Author's Note: So... I ended up rewriting Carson's scene over and over again until it came out to these two, and then I thought about trying to add in a scene with Nancy and Frank, but none of my ideas fit. So I left it where I did.

For anyone wondering about the other characters coming into the story... Yes, they are slated to make appearances. There's just some more back story parts to go before that happens, but ironically, it was one of the first scenes I wrote for this story.

Legal Aid

"How much has this place changed since you were last here, Hardy?"

Frank looked over at Alexander. She probably knew he couldn't answer that. He hadn't been looking at anything, not truly, not since the car started. He had been lost in the past, the way he always got when he was near Nancy—though she wasn't the cause of all the memories or even the trigger for half of them. He'd lived twelve years of his life before meeting her, and he'd lived plenty more after her, and when it came down to it, she was not as big a part of his life as she sometimes seemed.

Joe had quickly pushed her out of first position, whether his brother had meant to or not. Frank didn't know that he minded—Joe's overprotective nature had been reassuring back then—and things with Nancy were... complicated. They always had been. It was easier to be around Joe and build up the illusion that they were a normal family, that they had always been the sort of brothers that they were and not strangers for the first part of their lives.

That was the life he wished he'd lived, after all. The one where he didn't know the things that haunted him at night, where he didn't relive the nightmares during the day, where he'd grown up with the love a child was supposed to have and not the perversion one man had twisted everything in his life into, almost destroying him.

Frank shrugged, forcing himself to answer the question. "I didn't spend that much time in River Heights. I'm sure plenty of it has changed. Places always do."

"I've seen it change a lot," Nancy mused, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "Then again, I grew up here and never quite cut the apron strings, if you know what I mean. I was born here, and while I stayed on campus for college, that was as close to moving away as it got."

"Not like you, huh, Hardy?" Alexander asked, eyes on him as she teased. "I don't think you've kept a lease for more than six months since we started working together."

"Not everyone likes to settle," Frank said. He wasn't sure if he sounded defensive or not—he felt it, so it probably showed. He didn't care what other people thought of his habits. He didn't want to stay in one place anymore. He'd done it when he was with his family, but that was different. That was what families did. What he did now as a single adult was up to him, and moving fit better with who he was and the privacy he liked to keep. Spending too much time around people had them thinking they knew him—Alexander did; he knew that—and they didn't, because he didn't want them to know and wouldn't let that happen. Ever. His past was as buried as the children he'd seen murdered, the ones he couldn't save.

He did not want to think about the one he had saved—if he could call it that—sitting behind the wheel of the car. Wouldn't.

"I work all over the country, so why bother living in one place?" Frank asked, giving it a dismissive tone. None of this was important and did not need analysis from another shrink. "That doesn't make sense. I may as well be close to the work I'm doing."

Alexander eyed the woman across from her. "You agree with that, Drew? The profiler we used to work with called it running. Then he spent a week not calling anything anything at all because his jaw got broken."

Nancy laughed. "Starting fights, Frank? That sounds like something your brother would do."

Frank snorted. "Who says he didn't?"

Fifteen Years Earlier

"Are you family?"

Carson shook his head. He didn't know how many times he would have to answer that, or how many times he'd already done it, but he had almost stopped caring. He didn't want to have to keep explaining or arguing, since he was tired, weary in body and spirit. Hours had passed since he'd stepped into the basement and found his daughter, hours of the worst negotiation he'd ever been a part of, one that seemed to start over every time he turned around. Each new doctor or nurse, every cop who hadn't been in that basement, everyone the boy came in contact with, actually, made it necessary again, and he would be annoyed other circumstances, but how could he begrudge that kid anything after what he'd been through? After what he'd done for Carson's daughter?

He could, he supposed, argue that Nancy wouldn't even be in that situation if not for Frank, and when he thought about it, he wanted to be angry. He was. He was furious—with Frank for pulling Nancy into it, with Nancy for going into that house despite knowing better—with the man who had hurt his son like that—and with the world for allowing something like that to even be possible.

He didn't want to blame Frank—the boy certainly hadn't asked for any of this to happen to him, and just looking at him was like getting kicked in the gut himself. Carson couldn't blame Frank. None of this was his fault, and in his own way, the kid was a hero, doing what he had to stop Nancy from becoming a victim as well. When Carson thought about that, he felt guilty for being angry about the whole thing—who was he to complain about any of it when that boy was barely holding himself together when the doctors came near him?

Carson never wanted to hear that noise the kid made again. It wanted to tear his heart apart, that small whimper of fear and pain. Frank tried not to make any noise at all, and when he did panic, he seemed to think they'd punish him for screaming or crying. Carson knew the kid had probably had that happen in the past, and he didn't want to add to that.

