Like most of my episode tie-ins, a little jumpy as it doesn't exactly go into the details of the con, but if you've seen the ep, you'll be fine.

They'd taken the job hours after they'd returned from renovating in Ohio and, at first, Eliot was reluctant. He forced himself not to roll his head at the client's mention that it was a heart attack that killed her father, purging the urge with a subtle inhale and turning of his head.

Nate was more immediately convinced as she explained through her reasoning and provided evidence about the research. And, upon her mentioning PTSD, Eliot was, though not visibly, more intrigued.

"Your dad had PTSD?" he asked with personal concern in his voice.

"You know, just a little something to remember Vietnam by," the client replied, the sarcasm leading Eliot to believe she was uncomfortable with the idea. Most likely because she didn't know how to handle it.

Not a lot of people did.

"You have to understand," she continued, turning back to Nate. "These university experiments are run by undergrads. I mean, kids, literally."

Eliot looked at Nate. He didn't notice the staring until the client was coming to the end of her plea. He looked into the hitter's face and took a sip of his coffee. A silent conversation decided that they were most adamantly taking the case.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Abs can we talk?" Eliot asked, hiking on one of his oldest and most aged jackets over a fifty cent shirt found at a nearby thrift shop.

"Mhm," she mumbled, placing down her pen and swallowing a mouthful of apple. "Is this about the PTSD guys?"

"Yeah, you know I'm going under in the experiment right?" he questioned, fishing around on the chaotic table for his beanie. The table was full of books, papers and worksheet's from a variety of Abby's classes; there looked as though there was no rhyme nor reason to any of it.

Abby nodded silently. So did he, he wasn't exactly sure what to say.

"I dunno what's going on in the experiments but, chances are, it's not gonna be pretty," he finally said and she nodded again. "Now, I'm not gonna bother telling you that my reactions are all pretend are just part of the con 'cause that's bull and you'd know it. What I will tell you is that, no matter what my reactions, I'm okay. Chances are I've been through worse and I've got the team to back me up," he nodded over to Nate and Sophie by the couches.

"You had PTSD?" It was phrased as a question, but she knew the answer, which was confirmed by Eliot nodding solemnly. "Are you sure putting yourself into this is okay?"

"Like I said, I got the te-"

"No," she interrupted. "I mean are you gonna be okay with putting yourself through this?"

"Abby, you don't have to look out for me, that's not your job."

"Well, it has to be someone's," she smiled.

"How the hell do you find anythin' on here?" he asked, still unable to find his hat. "It's a mess."

"It's an organised mess," she quipped and picked Eliot's hat off the table and tossed it to him. "And you didn't answer my question. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yes," he replied adamantly, catching the beanie with ease. "See, we're getting' better at this communicating thing already," he added lightening in the mood.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"He's cute," Abby exclaimed, sliding into the seat next to Hardison. He had briefly returned back to the apartment after the Dust Brother's party partially to reground himself and partially to gather anything he needed before returning back to the dorm. "Travis," she stated, reading the name off of the board.

"Who? The mark?" he questioned horrifically as Abby rolled an apple around in her hand before taking a crunching bite. "The mark, the mark, the mark is not cute. He is evil and… no crushing on the mark-"

"Alec, relax," she laughed. "It was just an observation. You could match Eliot for the whole freak out thing though."

"Well excuse me for trynna look out for yo' ass," he quipped. "And shouldn't you be in school?"

"Ordinarily, yes," she took another bite of the apple. "But I'm suspended 'till the end of the week, remember?"

Parker, unpinning her hair from the party and tossing the pins carelessly on the table, perked up and sped over to the bench. "Does this mean we can go repelling?"

"Ha ha, no," she replied.

"Wanna help me move some stuff into my dorm room?" Hardison suggested alternatively.

"That's probably a better idea, yeah," she agreed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So Eliot," Abby exclaimed, lying back on the couch in Nate's apartment, tossing a ball up into the ear. "Guess what I did today?"

He had been more or less silent since being locked away but it was clear that his resolve was unequivocal. He maintained absolute focus despite the noise and purposeful attempt to rip his mind back to a time less pleasant.

Only Nate, with his knowledge from chasing the hitter and his knowledge of the industry, and Abby, with her personal experience from having seen him come home broken and heard his tormenting nightmares, knew that that resolve came from unwanted practice.

"What?" he asked in response. He quietly took a breath in and then let it out slowly, trying to maintain his meditative state. He was sitting cross legged on the bed facing away from the door and staring at the blank wall. Normally it went against his better judgment to ever face away from an entrance but this way, facing away from the window, he could be sure they couldn't see him conversing.

"I went to a college class," she informed him excitedly. After helping Hardison decorate his room, she had, curious with the idea of college, snuck into the first class she had found and thoroughly enjoyed the content.

