So...this is my first venture into the world of fanfiction (reviews are appreciated ;) ).

Basically, this idea came about because I used to love watching this show, but certain details (plus some of the story arcs) kind of put me off it. So, I thought make a slightly more realistic version (or as realistic as you can get with a show about bionics). Most of the bionics will be the same, don't worry.

Also, there might be some mild swearing in some chapters, but I'll put a warning at the start of a chapter if I think it's necessary.

Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Lab Rats

"Don't!" The eldest of the three growled protectively as Donald lifted the crying infant from the box.

The baby didn't settle in the slightest on being lifted into his arms, wailing with a sort of vehemence that that he didn't know a child so young could be capable of. He couldn't be more than a couple of days old, and Donald was sure he didn't have more than a few minutes before Douglas came home


'You need to think. Put the baby back into the box and think."

With trembling hands he lowered the baby into the pile of blankets set up in a plastic container on the floor (what Donald could only assume was a makeshift crib). Now it was time to think about his options. He'd always been a logical person; this wouldn't be so hard.

Option 1: He phoned the police. Douglas would be sent to prison.

As much as he believed his brother deserved this, he hated the thought of Douglas being locked up for life because of him. That's not something he wanted on his conscience. Besides, what would happen to the kids?

Ok. Disregarded.

Option 2:

"C safe. Safe. Safe."

The boy's chanting tore Donald from his thoughts.

He glanced at down at the three of them (the eldest two of whom were looking over to the youngest in awe) and felt a sudden burning rise from from the pit of his stomach.

'They didn't ask for any of this! They're only children! They-'


This time it was the girl, probably around one. She was leaning up against her elder brother, and vaguely gesturing to Donald's left hand. His fingertips were splattered lightly in crimson.

In his dazed state, he lowered his gaze back to the baby at his feet and lifted the child gently back into his arms.

"Don't!" He heard again, this time with the girl also chiming in. They were starting to yell, scream, plead, and his pulse seemed to be drilling into the middle of his head. But it was at this point that he realised that he had already made a decision (whether or not he liked it).

He had to get these children away.