Charlie Morris had a cold stare and a charming smile. Sitting opposite him in a small interview room Sharon Wallowski met his gaze with perfect composure. She had faced every manner of criminal and sociopath in her years with the Baltimore police. But Charlie Morris creeped her out.

"Your brother decided not to wait for the lawyer", she began. Charlie gave nothing away. Not so much as a twitch.

"We have Amy Hamilton, the girl you took. And we know about the children, Charlie."

That got his attention. Ria Torres was behind the glass observing the tightening at the corner of his mouth, the twitch of the muscle just below his eye, and the way his gaze shifted barely to the mirror where she stood. He knew he was being watched. But still he remained silent.

"Caleb's worried about them."

Nothing. His momentary lapse once again concealed behind a face of stone.

"Are you worried, Charlie?"

"Is my lawyer here yet?"

"Ok. Fine. We can wait."

"Any sign of the medics? The baby really should get to a hospital just in case", Gillian asked, then nodding her head at the young toddler beside her, "This guy too."

"They'll be here soon," he replied softly. He was hoping not to startle the little boy, but as soon as he spoke the child crawled back to the closet with a speed that belied his fragile appearance. The child was small, with pale brown skin and blue eyes, with coarse hair matted to his head due to neglect. It was difficult to estimate his age. He was developed enough that he could walk a little but seemed to prefer to crawl. He understood them when they spoke, but so far had yet to utter a single word. His limbs were long enough, but he still had the rounded tummy that you expect to see in a smaller child, and his movements lacked the coordination you would expect from an older toddler.

They watched him silently as he retook his place in the shadows of the closet space. He seemed to want to take the baby with him but recognised that he was unable to do so alone. He looked through the gap at Gillian as though he expected her to pass the infant through.

"It's ok," Gillian said, "This is Cal. He's my friend. He's going to help too."

The boy retreated to the shadows with caution. Gillian turned back to look at Cal, inviting him into the space with her with a motion of her head.

"How old you think he is?", Cal asked as he moved in and took his place beside her on the floor.

"Hard to say. I would guess maybe 3 years old. I know he looks smaller but in cases like these, assuming he was born here and not abducted like Amy, it wouldn't be uncommon for a child to be underdeveloped in some ways."

Cal nodded his understanding solemnly before continuing.

"Yeah. The autopsy report shows that the woman they found had recently given birth. They think she probably lasted a few days before sepsis set in and…"

Gillian took a deep breath. She didn't want the child to see her upset. He needed calm if he was to trust her enough not to panic when they sent the baby away with the medics. And they needed him to trust them if he was going to accept the presence of the social workers whenever they arrived. The more negative interactions he had in these early hours, the more difficult it would be for him to adapt when he had to leave this place.

Cal stood, rubbing the top of Gillian's shoulders as he did. "I'll go check on that ambulance."

"Cal?"

He paused in his movement to look back at her. She seemed hesitant to say what she wanted to say before steeling herself and meeting his curious stare.

"I'm not going to sell my place. Mark is happy enough renting out my spare room. He's due a raise too", she smiled cheekily at him then, "he might like to rent the whole place?"

His eyes widened as he got the gist of where she was heading.

"And, I guess I like the idea of the security of having it…"

She looked at him hesitantly again, worried that he would interpret her caution as doubt. He understood. It was the first time she had ever had her own place. She had moved from a college dorm into Alec's apartment, and even when they moved to D.C. the house they lived in was provided by the state department. She had revelled in the independence of a townhouse that was just hers after she left her husband.

Cal nodded at her carefully, trying and failing to hide his smile.

"Besides, with the economy now and everything, selling it would put me in negative equity and we can't afford that."

"I get it. I do… but… you're saying?"

"I'm saying that I think you and Emily might be right."

"You'll move in?"

"If the offer is still-"

"Don't be silly, of course it is. We'll redecorate, move some of your stuff in, whatever you want to keep. We can buy new stuff if you want, stuff that's just ours. We can start with the bedroom. Make it more 'us' and less 'me', yeah?"

"I don't want to intrude on-"

"Stop that. Can't intrude on your own territory, darling."

They forgot the chaos around them as they smiled at each other for a split second, then Cal broke the spell. Turning on his heel and calling over his shoulder quietly, "We can start this weekend then", then he disappeared up the stairs.

Caleb Morris was agitated. While his brother waited as still as stone in another room, making no comments and waiting for a lawyer, Caleb became increasingly impatient. He wasn't answering any questions about the dead woman, the abducted girl, or the two young children in the basement of his home. Instead, he was insisting that he needed to get back. That "they" needed someone. Wallowski didn't want to tarnish the investigation by forcing him into an interview without providing informed consent. It was clear that Caleb was intellectually challenged. The police background checks had turned up very little on the brothers, but Eli Loker had been busy, researching, back at The Lightman Group.

