A/N: Thanks for all of your lovely words regarding this story, I am thrilled you all like it.

To those who messaged me asking how I write my fic; I plan my chapters in advance, and write much of my future chapters long before they are published. I take at least a two hour session to edit them, if not more than that, before I publish. :)

Phil stayed downstairs, typing away on his laptop, apparently something to do with getting Natasha flights, while Melinda took Skye upstairs to her new room. Phil had already moved her bags of clothes into the bedroom at some point, but he had kindly left Skye's backpack where it was in the living room for Skye to take upstairs herself.

Skye had given him her best smile for doing that. She had considered giving him a hug for half a second, but as much as she liked Phil, he wasn't Melinda. The idea of hugging Phil still felt a little risky, a little scary. Maybe it was the extended interaction she had had with her new foster mother, or perhaps it was the particularly nasty experience Skye had suffered through with her pervious foster father, but something about Melinda just seemed safer, more comfortable to Skye. But the smile she had given him for not touching her backpack had made Phil smile too, and that made Skye feel especially good.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Melinda pointed to the door closest to them in the hall. "That's your room, Skye."

The room was the closest door to the top of the stairs on a hallway filled with similar dark wood doors. Directly opposite Skye's new bedroom, facing the front yard, was Phil and Mel's room, identifiable by the little wooden plaque on the front reading 'The Bosses'.

"Bobbi bought us that a while ago." Mel said, nodding to the plaque. "Bobbi likes things to be labelled." She waved a hand at the rest of the doors. "She thought this sign was amusing. She said our door was too plain."

"Huh." Skye said, not particularly seeing the humour in it. She looked down the hall at each of the doors. Only one of them didn't have something decorating the front of it, and that was Skye's, the rest all featured some kind of embellishment, though from her position at the end of the hall, Skye couldn't quite see what specifically, the further of the doors featured.

Melinda opened the plain door and gestured for Skye to enter. This introduction of the bedroom in the foster home was a ceremony she'd been through many times before. One that altered from home to home, but was generally in all past cases, a source of uneasy trauma.

Miss Macy had made somewhat of an effort for Skye's arrival. She was a single woman in her late forties and Skye was only her second foster kid, the first having been a toddler who had been the light of her life until the baby's biological mother had been deemed fit enough to care for her child and the baby girl had been taken away from Miss Macy. Skye had been shown to her new bedroom at Miss Macy's house, only to find it was exactly as baby Hannah had left it, complete with crib and changing table. Skye had slept on an air mattress on the floor. But she had bought her new sheets, even if they were pink.

Her last foster family, one Skye made a valiant effort not to recall too well, had shown her to a room already occupied by their youngest biological son, a vicious nine year old who did not want a younger sister, period, never mind a younger sister sharing his room. From day zero Skye had known she was not welcome there, but the football-themed bedroom, in which she was not allowed to even place her few things in the empty drawer the boy's parents had forced him to give her, cemented this in her mind. His three older brothers, and eventually his father, had all apparently shared the same opinion on Skye- she was dispensable, and the sooner they got her out of their home, the better. In Skye's experience, bedrooms seemed to set the tone for her stay.

Some families, like Phil and Melinda, were experienced foster parents, and so had a specific room dedicated to new kids. Skye had been in a few of them in her time, and those kinds of bedrooms were fine really, though they exuded the sense of temporary living. Better than the threatening feeling of her last foster home, or of the eerie feeling of intrusion in Miss Macy's house, but still not particularly pleasant. That was what Skye was expecting; cold, plain walls (no specific colour scheme to avoid any kids' triggers), only the basic furniture (bed, drawers, cheap stuff that could be easily replaced if damaged), plain gender and age neutral bed sheets (usually some kind of dark colour so they were less likely to be stained and last longer), no photographs, no toys, no cuddly animals, nothing personal. Rooms were clean but not comforting. The kind of room that looked okay to grown-ups but that Skye knew had monsters living under the bed and in the shadows that would get her when she was left alone. That was what Skye was expecting.

Skye paused, hovering in the doorway and eyeing the carpet rather than risk seeing the inside of the bedroom. She was apprehensive.

