've got plenty of driving time left," he objected.

"Eliot, you haven't slept in three days. I haven't slept-slept since those bastards broke into my home, and no matter how hard you push yourself it's going to be a three day drive to Portland. Find a hotel and take it easy."

He hated to admit it, but she did have a point. If he pushed himself to drive straight through they'd likely end up in a wreck. Much as he wanted to beat Damien to Portland, they both needed rest sooner rather than later.

"We'll go another hour, then start looking for a hotel."

He'd be good for another hour. Once he got her agreement, he herded her back out to the truck. With everything ready to go, they would be set for a good part of the day tomorrow. They should be able to make up some of the time they would miss tonight. Stopping early shouldn't delay them too much.

True to his word, after an hour he started checking the road signs for a hotel. It didn't take long to find a vacancy and get checked into the room. He ignored the knowing looks he received from the man behind the desk. These people could think whatever they wanted; no way was he putting Emily in a room by herself. If he did that, he was sure she'd be gone before morning. No, they were sticking to a single room so he could make sure she didn't try to take off.

He wasn't too surprised when a strangled yell broke through his light sleep. Her fighting chased the mutt off the bed, and he contributed to the chaos with his barking. Eliot half expected to get a call from the front desk about noise violations as he bolted from his bed over to her.

"C'mon Emily, wake up!"

Since her eyes were closed the punch failed to make contact with anything important. Eliot started shaking her when the dog's barking grew louder. He was half tempted to shut the dog in the bathroom until he got everything sorted out, and was only stopped when Emily sat up, her eyes vacant and unseeing.

"Emily, wake up! You're safe. You're with me!"

"Eliot?"

"Yeah. You're safe, Em."

It didn't take as long as he would have thought for awareness to sink in. She still looked upset, but she wasn't shaking anymore, and her defensive posture slipped away.

"The nightmares'll go away after awhile," he told her. "Might take a long time, but eventually they'll fade until they're a rare occurrence. Do you need to talk about it?"

"I just—those bastards that invaded my house—I can't get them out of my head."

That would take time, and a lot of it. A person had a right to feel safe in their home, and they'd taken that from her. She really wished she knew their faces. She would send Eliot and Damien after them in a heartbeat.

"Anything else?"

"That Harker guy, the one who held me prisoner; he was there too. Everything is just kind of dancing around in my head until it's all mixed up together. I don't like it."

"I know. Just remember, Harker got what he deserved, and so will whoever hired him, once we find out who that is. Now try to get some more sleep."

She nodded, her eyes already closing as she laid back down. When several minutes passed with no further word, Eliot thought she might have gone back to sleep, and he hauled the dog up onto the bed before leaving for his own. Her quiet question froze him in his tracks.

"Should I hate him, Eliot?"

"Quinn?"

There really wasn't anyone else she could be talking about. He'd wondered what she'd ultimately decided about the younger hitter who'd brought her home. It sounded like she still hadn't made up her mind.

"I'm grateful that he brought me home, but should I blame him for more? Should I hate him for not immediately killing Harker? What would you have done in that situation?"

In a situation where an innocent woman would be killed? His first instinct was to say that he would have definitely killed Harker and taken his chances, but that would be a lie. Since working with his crew, he gave a lot more thought to the innocent people he would have previously disregarded.

Who could say what would have happened if Quinn had acted before he found a way off the island? Emily had told him about the men sent in to kill them in their sleep; that meant that there had been armed men in the house from the start. Who knew how not waiting until the storm let up would have turned out? If Quinn had acted prematurely he and Emily might both be dead. Eliot honestly couldn't say that he would have acted differently.

"I don't know, Em," he finally answered. "I don't know that Quinn killing Harker sooner would have been better, or worse, than what he did. I don't know if there was a better way. It's up to you to decide how much to blame him."

She was silent, so long that Eliot thought maybe this time she really had gone back to sleep, before she spoke again.

"I don't want to hate him," she said decidedly. "And I don't want Damien to kill him. Make sure he doesn't try."

"I'll do what I can, Em. Now get some sleep."