Caleb and Charlie Morris had the same father, and different mothers. Charlie's mother had died suddenly when he was four years old. His father had remarried, and Caleb was born not long after. When Caleb was twelve, he and his parents were involved in a serious road accident. Both parents had died, and Caleb spent over a year in the hospital with a serious traumatic brain injury, and another a year in foster care until Charlie had turned eighteen and Caleb was entrusted to his care. The brothers had moved from their family home in Baltimore to the house where they currently resided. The house had been owned by Caleb's mother's family, and when the family passed the brothers inherited the place. They moved in when Caleb was eighteen and Charlie was twenty-four. That was six years previously.

Caleb was not capable of making informed decisions without help. The police would be able to question him, but they would have to be careful in how they approached it.

"We really need to get these guys into The Lightman Group", Ria confided to Wallowski from the observation room behind the glass.

"We really need Lightman", came the return, "No offense."

"No, I know what you mean. We need Lightman for Charlie. But we could really use Foster for Caleb."

Wallowski looked at Torres with interest, and then in frustration exclaimed, "Where the hell are they anyway? Lightman said he'd get here as soon as things settled back at the house."

"He's probably sticking around until Foster makes some ground with the kid. Make sure she's alright with it all, I guess", Torres explained. "She's incredible with cases like that, you know? Traumatised victims and kids, and getting them to talk while helping them heal, all that stuff. But it kind of takes a lot out of her. She's a ridiculously positive, joyful person by her nature so I guess it makes sense. He has a way of distracting her. Usually by being kind of a jerk, actually. But it seems to work."

Wallowski looked at her in askance, wondering for the first time briefly if this changed relationship between Foster and Lightman was going to cause problems for their work. She shook away the thought almost as quickly as it occurred, remembering how he had been with her after she had found her friend's murdered body. He was fiercely protective of her, but then he had been that way before. And it wasn't as though she held no concern for the children they had discovered. She just knew that Cal Lightman was more use to her by helping to figure out how to break their suspects rather than playing babysitter.

When the ambulance arrived, Gillian took a few moments to explain to the little boy what was going to happen. She told him all about how much the baby needed help, and that as soon as they could, they would let him see him again. She explained how she would stay in the basement with him until more people arrived to help him. That she wouldn't leave him until she had to, but everything would be ok, even if things got a little scary for a while.

She knew that the child didn't understand everything that she was saying. He seemed to have no concept of the outside world. She understood too that it would not be received well if more strangers were to arrive at this unorthodox sanctuary and remove the baby in front of the boy. So, she took the risk of betraying his trust herself.

"I need to bring the baby upstairs, ok? He's going to be ok, and I'll be back in a few minutes. But the baby won't be with me. I promise you; he's going to be taken care of. I won't let anyone hurt him", she explained carefully as she watched clear apprehension manipulate the boy's face. Then she stood, baby in her arms, and she moved to the stairway where Cal waited out of the child's sight. Behind her, she heard shuffling as the boy fretted at the new development. She felt her own tears threaten at the boy's distress.

Gillian moved passed Cal taking another deep breath before looking into his eyes. He looked as troubled as she did. He rested the palm of one hand on the small of her back when she moved in front of him, and she was grateful for the comforting contact.

Reaching the top of the stairs and approaching the front door, they were greeted by a team of two EMTs and a doctor. Gillian talked them through everything that had happened in the time that they had been there, and she reluctantly handed over the infant. She was dreading returning to the boy without the baby. She explained that the toddler was healthy enough for the moment, and that given the circumstance moving him to a hospital environment too soon would have dire consequences both physically and mentally.

"And who exactly are you to decide that?", came a new voice from the front entrance to the house.

She looked up to see a man and a woman in casual suits.

"You must be from Social Services. Hi. I'm Doctor Gillian Foster, I'm with The Lightman Group. This is my partner, Doctor Lightman", she gestured to Cal with a nod of her head.

"And you know what's best for this child because…?" It was the male of the pair who spoke once again.

"Because my expertise is working with PTSD in young children and war veterans. Trauma in vulnerable victims is my primary field of research. And I have years of experience working as a psychotherapist with survivors of childhood abuse. Please, trust me on this."

"Doctor Foster," the female of the pair stepped forward, her hand extended. "I'm familiar with your research. I think we can work to support you here rather than barge in and take over straight away, this is a highly unusual case", she said it more to her partner than to Gillian, then added shyly, "I based my undergrad dissertation on your doctoral thesis."

Gillian was silent for a moment, she looked over at Cal with a look of confusion to see him smiling at her predictable discomfort. Gillian was confident in her abilities, and rightly so, but when it came to the kind of open praise that he usually thrived on, Gillian was like a fish out of water. She accepted the woman's hand graciously before replying, "Seriously?", much to Cal's amusement.