"You want to have a look around your room, Skye?" Mel said, rubbing her back. "Phil put your other bags in there."

Skye gripped her backpack with one hand and grabbed for Melinda's with the other. Holding Melinda's hand made the whole situation feel a little better, and Skye mustered up all of her bravery. Maybe if the monsters saw she was a brave girl, they wouldn't bother her. Mel squeezed her hand and Skye squeezed back, being extra bold, and allowed herself to be gently tugged her inside of the room.

Melinda flicked on the lights with her free hand, and Skye looked around the bedroom. Her bedroom.

"Wow." She breathed. "This isn't a scary room." She dropped Melinda's hand. It wasn't scary at all. Not the kind of place monsters would be living.

"No it isn't." Mel agreed. "Phil and I have taken special care to make sure that your bedroom is the safest and least scary room in the entire universe."

Skye turned to her with a frown. "How did you do that?"

Melinda shrugged and walked over to the bed, a white wooden structure covered in brightly coloured fleece blankets, dropping down onto it. "Phil and I are the very best at making safe and cosy bedrooms. We're experts."

"You can make the monsters go away?" Skye asked, and Melinda's expression twitched into something she didn't really recognise, before just as quickly smoothing back into her comforting smile.

"Oh, Honey. Phil and I fight off all those monsters, we chase them away so that not only do they never come back, but they tell all of their monster friends about us and they even those monsters won't come anywhere here near this house!"

Skye gawked at her. "You really do that? You scare the monsters?"

Melinda smiled and Skye couldn't help but smile back, in awe of this woman who was so kind to her but who could chase away her demons.

"Phil and I keep all of our babies safe from the monsters."

Skye nodded, she trusted that Phil and Mel were experts in keeping people safe. She wondered if they had chased away Bobbi and Natasha's monsters, too. Perhaps she would ask when Natasha came home.

Skye took another, more detailed, look around the room. Melinda watched her quietly from the bed, smiling.

As far as bedrooms went, and Skye had had a lot, this room was pretty up there. In fact, Skye had already decided that this was the best bedroom she had ever had. It was absolutely perfect.

It was fairly plain, white walls and a cream carpet, but the monster scarers had put a fluffy blue rug in the centre and some pictures on the walls. One of them was a framed poster of the cover of Phil's Captain America book. Skye knelt down to tickle the rug, feeling its softness, and dropped her head down to rub her cheek against the blue plush. She heard Melinda chuckle behind her.

The fluffy blankets on the bed matched the rug, and the white wood of the bedframe matched the wardrobe and chest of drawers. The bedside cabinet was the same blue as the rug, as was the desk. She had a desk. Skye rushed over to it and ran her hand over the blue plastic and white drawers. Her very own desk. There was even a desk chair with wheels on the bottom.

Skye turned back to where Melinda was lounging against the abundance of pillows on the bed. She opened her mouth to speak, but then Skye spotted the lamp in the shape of a star attached to the wall by Melinda's head and her throat felt tight. She had to swallow a couple of times to make the feeling go away.

"It's perfect." Skye whispered.

"I'm glad you like it, baby." Mel smiled. "I wasn't sure what colours you would like but-,"

"It's perfect." Skye repeated. "I really like it."

Skye did like it. She loved it. Skye loved her room. Her room.

She dropped her backpack on the rug and launched herself at Melinda on the bed. The woman laughed and made an 'ooft' noise as Skye landed on her, but she cuddled her close and kissed her head.

"I love my bedroom." Skye whispered, hugging Mel tightly. No foster mother had ever done something so generous for her before. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. You like the blue?"

"It's the best!" Skye shouted and hopped off the bed, parading around her bedroom. "I love it! I love it! I love it!" She chanted, running from item to item in the room. It was overwhelming, looking at all of the things Phil and Melinda had picked out for her. Especially for Skye.

"Hey," Mel said, standing up. "I'm going to run your bath, but you just keep…" she waved a hand at Skye's continued mix of dancing and gawking at things in the room. "…doing what you're doing."

