Home.

A/N – This is very AU. Fifteen year old Carla and her younger brother Darren have had to be taken to care, after their mum, due to her drug problem, is no longer capable of looking after them. I'm including Frank in this fic, who is going to be her head care worker, and I'm also borrowing Peter, you'll see where he fits in as you read. It's rated T so far for future language use, but I might change it to M later on when I tackle very sensitive issues, just to warn. I don't really want to give much of the story away, but it's going to be a 'Carter' pairing. Anyway, enjoy…

Carla dragged her feet as she trudged along the path, wanting to delay the process for as long as possible. Darren, her little brother, was clinging onto her hand, even he seemed quiet. He was glancing up at the large house with wide eyes, it was a far cry from the poky drug pit they lived in.

Used to live in. She supposed it was inevitable that someone would come for them. It wouldn't have gone unnoticed any longer, turning up to school with creased uniforms, dirty uniforms, though Carla had tried her best, washing them by hand in the sink when they had no heating or electric. Realistically, Carla knew there was no way either of them could have carried on living there. And that was without the violence that came with her mums habit. She was spiralling further and further into debt, and Carla was used to fellas pitching up and taking things away. First money, then when that ran out the TV, and then jewellery and watches and anything else they had that might raise a few pence. Carla had worked, but a few hours after school at the corner shop wasn't enough to run the house as well as making up her mum's money, and Carla had soon given up. She'd started hiding her money, using it to make sure neither her or Darren went hungry or dirty, and she thought she'd been doing an okay job of it. But the school had soon picked up on the signs of neglect and the changes in Darren's behaviour, when the toy he was playing with was taken by one of the bigger boys, so Darren had grabbed his arm and bit him. They couldn't get in contact with Carla's mother to talk about the incident, they didn't have a land line. It wasn't long before they started to poke about, eventually involving the social.

They only had to look at the state of the house, the dirty walls, bare floors littered with used needles, the lack of furniture, electricity, heating and, by this point, running water, before whisking both Darren and Carla into a shiny, black car and driving them away.

So here they were, the sort of Home that starts with a capital 'H'. The Home where the forgotten kids are sent, the unwanted kids, the kids no one gives a crap about.

"Come on, it's not that bad, honestly. You'll soon settle in, your rooms are already sorted." Carla had forgotten the man's name already. He'd said he was head worker, and he looked every bit the boss. A crisp gray suit and polished shoes, brown hair neatly cut and not a single strand out of place. He gave Carla a smile, his eyes creasing at the corners. She wasn't sure why, but she felt there was something odd about the way he was looking at her, as if he was staring all too intently. But she shrugged it off. Maybe she just wasn't used to people smiling at her.

He opened the door and gestured for them to go in first. With hesitation, Carla stepped through into the house, Darren close at her heels. She could hear noise, noise from almost every room of the house. Music, chatter, laughter, singing, shouting. Not the shouting she was used to though. The happy voices were completely different to the usual rows and arguments that came with any raised voice back where she'd been taken away from.

"Frank!" Oh, that was his name. Carla remembered now. A little boy had suddenly appeared from the doorway of one off the rooms leading off the hallway. He had wispy blonde hair and big blue eyes, a large plastic yellow tractor in one hand, and a matching red one in the other.

"Hello, Charlie." Frank smiled, nodding at the small boy in greeting. "What're you up to, then?"

"I'm playing tractors. I want to make a ramp for them, but I don't know how and Peter's busy making tea so he can't help me." Charlie huffed, before clapping eyes on Darren, giving him a wide grin.

"Hello! Have you come to live here?" He asked, enthusiastically, to which Darren gave a small, shy nod and clutched Carla's hand a little tighter.

"Do you like tractors?" Charlie skipped up to where Darren was standing, who again, nodded. Carla vaguely remembers a few of Darren's old toys, but they were long since broken. He hadn't had anymore, apart from a few small plastic cars which Carla had bought him a few months ago, finding it wrong that a boy as young as Darren was deprived of any toys. They'd not cost much, a few pounds, and even that had meant that Carla had gone without school dinner money for two days, but it had been worth it to watch his face light up when she'd given them to him.

"You can come and play with me if you want? Maybe you can help me build a ramp for them and we can race them? Which colour do you want?"

"Red's my favourite colour." Darren spoke quietly, though Carla could tell he was eager to accept Charlie's offer. Instantly, Charlie handed the red tractor over to Darren and pointed to the room he'd just come from. "We'll play in there, there's more space, everyone else it watching TV, but it's only boring music."

Darren looked up to Carla, who gave him a reassuring smile and let go of his hand, allowing him to follow Charlie. It seemed Darren had a friend already, though Carla knew it wouldn't be the same for her. She didn't want to be there, but she knew she couldn't go back home. She felt lost, like she belonged nowhere.

"There, see, he'll settle in no time." Frank told her, cheerily. "Come on, I'll show you up to your room."

Carla had to admit, this room was a lot bigger than the one she had back home. But it was bare, and unfamiliar. The walls were cream and the carpet a very washed out looking pink. There was a single, silver framed bed, a mirrored wardrobe and a small bedside table with a lamp. Everything looked clean and looked after, unlike the chipped, wooden furniture in her own room, or the cracked mirror that hung on her wall. As far as bedrooms went, this one had the potential to be turned into something decent. But all Carla felt like doing was bursting into tears.

"I'll leave you to get sorted. Darren's room is just across from yours, I'll go and put his belongings in there and show him around later. You're more than welcome to have a wander around and feel free to come and find me if there's anything you need. You'll be meeting with your mentor shortly so please don't feel that I'm leaving you in the lurch."

"My what?" Carla frowned, slowly walking over to the bed. She sank down into the soft mattress, letting her bag fall to the carpet with a muffled thud.

"Your mentor, or key worker. There's a lot of children here, and it's hard for one person to keep track of everyone's needs. I'm the head worker, so you'll see me around, but I'm usually cooped up in the office or out in meetings. We've got three other careworkers and they've all got certain children who are sort of 'theirs'. Basically, when we have someone new come to stay with us, we'll introduce you to your mentor, and they're the person who will get to know you, bond with you and give you guidance and support. Of course, you can come to anyone of us for support, we're all like one family, here, we help eachother, but the idea of your mentor is that you've got someone who you're familiar with, someone who knows you, so you might be more comfortable approaching them."

"I think I've got that. So, who's my mentor?" Carla was still quite stony, she didn't want to give up her tough act. She'd not uttered a word when Frank had come to take them away, she'd simply shrugged and ushered Darren into the car like she couldn't care less. Although, she wanted to scream at her mum for letting them go, for not begging to keep them and promising that she'd try harder. It was obvious she didn't give two hoots.

"Both you and Darren will probably have Peter. He's quite new, too. He's only been with us a few months, but he's brilliant. I think you'll get along just fine with him."

Again, Carla shrugged. She didn't reply as Frank bade her goodbye, and merely watched him disappear from her room. Carla gave it around ten seconds after he'd closed the door before curling up in the middle of her new bed and letting out a strangled sob, bringing her knees up to her chin.

She was forced to live in this strange house with strange people, and her druggie mum had practically given them away. It had all gone downhill so fast. And what about her friends at school? Suzie, Michelle, Luke, Liam? How was she going to tell them? How would her class react to her being in care? How was she ever going to live this one down?