Author's note: And we're off. Now it's time for Porthos to bring little Olivier home to meet Aramis. And on a side note, I know there are typos but when I look for them I can't see them. It's only when I'm uploading it that they pop out. Feel free to let me know what you think!

Chapter 2: Name

"Aramis, I'm back!"

The teen instantly dropped the book he had been pretending to read and made his way to the front door. "Porthos what's going on? Where have ….." He stopped mid-sentence as his gaze fell on a small shape hiding behind the older man's leg. "Well hello there."

Olivier peered out from around Porthos' leg, taking in the teen's disheveled appearance. Aramis stared back, his eyes roaming over the dark bruising on the side of the boy's face.

"Olivier, this is Aramis. Aramis, Olivier." Slowly, Porthos handed the duffle bag he'd been carrying to Aramis and extricated his leg from the small grip. "Olivier's going to be staying with us for a little while." Aramis tore his gaze away from the small face to stare at Porthos, a million and one questions on his mind but thankfully he had enough sense to wait till later.

Porthos gently pulled off first his coat, hanging it on the hooks at the entrance before bending down to do the same for the child. As the coat was pulled away from the shoulders, Aramis noticed the cast around the small arm, held tightly to his chest in a sling. A hundred more questions sprung to mind as he took in more of the child's appearance.

Deep purple bruises marred the side of his face, while the left arm remained protectively hidden in the sling, but what caught the teen's attention was the look of fear in those deep blue eyes. Aramis knew that look all too well that such a deep rooted fear came from bad experience and the teen shuddered at the thought of what this boy must have been through.

Putting the bag down by his feet, Aramis slowly closed the distant between them. "Welcome home then Olivier. You're just in time for lunch." He crouched down to be at eye level with him, ever mindful of the way Olivier stepped back in reaction. "How about some chicken noodle soup and a grilled cheese? That's my favorite."

Porthos could see the tension in Olivier's shoulders drop slightly as he nodded and he let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. He had no idea how Olivier was going to react to Aramis or vice versa but Aramis had the kind of personality that everyone trusted and loved. That charming grin of his could get him out of almost anything and it seemed that Olivier wasn't immune to it. This might just work out after all.

The first few days, however, were a testament of their patience.

Olivier clung to the walls, doing his best to stay out of the way or disappear, Porthos wasn't sure which. He jumped at any sudden movement or sound, and they would always find him in the mornings curled up in a pile of blankets in the closet.

Their apartment had three rooms already so that was a bonus, though the spare one was currently being used as a storage area. Since Aramis barely slept to begin with, he had insisted Olivier take his room while they sorted out the mess and turned it into a real bedroom.

They found it hard to see such a small boy with so many bruises and wanted nothing more than to hold him close. Porthos had learned early on that Aramis was a very tactile person, always needing a reassuring touch to keep him grounded. But Olivier normally kept himself just out of arms reach out of instinct. On a few rare occasions Aramis had managed to wrap his arms around the small shoulders, despite the tense response he got.

"Let me help you." Porthos finally offered the boy after the tenth failed attempt at tying his shoes. His ribs still hurt and the cast on his arms made the small task rather impossible. Porthos waited till Olivier nodded his consent before moving closer, crouching down on one knee in front of the boy.

They had also learned that Olivier was very independent, even for a young age. He didn't ask anyone's help for anything, preferring instead to push on despite to strain it caused his ribs or is bruised muscles, but they also assumed this might have something to do with his neglected upbringing.

Olivier watched the older man's movements carefully. He sat perfectly still as Porthos tied first one shoe then the second. As far as he could remember letting anyone this close to him meant pain. His smaller size had some advantages tough, he could always crawl into smaller space to escape. When Porthos stood back up, he offered his hand to Olivier to help him up. After a few second's consideration, Oliver took it and allowed Porthos to pull him to his feet, albeit gingerly.

"Alright, you ready to go?" Bright blue eyes searched his face from behind a mop of brown hair. Eventually, he gave a slight nod and stepped aside to allow the older man to pull the door open. They headed out to the car, with Olivier barely flinching as Porthos leaned over him to buckle the seat belt. That's progress.

Ten minutes later they were sitting in a very expensive waiting room, watching the news reel with unfocused eyes. This was their first appointment with the child psychiatrist and Pothos was doing everything possible to keeping his anxiety from seeping through; burying his hands in his pockets just to keep them from shaking.

Olivier, on the other hand, was a ball of nerves. His gaze constantly scanned then room, from the door to the secretary behind the desk and then to the second door. He was all but shaking by the time they were called in.

"It's alright buddy. We're just going to have a little chat with the nice lady, that's all." Porthos plastered on his most reassuring smile, pushing down any of his own fears. Feeling the small hand securely wrapped in his own, he lead Olivier into the office.