Skye nodded, grinning, and flicking the star lamp, by the bed, on and off. It gave the room a blue, yet warming glow, when she switched it on. "You're the best mom ever!"

At the same time, Skye and Melinda seemed to realise what had left Skye's mouth. Mel smiled; Skye's face fell.

"I, er, I didn't meant to…" Skye stuttered. Calling Melinda that had been a slip of the tongue. She didn't really mean it.

She didn't… she'd meant to say foster mom. That's what she'd meant, but then, it hadn't come out of her mouth properly and…Skye felt her cheeks getting hot and dread pooled in her stomach. Her eyes burned. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Melinda said. "It's fine, don't worry about it. I'm going to run your bath, okay?"

Skye nodded. "Okay."

…

Melinda began running Skye's bath, turning on the taps and pouring in a little bubble bath. She sat on the closed seat of the toilet and took a deep breath, calling forth every meditation practice she knew to keep herself calm.

Skye had called her 'mom'. Accidentally, yes, but had still said it. More than anything it was the shock of the situation, which had tattered Melinda's usually calm persona, although she hoped for Skye's sake that she'd managed to convincingly keep up the cool outer façade.

A few deep breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth, and Melinda had recovered from the little surprise. Her concern for Skye's wellbeing began bursting forth, burying any lingering feelings of panic at being called 'mom' by the little girl. Skye had looked as though she had done something terrible. She had looked absolutely devastated that she had allowed herself to slip up in that way; panicked as if Melinda was going to reprimand her.

Mel had read Skye's case file. If she were a slightly lesser person, she would not hesitate to kill the people who had destroyed her little girl's outlook on life. As it was, she was instead concocting a list of people to screw over at the closest possible opportunity.

Skye had no idea what was actually acceptable in terms of behaviour. For too long she had been punished for things she should have never been reprimanded for, and left to her own devices for long enough that she didn't always remember what wasn't allowed. That was one of the things she and Phil had discussed early on when reading all about Skye, that this child would need a positive reconditioning. But they could do that.

Look at Bobbi.

Look at Natasha.

They were capable of giving Skye a second chance.

Melinda turned her attention back to the bath, turning off the taps and dipping her hand in to test the temperature. Satisfied, she pulled a towel out of the linen cupboard and draped it over the radiator to warm up for Skye.

She left the bathroom and went back to Skye's bedroom, listening for any signs that the little girl had resumed her song and recovered from the shock of calling Melinda 'mom', but as she approached the door it was decidedly quiet. Mel popped her head into the room to check on her little girl, and found Skye standing by the chest of drawers, organising items on the top.

"Skye." Melinda said, walking over to her.

Skye jumped and whipped her head around. "Ohmygosh!" She gasped. "Oh, sorry. You scared me." She grinned.

"I'm sorry." Mel smiled. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"You're like a ninja."

"Well, that was plan B."

Skye laughed, and looked back to the top of the drawers. She had left the two plastic bags of clothes untouched, but her backpack lay open on top of the bed. Skye, on seeing Mel, not so subtly covered what looked like a couple of books with her backpack and shuffled back over to the drawers. Various items were scattered across the top of the drawers, although Skye was lovingly arranging the trinkets as Melinda watched, gently placing each thing down with so much care that one would believe she was handling priceless items.

But that's what they were to Skye, though, weren't they? Priceless.

The items Melinda could see were the most random and yet typically childlike articles she had seen treasured by a child. Bobbi and Natasha had been twelve and fourteen, respectively, when they had entered their home, and although they too had brought along some sentimental treasures, it had been nothing on the scale of Skye's weird collection.

"You're unpacking?" Melinda asked, sitting on the desk chair and shuffling it over to the drawers.

"Mmhmm." Skye replied, focused on meticulously arranging what appeared at first glance to be a handful of crap, on a paper handkerchief. "My special things."

"Your special things? Can I see them?"

Skye tuned to Melinda, taking a silent second to consider her before nodding once. "Some of them, and only the ones I say, okay?"

"Okay." Mel agreed.

"And you can only touch then when I say so. Never touch them without my permission."

