Part 4 of my short little one shot. Oh, well. I think it's turning out well and people seem to be liking it.

keamlntl: Glad you're still reading. Guess that means you like it.

Sandy-wmd: So happy to 'see' you again. I just had this odd idea of kid Maria meeting and making an impression on Nick, then him kind of pulling the others in to help look after her. I wasn't sure about it at first, but I think I'm kind of liking it. And I'm sure Jasper would be sure to add Uncle Phil to her pick up list. He's not as forgetful about such things as I am.

autumnsfire1: Thank you. I'm certainly having fun writing them

LostintheDarkEyesandSoul: Yeah, in my mind, Nick definitely has a fatherly side to him and this little girl is bringing it out. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks for reading.

My thanks for favorites, follows, and especially, reviews. They make me happy.

Warning: I mentioned in the summary this contains mentions of child abuse. This chapter is where it gets real.

At home, she and her father coexisted, interacting little. She spent as much time as possible elsewhere. The library. The gym. Running at the track.

When he was sober, he mostly ignored her, except for ordering her about.

No matter how much she scrubbed, the apartment and the laundry were never clean enough. When he sent her grocery shopping, he carefully compared the reciept to the items in the bags and counted the change she brought back.

Heaven help her if he found any discrepancies.

She was also assigned to take over cooking duties, through he never failed to tell her how badly she did it. At least, when he was sober, it was only yelling and berating.

Unfortunately, there were periods when sober days were few and far between.

At least, she thought, once he got violent, he usually passed out pretty quickly. Long pants and sleeves usually covered the bruises and she went on about her business. His beatings never really left lasting effects, so she didn't feel like she was lying when she told the Guardian Gang everything was fine.

That was what she had started calling them.

Her Guardian Gang. She had asked Melinda once if they were guardian angels, and the woman had thrown back her head and laughed.

"Angels? Maybe. But keep in mind, there are dark angels as well as light ones."

She moved through middle school, then into high school. She was proud to have earned her black belt, but continued to work hard, knowing there was always room to improve. At her instructor's reccommendation, she had also added a gymnastics class to help with her flexibily and timing.

A summons the the counselors office one afternoon had her pondering, trying to figure out what she could have done to prompt the call. The woman reassured her immediately.

"Your grades are quite impressive," she told her. "We were actually thinking that you might be a good candidate for an accelerated program. It would get you through high school and into college in less time. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in?"

She could hardly contain her excitement. Get out early?

"Absolutely!"

But then reality hit. College was expensive.

"You'd have to take the ACT or SAT, but I have no doubt that your scores would fall within the eligibility requiremennts."

Something else that would cost money.

The woman was flipping through a file. She held up a piece of paper.

"Oh. I see you're already registered," she commented, handing Maria the paper.

Her seating assignment for the exam in a month.

"It sounds great," Maria told her.

"I know. You're probably concerned about the expense. There are lots of scholarships out there and we can start looking for some. Do you have any thoughts about where you want to go or what you want to major in?"

"Not really," she admitted. "Something with organizing things, maybe? Getting things and people working together?"

"Administration, perhaps? You seem to see big pictures."

They spent some time discussing her options.

She left the office with a bounce in her step. Long looking forward to being able to get away from her father, it was a pleasant thought that it might be sooner rather than later. Now, she just needed to give some thought to a major. And a college. And the test.

But she would manage.

Redoubleing her efforts, she spent even more hours in the libarary, studying and researching.

On the morning that the test was scheduled, she found Phil waiting outside the building for her. He had a breakfast sandwich and a cup of hot chocolate for her.

"Nervous?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Good. You'll do fine."

They rode in silence as she kept flipping through her study guide, refreshing her memory and talking softly to herself. Shortly before they arrived, Phil's phone rang. He glanced at it and handed it to her.

Nick.

"Hello?" she answered.

"All ready?" he asked.

No small talk for Nick Fury.

"Think so."

He cleared his throat. "I wasn't planning to, but Phil said I should call and wish you good luck."

"Um. Thanks, I guess."

He chuckled. "I suppose that doesn't sound too good. What I meant was that I don't figure I need to wish you luck because I know you've worked and studied hard and you're going to do just fine."

This time, her 'Thanks' was more sincere.

Test completed, she returned her focus to her classwork. The counselor had reworked her schedule, moving her into more advanced classes where expectations were high and the pace was rapid.

She not only coped, she excelled. Or thought she did. Until she received another summons to the counselor's office.

