For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know or maybe you just forgot: Devon takes Ellie on a vacation to try to help her heal from her father's death. Casey does laundry by himself.

Visitation

It was Monday when he knocked on her door. Everything was in flux given the destruction of the Buy More, of the Castle, and with the mothballing of the Human Intersect Project given Chuck's abrupt resignation. Because of the long, strenuous strategy sessions that had followed with General Beckman and Sarah, he'd missed laundry day.

He deeply regretted that. He knew she was hurting, hanging on by a thread, and the last thing he wanted to do was add to the pain. While he wasn't sure if their weekly laundry room ritual would be painful or not, he hated that he'd missed it and hadn't been able to tell her why.

And, he missed his cat. When Ellie and Devon had returned from their long weekend away, Downy had wound up sequestered in Ellie's apartment again, not that he blamed her.

It took several minutes for her to open the door. Initially, she was surprised to see him. But, the light that had taken to her red-rimmed, watery hazel eyes dimmed almost instantly. "John." Her hair was a mess, tangled down around her shoulders. She wore blue jeans and a loose fitting tee shirt, her feet bare. It was clear that she'd been crying again.

Casey knew exactly why. It was because Devon was working, because Chuck was out at the old family house, cleaning up what remained of Stephen's belongings. Because she was alone and it was okay in her mind to be broken when she was by herself. "Hey, Ellie."

"I... um..."

Sensing her hesitation, her uneasiness, he continued: "I wanted to apologize. For yesterday."

"You're busy," she said. "I get that."

"And... for your father..."

She closed her eyes, running her fingers through her hair, tugging at the knots as she went. "It's okay, John."

Except, it wasn't, not to him. "Ellie, about your father-"

She held up a hand. "Don't. It's..." She swallowed hard. "It's okay," she repeated hollowly.

"No. It's not."

Her carefully created facade of being just "okay" began to crack. "I'm fine."

"Can we go for a walk?"

She glanced at her bare feet. "I'm not really..."

"Just, to the laundromat," he amended.

She placed her toes into the flip flops by the door. As she did so, she glanced further into the apartment. "Downy?"

The calico obediently jumped down from her perch in the front window, following her owner to the door. Even the cat seemed happy that Casey was there, going so far as to pounce on his shoelace when she spotted his familiar combat boot.

Casey smiled a little, scooping up the ball of fur, carrying her and escorting Ellie to the laundry room. Once they were safe within the confines of their space, he let the cat down and spoke: "I know you aren't okay."

"Dad was never there anyway. It's okay." Why wouldn't he let her keep her lie? Devon let her keep it. Chuck did, too.

"I saw you... I've seen how it's affected you." Off her questioning look, he came clean: "There are security cameras all over the complex."

"That's... an invasion of privacy."

"It's a necessary precaution, to keep you safe."

"Well, spying on my crying, that's probably a..." She struggled for the terminology. Her thoughts had a hard time navigating her brain. "Inappropriate use of governmental property or... something," she finished weakly.

He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder, offering it a supportive squeeze.

It was the silent strength, something she hadn't felt since before her father had...

He watched as her facade did more than crack. The pieces crumbled, tumbling to the ground, shattering into a million pieces, much like the fragments that had to be all that remained of her heart.

She'd been holding onto the pain and misery by herself for too long. When she'd been around the others, she'd felt the need to hide the fact that she was hurting. But, her burdens were too heavy for her to shoulder by herself. Little Downy wasn't quite big enough to help lessen the weight enough for her to breathe, to feel anything other than agony, or to heal. "He's gone," she whispered.

Casey pulled her tightly to him. He couldn't bring Stephen back, no matter how much he wanted to, but he could be there for Ellie. He didn't whisper to her. He didn't tell her she'd be all right. He didn't tell her that whatever she was feeling was okay. She didn't need to hear that from him. She'd heard it too often from Devon, even from Chuck and Sarah, from Morgan. He didn't lie either, telling her he knew how she felt. He didn't. He couldn't. He just held her as her heartache finally broke free from her chest, as the emotion poured out from her.

He wasn't sure how long they were in the laundry room, how long he held her, how long she cried. All he knew was that when she finally, reluctantly, pulled back from him and dried her face, she looked better.

She took a slow, deep breath. She felt like she hadn't been able to take one of those, not since she'd seen her father die. "John, I..." She wanted to thank him. She just wasn't quite sure how to convey to him how much he meant to her.

And that scared her.

How much did he mean to her? More than even she realized.

Stay tuned...