Melinda smiled. Skye and Natasha were certainly very similar when it came to the protection of their treasured items. Nat would be thrilled to have this little treasure as a sister.

"Okay. I promise never to touch them without your express permission." She put one hand over her heart to prove her point.

This seemed to satisfy Skye, who picked up the paper handkerchief and cradled it gently in her hands. She held it out to Melinda and allowed her to peer inside. There, held inside the tissue, were a group of incredibly random items; a smooth grey stone, slightly larger than a grape; a white speckled cockle shell with a small hole at the top centre curve; a dull gold and silver one Euro coin; and a flat point screw, big enough that it most likely had come from some type of machinery.

"That's some cool stuff you have there." Melinda said.

"I know." Skye replied, looking down at her treasures with fondness. "I got the pebble from a lake when we went with school one time." She explained, pointing to corresponding item. "And the screw I found when I was digging in the grass at the park. The coin is from a place called Europe." She told Mel. "That's what my old teacher said. I got it off him for knowing what country the Eiffel tower is in." Skye looked to Melinda, a serious expression on her face. "It's in France." She informed her.

"I see." Mel grinned. "What about the shell?"

"Oh, that's from a beach."

"When did you go to the beach?"

"I've never been to the beach, but one time when I lived with Mr and Mrs Jackson, we went to the aquarium and the girl there gave me it." Skye explained. She pointed to the little hole in the top. "You see that? It happens when a snail sucks the shell to get to the other animal in the middle and it sucks so hard that it make a hole."

"That's very cool." Mel said. "You could made that into a necklace."

Skye looked almost offended at the prospect and shook her head, returning the tissue of things to the top of the drawers. "No. It's too special for that."

"I understand. Can I see any of your other special things today, or…"

"You can see everything that's on here." Skye clarified, indicating the top of the drawers. Her bed remained littered with other items that Melinda assumed were either too private to be presented on the chest of drawers or not important enough to display. "But you can't touch them." She reiterated.

"Of course. Maybe you can show me everything else after your bath, or maybe tomorrow. The water will be getting cold."

"Kay. I'll just put these away first." Skye scooped up the items on her bed and carefully placed them back into her backpack, zipping it up and putting it at the foot of her bed with the bags of clothes.

"You got any pyjamas in there?" Mel asked, nodding to the clothing bags.

"Mmm." Skye tipped the two bags upside down onto the carpet and began rifling through the clothes, occasionally picking up an item and scrunching up her nose in distaste.

Without even looking too closely, Melinda could bet that the majority, if not all, of the clothes in the bags were hand-me-downs from other kids at the orphanage. One pair of leggings in particular had at least two holes in that she could see. After a few seconds Skye stood and walked over to Melinda, holding out a couple of articles of clothing.

"I've got some other shorts, too." She mumbled as Mel took the items. Skye rubbed her arm and looked away. "They don't match…"

"That's okay." Mel said and tried her best not to seem appalled at the green threadbare polo shirt that must have been two sizes too big for little Skye, and the white gym shorts.

Melinda had doubted St. Agnes' orphanage before. Countless kids had stayed with them who had unpleasant stories of mean nuns and nasty older children. She had heard even worse from Natasha, although her memories were tainted with a frantic fear and terrifying anger. But actually seeing that the children could be given less than basic clothing, not even actual sleepwear, was shocking.

Although her previous foster families had ended mostly badly, Mel knew they weren't all bad for the whole time. At some point, someone must have bought Skye pyjamas. She must have been bought new clothes. Where they were now…well, Melinda would be talking to Abby. It was no wonder Skye was so protective of her trinkets, if everything her foster parents had bought her had been taken away as soon as she had found herself back in the orphanage.

"Where did you get these?" Melinda tried to ask curiously, rather than accusingly, putting the shorts and shirt on the radiator in Skye's room.

"Sister Jane gave them to me." She said.

Melinda took Skye by the hand and led her to the bathroom. "She gave them to you? Didn't you have pyjamas before?"

Skye shrugged and kept her eyes on the floor.

