"We can't stay here!" Sophie exclaimed as they pulled into the hotel parking lot, "it's, it's, it's..."

"The only place with five rooms and internet access." Hardison jumped in, "if you want me to finish the research I need to be able to get online! I've been stuck in this car for three hours and spent most of that time trying to hijack some internet rather than getting on with the damn research."

"Can't you do something with satellites; you've done that before haven't you?" She pleaded, obviously desperate not to stay in the tiny, rundown, out-of-the-way hotel.

"It's just a bed, Sophie," Eliot interjected, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. "It's somewhere to sleep when we're not busy trying to find a six-year-old kid who is probably huddled in a basement somewhere."

Nate looked at Sophie and quickly shook his head, telling her not to bother. They'd been in the car for three hours and Eliot's mood was getting worse with each passing second. He'd taken the car keys and jumped in the driver's seat before Nate could argue. He'd refused to stop the whole way there, kept telling Parker to shut up when she said anything slightly annoying, which was pretty much everything that came out of her mouth and he'd cut into traffic more times than Nate could keep count of. He was actually surprised they'd gotten there in one piece.

Now they'd arrived, he just wanted to escape the car and Eliot's mood for five minutes, which meant no searching for anywhere else to stay. He just needed a few minutes of peace before diving head-first into a hopeless situation.

"I'll check us in," Nate piped up, jumping from the car as soon as it stopped and heading to the reception.

The hotel wasn't large, just about twenty rooms over two stories. The white paint was falling off and the doors and the windows looked like they hadn't seen any water since the place was opened. Inside the reception was no better. A single sofa that had seen better days, seventies brown wallpaper peeling from the walls and a large man tending the desk who looked like he hadn't seen a bath in several days, maybe even weeks.

"Can I 'elp you?" He said his accent thick and almost difficult to understand.

"Yeah, we booked five rooms." Nate answered.

"What's the name?"

"Smith, Matt Smith."

"Well Mr. Smith, rooms 4, 6, 7, 9 and 10, here's your keys," he said handing the large silver keys to Nate, "You paid for a week, if you wanna stay longer just let me know, need to pay in advance."

"Sure, no problem," he replied grabbing the keys and heading back out to join the team.

"Okay guys," he said, handing out the keys making sure to put Eliot in room 7, safe in the middle of the team in case he had any ideas of sneaking out without them, "take ten minutes or so to get settled, clean up, then we'll have a look at what Hardison has come up with so far."

Eliot surveyed the small room. Unlike Sophie he didn't need his creature comforts; he'd stayed in a lot worse. He wasn't gonna bitch and moan about a little room that could use a coat of paint, and possibly a vacuuming. They were not here to be comfortable; they were here to find Cindy.

He dropped his bag and turned to leave again, planning to go take a drive into the town to check things out. He could get the research info later; he just had to be out doing something. But as he went to leave, he found his path was blocked by Nate, standing immobile in the doorway, his expression unreadable, even for the experienced hitter.

"What's going on?" He asked

"We're here to find a kid," Eliot replied, trying and failing to match Nate's even tone.

"What's going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"That's bull and you know that I know it, I'm not letting you anywhere near this case unless you come clean." Nate said his voice hard. He knew Eliot would not respond to a gentle and concerned approach. The only way to get through to the hitter was strength and resolve, so, even though Eliot could knock him unconscious with one punch, he was standing up to the hitter and holding his ground. "Tell me what makes this case personal, it won't go any further, but I need to know your head is going to be in this."

"Seriously, Nate," Eliot replied, voice dropping to barely a whisper as he tried desperately to control the rage coursing through his veins, "Back off! My past is exactly that, mine and past, it's nothing to do with anyone and its history, done, finished, as in not an issue anymore!"

Nate knew he had to tread carefully, pushing the hitter too hard could be worse than just letting him be. He took punishment all the time, but that was just physical, Nate knew he never let it get to him, never let it get inside his head. He had control and it was a control he knew the hitter fought to maintain, pushing too hard could break the control and Eliot was far too dangerous when he didn't care about consequences.

"Eliot," Nate softened his approach, "when I looked at those pictures this morning, I immediately saw my son." He stopped for a second as an image of Sam appeared in his mind again. He shook his head to get rid of it and focus on his current goal. "I know when something is personal," he continued as he walked slowly into the room, "I know when you look at those pictures you see someone from your past, I need to know who and what happened to make sure it won't be an issue." He took a deep breath and turned to face Eliot, "or I'll pull the team out now. I won't put them in danger if your head is not fully in this."

Eliot's mind was whirring. Part of him wanted to hit out at Nate, wanted to know what he thought gave him the right to invade Eliot's privacy. They didn't talk about anyone's past, why was he pushing it now? Another part of him knew Nate was right, if he couldn't keep it together, he could endanger the team and they were the only family he had anymore. He toyed with the idea of an outright lie, telling parts of the truth or just letting them go and doing this himself.

