The name's Kirkland, Arthur Kirkland.

Occupation? Well, I work in the MIT with my two adopted little brothers. Though, my parents did not adopt them, I did.

These two had lost their parents in my first murder case, the older one was 16 while the younger was only 15. The young one had a fire to him, constantly trying to protect his big brother from the big scary police men entering their house and taking pictures of their once living relatives. I barely noticed them until the older one tugged on my sleeve, tears in his eyes before asking me if I could retrieve something for him.

From that moment on, I decided to help those boys as much as I could, but I never expected to be the one to take them in after the murderer was caught.

They refused to call me dad, the older one almost yelling at me that I could never replace 'daddy'... I agreed to not be called dad or daddy or whatever, I was only 5 years older than them. I asked them to call me Arthur and if anyone were to ask our relationship, just say I was their big brother.

"Yo! Arthur! We got a case!" The obnoxious, American cry causes my whole being to cringe. His blond hair almost shaking to match the adrenaline running through his bright blue eyes. "Matthew is already there, he answered Jett's call!"

Matthew's always there first, being the best to deal with people in sensitive situations, there was something about his gentle purple eyes and the ever present smile that made people trust him so quickly. He's so different to his little brother, I sometimes sit in awe just wondering how he's related to a windbag of energy like Alfred.

"Alright, what's the case?" I stroll past Alfred, knowing full well that he would follow close behind, despite his distaste for my authority. "Murder? Kidnapping?"

Alfred's face is almost buried completely into the paperwork, excited to exact justice onto the 'evil-doers of the world' because he's the 'hero'.

"Kidnapping, the call was by an Antonio ... something Spanish. He was panicked and his words were slurred."

I sigh and glance at my rookie partner, "Was he drunk?"

Alfred shakes his head and puts the paperwork under his arm, "Mattie said he was completely sober, although he suffered a blow to the head so we have to go to the scene of the crime to talk to him."

I nod, getting into the cruiser passenger seat and holding out my hand for the oncoming files which held the address and the man's name that Alfred failed to even attempt to pronounce.

"Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo... It wasn't that hard to say Alfred."

Alfred starts the car with a huff and drives, heading to the address he peeked at as he was telling me what he knew about the case.

As the car parks, I inspect the address briefly.

The address leads to a winery that seems to double as a very nice looking restaurant. Matthew sits at one of the outdoor tables with a young Spanish man who's holding an icepack to the back of his head.

The Spanish man's emerald eyes look like pools of gems as tears slowly rolled down his sun-kissed face, which were slowly wiped away with well-worn hands showing scars as trophies of long days of hard work.

Slowly emerging from the car, I take in the unfamiliar smell of grapevines and tomatoes which seems to create harmony with the scent of wet dirt and roses.

The closer to the sobbing man we get, the more I begin to realize he's blubbering in some other language, repeating things like, "Lovi", "Feli" and "Romulus".

Matthew softly rubbed the man's back, comforting him with gentle words and a soft tone. This is what Matthew knew best, how to calm down a victim or witness and it always makes me feel assured, when he's at the scene first, we will get answers.

Concluding that it will still be a while before we can really talk to the man, Alfred and I head inside to find any evidence to suggest struggle or possible weapon.

The restaurant dining area looks unaffected by the crime that took place, chairs still on tables and nothing had been set up to start the work day as of yet. A quick check of the till shows no sign of money or that it was forced open, however it only took a quick press of a button so chances are they don't leave their money onsite. Alfred decides to check the cellar as I move towards the back, guessing that's where the kitchen was.

The kitchen, is in a much worse state then the dining area. Knives scattered around, broken glass and blood littering the floor. I look around, searching for a broken window before noticing how natural the light is.

Looking up, I see the broken globe, hanging and swaying gently, which makes me suspect that this didn't happen this morning. Kneeling slowly, I look closer at the blood spills, to notice that the blood was dry, causing a soft, "bloody hell" from the back of my throat.

As my thoughts lead me to stand and look for Alfred, that very American enters and looks at the room in slight shock, "Nothing in the cellar".