Mel tugged her into the bathroom and closed the door. She sat on the closed toilet seat and guided Skye to stand in front of her, putting her hands on the eight-year-olds shoulders.

"Skye. Look at me." She instructed.

Skye looked up, peering at Melinda through dark lashes.

"You're not in trouble, baby. I just want to know what happened to your other clothes because I know you must have got some new ones at some point."

"I guess, I got new ones sometimes." Skye admitted. "Miss Macy bought me some new ones, but I didn't get to bring any back with me."

Melinda had read in Skye's file about the abrupt end to her stay with Angela Macy. Skye had apparently reacted badly to being reprimanded by Macy and had 'lashed out violently and unprovoked' if the reports were to be believed. Melinda didn't believe them. Kids weren't bad just for the sake of it. However, she did feel slightly better knowing Skye's new things hadn't been ripped away from her on entering St. Agnes'. Although Melinda had a nasty feeling the nuns wouldn't hesitate to remove new things from the children.

Skye cemented this suspicion. "Sometimes they take the new stuff away, to keep for some other kids."

"We're going to go shopping tomorrow." Melinda smiled to cover her disgust, pulling Skye's t-shirt over her head.

"We are? What for?"

"Well, you need to matching jammies, right?"

Skye frowned. "It's okay. You don't need to buy me anything." She removed the rest of her clothes and climbed in the bubble bath.

Mel sat on the floor and rested her chin on the edge of the bathtub. "But what if Phil and I want to buy you some new stuff?"

"I…well, I guess, then it's okay. If you want to." Skye began moulding the bubbles into mountains.

"You're going to be going to a new school, you know." Mel said. She and Phil had discussed how to have this conversation with Skye, unsure how she would react to moving schools, but now seemed as good a time as ever, when Skye was calm and in one place. "We could get you some new clothes for you to wear for school. Maybe a new backpack, too."

Unexpectedly, the little girl's face lit up. "I get to go to a new school?"

"Well you're old one is a little too far away for Phil and I to drive to every day. Honestly, I thought you'd be a bit more upset about it."

"No! I hate my school. The kids are horrible and my teacher doesn't like me." Skye pouted. "She's so mean to me."

"I'm sure she likes you just fine."

"Uh-uh." Skye argued, letting Mel wash her face off with a washcloth. "She was mean to me. Not just me, but 'specially me."

"How so?" Mel questioned.

Skye huffed and looked back down at the bubbles. "She only likes the smart kids."

"You're smart, Skye."

"M'not. I'm stupid. My teacher gets mad when I can't read the words in the book." Skye swirled the bubbles around with her fingers. "And she doesn't like helping with the number work if I get stuck."

Melinda reached out to touch Skye's face, encouraging her to look up. "Hey, I don't ever, ever want to hear you call yourself that." Mel said. "You might find some things difficult, but if your teacher doesn't help you or gets angry at you, well, that's her fault. She's stupid."

Melinda added 'Skye's old teacher' to the mental list of people to chase down and make life hell, for hurting her little girl. So far she had nine foster families, several nuns, and now the teacher. It was becoming quite the catalogue.

Skye peered at her with wide eyes. "Do you think my new teacher is nice?" She asked quietly.

Melinda smiled, and smoothed out Skye's worried expression with a few strokes of her thumb. Skye leaned into her touch and let a tiny smile grace her lips.

"I know your new teacher is nice." Skye brightened at that. "She's a friend of mine and Phil's. Used to work for us while she was in college. She's a very nice teacher. Very kind."

"Really?" Skye grinned, then let her expression fall as another thought seemed to hit her. "She worked for you? What's your job?"

Melinda reached over Skye for the showerhead attached to the wall. "Phil and I own the gym she taught yoga at." She turned on the tap and tested the temperature on her hand.

"A gym? Like with running machines and fake bikes?"

Melinda snorted and began showering Skye's long hair. "You mean treadmills and exercise bikes?"

"Yeah."

"Well, we've got those, but we've also got swimming pools and gymnastics classes and trampolines and lots of fun stuff to do." She reached over to grab the shampoo. "Close your eyes, baby." Skye did, and Mel quickly washed and rinsed her hair, rubbing conditioner through.

