Grace was smiling, she could feel her face in flush as she descended the staircase from her bedroom, an old photo of Christian in her pocket. Little Christian, only seven years old, she wanted to show it to her daughter in law, to Anastasia.

Her heart was tugging at her. Staring down the white steps...

Images flooding... A bell tolling...

The meeting:

"Doctor Grey?" She looks up to see Amanda, her nurse, she's with a police officer.

"Yes?" Curiosity growing.

"There's a boy in room five – child abuse victim. No older than five"

Grace immediately leaves her desk and begins to walk down the hallway, the cop and nurse follow in pursuit.

"What do you know, officer?" she directs toward the balding and gray-haired man.

She stops, sullenly at the closed, blue door with the letter 5.

"His mother is dead, we have to wait for the autopsy but she's a definite over-dose, he was with her the whole time, we're guessing by the looks of it for a couple of days, maybe a week."

She nods, sick for a moment. "Physical abuse?"

"We think so, we did not want to touch him. He's very timid and frightened. He won't talk."

Grace does not ask more, her hand meets the cool metal of the doorknob, her interest peaked, the desire a wave, it runs deep in her mind, its burning, acidic. The need to save them all...

The boy peeks up at the door through his eyelashes, not making eye or face contact, he was simply eying her clothes.

Was it the mean man...the man who hit him..who hit his mommy?

The body is not a man, but a woman in white, he instantly felt the head splitting fear subside. His little mind was not, however, at ease. It shook, sending a quake all through, to his center

Where's mommy? Where, Where, Where...Why did she not wake up?

"Hello" The women bends down onto a chair, staying a good distance.

"My name is Grace" She goes on, her voice angelic "I'm here to see you, I was wondering if you wanted a little piece of candy?" She takes a vitamin chocolate from her white coat pocket. It's a small square, it was a good milky chocolate and the kids never guessed about the vitamin part.

The boy does not move and does not speak. Grace's heart is hurting.

She moves, very slowly, and leaves it a foot away from him where he sat. She then gets up and goes to the counter, not facing him and unnecessarily washes her already clean hands and smiles, quite sadly yet proudly, to herself when she hears the boy unwrapping the treat.

She dries her hands and turns to see him swallowing it and stuffing the wrapping in his pocket. From her guess, he has not eaten a proper meal in weeks.

"I'm a pediatrician. Do you know what that is?"

The boy does not speak.

"I'm a doctor, I help children, like you. Would you like another treat?"

The boy does not speak, but softly nods his head this time. She beams at him, this time handing him the chocolate, and waits for him to take it from her palm.

He does not look at her, but shyly takes it with his finger and thumb. Very careful not to meet skin and unwraps it and eats it, silently.

"Can you show me how old you are, sweetie?" Her voice, charming, low and sweet. The boy likes her voice, it's like strings and wires of violins and cello's and a little guitar.

He's a smart boy, he knows this one and he wants to show her he's smart, so he raises his hand, curling his thumb to him palm, four tiny fingers.

Grace ducks her head softly to see his eyes and smiles warmly "You are so smart, four years old! Your a big boy" Her voice like Fall.

The weary boy is instantly delighted by her gratification and gives a very small, small smile.

Almost pale-faced, the sweeping desire to save this beautiful little gray-eyed boy is even more instantaneous.

"I'm here to make you feel better" She begins to approach him and already his small shoulders and little body are tensed, his hands, clenched.

"See this?" She hands out her stethoscope from about her neck "I use this to listen to how you breath, do you want to try?"

He eyes the object but still does not look at her.

"I promise I won't hurt you, I'm here to make you feel better. I would never hurt you" Her promise is strong and severe even to herself, she says it with such an earnest conviction, even the scared boy reaches out his hand to touch the odd thing she holds out to him.

"You put these in your ear" she says pointing, the boy is nervous and frightened and pokes at it, softly.

"I would never hurt you, I promise. Do you believe me, sweetie?"

The boy takes the thing from her and begins to curiously examine it. No one has ever spoken to him the way she does, he likes it and wants to listen to her.

"Here let me show you" She reaches out for it and he hands it back shyly.

"I'm going to put these in my ear" She demonstrates "then I'm going to put this onto your back and listen to how you breath. Is that okay with you, sweetie?" She does so outside his shirt, breathing time normal. Lung capacity seems normal. She needed to get under the shirt, though, but she was scared too, scared of his fear.