I nod and with a slight twitch of my head, I beckon him over, "The blood is dry, and the light is broken. The kidnappers probably broke the light to make sure the victims couldn't see before taking them, last night."

Alfred nods in understanding, resting a hand on my shoulder, "Come on dude, Antonio might be ready to talk now"

Antonio, looks at us, pleading for us to find them.

He looks confused, possibly questioning why?

Many loved ones look like this, whether it be murder, kidnapping, suicide, anything that I am usually called in for.

"Would you be able to answer my questions Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo?"

The man nods, watching me, obviously fully aware despite the nasty bruise on the back of his head. Thankfully, paramedics that arrived shortly after we did gave us the all clear.

"What time did you notice the Vargas' were missing?"

The Spaniard's mind reels for an answer, I watch his brows furrow as he attempts to remember, "I-I start work at around 6:00am, so I noticed a-around then"

My brows knit together as my head tilts to the left. I attempt to word the next question carefully, hoping he doesn't take my question in a bad way and shuts off, "Why didn't you let us know until 8:00am?"

He sighs and points to his head, "I rushed to the phone and something hit my head officer. I woke up and called you straight away"

Matthew nods, "I saw the smashed lamp near the phone, I'm sure that was used."

I nod, this adds to the investigation. The kidnappers either waited for Antonio to get there or they had done the kidnapping close to 6:00am.

"What are the victim's names Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo?" Alfred pipes up, obviously thinking it would help find an enemy of the family or a record of the family somewhere.

The green eyes tear up slightly, as the eyes of loved ones do in times like this. You never think you would have to answer this question for this reason, "Romulus Rome Vargas, Lovino Romano Vargas and Feliciano Veneciano Vargas"

I take notes, to be sure I can come back to the information Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo has given us, "What do they look like? And what is your relationship with these men?"

Antonio sighs softly, thinking for a while as if to remember what these men looked like, despite him probably seeing them the previous day, "Romulus is a 53 year old tanned man, brown, curly hair, brown eyes and a rough stubble. He's pretty muscly for an old man too, he's my boss. Lovino is 22, he has brown straight hair, slightly tanned, and he's very lean. Feliciano is 20, he has brown straight hair, brown eyes, he looks skinny and he's white. I grew up with Lovino and Feliciano."

I am pleased with such a description. Sure, this sounds very general, but it is descriptive enough for me to get started.

With a wave, and a last assurance that Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo can call us at any time, we head to the office to get started.

I plant myself at my desk, and let Alfred go through the files.

He has a knack for computers that I'll never understand. This skill I am grateful for due to the fact that I barely understand how 'Facebook' works.

Pulling out a pen and some paper, I sketch what I remember of the scene, labelling where we saw broken glass, blood and knives. There was a definite struggle, which is acceptable. It's possible the knives were for self-defense, but we still had to hear from the tests to see whose blood was spilled. Either the victim's or the perpetrators, I'm hoping the latter so we might have a clue as to who did the deed.

Who's doing the tests? My little brother, Toby.

Toby and Jett, the two are twins and are biologically my little brothers. Jett works as an emergency dispatcher, and I'd pick no one else for the job. He's very irresponsible and a laid-back but strange young man, however when an emergency occurs he is quick to concentrate, thinking with a level head and doing whatever he can to be sure the correct authorities are on their way.

Toby always wanted to work in Forensics and just recently he had finished all the required courses, with a few words to the boss I got him a job. This is his first case and I could see the enthusiasm burning in his kind eyes as I gave him the blood sample.

Toby is an intelligent young lad, but with a calm and carefree smile to balance out that ferocious genius. Though those boys tend to get into little arguments about who is tougher considering their jobs to be scarier than the other.

The twins never fail to make Alfred, Matthew and I smile, even if it isn't intentional.

As quickly as he left, Alfred returns with files, hopefully giving me a better idea as to who we're looking for.

"Lovino Vargas, arrested a few times for vandalism, assault, threatening behavior and petty theft." Alfred reads, removing a piece of paper after each crime, "Some of these on many accounts, he's violent and short-tempered dude."