He couldn't stop the war within himself, though. He was a father. He couldn't imagine what it would be like if it was Nancy who was going through this. It was hard enough knowing how close she'd been. It terrified him to know how close Nancy had come to being harmed. He'd only been at work for only an hour that afternoon when he got her message, and if he'd taken any longer, been any later, if he hadn't forced his way into that house, then it wouldn't have been his daughter comforting her friend. She'd have a hospital bed and a nightmare of her own.

That was something Carson didn't know how to cope with, so he pushed it aside and tried to focus on what needed to be done here and now and for someone's kid that was not his, even if his daughter was still sitting next to him.

"No," Carson said, wondering just when his daughter would start disagreeing with him on that one—she'd clearly adopted Frank. Carson wasn't sure how that would work in the long term, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to persuade Nancy from Frank's side—and he damned sure wasn't going to force that. He knew how disastrous that would be. "We're not family."

"Then I'm going to have to ask you to wait out here. Hospital policy—"

"I was under the impression that they were done with the tests and scans they wanted to do," Carson said, facing the nurse with a frown. He did not want to relive the memories of being even half-present for when the evidence was collected from the boy's body. "They didn't find the internal bleeding they were worried about, but they wanted to monitor him—and he's got nowhere to go—so they were keeping him overnight. Why are you trying to get us out of the room?"

"Visiting hours are over," she said. "And as you are not family, I am not authorized to discuss any of the boy's treatment with you. I have to ask you to leave now."

Not for the first time that night, Carson bit back a few thousand curses and tried to remind himself that the system did work, even if it was flawed. Sure, the social worker who'd tried to take Frank's case was overworked and borderline inept, and he'd scared the hell out of the kid earlier, but someone should still be here, looking out for the boy's interests.

"If you want to do anything to that boy without sedating him, you need my daughter there. She's the only thing keeping him calm," Carson told the nurse. She had to know this. Didn't any of these people talk to each other? Where was the doctor who had said the best prescription for Frank was sitting right next to him? Why had that one gone and left someone who clearly didn't understand in charge? "I think you need to consider the boy's mental and emotional well-being, and that means she should stay. He needs her to help him remember that the whole world isn't going to abuse him. She's the only one he trusts. If you make her leave, you'll set off a panic attack at minimum, and if he does panic and tries to run again, he might injure himself again."

The nurse folded her arms over her chest. This one wanted to fight. Carson could tell she did. He didn't understand that. Shouldn't the patients needs come before the rules? Then again, he was a lawyer. He knew the law didn't always help the people it was meant to protect.

Like this kid. If Nancy hadn't broken into that house, Frank would probably be in the middle of another one of his father's "movies" right now, and that was something Carson didn't want to think about. He didn't know how he could ever go back again, knowing what had been going on almost under his roof—next door, but close enough—and to think of this thing being anything more than one man's sickness, that he'd not only tormented his son but let others do the same and profited from it? That was something that would haunt Carson for the rest of his days.

People like that had to be stopped. This boy should not be terrified of everyone that moved, thinking they, too, wanted to hurt him as his father and so many others had apparently done.

"Just let her stay with him," Carson said, not willing to budge on this. "She's seen him through everything else, things I'd rather she had no knowledge of, but that boy would have run for the door by now if she wasn't holding his hand."

"I'm sorry," the nurse began, though Carson didn't hear that in her voice at all. "This is not a rule that can be bent, nor is it appropriate for your daughter to stay where she is during this kind of—"

"Does your policy really mean that much to you that you would risk his emotional and mental well-being for it? Isn't that part of your job to see to as well as his physical wounds?" Carson asked. Seeing her lips thin like she was still going to argue, he decided to be blunt and see if this woman had any kind of heart at all. "Regardless of how inappropriate it is, my daughter has already seen the worst of it. She saw what happened to him, and she sat there, holding his hand while they did a rape kit on him. That is what that boy went through earlier today. That is the reason you need to think about more than regulations and his physical needs. You will do him more harm than good by trying to make her leave. Believe me, as her father, if there was a good way to do this without her being here, I'd tell you. I'd jump at it, because where she was today and what could have happened to her, what she's seen—I didn't want any of that for her, not even what has gone on at this hospital. It's also because I'm a father that I know there's no other better way. Frank needs her, and she's staying. She's my daughter, so I am staying. That is how it has to be."

"I can call security," the nurse said, and Carson glared at her, not sure why she'd picked this for her career if she cared so little about the people she was supposed to be helping.

"Mr. Drew!"

He turned, looking back at his assistant with relief. He hoped this had gone the way he'd wanted when he'd called the office earlier. He didn't know if they'd be able to get an emergency ruling or not, but something had to be done, and if there was any mercy or justice in this world, then he would have what he needed right now.