A middle aged woman with grey hair flowing down her shoulders greeted them inside.

"Mr. Du Vallon, hello. I'm Dr de Larroque." He shook her extended hand. "And this must be Olivier." She crouched down to be at eye level with the boy, completely unfazed by the fact that the boy in question was currently hiding behind Porthos' leg. "I'm so happy you're here and that I get to meet you."

She waited patiently until the pair of blue eyes peered out to meet hers. Rising to her full height, she once again eyed Porthos, making him feel like a school boy being scolded by a teacher, before gesturing to the chairs near the desk.

For a second, Porthos was taken aback back this woman's presence. Her stance and even the way she walked showed confidence and spirit. Old age had not taken away any of her natural beauty and as far as first impressions went, she was nothing like any of the other psychiatrist he had ever met.

Porthos made sure Olivier was sitting comfortably before taking his own seat, still holding tight to Olivier's uncasted hand.

From across the desk, Dr. de Larroque watched them with curiosity. When this case had been given to her from child services and she had had the time to read over all the notes, she had more than a few choice words for them.

Olivier should have been placed with a foster family who has the training to deal with a child who has suffered such trauma. Instead, she finds that he was taken in by a police officer, who himself is an orphan, and is currently living with a runaway teen. That kind of environment can hardly be beneficial to the child's recovery.

"Mr. Du Vallon, this is the only session in which you will be allowed to join us except for our once a month family sessions." She fixed him with her gaze to ensure he understood. She then gestured to someone near the door. Her gaze softened dramatically as she turned her attention to the small boy. "Olivier this is Thérèse." Olivier shifted slightly to be able to see the young girl as she approached, a warm and wide smile gracing her features.

Porthos could feel Olivier's hand gripping more tightly to his, his breath coming in fast gasps.

"Olivier," Dr. de Larroque's voice cut in before Porthos could say anything. Once again she waited patiently until the child turned to look at her. "You and Thérèse are just going to sit at that table over there while Porthos and I talk." She pointed to a second set of chairs gathered around a smaller table of to the left. Both Porthos and Olivier turned to look in that direction. Slowly, Olivier shifted his gaze back to Dr. de Larroque, who smiled warmly in return, and then to Thérèse. With a little encouragement from Porthos, he slid of his chair and headed towards the chairs, always keeping a large distance between himself and Thérèse. Once at the table, Porthos wasn't surprised to see Olivier choose the chair which gave him the best line of sight of the door and Porthos.

Once they were seated, Porthos turned his attention back to the Dr. in front of him. She eyed him curiously and once again he was feeling as if he was being scolded by a school teacher.

"Mr. du Vallon, understand that my first and foremost priority is Olivier. I'll be honest with you, I do not believe that being placed in your care was the right decision," She glanced back towards the table where Thérèse was asking Olivier questions to test his aptitude, before returning her gaze to meet Porthos' "however I am willing to reconsider. He seems to have taken to you and trusts you."

Porthos didn't know how to respond. Though he had been more than happy when Treville had asked him to take Olivier in, he had wondered why child services had allowed it. It was hardly the ideal household and neither Porthos nor Aramis had the training to deal with someone like Olivier. It wasn't until a week later that his Captain informed him of the conditions of the current living arrangements.

Olivier had to see Dr de Larroque once a week alone and once a month, there was a family session in which Porthos and Aramis were to attend. Aramis had not been informed of this yet and Porthos really didn't know how the teen would react. Any previous mention of child services had Aramis practically leaping out of the window. He really didn't know how he was going to tell Aramis.

"Thank you." He knew it sounded odd but Porthos really couldn't think of anything else to say.

Dr. de Larroque studied him again curiously, knitting her fingers together beneath her chin. "We'll see." She cast a glance over to Thérèse, noticing the young girl had finished with her task. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have a chat with our small friend."

Porthos watched as Dr. de Larroque strode across the room to take Thérèse's place at the small table. Olivier, for his part, watched the exchange wearily and cast a glance towards Porthos looking for reassurance. The older man smiled warmly nodding to the child hoping to ease the growing panic in his eyes.

"He's a very brave boy, monsieur du Vallon." Porthos barely acknowledge the assistant, his entire focus was on the table across the room.

Dr. de Larroque noticed every move the boy made, from the flinches to the building panic attacks. On the whole he was still functioning well enough but anyone could see the lasting trauma in the child's eyes. "Hello again." She smiled warmly, noticing Olivier indecision as his eyes focused entirely on her, studying her. "You can call me Ninon if you'd like."

She was well aware of Porthos watching them from across the room and the way Olivier's eyes constantly strayed back to the older man, as if he was afraid to be left behind.