"We got your test scores," she told the young woman. "Every bit as impressive as I expected. I'm sure you and your parents were thrilled."

"I haven't seen them," Maria told her, looking at the paper.

"They should have sent a copy to your home," the woman told her, confused. "Oh, well. We have the results now, so we can start sending out feelers to some universities, get your information to them."

She gave it little more thought, busy with school, sports, and avoiding her father.

Her counselor stopped her in the hallway one afternoon. "Have you heard anything back on any of those letters we sent out?"

Maria shook her head. "I haven't, but I wasn't really sure when to expect anything."

The older woman looked puzzled. "I know several other students that sent stuff at the same time have started getting information back. Do you check the mail or does someone else get it?"

"My dad gets it."

"You should probably ask him. He may have just forgotten to give it to you."

"I'll do that."

That evening, she made it a point to be home a little earlier. She hoped to be able to talk to him before he got too drunk.

"Make yourself useful for once and bring me a beer," he hollered when her heard her close the door. She set her backpack on the counter and grabbed a can from the refrigerator, checking to be sure it was cold enough for him.

He was sitting on the sofa flipping through a stack of mail, so she sat down next to him.

"Anything for me?" she asked, holding out the can.

He looked over at her, then at the beer.

"You going to open that, stupid?" As she hurried to do so, he added, "And try not to spill it. You're almost as clumsy as you are dumb."

After popping the tab without spilling a drop, she handed it to him. He took a deep drink, then turned his gaze back to her.

"Sure. You been whoring around and got some money to pay some of these fucking bills?" he sneered.

She shook her head and took a deep breath. "Maybe something from a college?"

At his disbelieving look, she rushed on.

"We've been talking about college at school and we sent some letters out. Just asking for information and stuff, you know? I just wondered if I had gotten anything."

He threw back his head and laughed. "You? College? Whatever makes you think any college would want you?. They don't want stupid little bitches. You know what they want? They want smart people. People like me and your mother."

He took another drink and stood, glaring down at her.

"We both had full scholarships. Room, board, tuition. The whole thing. Then you had to come along and mess everything up."

He started pacing. "Your mother got pregnant. You made her so sick, she could hardly even get out of bed, much less go to classes. She ended up having to drop out. Since she wasn't a student anymore, she lost her campus housing, too. Her parents wouldn't let her come home. In fact, they completely disowned her. Because of you."

After another drink, he continued. "We got married and I had to get a job to support her. My grades started slipping because of the hours I had to spend on the job, so I ended up losing my scholarship, too. Couldn't even afford tuition, so I had to drop out to provide for the two of you. Figured once you were born, one of the other of us would be able to go back and the other work."

Another drink. His manner becoming more and more agitated.

"But then you had to kill her. I lost the woman I loved and was left with a useless, whiny brat. No chance of going back to school because I still had to provide stuff for you."

"Why?" she asked.

"Why? Because the law tends to look unfavorably on people who don't provide food and shelter and stuff for their kids, no matter how useless and stupid they are," he spat.

"Why didn't you just give me up or something? Turn me over to the state?"

"I've asked myself that every day. Truth is, your mom wanted you and I thought you might turn out to be worthwhile. By the time I realized how pathetic you were, I didn't figure anyone else would want you either," he told her. "Clearly, none of those colleges do. Like I said, they want smart people like me and your mother."

She stood up and faced him. She knew she should just agree and walk away. She always had. But this time, the hurt and the anger were too much.

"It's funny. If you were both so smart, you'd think one of you would have figured out how to properly use a condom!" she told him.

The silence was profound. He stared at her, his face a mask of anger and hatred. He moved quickly, the back of his hand meeting her cheek.

Tasting blood, her fight training took over and she moved into a defensive stance.

And froze.

This was her father. He had provided for her, in a way. And she had opened her mouth, knowing full well what she said would probably push him over the edge.

This was her fault. She couldn't fight back.

He slapped her again, yelling obscenities as he threw her into the wall. He grabbed her neck, cutting off her air supply as he used his other fist to pummel her rib cage.

Instinct took over and she clawed at his hand, fighting to breathe. She finally pushed him away and slid to the ground. As she struggled to get air into her lungs, he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her to her feet again.

A punch to the face and she dropped to the floor, where he immediately started kicking her.

Stomach. Ribs. Back.

She could feel ribs cracking and tried to curl up protectively. He got down on the floor, forcing her onto her back so he could straddle her.

A fist slammed into her face.

And another.

The sound of a crash and a roaring in her ears.