"Here it is," she said, passing a folder to him. He opened it up and saw the paperwork he'd been hoping for right on top. "It's only temporary, and he gave it the shortest time he could since he said it needed a proper evaluation later—it was just the extreme circumstances that got him to do it today at all and we're so lucky he did."

Carson nodded. "I know. If I'd had time to prepare any kind of case—"

The other lawyer peeked into Frank's room. "You haven't left her side, and she hasn't left his. That's what's important."

He nodded, turning back to the nurse. He was about to ruin her day, but he was damn glad that he could. "Here. You can have this copy for your records. I've got others."

"What is this?"

"I've been granted temporary guardianship of Frank," Carson told her with a thin smile. "That makes me legally responsible for him and his medical decisions as well as the only thing close family he's got besides my daughter, too. She stays with him. And if you don't like that, perhaps you'd like to give me the name of your supervisor."

Let that be a lesson to you, Drew. Don't piss off the nurses, Carson thought as he shifted his daughter in his lap, well aware that she was too old for this by now, but the on-duty nurse, while having relented into allowing him and Nancy to stay, was not at all willing to let them have any kind of comfort while they did. The usual bed that would have been used for family was not available to the likes of them, not so long as she was working.

Carson would deal with it later. Nancy'd had to come out and get him, telling him his little spat with the nurse had scared Frank, and the last thing that kid needed was another man with legal authority over him scaring the hell out of him. Carson would fight that battle later, when it wouldn't have further unexpected casualties.

He heard a knock and looked over at the door. Tired as he was, he couldn't stop his mouth from reacting when normally he would have more restraint. "No. It is too damn early for this."

The chief of police gave him an apologetic smile. "I can understand you thinking that, but you know as well as I do that part of it is already too late."

Carson's eyes went to the boy on the bed, though he tried not to think about it that way. "I can grant you that, but at the same time, he's tired. He's had nightmares all night, and while Nancy's been able to calm him and get him back to sleep, it hasn't been easy for anyone. I don't think you need to wake him up and make him relive all that now."

"If it was just a matter of processing the two men in custody, it might be different," another man said, inviting himself into the room. This one wore a suit, one far less rumpled than Carson's, and obviously didn't have a daughter to pick out ties for him. "We need to discuss some of the others who were involved in these... films. There's a small chance they haven't heard about the arrests yet, and we'd like to try and get them before they can leave town."

"I understand that, but Frank doesn't have a social worker to speak of—"

"Yes, but we hear you're the one we need to talk to," a second man in another bad suit said. "You were granted emergency custody of the child, weren't you?"

"I was, given the circumstances and the need for someone to be able to make medical decisions in case he did have to have surgery," Carson agreed slowly. "Don't do this now. You'll only scare him if he wakes up to all of you here—apparently, that has happened before, with men who were definitely not law enforcement but did put cuffs on him. I'm sure you can figure out that implication for yourselves."

"Carson," the chief interrupted, trying to play the old friend card—he could hear it in his voice. "These men are with the FBI."

Wincing, Carson put a hand to his head. He should have known it would end up a federal case—had to know it would, given all that was involved and the two suits, but he did not want to deal with it now. "I understand that, but I meant what I said. Frank isn't in any state to answer your questions. For one thing, he's asleep, and I think he should be allowed to stay that way. For another, he still needs time to adjust to the idea that the hospital isn't some trick of his father's and part of one of those sick films. If you wake him now, all you'll do is scare him. You'll get nothing, and those men you want to catch will be lost because you pushed too hard."

"None of us want the boy harmed," the first of the two suits said. "However, we are looking at the tip of the iceberg here. This is not about one man making amateur films in his basement. This is organized, funded pornography that has been distributed on a mass scale, and that boy is our best hope at shutting down a much larger ring as well as locating the bodies of several missing children."

Carson tensed, almost dropping his daughter out of his lap. "Bodies?"

"The boy said his father had killed other children," the chief reminded him.

"In the middle of panicking when the doctors were trying to examine him," Carson said. "You... went looking for those kids specifically? I thought you said you wanted to find the men behind this."

"We do, but just the initial review of the videos we took as evidence gave us at least seven other children besides the one right there," the second suit said with a wince. "He was the only child in the house besides your daughter, making him the only one who knows where they other kids might be. If he's right and they were killed..."

Carson did not want to think about that. "Still—"

"There is a chance they're still alive," the first suit disagreed. "We don't know. The answers are going to have to come from the boy."

And in front of Nancy, Carson thought, almost swearing. He shook his head. "You know I do not want any other children to suffer. I am not doing this to keep you from your answers. I'm just trying to make sure that Frank isn't pay the price for them."

"We can't change what he knows," the agent reminded Carson quietly. "We can only hope that there's something we can do with that knowledge, something that might set some of this right."

Carson snorted. "You know what they did to him. There's nothing in the world that sets that right."