"Olivier, I have something to ask you." She patiently waited till those deep blue eyes shifted back to her. Taking a piece of paper from the table, she handed it to the child. "For our next visit, I want you to draw the thing you love the most in the whole world." She could see the breaths coming in sharper as he eyed the blank paper in her hand. "It's alright, take all the time you need. And you can draw anything you like."

After considering her answer, Olivier slowly reached out and took the paper from her. She motioned towards Porthos and just as quickly Olivier was out of his chair. Porthos easily scooped the small child up into his arms, and Olivier wrapped his arms arround Porthos' neck tightly.

They were adjusting.

The rest of the day, Porthos noticed that Olivier seemed to be following him around the house. But not just that, the kid was now always within arm's reach. A few times Porthos nearly tripped in him.

"Sorry buddy." Olivier stared up at the older man from behind his mop of brown hair, those blue eyes watching his every move. Porthos stepped around him to fill a pot with water, noticing how Olivier was stretching on his toes to see what he was doing.

"Here, I've got 'n idea." Putting down the pot, Porthos pulled one of the kitchen chairs towards the counter till it was flush with the cupboards. Then, very slowly, he leaned down to pick up Olivier to stand him up on the chair.

"There ya go. Now you can see what's going on better." Olivier stared around from his newer vantage point, a small smile ghosting across his features. He watched Porthos make the sauce and then the noodle. The older man kept up a constant commentary of what he was doing and Olivier just seemed to be taking it all in, his curious gaze following every movement.

When Aramis got home, however, Porthos could visibly see Olivier close in on himself, retreating back behind his protective walls. He was subdue and careful the rest of the evening, eying Aramis wearily and once again doing his best to disappear in the background.

"Was it like this when I moved in?" Aramis finally asked once Olivier had gone to bed. "Tell me I wasn't that …. skittish."

Pothos considered his answer carefully. "Yes and no; you were older and very vocal about everything but yes, you were still skittish." He remembered all those times during that first year when he had learned to maneuver around Aramis. "You, my friend, were a flight risk."

A quick glance at the teen sitting on the couch told him that he had just figured that out for himself. His brow knitted together as his fingers combed through his hair trying to remember the first few months.

"Don't worry about it 'Mis. Just give him time, he'll come around."Aramis simply nodded to show Porthos he had heard him, but he still had that feeling of uneasiness.

Porthos quickly noticed the lack of response from the teen. He watched Aramis' hand rake through his tuff of curls for a second longer before heading towards the living room and sinking into the reclining chair.

"Hey." It took a few seconds longer than it should have to get Arami's attention. Porthos waited till those faded brown eyes focused on him, his mind returning to the present. "He's been through a lot and we just need to show him we're there for him." Aramis smiled then; trust Porthos to always know what to say and when.

"I know, I just wished there was something more I could do. He trust you but he's scared of me."

"Just give it time."

Nothing seemed to change in the next few days. Olivier was slightly more trusting with Porthos but would pull back the second Aramis was around. Porthos did his best to comfort Aramis, telling him it was just a matter of time. But he truth was, he was getting just as concerned.

When Aramis had come to live with him, Porthos hadn't known what to expect. Aramis could be happy and smiling one moment and then the next would be shouting. The outbursts would never last long and then the smile would return and all would be forgotten. Over the next few months, the outbursts became less frequent and less sporadic. Though he never spoke of his past, he would voice his feelings loud and clear. He was, still is, a flight risk. On more than one occasion, Aramis had stormed off in the middle of n argument only to turn up the next day looking sheepishly.

Olivier, on the other hand, was quiet and most times could not even make eye contact with either of them. He visibly flinched at the use of his name and had yet to say anything. Where Aramis was a cornered tigger ready to pounce, Olivier was a scared trembling puppy. The experience was nearly the exact opposite to what he had lived through with Aramis and Porthos didn't know what else to try.

He could hear the screams echoing through the house and ever muscle in his body jerked at the sound of the gunshots. He knew he should run but he was frozen in place, his legs refusing to obey.

He could still hear the screams but now his ears tuned into a different sound. Heavy footsteps creaked on the staircase as a dark figure appeared at the top.

Aramis jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. He blinked rapidly, willing his vision to focus. The living room was dark and quiet, nothing different from other nights. Lying back against the couch cushion to catch his breath, he barely noticed his hand moving to the side of his head. Though the nightmares were nothing new to him, they still managed to snake their cold hands around him, stealing the air from his lungs.

It wasn't until he managed to calm his breathing that he noticed the small boy standing on the other side of the coffee table, staring at him with wide eyes.

Aramis inwardly cursed, he must have been screaming in his sleep. He and Porthos had always danced around the topic, never really talking about it directly and he appreciated the trust the older man gave him. But tonight Porthos was at work and it was just him and the kid.