"That sounds fun." Skye said, eyes still closed. "I like trampolines." She paused as Mel began detangling her hair as gently as she could manage. "Is that how you and Phil are so rich, because you own a gym?"

"We're not rich, we're-,"

"Comfortable, I know."

Melinda couldn't help but laugh at Skye. "Right, comfortable." She washed all the conditioner off. "And anyway, we own three gyms. Okay, I'm done, open your eyes."

Skye did, and Mel sprayed her face with the shower. The little laughed and spluttered, rubbing the water out of her eyes.

"Hey!"

"Just making sure you're all clean." Mel smiled. "Come on, then. If you stay in the tub any longer, you'll turn into a raisin."

…

After getting ready for bed, Melinda brushed and dried Skye's hair. She was the gentlest hair-brusher Skye had ever experienced, and when she was led downstairs, Skye felt almost giddy with excitement.

The playroom awaited.

Phil was still typing away on his laptop when Skye skipped over him, grinning madly. "Phil, Phil, we're going in the playroom!" She looked round to Mel. "Right?"

"Yes, baby. Thirty minutes, them bed. That's what we agreed."

"That sounds like a fair agreement." Phil smiled, closing the computer and placing it on the coffee table. He looked at Skye, then looked over to Mel.

"We're going shopping tomorrow." She said and he nodded. "Gonna get Skye some new jammies, right?"

"Yeah." Skye agreed. She was looking forward to getting new pyjamas.

Phil stood up. "Playroom time?" He asked. Skye nodded. "Let's go, then."

Skye took his offered hand and practically dragged the man to the decorated door of the playroom, Mel following. When they reached the door, Skye paused, unsure of how to continue. As excited as she was, it felt almost like an intrusion now that she was standing there.

Natasha and Bobbi smiled at her from their photographs. What if Natasha and Bobbi didn't want Skye to go in their playroom? In her last foster family, the other kids had either hit or kicked her if she even tried to touch some of their things.

"You want to go in, Skye?" Phil prompted.

Skye looked up at him. He was smiling at her. "Okay." She said, but made no effort to open the door. Seeming to sense her unease, Phil reached for the handle and pushed opened the door to the playroom.

The only other experience with a playroom Skye had, was when she was in kindergarten, and there was a 'playroom' attached to the classroom. That had been a box room with plastic crates of well-played with toys, and old dress-up clothes. That's kind of what Skye had been expecting. Hand-me-down toys from the kids gone by.

That was not what she saw.

Next to her, Phil ushered her in with a hand on her back.

The room was incredible. Bigger than the actual living room. It had posters covering most of the walls, many of them, Skye noted, were some form of Captain America's image. One of the walls, though, was completely covered with a giant bookcase, filled top to bottom with appealing spines, some at the bottom looking skinny, the ones higher up looking much thicker.

Skye wandered over to where the toys were in a corner opposite the bright red couch where Mel and Phil had sat themselves. They were watching her with their arms around each other and smiles gracing their faces. Skye smiled back.

They had lots of toys. Baby dolls sitting in car seats with drawers full of clothes; Barbies and Ken dolls set up in a doll house that was taller than Skye was; a huge box of Lego with several scenes already built and displayed on a little table above it. There was so much more than that, too. It was so overwhelming that Skye found herself migrating back over to the couch and climbing on Phil and Mel's laps.

"You like it?" Mel asked, brushing her hair out of her face. Since washing it, Skye's hair was feeling particularly fluffy.

"Yes." Skye said. "I…" She trailed off, as a large desk with a computer and two chairs caught her eye. Clear plastic drawers by the desk contained what looked to be coloured paper and pens. "This room has everything."

"Well, I tried to cover all bases when I first made it." Phil said. "And now I keep it well stocked."

"Why do you have so many toys, though?" Skye questioned, eyeing the Barbies. "If Natasha and Bobbi are all grown up?"

Melinda snorted. "Honey, it doesn't matter what age they are, they're all kids forever. Even Phil has some of his toys in here."

