Author's Note: Thanks, KittensofLove for the kind review! Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Nathan Ford had been here before.

Not here in this city, but here, standing at the door of a support group. He stared at the sign taped to the glass. Community Hope. We help those who help.

This was different this time around, he thought, as he pulled the door open and entered the converted storefront. The shabby, but neat room served as an office and meeting area. The ring of chairs sat off to the left.

The room was well worn, but neat. The paint, hiding the shabbiness, was bright—too bright. Like clown in a terminal care ward.

The place reminded him of despair.

Pushing the thought out of his mind, he focused on the desk to the right and studied the figure slumped behind it. The woman's face was buried against her arms and her hair spilling forward like a veil.

"Perhaps I'm early."

Jerking back into her seat, the woman was quick to wipe her eyes even as she turned away from Nate. "I'm sorry. I was just catching a nap and lost track of time." Not a very good lie. She turned and looked at the old analog clock hanging from the wall by a poster of a family with an elderly; wheelchair bound woman. "It's two o'clock." She looked back at Nate. "You're my two o'clock. I'm so sorry. How unprofessional of me."

"No, it's fine."

On her feet, the short, plump woman rounded the desk and met Nate with a warm handshake. "I'm Sylvia Carter, and you are?"

"Nathan Ford."

"Please, have a seat, Mr. Ford." Sylvia motioned to the chair in front of her desk as she returned to her side and tried to straightened the scattering of paperwork.

Nate noted a sheet with a listing of supporters, several scratched through in red and the marker lying close by.

"Are you looking to join one of our support groups?" Sylvia asked as she grabbed a folder from a file and sifted through the colorful contents that matched the bulletin board behind her. She spoke in a soft, almost distracted tone. "You'll have to forgive me, things are really busy right now." A note pad covered in scribbles caught her attention and she dragged it close. "You talked to Julia on the phone." A shake of her head. "She didn't put down what services you were looking into."

Nate leaned back in his seat and took in the whole of the room. There were only the two of them. He was well briefed on the Community Hope caregiver network, and the problems with Home Keepers. Hardison had been quite thorough with the finances and other intel, but it did not require a gifted hacker to tell Nate the troubles the organization had suffered of late.

"You have a benefit coming up," he said.

"You mean an open house." Sylvia laid the folder down in front of her. "Benefit is such a big word."

Nate gave a slight laugh and smiled as he studied the stacks of papers and brochures scattered about the desk. "It's an enormous task to keep afloat in the current financial climate. The fact that you've lasted this long and are still providing comfort is a testament to your determination, but let's face it, the only reason your doors are currently open is that the church is allowing you to work out of this under used annex. You're trying to raise funds to sustain your network and get the word out to help those who feel as though they are in this alone, struggling to take care of a loved one."

Sylvia retreated in her seat. Her gaze kept Nate's as she twisted and motioned to the various meeting sheets pinned behind her. "Community Hope is here to help any caregivers," she said. Motioning toward a bright pink page, she continued, "If you are caring for a family member with Alzheimer's, we have a group. They meet every Wednesday at seven." A golden sheet. "We have support for families dealing with children who need long term care."

A smile that never reached his eyes. "I never found group therapy helpful. Their problems were not like mine."

"That may be so, Mr. Ford. And there are many who can and prefer to go it alone, but sometimes, even the loners can find a new strength as part of a group."

Nate tried and failed to suppress a genuine grin.

Suspicion lingered in her brown eyes. A steely determination. "Mr. Ford, if you are not here looking to find help—encouragement—from our services and the many who come here to share, then I have to question why you are here. I have neither the time nor much in the way of finances for you to trick me out of. So please, be on your way."

For a while, Nate was quiet, he didn't shy away from her intense look, nor did he invite her ire. He waited.

When the silence had drawn on long enough, he slowly shifted in his seat and rested an elbow on one of the padded arms. "At first you don't notice it. A sniffle. Tiredness. You treat it like every other cold that comes along. You take him to the doctor. Make sure all the medicines are taken. Plenty of water. After a few days, it passes and life goes back to normal. Just a kid, happy and playful.

"The fever returns and the process starts again. Doctors. Medicine. He gets well, but then it becomes a cycle, and the good days grow shorter and shorter.

"Vacations become trips to the specialist. You tighten your belt as you lose more paid days to be with him. Even when you are at work, you're not really there. He's always on your mind. How do you fix him? Looking for that cure that thing that will bring back the bright days when he can be a child again. In the back of your mind you know how tired you are, how frayed your nerves are, how worried you are, but there's nothing to ease any of that.

"And then, although part of you expects it, the end still comes suddenly and without warning. You're not consoled by the end of their suffering. There's this big hole left in you."

Sylvia's gaze slowly crept from Nate, across her desk, and settled on an old photograph of a sickly little boy.

Sophie hadn't realized Parker and Hardison had gone silent, nor did she know she was holding her breath, waiting for what Nate would say next. The silence grew heavy in the openness of the apartment.

Over her shoulder, she caught Parker's uncertain look. The young woman was perched on a chair at the table in the kitchen.

Hardison looked up over his laptop screen. His lips moved as if he were about to say something, but silently returned his gaze back to the screen.

The three of them had exchanged brief glances when Nate began speaking, but his words had drawn Sophie into her own world. She felt her hand pressed over her warm cheek, her fingers cupping her ear where the earbud was nestled as if to hear his words more clearly.

She hadn't known how Nate would play the charity, and in fact, she had offered to be the one, as a certain degree of subtly was needed. But, Nate had been insistent that Home Keepers be her target.

Before she even realized it, Sophie found herself gripping the edge of the detached bar. Her breath pensively held as she waited.

After a time, Nate looked up to find Sylvia still staring at the photo on her desk. His tone was soft. Gentle. "Right now, you have devoted yourself to this organization, the same way you devoted years to caring for your family. There's a lot of love in this effort. You want to help everyone who comes through that door in need of support, or just knowing they need something but not what exactly. You're struggling right now. You don't know what you need and don't have a place to turn to for help."

He reached into his coat pocket and produced a business card. "I can be that help." Standing, he pressed the card to the center of the desk. "Feel free to investigate. You would be foolish just to take my word for it. And if you feel that I may be of service to you, just call."

Politely excusing himself, he left.