Nodding, Alfred rested most of the papers onto my desk before reading once more, "Feliciano Vargas was arrested for petty theft." resting the final paper with the others. "The worse the both of them was detainment overnight."

Looking of the photos attached to the files, I am grateful we now have, I see it wouldn't be very difficult to point the two out in a crowd, "What about Romulus?"

Alfred points to a line on the files, it was a list of living family members, "Romulus Vargas in their Grandpa and legal guardian."

This isn't a surprising fact, but it is confirmation for previous suspicions, now one question was left. Why kidnap these people?

By looking at the fact that both Vargas boys have committed theft, it seems safe to suggest that this family aren't overly rich. Is this a way to collect from the Vargas family, or a way to collect from Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo, who has stated he grew up around this family?

"So, you got the blood to Toby? Scraping it off the floor wasn't fun" Alfred sits on my desk, sighing softly. A new case either meant we would save a life, or see something horrific, and just like me, he's hoping it ends in saving these boys and their grandfather.

"Toby was more than excited to look at the specimen... Probably to rub it in Jett's face" I laugh as I stand, ready to go and ask Toby about any findings. If the blood's DNA shows up on the database, it'll make our job a lot easier. Just as I'm about to leave, I run into Matthew... literally, "Ah! Matthew, I didn't see you there"

Matthew smiles his signature smile with a small shrug, "You never do. Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo decided to stay at the restaurant in case we needed anything, and he gave us permission to look at these." He holds out a log book, I'm guessing of the names of customers who went to the restaurant.

"Alright, Alfred keeping looking at the databases, any murders, kidnappings or anything like that in the past year or two in the local area." with a salute, Alfred was at his laptop, searching as quickly as the young man could, "Matthew, we're going to sit and list any names in that log that visited frequently in the past few months." With that, the three of us search for any names that look familiar.

By the end of the day, we had a list of ten different families, enjoying either the wine or the food on many separate occasions and a list of twenty murders and kidnappings over the past two years.

"Looks like we're taking work home with us"

"Good evening Arthur!"

That voice, that thick accent... Oh fuck no.

"I hope you don't mind but I picked Peter up for Jett, apparently there was a um football game this afternoon"

I feel the left side of my face twitch, as my fists prepare themselves to begin strangulation.

"Arthur?"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE FROG!"

Almost as quickly as I saw him, he leaves. Why is he always here? Why!?

"WHO LET FRANCIS IN!?"

Before long, Peter is in front of me, a stubborn pout pointing towards the floor in front of my feet. "I-I did, I'm sorry Arthur"

A groan of annoyance escapes my grit teeth, not wanting to be mad at the boy, but definitely not pleased with him at the same time.

Who's Peter?

Peter is a young boy I'm taking care of. Another child of murder victims I promised to protect and somehow ended up taking it. The boy is only 7 years old, 5 when his mother and father were kidnapped and killed. He's usually a very happy boy, full of energy and laughter, however if Arthur did or said something he didn't like, he did a complete 180.

"Call me before letting someone into the house, whether you know them or not" putting the documents down I try to word my sentences well. Kids don't like being told what to do, I've figured that out over and over again. "I've seen too many cases of kids taken by family friends."

Peter's nose crinkles, letting me know I said the wrong thing. He eyes the paperwork I have to work on, and has found his topic to yell at me about today, "At least Francis takes the time to pick me up and hang out with me! Unlike you! You're supposed to be my big brother and you're always working!"

An annoyed sigh escapes my lips. It's the same every time I bring work home with me, Peter uses it as a reason to blame me for his behavior. "I'm sorry I get cases Peter, but if I can't pick you up I get one of the others to do so-"

"But YOU adopted me! Not them!"

I've never been able to respond to this, today was no exception. It is true that I should hold responsibility, but I don't always have the time, "I promise to pick you up tomorrow, ok?"

"…. Pinkie swear" Peter holds out his pinkie expectantly, knowing I am a man of my word. I wrap my larger pinkie around his, trying to look as sincere as I could.

"Pinkie swear, I will pick you up from school tomorrow afternoon."