"They're action figures." He argued. Phil tugged Skye into his lap and rested his head on her shoulder, keeping his eyes level with hers. "See the baby dolls?" He asked, and Skye nodded. "Nat likes to play with them."

That seemed odd, Skye thought, for Natasha to want to play with dolls.

"A long time ago," Melinda explained, "Natasha used to take care of a lot of babies, and sometimes she used to feel very mad when she first came to stay with us."

"Like me." Skye said.

"A little bit like you." Mel agreed. "And the thing that made her feel better, when she was mad, was dressing all the baby dolls, just like she used to dress the babies."

Skye looked back at the little dolls, all immaculately dressed in tiny dresses and dungarees. Each had a pacifier in its mouth, which was attached to their clothes with a line. There weren't many babies at the orphanage now, but at one time there had been quite a few who were still too small to walk, waiting to be adopted. The babies cried a lot, but Skye had been pretty good at cheering them up with funny faces and shows she would put on with the teddy bears.

"You can't get mad around babies." Skye said. "Then they get sad, too."

"That's right." Phil said. "You see the Lego?"

"Uh-huh."

"We got most of that after Clint moved in." He smirked. "He likes building things. Clint was eighteen when he moved in. An actual adult. So you see why we have so many toys, because all our adults are children."

Skye spied the Barbies again. One blonde and one brunette doll were sat at a kitchen table in the dollhouse, tiny mugs in front of them. Skye imagined they were discussing their jobs. Maybe they worked at a gym. The blonde was a lifeguard and the brunette was a yoga teacher and they were best friends.

"What about the Barbies?" Skye asked, sliding off Phil's lap and shuffling over to the dollhouse on her knees. "Who do they belong to?"

"Bobbi." Mel said behind her. "She brought a few of them with her when she moved in that were hers when she was very small, and even when she was a teenager she liked buying new accessories for them with her allowance. She just liked to set them all up, I think."

Skye reached out to touch the two dolls sitting at the miniature table, but pulled her hand back at the last minute. If Bobbi had spent time arranging the dolls just as she liked, Skye didn't want to mess them up.

"You know, Bobbi won't mind if you want to play with them." Melinda said.

Skye turned around to face her. "I don't want to mess them up."

"What if I ask her if you can play with them?"

"You could ask her?"

Melinda put her hand into her back pocket and pulled out her phone. "Sure. It's just after lunch in England. Bobbi will be at work, but that's okay. Should I ask her?"

Skye looked back at the Barbies. "Yes please."

It only took a few minutes for Mel's phone to chime with Bobbi's reply, and Skye looked over at her hopefully. "What did she say?"

Mel smiled, reading the text, then held the phone out to Skye. She took it and began reading the message aloud.

"'Of cor-course Skye can play with my B-Barbies.'" Bobbi had put an exclamation point after that. "'It makes sense that they get played with by an ac-ac-tu-al, actual, kid and not a grown woman.'" Skye stopped reading after that, too thrilled that she had been given permission by Bobbi. She looked up and Mel and Phil, feeling the need to confirm. "So I get to play with them?"

"Yep." Mel laughed. "She said you can. Read the rest."

Skye looked back at the text and scrolled down to the next part. "'Tell my new little sister I can't wait to meet her. Tell her I pro-promise to play Barbies with her when I come home.'" Skye smiled and re-read the text. Bobbi had said she was her little sister. Skye had never been anyone's sister before. And Bobbi wanted to play with Skye. She didn't seem mad at all that Skye wanted to play with her toys.

"Skye?" Phil asked and she looked up at him. "You want to play for a little while, before bed?"

She nodded and handed back Melinda her phone. "Tell Bobbi I'll be super careful with her dollies and I'll take good care of them 'till she comes home."

"I will." Mel smiled.

The Barbies beckoned Skye over to the dollhouse and she began playing with the yoga instructor and her lifeguard friend, being extra gentle not to mess up their hair, so Bobbi would be pleased with her when she came home. Skye wanted her big sisters to like her.

A/N: Review, please! Let me know what you thought. xxx