They had worked hard for the last two days but little, other than trivial conversation had been spoken. There was nothing wrong with that and Eliot needed to find the right moment or, he was hoping, she did. It was better if she felt comfortable letting it all out, rather than him having to press for answers.

They were sitting in the barn now, opposite each other on two long logs Eliot had dragged in and set around the fire pit. The fire was roaring, protecting them from the cool of the late autumn air and they sat as they ate mostly in contented silence.

"How's the stew?" Eliot asked, halfway through their meal.

Abby smiled and shovelled down another spoonful of her dinner. She wasn't normally partial to stew, but Eliot, she found, could make anything taste delicious.

"Good," she informed him and he nodded before looking back down at his bowl.

"I'm not sorry you know," she muttered. "That I punched Kyle," she clarified then took another bite so Eliot would have to say something or else wait in awkward silence.

"I wouldn't be either," he replied much to Abby's surprise. Taking the hint from the bewildered look on her face he continued. "He didn't treat you right, I woulda punched him, your Mama woulda punched him. I'd expect nothing less."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, laughed and turned her attention back to her food. "I don't know how I feel about your expectations."

Eliot shrugged. "I always taught you to stand up for yourself. He led you on-" she looked up at him an angry, disappointed look in her eye as she wondered how he knew "-Sophie," he offered at look then continued. "Don't ever let anyone take advantage of you Abby, ever."

She was honestly surprised. She had expected him to be vastly disappointed at her actions yet here he was, more or less condoning them. She was sure there must be something else.

"But I also don't think you woulda just gone up and punched him, so what set you off?"

There it was. The something else.

"He tried to talk to me like we were okay," she told him but Eliot was unconvinced. She let out a breath before continuing. "My father came to see me."

Eliot growled.

"Apparently I called him when I was drunk and told him I didn't need him, but he wasn't too happy with that." She stood up and lent forward to scoop herself some more stew out of the pot sitting next to the fire. "He tried to tell me that he was ready to be a father. I told him to get lost and then Kyle tries to talk to me?" She shook her head and sat back down on the log. "I was done with people half caring and giving me the run around."

Eliot nodded, not wanting to interrupt her; he just wanted her to get everything out in the open.

"I really am sorry about everything El, the drinking, the unruly behaviour," she added meekly.

"You scared me Abby," he confessed. Now finished with his meal he placed it down on the ground beside him. "It wasn't like you."

She snorted a laugh. "That was the point."

"What?" Eliot asked. It was the first time in the conversation he had really been surprised.

"You expect me to be the good, sweet little girl I've always been," she began. "Part of the world expects me to be a criminal like my father and my family. The world's always expected these things from me and I don't want to be what people expect of me. I just want to be me."

"So actin' out's the way to do that?" He asked, light-heartedness in his voice.

"There's no exact logic behind being a teenager," she replied.

"Just be you darlin'," he offered softly and she looked down at her bowl and began fussing with the scraps and her fork.

"Even if that me wants to do what you guys do? That's not bad of me is it?" She asked after taking a deep breath; there was apprehension and concern in her voice that had not been there earlier.

Eliot sighed and shifted from sitting opposite her to sitting beside her, taking a few moments to really think about the question before he answered.

"This is not the kinda life I want for you Abigail, my feelings on that will never change," he began. "But there's gonna come a time when you're old enough to make your own decisions and I know, whatever life you choose, it'll be a good one. Because you're one of the smartest, kindest kids I know."

She nodded slowly and he nudged her lightly. It was a comforting feeling she found, having him by her side.

"And no, it's not bad of you. You think that wantin' to do all those things makes you a bad person? Means you're a good person for wantin' to help. The fact that this is playin' on your conscience means you're a good person."

"I guess so," she agreed, wiping a small tear from her eye.

"We need to talk more often, Abby," he declared, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "'T's not good for you to be so insular."

"I concur," she agreed, the sophisticated language a mask for her emotion. "How'd you find this place anyway?"

"Bought it a while ago," he confessed, looking around at the mostly empty barn. "Your mama always said she wanted to buy a place just like this for you to live."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He lifted his arm up and twisted so he was facing her better. "We grew up in a farmin' town and a small little place like this, outside the city so she could still work, so she could get away was, well, somethin' she never stopped talking about."

Abby looked up and around at the barn, taking the sights in with the new information.

"I reckon she woulda loved it," she noted, then looked down at her twiddling fingers. "We don't talk about her much."

"You don't ask," Eliot replied then stood up to start cleaning the dishes.

"You don't mind me asking?" She was almost surprised. Eliot paused and looked down at her concernedly. "I mean, it doesn't hurt or, bring up… whatever?"

Eliot shook his head. "You can always ask me anything you want about her. You can always ask me anything. I may not always give you an answer," he confessed, cocking his head to one side. "But never stop asking questions. Never don't think you can't talk about anything with me. In fact, can we make a deal? We start gettin' better at this talkin' thing?"

"That sounds good," she agreed, nodding slowly, then stood up and grabbed the bowls out of his hands to wash. She felt lighter; the weight of the things unsaid now lifted off of her shoulders. She felt contented and comfortable again.

"But not everything. Sorry, but there are certain things I will just never discuss with you," she said playfully and, from her tone, Eliot knew the discussion had more or less ended and things were, with a little work, going to be okay.

"Then Sophie then?" he smiled back. "Talk to Sophie about all the girly things."

"Not Parker?"

"Ask her yourself," he shrugged, the grabbed the dishes back of Abby and made his way to the bucket of water they'd been using for washing up while Abby looked up and around quizzically.

Catlike, Parker stepped out of the shadows of the corner of the barn, frowning in annoyance at getting caught.

"Oh," Abby declared in realisation.

"How long did you know I was there for?" Parker questioned, slightly disappointed. She made herself comfortable and down next to the teenager.

"'Bout an hour," he confessed. "Why are you here, Parker?"

"I wanna help build things," she whined like a child, with her arms falling limp in suit.

"Do ya know how?" he asked and the thief shook her head. "Get some sleep, we'll start working again tomorrow," he conceded.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Eliot was silently thankful that Parker had shown up the night before as he quietly slipped on his shoes and made his way to his truck. Without her showing up, he'd never feel confident enough to leave her and go do what he was going to do.

He shut the car door as quietly as he could, put the car in neutral, and let it roll a little before finally putting it in drive and making his way back to Boston.

Title taken stolen Patrick Watson's song.

Sorry for the delay, I've been working extra shifts and overtime for the last few weeks and haven't had time to write.

Hope you all like it :)