With a nod, Peter walked away. His attempt at looking like an adult causes a chuckle to bubble up. My smile remains until I hear Alfred behind me, "You going to keep it this time?"

I pick my work back up and make my way to the kitchen, ignoring the question I don't know how to answer. Sitting the work on the table, I wander over to the kettle and open the window. I deep breath of fresh air, before resting the fag between my teeth. Am I proud of my habit? No, that's the only answer needed.

This case, it isn't much different from others, the motive was possibly revenge for whoever Lovino Vargas assaulted, or we're going to get a ransom note or call. With tea in hand and lit cigarette in mouth, I pick up Lovino's file and look for any clues.

'Lovino Vargas, arrested for assault on Ludwig and Gilbert Bielschmidt. When asked for a motive, Mr. Vargas expressed a dislike for the relationship between Ludwig Bielschmidt and Feliciano Vargas. The Bielschmidts did not charge Mr. Vargas, however it is advised to proceed with caution when dealing with Mr. Vargas.'

I see what Alfred meant when he said violent. Attacking a man and his brother because he disapproved of a relationship? Seems a bit overboard. "Alfred!"

Alfred runs in, though frowning disapprovingly at the stick in my mouth, "Yeah Artie?"

"Use that laptop to look for the Bielschmidt residence, the men Lovino Vargas assaulted might have a hand in this." That's when he gives me that face, the 'you know what I want' face. With a glare, I put the cigarette out and throw out the butt, "There, now go"

As he walks off, I make sure he's out of eyesight before I light up another one.

This is my house, I'll smoke if I want to.

With a cheer and hoot travelling through the house, I can easily guess who is home and who won their little game. Jett, always loud and never one to keep a win to himself.

I wish I could respond with the same enthusiasm, but Jett shrugged his duty as a big brother to be a part of this game, again. I wander over to the front door, watching him jump around in excitement, picking up Peter, who had come in curiously and see what was going on, and spinning with his chant, "Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!"

After that year in Australia, Jett has fallen in love with the culture, to my dismay. It contains loud music, meat cooked outside and loud cheers during rough sports.

The Frenchman, who had been likely waiting for his chance, sneaks in behind Jett. "Arthurrrr, can I come in now?"

Francis, is not a bad guy. In fact I have known him for as long as I could remember; however I don't like surprise visits. Francis does respect this to a certain degree, asking permission after he'd been kicked out. "Come in, I'll make you some tea"

Francis grins and hugs me in an affectionate embrace, "Actually, do you have some coffee?"

With a groan I lead him into the kitchen to make his bitter drink. He sits and looks over my work which is highly illegal, however he's done it so many times before and it has caused no harm thus far.

"Kidnapping? Still doing that kind of work?" Francis is always concerned. He thinks my job will get me killed one day and he's probably right.

"I want to do what I can, how is the restaurant going?" L'Amour…. A simple and easy to understand name. Francis owns a restaurant that specializes in French cuisine and loving atmospheres…. In his opinion not mine.

"Ah, booming as always. Though, this Italian winery and restaurant is quickly overtaking moi when it comes to customers"

My eyebrow arches slightly as he lights his own cancer stick. This, could be a motive, "Oh really? How so?"

Francis smiles and leans back, smoke lazily floating into the air, "Ah oui, it's very popular and with the crop just outside to assure customers the food is fresh. It has quickly grown in popularity."

Matthew wanders in and hugs Francis tightly. The two have close which I'm happy about since Matthew and I aren't overly close and Matthew needs an older role model. Francis has helped him with his shyness.

"Hey big brother Francis"

"Ah, Bonjour Mattheiu, how is work?"

I let the two talk as I took note of what Francis said. Could the restaurant's popularity cause the attack? Sounds like something straight out of a film.

Alfred wanders in soon after, blocking his mouth and nose in a sign of defiance, "The Bielschmidts don't live in this area. They have a temporary restraining order against Lovino Vargas. The hearing was going to be in a few weeks."

I stare at Alfred emotionlessly, waiting for him to drop his hand in defeat as he always does. All I get in return, is him turning his back and shouting back, "I'll stop Peter from coming in!"