"What the hell do you think you're playing at huh?" Eliot yelled as he slammed the door to Moreau's office behind him. "You said three years! Three years and I'd be outta here!"

"Eliot please, make yourself at home," Moreau said sarcastically. Eliot ignored the comment.

"By my count Moreau, it's been three and a half!"

"Spencer, sit down we'll discuss this like gentlemen."

"When have I ever been a gentleman Moreau," he said threateningly.

"Temper Eliot. I said three years but you're much too valuable for me to let you go now." Eliot paced about the room angrily. "Just remember who you're doing this for Eliot. In fact," Moreau began. "Have a month off. Go spend time with her. But when you come back, keep your head on straight."

Eliot Spencer was a different person than when he first started working for Moreau. Before then, he didn't let his anger get to him; he couldn't afford to let his feelings cloud his judgement and effect his work. Before when he was angry, he wouldn't let it show. Now he was angry all the time, so much so that he didn't even really notice when it began to change him; when it began to seep through into his words, actions and reactions. Except with Abigail. Although he still felt the anger with her, it was much less intense and it didn't hurt so much, as though she somehow fixing the problems he didn't even realise that he had.

"Why are we going away?" Eleven year old Abby asked as they were driving to the airport two days after Eliot's meeting with Moreau. "And why are we using a different car?"

"Because travelling is fun and our car's not working?" He said, though untruthfully. They were travelling because he had to get her far away from Moreau and they were using a rented car, under Eliot's new alias, to keep Moreau of his scent.

"But we have like three cars," she stated and Eliot sighed. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a passport then handed it to her.

"Darlin' read me the name on that passport will you?"

"Tamara Smith," she read out. "Hey, it has my picture!"

"That's right. Now honey, for the next three days you're gonna to be Tamara Smith. Whenever someone asks you your name you say 'Tamara'. Anyone," he warned. "Even if they're a police man, or say they're your friend you say your name is Tamara. Do you understand?"

"Yeah but why?"

"Because," he said, trying to think of a reason that would sound legitimate to a ten year old. "Because we're playing a game," he said, not being able to come up with a better excuse.

"How do I win?" she asked eagerly.

"By saying that your name is?"

"Tamara!"

"That's my girl!"

"What do I win?"

"Twenty dollars. Think of all the ice-cream you could buy with that," he said.

"If my name is Tamara, what's your name?"

"Daniel Smith, your father. That means you call me?"

"Dad. Duh!"

They arrived in Sydney, Australia the next day. At least, Eliot thought it was the next day; with the time difference and the amount of layovers they had had (it was safer that way) he couldn't be sure. They were standing in the line for customs, waiting to be let in. Eliot took this moment to reassure Abby. "So what's your name?"

"Ab.." she began but then corrected herself. "Tamara."

"Good job angel."

"Good evening sir." The attractive looking customs officer said to him when they had finally reached the front of the queue.

"Is it evening? You lose track of time on those things," he said with a smile.

"What is your reason for visiting Australia today?" she asked, un-phased by his charm.

"Moving here actually. I just got a job well, that I couldn't refuse."

"Passport and documents please?" He handed them to her and she checked them over. "Hers as well please?" she said, realising she had not received 'Tamara's' passport. Abby was still clutching it and Eliot nudged her to hand it over. She took a few minutes to read over the paperwork and Eliot began to worry they might not get through. "Enjoy your time in Australia sir," she finally said as she stamped their passports. Eliot took Abby's hand and smiled. They were almost home free.

They had picked up a rental car, under yet another fake name, and had driven to the outer edge of the city, to a small house with a garden full of roses. "Is this where we're staying?" Abby asked with excitement.

"Sure is," he said. Eliot had bought the house nearly two years ago; one of the many safe houses he owned across the world under a myriad of pseudonyms.

"It's pretty," she stated as they walked inside. It was simply furnished, and incredibly dusty, but enough for them. They took the next few days seeing the sights and doing the normal toursity stuff; a trivial attempt by Eliot to keep from making his inevitable decision. He loved Abigail so much and didn't want to leave her but he always knew that one day he would have to in order keep her safe. The long known knowledge, however, didn't make it any better.

"Darlin', I want you to meet somebody," Eliot said to Abby as a couple, roughly the same age as Eliot, walked through their front door. "This is Mr and Mrs Danes." Eliot had known Carl Danes since high school. His parents were missionaries and had moved around a lot and he and Eliot had remained lifelong friends; there was something about Danes that made him easy to be around and he had never judged Eliot, at least not openly, like others had.

"Hi!" she said enthusiastically as Mr Dane reached out to shake her hand.

"Hello young lady," he said an accent that lead no clues to his origin.

"Sweetheart, why don't you go show Mrs Danes the roses in the garden. I'm sure she'd like that." The young girl smiled and then led Mrs Danes away by the hand, into the garden.

"Beer?" Eliot asked as he reached into the fridge.

"You know me Eliot," He said with a smile and Eliot handed the man a bottle of the amber liquid. "Are you sure this is the right thing to do Eliot?" Danes asked.

"I can't protect her. I can love her and care for her, I always have, but I can't protect her. The safest place for her is far away from me."

"What makes you think I can protect her Spencer? I'm a school teacher. Not a deadly, mean fighting machine like you."

"No one, including Moreau, knows that she's here. If she's far away, he can't hurt her." He took a sip of his beer.

"Why now?" Danes asked. "Why not hide her away when all this began?"

"Because I knew I could protect her and because, back then, I was nieve enough to be under the impression that this would be over in three years. Now, three years has come and gone and Moreau ain't about lose me anytime soon, at least not on his account."

"You think he's gonna go after..."

"Yeah," he interuppted and took another, long sip of beer.

"I'll do this for you Spencer, and for her. But you don't abandon her you understand? My dad walked out on me when I was a little older than Abby and I'll tell you, you don't heal from that. So keep your distance and do what you have to, but do not make her think she is forgotten."

"You raise her right and you have my word."

A week later Eliot had packed his things and moved Abby over to the Danes'. He was standing at the front door, ready to leave.

"Are you going away again?" she asked.

"You know I gotta for work."

"Yeah but I don't like it when you're gone."

"I know darlin'. You be good for Mr and Mrs Danes you hear? You remember your manners, go to school, brush your teeth and be amazing my angel," he said as he hugged her.

"That's what ma' used to say."

"I'm glad you remember." He stood up and walked towards the door. "I love you sweetheart," he said as he walked out the door; he couldn't bring himself to say goodbye.

AN- Only a few chapters left...

As per usual, please read and review.

Ta.