Both of them terrified, she ever so slowly reaches for him "Can you take your shirt off for me? I have to see if you have any boo-boos that I can take care of."

He fidgets, even more disgruntled. "It's okay" She whispers "it's okay"

After a lengthened silence, he does as he's asked of and takes his shirt off, but holds onto it tightly, his little hands baled into fists.

As she gets a look at him she's thrown back into disgusted horror. Burns...

She takes out her log from her notepad kept in her upper right hand pocket and begins to document.

Subject is a four year old male. Approximately nine round burn marks, clearly made by a lit cigarette. One or two appear to be older than the others. The rest appear to be inflicted upon within the last two months.

"You are so brave" She says to him and he smiles again that small, small smile.

"I'm going to apply some medicine to these" She points "So they can heal and get better. Is that okay?"

The boys eyes widen and he scoots back and shakes his head. Tears threaten to fall, this is too much, too much, too much.

"Please" She begs softly, her voice still smooth and sweet. Her hazel eyes earnest on his "I know you are afraid but remember what I said? I'm here to make you feel better...believe me?"

Grace gets some q-tips and gel and returns by the boys side

"Watch what I do"

She takes off the cap and puts it onto one of the q-tips, slowly and deliberate, making sure he sees.

"Watch closely." and she gently applies it to her finger, the back of her hand, her cheek.

"See? It's good. No hurting. Now I will put it on your-" before she finishes, the boy tenses again, crossing his arms, teary eyed and wounded...

It took over two hours before she could apply the medicine and finish the check up. An hour an half in she got him a juice with a small dosage of Benzodiazepine in it, to which the boy finally relaxed some but still never spoke.

Grace informed the police of a Social Worker she knew named Jesse Richardson and thirty minutes after the call, she arrived. Grace was familiar with Jesse, a pretty black women from Detroit, she had been apart of the process of adopting Elliot. Grace smiled beside herself, thinking of her blue-eyed son.

However the minute Jesse came into view, her smile was gone and she was all business

"I want to adopt the boy"

Jesse blinks at her and replies with care "Grace, we know each other and I trust you more then any other family that poor boy may have, but -"

Grace holds up her hand, it's shaky and her voice is tight "This boy...Has been seriously mentally and physically abused..He was with his dead mother rotting in the house for a week...What family! I can't allow that, he needs someone like me"

Jesse feels sad for the women "Don't you just mean he needs you?"

Grace is surprised at her words but not thrown off course for a minute.

"You know where he will be better off" Grace is a proud woman, in rarity it gleams like this.

"Yes, I do and you know I will be on your side, I cannot break the law but while this passes through the courts I can represent you as a willing care-taker, Until then he will have to stay in a foster family"

Grace sighs with a sense of some relief "Thank you"

Before Jesse opened the door she paused and looked back "Don't worry, with already one adopted son, a successful pediatrician, there's not a doubt in my mind"

The separation:

The boy was in the front seat, buckled up and still not speaking. Grace was talking softly, still.

The police had identified the boy and his mother as Christian and Ella. The mother, a prostitute and currently her death was being ruled as a purposeful overdose of crack cocaine. The news bit down on Grace's heart.

Jesse was in the driver's seat, quiet and giving Grace a moment before proceedings went about and the boy would be delivered to Foster Care.

"Christian" Grace coos to the little boy, he wonders how she knows his name but he does not want to talk. He won't talk. The fear is in him, what happened to mommy, where am I going?

"This nice lady is taking you to a family for a short time, they will take care of you, OK? They will give you something to eat" She silently drops another treat into his open hand "I promise everything will be okay" Her smile is bright and sweet and a part of him believes her, truly.

Grace closes the door with acid in her throat and she steps back unwillingly and before walking back into the hospital, as the car reeves to life, Christian's gray little eyes focus onto hers for the first time. They are scared and rattled and she smiles reassuringly before the red car disappears from view.

Bad dreams:

She wake up in sweat, she can hear it, the muffled cries.

Sprinting down the hall, she enters Christian's room, where his sheets are tossed about him, his tiny frame, shuddering and quaking in pure, unadulterated fear.

Sadness grips, like sad piano keys

"No" he moans "Mommy, please, mommy, help me, mommy. Don't let him. No, please"

Grace drops to her knees, quite painfully, and begins stroking the young boys hair.