Despite the fact that she'd, more or less, conned her way into the classroom, she had been extremely excited to tell Eliot that she had enjoyed a normal person event, but she had planned on waiting until this all was over. Sophie, however, had suggested that she talk to Eliot now, in order to distract him and keep his spirits up.

She had been reluctant at first but upon hearing the CIA guy's threat and the change in pace of the con, she had grown almost immediately eager.

"Is that so?"

"After I dropped off Hardison's stuff, I thought it might be fun to check out a class," she elaborated. "Sociology. Did you know that according to some guy called Durfheim, because of the different collective sentiments, crime is an inevitable aspect of life and can actually be functional to society?" The words were repeated almost verbatim, but it didn't make it any less interesting or less true.

"Good news for us then huh?" he joked. "If we ever get arrested, make sure Durfheim's on the stand for our trial."

"Yes sir!" she replied smiling, throwing the ball up above her head once more. Rather than catching it however, it crashed back down into her nose. "Ow."

"What'd you do?"

"Hit myself in the face with a ball." She rubbed her face and reached once again for the ball which had fallen in the crack between her and the side of the chair.

"Good job," he joked.

"Hey Eliot," she said again.

"Yeah sweetheart?"

"Is this helping or do you want me to shut up?"

"No, darlin', this is good," he told her softly as he heard a pair of footsteps walking down the hall.

"Abby, I don't want you listening during the interrogations, you hear?" he instructed. "You don't need to hear those things."

"Okay," Abby assured him softly as the locks on the doors were wrenched open and Eliot was lead out of the confined room for day two.

Abby meanwhile, lingered for a moment, her hand hovering over her ear ready, but not quite yet willing to pull out the earbud.

"Did you ever count 'em?" she heard the man ask after a long, looming silence.

"Counted what?" was Eliot's dry reply.

"You know; the people you've killed?"

Abby swallowed but still did not move.

"Give me a ballpark," the interrogator pressed. "It's gotta be a big number right?" His questions were cruelly smug.

"You think asking me about my past is gonna open up old wounds? Maybe put me off balance? Make me easier to break?" Eliot's voice was steady; calm but deep with concentration and control.

"I'm just trying to get to know you better. Why does that question make you so nervous?" Yes, Abby thought, definitely a smugness. "Is that what all this is for you? Are you trying to punish yourself for the things you've done?"

Abby gulped and waited for Eliot to respond, to lash out like he was so good at. Instead he remained completely in control.

"I think that's it," the interrogator stated decidedly. "I think the reason why you won't give me your word and walk out that door is 'cause you think you deserve to be here."

"Abby," Nate scalded from his desk. Abby jumped forgetting he was there and quickly sat upright, twisting to look at him over the back of the couch. He shook his head and motioned for her to take her earbud out.

She quickly did as she was told.

"She's clear Eliot," Nate informed the hitter, still looking over at the teenager who had not moved.

"Is that true?" she asked, clearing her throat. "Is he trying to punish himself?"

Nate sighed, stood up from his seat and walked down to the couch to sit next to Abigail. As he did, Abby shifted, turning so her back was up against the arm of the chair and her knees were curled up next to her chest.

"Because he doesn't see what you and I see. What do you see, when you look at Eliot?"

"Someone who'll protect me, who loves me. Someone who makes a great osso bucco and who cares for me. My family."

"Right, and I, mostly, see the same thing. A part of my family who I can count on every day to do the right thing. But what do you think he sees?"

She shrugged. "People have a tendency to see the worst in themselves. I guess he sees all the bad things he's done."

"Right. And he's punishing himself for it. But that doesn't mean he's not okay."

"But he doesn't need to," she protested. "He's already suffered enough," she added almost silently.

"Not according to him he hasn't," Nate continued.

"Then what do I do?" Abby asked timidly.

Nate pondered for a moment, shifting his weight forward and placing his hands on his knees before deciding what he was going to say.

"Keep being the best you possible," he decided. "That's what he needs for him to start to let go. He needs to know he's made, well, not made, but that he's given something good into the world."

"That's it?" she was slightly disappointed; she wanted to do more.

"The rest is up to him," Nate shrugged. "But that doesn't mean he's not okay," he reiterated and Abby nodded.

"Can I help?" she asked, gesturing to the case board they had set up.

"Hmm?"

"Fix this thing, this job. I wanna help fix this thing." She stood up demonstrating her resolve.

"Well," Nate sighed. "You can go help Parker with the jackets and cameras I suppose."

"Sounds good," she thanked.

Part 1/2 for a request for Jinxcat21.

Speaking of, I'm more than happy to entertain ideas for stuff, even if its just like an inkling, or that'd be cool, or this scene's been playing around in my head, I'm more than happy to hear them.

Also, we reached 100 reviews last chapter (exceeded it actually) so good team work guys, high fives all around.

Hope you all are enjoying your weekend =)