Suddenly, the weight was lifted off of her and she realized that the roaring wasn't in her head, but from the man who had her father by the collar of his shirt.

She started to curl up again, trying to see what was going on through blurry, swollen eyes.

The figure was big and dark and had thrown her father against the wall.

"How do you like that, you asshole? You want to fight, fight me!" a deep voice roared.

She could hear whimpering and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

"No! Stop!"

"You didn't seem to want to stop before!"

"You can't do this!"

The only response was more grunting and more punches.

She felt a touch on her arm.

"Stay with me, Maria."

Forcing her eyes opened, she looked up to meet the gaze of a very worried dark eye.

"Nick," she whisperd.

He draped a blanket over her and she could see blood on his knuckles.

"I'm sorry," he told her softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"My fault," she mumbled.

He looked up suddenly. "Ambulance is on the way."

Moments later, she heard the sirens as well.

"I have to go now," he told her. She could hear the reluctance in his voice.

"I'll be okay," she replied.

"Yeah, you will. I'll make sure of it," he promised.

He adjusted the blanket over her again, then was gone. Moments later, it seemed, a group of men and women surrounded her.

"Can you hear me, miss?" one woman asked, leaning over to look her in the face.

Maria nodded, wincing as she did.

"It's over now. We're here to help."

XXXXXXXXXX

"I failed her," Nick said, pacing the floor in her hospital room. He stopped at the end of the bed, studying the unconscious teen. Her face was bruised and swollen and finger marks were clearly visible on her neck. One arm was in a soft cast, broken where he had stomped on it. She had undergone several hours of surgery to repair internal bleeding.

Though they hadn't talked to the doctors, Melinda had snuck a look at her chart and told them that they were predicting a slow, but full recovery.

"I should have picked up on this," the woman commented from where she stood at the side of the bed. "I actually met the bastard."

"You trusted me to keep an eye on things so this happened on my watch," Phil protested.

"I think there's enough blame to go around," Jasper contributed from his seat. "We asked about home and her dad and just took her at her word that everything was fine. We wouldn't expect her to not be truthful about something like that."

"I should have. Kids in abusive situations sometimes fear change more than what they know," Fury stated.

Melinda spoke again. "Like Jasper said, we can all take a share of the blame. Now, we need to move on. Where do we go from here?"

"Surely CPS will step in now," Sitwell told her. "I can't imagine them sending her home with him after he's done this."

"But can we be sure that that is the best option for her?" Nick asked.

"Don't let your own experiences cloud your judgement, sir," May warned, her gaze not unkind.

"I know," he nodded.

Phil stepped over and stroked her head. "Right now, we're all pertty upset to be trying to make descisions. How about we get out of here before we get caught and thrown out? We can unwind a little...gym, range, ring, bar...whatever... then talk about her future with her when she's awake."

The others murmured agreement, leaned over her for a quiet good-bye, then filed out. Nick was the last to go.

"I'll make this right," he told her.

XXXXXXXXXX

She drifted in and out for a while, always aware of someone in the room with her, sometimes holding her hand, sometimes just sitting.

And the pain. Varying in intensity, but always there.

"Ready to stay awake for a while now?" a voice asked when she finally forced her eyes open. She turned her head to focus on the figure standing next to her.

"Melinda."

"Welcome back, kiddo," she smiled, her relief reflecting in her eyes. "You gave us a bit of a scare."

"Sorry," she answered, trying to shift to a more comfortable position. Pain shot through...everything.

Concerned, the older woman moved to her side. "What do you need? Bed adjusted? Water? Pain meds? I can call the nurse."

Maria shook her head. "No meds. No more sleeping. Water?"

She took a small sip, then laid back, waiting for the discomfort to ease.

Melinda adjusted the sheet over her. "So. What doesn't hurt? I figure that's going to be quicker than listing what does."

Maria grinned, then grimaced. "Laughing definitely hurts."

"Sorry."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Big toe. Left foot."

"Good."

"Right pinky."

"Good."

"Right middle finger."

"Great. As long as you can still give life the finger, it's all good."

She laughed again, using her good arm to clutch at her sore ribs.

Just then, the door opened and a nurse stuck her head in.

"Oh, good. You're awake. There are some people here who've been waiting to talk to you," she said.

When the door closed, she looked to May.

"You don't think it's my father, do you?"

She shook her head. "My guess would be the police or social services. They'll want to talk to you about what happened to you."

"What do I tell them?"

"The truth," Melinda told her. "Or whatever you want."