"I'm sorry Olivier, I didn't mean to wake you." The teen swung his feet down and pushed himself into a sitting position. He scrubbed a hand across his face to clear the last of the faded images of his nightmare, and noticed Olivier was still staring at him in alarm. "I'm alright, just a bad dream."

The boy continued to stare but his expression changed slightly, taking in Aramis' haggard appearance and rapid breathing. Slowly, he stepped backwards before quickly turning around and disappearing towards his room at a run.

Great, just great.

Aramis really didn't want to have to tell Porthos that he scared the boy, not after all the progress they had been making. He sat there pinching the bridge of his nose, debating whether or not to call Porthos or deal with this on his own, when he heard to soft footsteps. For a second, his panic took over not sure if that was real or a ghost from his dream.

He nearly sighed in relief at the sight of Olivier re-entering the living room. He watched as the small boy approached him cautiously, a book clutch tightly to his chest. Slowly Olivier stepped closer holding the book out towards the teen.

"Umm, thank you." Aramis recognized it as the book Olivier had pulled out of the duffle bag Treville had pack. When they had set the bag down to unpack the boy's things, Olivier had all but jumped at the book, holding it tightly and neither he nor Porthos had seen it since.

Olivier stood at a distance, watching as Aramis' fingers traced the cover. Slowly, he stepped closer to the couch, moving the blankets to take a seat next to him.

Aramis' heart swelled with emotion at the gesture. For the past week he had seen a bond form between the kid and Porthos and despite himself, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous.

Re-adjusting the blanket around them felt natural to him, and he was happy to see Olivier inch a little closer to better see the book. Smiling, Aramis also turn his attention to the tattered book in his hands. It looked like a general child's book about mothers. Slowly, he turned the first page.

Aramis eyes were instantly drawn to the top left corner.

Athos,

N'oublie pas que je t'aimerai toujours, sans limite, de tout mon cœur.

Avec amour, Maman xoxoxox

Olivier's hands reached out to trace his fingers along the cursive script, as if he had done so many times before. Aramis finally understood why this book was so important.

"Athos?" The teen stared down into those deep blue eyes. "Your name is Athos?" The boy simply nodded, a small hint of a smile appearing on his face.

"Olivier d'Athos de la Fére." The voice was barely a whisper and Aramis doubted he would have heard him at all had he not been so close. "But maman always called me Athos."

Aramis found he couldn't tear his eyes away from the delicate writing. This book must be the only thing Olivier, no Athos, had left of his mother. Tears started to pool in the corner of his eyes as he understood all too well the feeling of losing a mother. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around Athos, pulling the small boy closer in a tight embrace.

For the first time, Athos didn't flinch at the physical contact, but instead seemed to sink into the teen's warmth.

Aramis felt the tears as they fell on his forearm. "Would you like me to read you the story, Athos?" The boy's small nod dislodged more tears and Aramis simply brushed them away with his thumb. "Okay."

Porthos left work as soon as he could. Though he had been able to use one of his vacation weeks when he had taken Olivier home, he knew he had to return soon or later. He just wished that Olivier had been able to settle in a bit more before. Next week he was going to enroll the boy in school.

Due to the late hour, Porthos tried his best to be quiet as he took off his shoes and coat in the entry way. Since Olivier had taken Aramis' room, the teen was now sleeping on the couch, and would easily be woken by movement. Peering into the living room, Porthos was slightly alarmed to find the blankets pushed aside and no one in sight.

Continuing through the hallway towards the bedrooms, Porthos found the door leading to Aramis' room wide open, the light from the bedside lamp spilling out into the hall.

There in the bed were both Olivier and Aramis. The blankets were pulled part way up and Porthos smiled at the sight of Olivier pressed up to the teen's side, both of them snoring deep in sleep.

Porthos watched them for a few minutes, not sure if he should wake them or not. Aramis always wanted to know when he got in, no matter how late it was. Porthos always assumed it had to do with his past, but seeing as the teen never talked about it, he had no way of knowing for sure.

He remembered all too well the time he had snuck in late, and had decided not to wake the sleeping teen. Aramis had woken hours later, trapped in his nightmare and had stormed through the apartment looking frantically for the older man.

Figuring it was best to just tell him he was home, Porthos crossed the room as quietly as he could, determined not to wake the boy atleast.

"Aramis." It took a few tries to wake the teen, something Porthos had never seen before. "Just wanted to tell ya I'm back." The teen nodded sleepily. Porthos watched with slight surprise as the teen stretched and Olivier wormed his way in closer. "I see you're keeping Olivier warm."

"Athos."

"mm?" Porthos wasn't sure what he heard, as Aramis had his face pressed into the pillow.

"Athos, his name is Athos."