"I'm here" She coos "Shhh, little angel" she's almost singing and her voice pierces his nightmare and it begins to fade and he breathes, heavily. She only knows the sound of his voice because of the terrors of his unconscious sleep. When he blinks awake, she knows he will not confide in her, he will stay silent.

Why? She wants to cry Why will you not trust me, poor baby? Please.

But she must stay strong for him. "Hey, I got you, I got you, I'm here. I'm here and I will never let anyone hurt you" she says this vehemently, with such fervor, even the poor, terror struck child was not disposed to disagree. He stayed quiet, but he was thirsty.

As if she read his mind she coos once more "I'm going to get you some milk, okay baby?" She doesn't wait for an answer, knowing better. But the second she's out of reach he manages to breath out.

"Okay" His voice so tiny, so soft and full of fear. Okay, Okay, Okay, it's okay.

Grace wants to ask him of his nightmare, she wants so badly to hold him and love him. It hurts her and as she pours the milk in a small glass, her hand shakes out of control and it pours onto the counter-top.

"Shit!" She whispers with exasperation, with venom and she chokes back a sob and clutches her heart.

"Shit" She cries, this time, tears flowing, heart throbbing. She instantly wipes them and puts on a brave face as she goes back up the three flights of stairs, back inside his room.

Christian peeks out from his blue covers, still frightened. She hands him the milk and he slowly grabs it and drinks it with gusto, his mouth was parched and his tiny body still rattled up.

When he's done she sets it on his bedside counter, but does not leave him yet.

"I told you, baby. You must tell me when you are hungry or thirsty and I will get you something" She reaches out to him and he tenses up like always, shrinking away...

She drops her hand, hurt. Why won't he trust her?

She tries again, softly she touches his hair and pokes his nose, gently. She wanted to tickle him like she does with Elliot when he had his seldom bad dreams, but she knew better, she knew he would cry and scream and hate her for it. She was fearful of his hate, of his rejection. She wanted to be his mother. Why would he not let her?

Because her mind's voice sprung out Why should he trust you when his own mother abused and neglected him so foully, to such a devastating and grave extent? Why would he trust a stranger? Why would he even want another mother? You. Are. Selfish.

Grace was not in the mood to argue with herself and numbly agreed. She was being selfish, this boy would need serious help if he was to ever be … normal?

No, she concluded, the damage was done...He would never be a normal, happy child.

She blew him a kiss and he smiled that small, small smile. She had to get out, she nimbly closed the door and ran to the bathroom; shutting it with a shiver, as if someone had been chasing her and she slid, broken and devastated down to the floor, where she could let her tears fall from her in waves.

Mia's arrival

Grace had known, the second she saw her, that she would be something. Her and her husband were struck at first glance. She giggled and was so lively and sweet. But she was not going to deny it, she was frightened of what Christian would do. How would he react? She hated herself for fearing him with her.

Elliot had not been pleased with Christian's arrival but it was simply rivalry and since Christian was less than needy and craved for solace and to not be touched at all costs, Elliot didn't have much of an issue to help sustain such rivalry.

"Should we be doing this?" Carrick spoke her fear and for some reason this startled and angered her

"He's the victim, not the criminal. He deserves trust..." She realized she was speaking more to herself then her husband and softened her tight dictation "Let's see"

"Christian" She spoke up directing him, no longer were the anxious couple whispering. Christian knew something was amiss, their whispers frightened him and as she called his name, he tensed. What had he done? What was she going to do? His little heart went haywire. The fear.

"I want you to meet your little sister" She coos, her voice is always sing/songy and immediately he feels better. Then he processes her words. Little sister?

She offers her hand and after a minute or so, he takes it, knowing she does not give up. She would probably wait forever until his little palm agreed, finally, to meet with hers. Plus she was beginning to take note, he would allow certain places to be touched. Simply allow, not enjoy. This too hurt her.

Carrick had gone ahead to the den where his new daughter was and awaited, anxiously as this tense scene unfolded itself. He was nervous and it showed.

As Christian entered, hand in hand with Grace, his head cocked to the side in wonder. It was a baby, Christian realized, a tiny girl with dark hair and bright eyes. How could eyes be so bright?

Grace had let go of his hand and there was that tense air in the room, emanating only from Grace and Carrick as they saw the boys eyes widen..In curiosity?

