Martin and Douglas heard crying from behind several boxes of Christmas decorations when they climbed into the attic. "A-Arthur?" Martin squeaked.

Arthur sniffed, "Skip?" he asked.

"Y-Yeth. D-Douglath ith here, t-too…" Martin informed.

"I-I don't want to be… bad. But I want you to go away," Arthur sobbed. Douglas frowned. Martin took a deep breath and a step forward.

"No. I-I can't… I want you to come with uth, downthtairth, and eat Toblerone cupcaketh and play aeroplaneth. I-it'th thelfish, but I think you want that too." Martin was by the boxes now, offering a hand to the sobbing toddler.

"Arthur; You… can trust me. You know that, right?" The seventeen year old actually bit his lip. These two were both abuse victims and both suffering because someone was just barbaric and -! No. Not those feelings, not that can of worms.

Martin helped Arthur up. Despite being four years younger – Arthur wasn't that much shorter. It was probably due to Martin's malnutrition.

Carolyn had told him about it because it was her routine to let the boy eat whenever he was hungry because, despite being in her care for four months, Martin was still awfully skinny. The attack from the older boys affected him so much he could hardly bring himself to eat without vomiting for a week afterwards. But Martin was getting better. The regular meals and snacks were doing him good and he must have surely gained about an inch since Douglas started looking after him and Arthur when Carolyn was away.

Douglas admired Carolyn more than he cared to admit. She was only twenty. Arthur was the result of a teenage pregnancy; Gordon, Carolyn's sadist, idiot boyfriend, hadn't liked Arthur. Douglas was glad Carolyn dumped him after he slapped the poor child; a year ago now. But Arthur remembered parts of what Gordon would do. He was only three but understood the words idiot, wuss, and a lot of really bad swears; just because they were always aimed at him with that vile sneer, always when Carolyn wasn't there.

Carolyn had fostered Martin when a friend told her about him – the scared little boy with scarres and bruises she found huddled in the attic of an abandoned house she had been investigating. Martin was terrified of her and Arthur at first – always apologising when there was silence, God help the boy if he dropped his empty, plastic cup. Carolyn had spent an hour trying to help Martin out of his panic attack.

Douglas snapped out of his thoughts to see a truly precious thing. Martin drew Arthur into a hug, only a few seconds – but it was still even more progress. "I-it'th ok. M-my dad didn't like me e-either…"

Arthur was released quickly and Martin blushed. Arthur smiled, "Love you, Skip."

"B-but you d-don't know me…" Martin frowned.

"You have to be good if you can make me feel better, Skip!" Arthur giggled.

"R-really?"

"You're… You're… Really, really good!"

"Another word may be… brilliant," Douglas smiled, placing a gentle hand on Martin's shoulder.

"Brilliant…" The toddler tested the word before beaming, "You're brilliant, Skip!"

"Th-thank you…" Martin smiled slightly, "Tho are you two."

"You know what else is brilliant?" Douglas asked, the children looked at him questioningly, "My mother's Toblerone cupcakes. Martin, if you want to go to your room, I'll bring you one; but you're more than welcome to play with us…"

"I-I'll try playing…" Martin blushed.

"Brilliant!"

Carolyn opened the front door. It was noisier than it had ever been – but it was the sound of a real home. She closed the door softly, not wanting the scene disturbed. Douglas was laughing, that too-deep-for-his-age laugh she always teased him about; Arthur's loud giggles; aeroplane impressions; and… A squeaky, utterly adorable giggle she hadn't heard before. Did that mean…?

She opened the kitchen door. Arthur, Martin and Douglas were running around the kitchen, arms outstretched, making aeroplane noises. Martin was giggling, too – giggling! Carolyn couldn't help but think it was a beautiful sound.

"Martin?" she smiled.

"Th-thorry, I-I'm being t-too noithy… I-I'll be q-quiet…" Martin stuttered, wide eyed.

"No!" Douglas and Carolyn objected in unison. Martin made himself smaller out of pure instinct.

"Sorry," Carolyn apologised, "But don't stop giggling Martin."

"Why? It's noithy and thtupid and –"

"No, Martin; it isn't," Carolyn smiled, "It's one of the most beautiful sound I've ever heard!"

"Really…?

"Yes," Carolyn was positively beaming now. Martin was her boy. She was signing the adoption papers as soon as possible, she had made her decision. "Come on, I'll be a spitfire!" She spread her arms and ran around with the children – her children. It didn't matter that Douglas wasn't fostered or adopted by her and certainly wasn't her own child; she liked to think of them all as her boys. Her's to love and protect.

Douglas ran alongside to mumble in her ear, "You better hope Herc treats them well, for his sake. If he tries to do anything, he'll have to deal with me."

"He won't; but if he does, I bagsy the first punch."