As always, thanks so much for the reviews. For those wondering what happened between the end of chaper 11 and the start of this one, there is an 'M' rated 11.5 that you can read. You don't have to, but it would make me happy if you would read and review. Or you can just pick up here.

Sandy-wmd: Yeah, don't think daddy dearest will be getting the contract. Just thought that this would be an interesting way to bring in some of Maria's background.

All For Jesus: Glad you liked seeing her past. There's a little more here. (BTW, where's that next chapter of 'Pregnancy in the Tower'? I'm waiting)

ShadowBeats22107: Thank you. You do my ego good. And no, your stories aren't too graphic. They're wonderful. I really appreciate your support and encouragement. Thanks also for the review of 11.5. I really like this couple and I'm glad that shows in my stories.

Ella: Glad you love it. The talk just needed it's own chapter. Here it is. Hope you like it.

PrincessPrettyPants: Thanks for the love. I hope you liked the shower scene, too.

Marqueza: Thanks. I kinda liked the caveman bit, too. I hoped the scene between Maria and Pepper would be believable. And I am SO glad to know I surprised you. I really wanted it to be a surprise. It's nice to know when you succeed at something.

This part ended up being pretty heavy and dark in spots, so I suppose I should warn about mentions of child abuse, mental/emotional and sexual. There's nothing graphic, but it is mentioned, so be aware. It's kind of an important part of the story.

Risks 12

Nick had finally drifted off, a sleeping Maria curled in the curve of his body. After several hours, he was jolted awake by movement next to him. She mumbled in her sleep, her breathing becoming more rapid as she twisted, struggling with unseen enemies.

He raised up on his elbow, reaching to turn on the bedside lamp, barely reacting in time to grab her thrashing arm as she swung towards him. As she started struggling in earnest, he draped a leg over hers and gently took both wrists in his hand, lightly pinning them to the pillow above her head. He called her name softly, trying to draw her from the nightmare.

Suddenly, her eyes opened wide, her pupils dilated, a look of abject terror on her face as she bucked, trying to push him away. He froze momentarily, stunned by the intensity of her reaction. A soft moan of fear finally broke through to his mind and he released her hands, moving as quickly as he could to put distance between them. As he scooted away, she pressed her palms to his chest and shoved as hard as she could.

Released from his weight, she rolled off the bed and scurried across the room, turning to sit with her back against the wall. She hugged her legs to her chest and dropped her head to rest on her knees.

Nick sat on the edge of the bed, stunned as he watched her trembling, her breath coming in shaky gulps. After a few moment, he crossed to the dresser, quickly pulling on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. Then, he grabbed a blanket off the bed.

"Maria," he called her name softly.

Her eyes flicked up, meeting his. He held out the blanket, slowly approaching close enough to drape it around her shoulders before moving away from her.

He sat cross-legged in the floor across from her, leaning up against the side of the bed. At a loss for how to proceed, he just started speaking, quietly reassuring her that she was safe, that he was there for her, and that no one was going to hurt her.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but eventually, her breathing slowed back to a normal rate and her trembling stopped, though she still kept her head down, eyes averted.

He debated the question on his mind. Part of him felt he needed to know, part of him didn't want to. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Maria," he asked softly, "did your father molest you?" Even asking the question, considering the possibility was making him nauseous.

After a prolonged silence, he heard a soft 'no,' followed by what almost sounded like a snort. She lifted her head to look at him. "My father never sexually molested me."

There was something disturbing in the way she made the statement, but before he could pursue it, the continued.

"In fact, Nick, to the best of my recollection, my father never touched me." She held his gaze.

"At all."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say 'good,' but something stopped him.

"He never touched you? At all?" he probed.

"Ever," she confirmed.

Confused, he thought about the time spent with his own children. "No carrying you to bed or tucking you in with a hug and a kiss?"

"No."

"No doctoring skinned knees, brushing your hair or tying your shoes for you?"

She shook her head.

"Not even holding your hand to cross a busy street or keep you close in a crowded store?"

"You're assuming he ever went out in public with me," she clarified with a raised eyebrow.

"But who took care of you before you were able to do for yourself?" he asked.

"Nannies," she replied. "He hired people to do what absolutely had to be done, but they were instructed to keep physical contact to a minimum. Nothing that could be construed as a sign of affection. Food, clothing, shelter, education, but nothing more. In fact, one woman was fired for daring to help me up when I fell down some stairs and broke my arm."

Nick shook his head, not certain how to respond. "You do know that's not normal, right?"

With another shrug, she continued. "I spent most of my childhood at boarding schools or camps of one kind or another. Wherever he could put me so that he didn't have to see me. I realized fairly quickly that that was for the best. I really dreaded the times he didn't have something arranged and I'd end up having to go home for a school break."

He had scooted close to her, reaching out to rest his hand on her leg. Something she had said still bothered him and he tried to focus on what it was.

She had said that her father never molested her.

Emphasis on 'father.'

"What about van Drake?" he asked.

Her eyes flicked up, then back down.

"What about him?"

"Did he touch you?"

The silence following his question was thick and heavy.

When she finally looked up again, her eyes were dark and unreadable. "Augustus worked for Walsh for a long time. He was a valued employee and deserved to be rewarded for his long and discreet service."