Mia giggled suddenly and shook around, playfully reaching for Christian and she tugged at the air, attempting to sit up but falling into the back cushion. She then smiled toothless and made some squeaky, nonsense noise that was high pitched and light.

This was the most innocent and safe thing Christian had ever seen. A child. He smiled to her and she made the noise again, reaching out "Gghap" She squealed, her hands were so tiny, he saw this with awe.

"My little sister?" His words were barley audible and Grace sucked in a hard breath, wanting to scream and double over in delight. He spoke!

"Yes Christian, her name is Mia" She said softly

"And you are her big brother" Carrick added on, just as sincere, "Big brothers take care of their little sisters, protect them"

"Mia" he spoke up, just a fraction of a bit and Carrick and Grace looked at one another in utter shock.

Protect..Christian knew this word and suddenly everything began to change. Protect her. Yes, he would protect her. He smiled and she squealed louder this time, reaching out further to Christian from the couch Carrick had uneasily placed her on. She was a demanding little thing and was not going to accept refusal, she wanted attention from the one who had not yet given it to her.

"Gaapshh" She drooled a little in her outburst and Christian pulled out his shirt and stepping closer, ever so slightly wiped it away.

Mia seized this chance and grabbed a hold of him and giggled profusely, sensing victory. She gazed up at him, still all smiley and bright. That was all it took...

The protector:

"Mia" Christian chimed, holding her hand, which was grasping onto his head "let go" He spoke softly and she giggled loudly and let go, only to grab his cheek and make a funny face.

Grace who spied on them from the kitchen, smiled. She had no idea the profound effect Mia would have on Christian, that he would talk and love and watch out for her but he did and he did it with such delicate care it broke her heart only for it to meld together each time she saw him carry her or feed her or play with her.

She recalled what Doctor Reyes had said, a child psychologist she had consulted.

"Christian may see himself in the child, as something to be saved and loved and protected. As he was denied all these proper and necessary components of a healthy and stable infancy. He may see her as his token for change, in a very unconscious manner, so to speak. We can't be sure, he's obviously quite smitten, as you say he allows her to touch him...perhaps her innocence and young age provide him with a sense of safety, he knows she cannot hurt him the way others have. I can say, though, it is very good that he is attentive to her. Many children in his case can be very despondent and uncaring. We are not out of the clear yet, but he's moving on, which is what is most important. Let him concentrate on that."

Later:

Grace awoke to the colicky cries of Mia and reluctant to move from her comfortable position, turned over to Carrick, just as he feigned snoring.

"Faker!" She accused and her husband, whom struggled not to smile but failed miserably, gave another snore. She rolled her eyes at him and gave him a shove. Glancing at the clock on the way out, it read three forty-seven, Give me a break she sighed and out into the hall she went.

Mia had gone silent, quite suddenly and Grace was about to take full advantage and turn on her heel to head back to bed, but right before she could she noticed Christian's door was ajar. Curiosity beseeched her bones and she stepped out of her slippers, wanting silence on her side and went to have a peek. The room was empty, as she spun around she noticed Mia's door, it too was open. On the tips of toes, she slightly took a peek around the wedge of wood and was shocked and heart-warmed at the picture before her.

Christian had slid down the latch to Mia's crib and was cradling the child in his arms, one hand under her, the other holding her head. He rocked her, with the sweetness of a mother.

The image was so tender, that it reared her into tears and they fell freely down her face, weaving into webs before cast aside by her shaking fingers.

Christian then laid her, gently back into the crib, kissing her forehead.

"Goodnight Mia" He whispered, before raising the latch again. Grace scurried for her room, not wanting to be seen and closed the door as quick and quiet as she could.

She found it hard to make it back to the bed and sat on its edge, playing the tender moment over and over again in head.

"Hey" Carrick said, softly "What is it?"

Grace couldn't find her words and smiled numbly at a dawning realization.

Maybe that's why he could never speak...He couldn't find his words.

"Grace, honey?" Carrick sat up, worried and reached to touch his wife's back.

"C-Christian...He, was holding her. Cradling her and she stopped...Mia..she stopped crying and he..." she swallowed back sobs "Kissed her forehead and put her back to – sleep" She croaked on her own words, visibly Carrick could see her rattling with contained sobs and scooted over to hug his wife, his arms wrapping around her and she let loose her cries.

"Shhh" he said, with sweetness "It's okay, it's okay"