Sure enough, an older woman in a business suit entered the room, followed by a man in uniform. The woman looked at her notes, then crossed over to the bed and smiled at Maria.

"Hi, Maria. I'm Nancy. I'm the hospital social worker. This is Officer Cromwell. We need to talk to you about what happened at your apartment a couple of days ago."

She glanced at Melinda.

"Alone."

Melinda looked back at her. "I don't think so."

"Are you her mother or guardian?"

"I'm her friend."

"You have no legal right to be here, then," the woman stated.

"I know. But I have a human right to be here. This young woman has been through a traumatic experience. If she wants me to leave, I will, but if she wants my moral support, I'm staying."

They both turned to Maria.

"I'd like for her to stay," she said softly.

Melinda stepped close and took Maria's hand in hers.

When she failed to stare her down, the woman shrugged and turned to the police officer. He stepped close to the foot of the bed and opened his notebook.

"Can you tell us what happened, Miss Hill?" he probed gently.

"Just tell us what you remember," Nancy urged.

"It was my fault," she said softly. "I knew it would make him angry, but I said it anyway."

The social worker moved close.

"No, Maria. It most certainly was not your fault. There is nothing that you could have said or done that would deserve a beating like this. It doesn't matter what your boyfriend tells you, he has absoloutely no right to treat you like this."

Maria straightened. "My boyfriend?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed about. Unfotunately, it happens. A guy comes along. Says the right things. Tells you that he loves you. He hurts you, but then says he's sorry or that it was because of something you did."

Maria looked at May, confused.

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"This scum isn't worth protecting," the officer told her.

"He not only hurt you, he hurt your dad, too," Nancy told her.

"No. That's not right," she said, shaking her head.

Melinda held up a hand. "Let me guess. Her father told you that he came home, found her boyfriend beating on her. Stepped in to defend her?"

The officer and the social worker looked at each other.

"Dad was the one who did this," she told them.

"We have witnesses who saw the boyfriend leaving the scene," the officer said. "Big, black guy?"

"He helped me."

"What's his name? We'd like to talk to him."

"I don't know," Maria told them. "Dad was beating on me. I guess this guy was walking by and heard all the noise. He broke down the door and pulled him off of me."

She could tell the other two had doubts about her story.

"Was the door broken down?" Melinda asked.

A nod.

"Kicked in from the outside?"

"Her father said he did that. He heard the struggle and couldn't find his keys, so he kicked it down."

"That's not how it happened," Maria insisted.

"If this guy is just a good samaritan, why didn't he stay and talk to the police?" the officer asked.

"I don't know. Maybe he thought he had killed my dad and got scared when he heard the sirens. There are a lot of people in this city who don't want to talk to police," she said, voice rising.

"Why do you suppose that is?"

"I don't know!"

"I think this needs to stop now," Melinda cut in, voice firm.

"We need to talk while this is all fresh on her mind," the officer protested.

The agent leveled a glare at him. "This interview is over now." She walked over to the door and opened it, giving them a meaningul look.

Reluctantly, they both packed up their things and turne to leave. "We'll let you get some rest, but we'll be back talk more later," Cromwell told them. He handed Melinda a card. "This is my number. Give me a call when she's ready."

May followed them out into the hall. "You act like you don't believe her," she accused.

"I didn't say that," the social worker protested. "We just have two very different versions of the story here and we need to determine which one is true. The only records CPS has on this family are very old and show that a complete investigation was made and the case closed."

"Apparently, the investigation wasn't very complete," Melinda commented, turning on her heel and going back into the room.

When she returned, she could see Maria fighting tears. "They don't believe me, do they? What if they make me go back? I can't do it, Melinda. He'll kill me!"

Melinda gently framed the girl's face with her hands. "Listen to me, Maria. You won't be going back to live with him. I promise you that."

"How can you promise that?"

"I don't know, kiddo, but well make it happen."

Finally, Maria calmed down and slipped back into a restless sleep, May pulled her phone out and stepped over to the door and placed a call.

"Nick? We may have a bit of a problem."

As always, thank you so much for reading. This was one of the most difficult things I've written. Fortunately, this is not a situation I have personal experience in, but I watch the new and read the paper and know that these things are very real for some. The thought sickens me. I simply cannot fathom the mind of someone who cannot realize how very wrong it is.

If you or someone you know is in a situation like Maria's, there are options. No one deserves to be treated like that. Reach out to someone. A counselor, clergyman, doctor, friend, or law enforcement officer. Please. You're worth it.

I'd love to know what you thought. I think there may be one more section, so, until tomorrow...