Nick felt the bile rising in his throat, but swallowed quickly.

"So, not only did he rape you, he did so with your father's permission?"

Her gaze held, and he had a bad feeling that there was more to come.

"He was preparing me."

Nick didn't want to ask, but the words came out anyway.

"Preparing you for what?"

"The others." She paused, trying to gauge his reaction before continuing. "He decided that what worked as a reward for a good employee might also serve as an added enticement for a few select clients with certain desires."

A sharp pain in his jaw made Nick suddenly realize how tightly his teeth were clinched.

"How old were you?" he finally managed to ask.

Not that it really mattered. Whether it had been yesterday, or decades ago he was still ready to personally deal with each and every man involved.

"I was about 7 when it started."

His mind pulled up an image of Veronica at 7, front teeth missing, head thrown back in laughter as her pigtails flew in the breeze. He was pushing her on the swing.

'Higher, Daddy!' she had squealed with delight.

He would have willingly sacrificed his own life to protect her.

Still would.

Without a word, he rose and walked into the other room. Maria watched him go, the barely controlled anger evident in every line of his body.

He was leaving.

Her head dropped back to rest on her knees. It had always been her fear that he would walk once he found out the truth. She had certainly been told enough that no decent man would ever want her. In her mind, at least, Nick Fury was a decent man.

A loud 'CRASH' in the other room made her jump, her head snapping up again. She heard a muffled curse, then the sound of her freezer door opening.

Moments later, a chagrined looking Fury appeared at her bedroom door, an ice pack wrapped around his right hand.

"Sorry about the hole in your living room wall," he told her. "I'll have someone come down to patch it up tomorrow."

She smiled sadly. "It might look a little suspicious to have you reporting damage to my apartment," she told him. "I'll take care of informing maintenance. Tell them I was working out or something."

With a nod, he disappeared from the doorway, only to reappear moments later without the ice pack. He crossed the floor and squatted next to her.

"I'm sorry," she murmurred softly.

Without a word, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her back into the living room. She watched him in shock as he settled onto the end of the sofa, tucking the blanket carefully around her as he cradled her in his arms.

When she continued to stare at him, he became concerned.

"Is this okay, sweetheart? Would you prefer that I not touch you right now? Because, as much as I want to hold you, I don't want to do anything to hurt you or frighten you." His expression was earnest. "Just tell me what you need from me right now, because I just can't imagine."

She worked a hand free from her cocoon and reached out to stroke his face.

"Why?"

He wasn't sure exactly what she was asking, but he knew there was one answer that would cover whatever it was.

"Because I love you."

"Even knowing about that?" she whispered, her nod towards the bedroom reminding him of the discussion they had there earlier.

His face reflected surprise. "Why would that," he copied her motion, "change how I feel about you?"

When she didn't answer, he continued. "The only thing that's changed is my desire to make his death even more slow and painful." He considered a moment. "And my respect for you."

He trained his eye on her face, waiting for her to really look at him.

"Maria, nothing that happened was your fault."

She shrugged and looked away. He placed a gently finger on her chin to turn her back to him.

"Nothing," he reiterated. "You were a victim. You got a bad draw in the parent department and were abused by the person who should have been protecting you the most. Instead, he used you for his own profit, feeding the perversions of others."

"van Drake told me I could have stopped it if I had really wanted to," she told him. "That I let them do things to me because I wanted them to."

"What do you think?" he asked, running his fingers through the silk of her hair.

She watched him, wondering if she dared to say what she had been considering all these years.

"I think that I was a child. I was small and weak and probably would have gotten hurt even worse if I had tried to stop it." Her statement was more of a question, as if she thought he might disagree.

Nodding, he smiled. "You were a child. You were small, and strong inside. You survived in spite of them and have become an amazing, strong woman."

Finally, she breathed out a heavy sigh of relief and rested her head on his shoulder. Snuggling into his embrace, she felt herself relaxing.

"So this is okay?" he asked.

"Very okay," she agreed.

"Do you want to discuss how to kill your father now, or should that be a subject for another day?"

He heard her laugh softly. "I think he and his demonic hoard have stolen enough of my life for today, enough of my rare time with you. He's not worth anymore of our time or attention."

After a bit of comfortable silence, he spoke again.

"Just let me know if I ever touch you or do anything to make you uncomfortable. Like when I was holding you down."

She looked up at him. "That has more to do with what happened when I was captured than with my childhood memories."

"I know. But I want to know if anything bothers you at all. Particularly when we're making love. I really don't want to bring up bad memories for you."

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and he grabbed for a tissue.

"I'm sorry, babe. Did I say something wrong?"

"Oh, no," she assured him, framing his face between her hands. "Something very right. Just when I think I couldn't possibly love you more, you say or do something so sweet and tender."

Now it was his turn to shrug. He was glad his skin tone hid what would have been a furious blush. "Just don't let it get around," he told her.

"Your secret's safe with me," she told him, lying her head back on his shoulder.

"And you're safe with me," he replied.

"I know."

And she closed her eyes and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Please let me know your thoughts on this. I don't usually get this dark, but it seemed to fit here. I look forward to your comments. Thank you.