"I had a friend who was kidnapped at the same age," he started, looking Nate straight in the eye, hoping the mastermind wouldn't realize he wasn't being quite truthful, "no-one bothered to really look very hard, similar situation at home to these guys."

"Did they find him?" Nate asked,

"No,"

"That must have been hard,"

"Yeah."

"So you gotta keep talking to me through this," Nate continued, "I need to know where your head is at, keep you in the game."

"It's not a game, Nate," Eliot said fiercely. "A kid's life is at stake."

"I know, Eliot," he replied, "We'll do what we can, but I'm not sure we can do much. Just promise me you won't go off on your own. Run things past me before you do anything. We can't do this if I'm worried about what you're going to do."

"Fine," Eliot conceded, more to end the conversation than because he actually planned to do it.

"And after this one, I think you should take some time off, recharge."

"I don't need to recharge, I'm fine."

"We all need time off every now and then; we've been working almost nonstop for about a year now. Just take a few weeks, we all can, you can go see your family." Nate finished, hoping Eliot would see it as a good idea because Nate was not planning on taking any more jobs until he knew his team were 100%.

"I don't have any family!" Eliot replied and then mentally kicked himself. That was too much information and differed from the back-story he'd built when he became Eliot Spencer. This case was already getting to him. It was a story he'd been telling for over twenty years and only now was he struggling to keep it straight.

"I thought you had a nephew?" Nate asked puzzled.

"Aimee's sister's kid, haven't seen him in years." Eliot covered.

"Well, go visit Aimee or something. We are taking a break after this one, end of discussion." Nate finished with a puzzled look at the hitter. There was a lot more to this story that Eliot was letting on and Nate had to find out. "Let's go see what Hardison has turned up."

"So," Hardison began, "Cindy Stevens, born to Michelle and Michael Stevens on June 20 2003 at the local hospital. They were married right outta high school and have an older son, Pete, who is fifteen."

"That's a big age gap, was she an accident?" Sophie asked.

"I guess both probably were," Hardison continued, "Michelle was 18 when she had the older one, musta gotten pregnant in high school and was forced to marry the father. There are hospital reports for Michelle going back to when she was first pregnant, up to and including one just last week, same thing for both kids: broken arms, cuts, bruising, burns, concussions, the list goes on and on.

"How come there was none of the older kid's blood on the father?" Parker asked, "I mean, mom, dad and Cindy's blood was there, why not Pete's?"

"Dunno actually," Hardison answered, "although there are fewer hospital visits for him in the last few months, maybe he figured out how to get outta the firing line."

"Any hospital records on the father?" Eliot piped up.

"Dunno, didn't check, gimme a minute," Hardison replied, his fingers flying over the keys, pulling up the necessary information. "Erm yeah, same night as the one for the older kid, dad had a broken nose and concussion from a fall apparently."

"Kid grew up," Eliot replied, "learned how to fight back; dad probably doesn't pick on him much anymore."

"Then why didn't he protect his mum and sister?" Sophie asked.

"He's fifteen," Nate jumped in before Eliot had a chance to answer, "There is only so much a kid can do."

"Other than the domestics, there is not much to tell about the Stevens. They own the house and land, passed down from his family, used to be a pretty good farm, but last ten years it's fallen into disrepair. They sold all the livestock and only have a few crops growing. She works as an assistant in the local school and they are barely making ends meet."

"Could he have sold the kid for money?" Parker asked.

"If he did, he's really smart, no unusual transactions, no funds coming into the account, nothing to suggest he just got a payday." Hardison replied.

"He didn't do anything!" Eliot added, exasperated, pacing back and forward in front of the small window, "We're wasting time looking at the family. They didn't do this, what about local history, any similar cases?"

"Sort of," Hardison replied, turning back to the computer screen, "a kid in the same town three years ago, similar age, and similar family story. Another a few towns away just over a year ago, all in all nearly ten kids over an eight year period within a two hour drive of here, all with the same issues at home, none of them solved."

"Any common factors?" Nate asked.

"Nothing I can see. All had social services visits, but all had different case workers, although outta the same office. All went to different schools, different doctors, and their ages ranged from three to seven, total mix of boys and girls, in all cases the father was the main suspect."

"It's someone in the social service office, it has to be." Eliot said quietly. "It's someone who knows enough about their home lives to know the police will have another suspect who looks real good and won't push anything else too hard."

"Sounds plausible, but we have no proof yet," Nate replied. "Okay, here's the plan, Sophie, you and Hardison are FBI, start with the police, get inside the investigation, mention the other cases, see if they've looked at that angle. Parker, I want you inside the social services, copy the case files for all the missing kids, see if we can find anything on them not in the reports Hardison got. Case workers like to write their notes and observations but never type them up."

"What about me?" Eliot asked.

"You and I will start with the older kid and do some digging around town," he replied. "Okay guys, let's get moving."