THE THINGS WE HOLD ON TO

A/N: This story is part of the Who/What/Where challenge. It involves Aiden Burn, a teddy bear (actually, two) and a car journey. I hope you like what I've done with them...

(And thank you to 1917farmgirl, whose touching Andromeda story about Harper and his stuffed cat finally gave me the push that I needed to write this one-shot.)

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"I'll drive," Danny said quickly, as they reached the Avalanche.

Aiden frowned.

That meant she would have to sit in the back. With him.

You catch bad guys for a living, she told herself grimly. You can't really be scared of a six year old child.

"Coward," she hissed, across the hood of the car, ignoring the fact that her own heart was fluttering urgently in her chest. Danny grinned and slipped behind the wheel. With a sigh, Aiden turned around, lowered her gaze and stared at the solemn figure behind her. His eyes were wide and brown, like chocolate smarties. Glistening tear-trails wound between his freckles, though his sobs had died away long ago. A heavy mop of dark hair fell across his forehead. In contrast, his clothes were far too small, and his shoes were mis-matched - one grey, one blue.

What was his name again?

"Finlay," she tried.

He blinked.

Okay. Good.

"Hey, Finlay. Want me to help you into the car? We need to go for a ride now."

The only thing grubbier than the thumb which Finlay popped into his mouth was the lump of matted fur that he clutched in his other hand. Two black button eyes and a patch for a nose proclaimed that, once upon a time, it might have been a teddy bear. Finlay squeezed its paw in a death grip and rooted his feet to the sidewalk.

"Please?" said Aiden hopefully. She knew the signs. It wasn't defiance - he was trying to hide his fear. A trick that she had learned herself at a very early age. To manhandle the kid into the car would be a breach of trust. She couldn't force him to go anywhere without treating him the way that he had been treated throughout his short life - like an object, without rights or feelings of his own. Instead, she would have to convince him. Befriend him. And that was the thing that scared her most of all. Keeping up a tough exterior was one thing, and Aiden knew that she was good at it - an expert, even - but kids weren't easily fooled, and Finlay's eyes said that he could see right through her. Watching closely, he waited for her next move, his shoulders hunched and every muscle in his body poised to resist if she grabbed him.

Poor kid.

They had found him early that morning, on one of those callouts that Aiden knew would feature in her nightmares for years to come. A damp and dirty hovel. The corpse of a drunken father, several days old. And a six year old boy, locked up in a closet, with only a mis-shapen lump of fur for company. The neighbours (drug addicts, mostly) had not even known that he existed.

With a rare and touching display of tenderness that reminded Aiden just why she loved to work for this man, Mac had lifted the child up in his arms and carried him out of the dreadful scene that was his home. Finlay had trusted him straight away. His air of confidence; his quiet smile. The deep compassion in his eyes.

Now it was her turn.

"I like your bear," Aiden ventured, trying to keep her voice as gentle as possible. Finlay blinked again and continued to stare. His fingers shifted on the filthy paw. "What's his name?"

So far, no one had heard the boy speak. Finlay lifted the bear and clasped it to his chest. He pulled out his thumb with a soggy 'pop'.

"Soft," he whispered.

Soft? Aiden looked confused. "That's... a nice name."

"Soft like me." With a troubled expression that was far too old for his thin little face, Finlay stroked the bear's worn head. "S'what Dad says. S'why he put me in 'time out'. To make me hard. But I like Soft. It feels nice..."

Damn. There was a lump in her throat the size of a fist. Aiden swallowed past it, trying not to let the boy see her fear. I'm not good at this. It's not my job.

Except that, right here and now, it was. "Take him back to the precinct," Mac had told them. "Flack will meet you there, with someone from Social Services. Be gentle..."

Gentle. "I have a bear," she admitted, praying with every fibre of her being that Danny Messer couldn't hear her right now. "He sits on my bed. I've had him since I was a kid. He's got cream fur and a bright blue ribbon."

And eyes like chocolate smarties.

"What's his name?" breathed Finlay.

Aiden smiled.

"Oscar," she told him. "Like the Grouch. I was a big fan of Sesame Street as a kid, and he was always my favourite. Grumpy and funny. No one could tell him what to do."

Seeing the blank look on Finlay's face was almost more than she could stand.

"Oscar's a nice name," he offered, sensing her disappointment and trying to make her feel better.

"Oscar and Soft," she agreed. "I think they'd be friends - don't you?"

Finlay nodded.

Taking a deep breath, she reached out and opened the back door of the Avalanche.

"Can I help you both up?"

The little boy peered into the depths of the car with trepidation. Then suddenly, to her utmost delight, he placed his bear on the seat and held out his arms in a gesture of absolute trust. "Please, miss," he said politely.

Aiden had never picked up a child before. He was dreadfully skinny - she could feel the ribs beneath his grimy shirt, and his delicate heartbeat against her chest. As she lifted him, he swung his legs around her waist and grasped her tightly. Baffled, she thought for a moment and then simply hopped into the car herself, avoiding Soft and landing beside him, with Finlay snuggled on her lap.

Danny peered in the rear-view mirror and smiled.

"You're a natural," he told her.

Aiden grimaced. No need to confess how much she loved the feel of such a tiny life nestling in her arms as though he belonged there. Finlay reached for Soft and drew him into the group hug.

"Seatbelt?" said Danny.

No chance.

"Just drive carefully," she whispered, as he released the brake and began to pull away...