"May the Lord protect and defend you. May he always preserve you from pain." Sabbath Prayer

Riley was sitting at the dinner table, trying not to bend over double. He didn't want to eat, but his stomach was rumbling loudly enough to remind him he hadn't had any food in thirty-six hours. He wanted to sleep, but the sweats were enough to keep him wide awake.

Ben was making toast and egg drop soup, not exactly a morning meal but one he thought Riley's stomach would appreciate. Every now and then he snuck a glance at the boy, wincing at the pale, bruised body.

It was nine am on a Sunday morning, one of the last nice Sundays of the fall, Ben would bet. The fact that Riley was upright, even for a short time, meant he was on the mend. Ben was already planning a movie marathon, planning on introducing Riley to the greats he'd missed out on during his childhood…the kid would flip over Star Wars

Ben looked up when the doorbell rang, but Riley fell out of his chair. His ouch of pain was bitten off half-way through and he righted the chair without another word, though he was trembling. Shaking his head, Ben ruffled the boy's hair and promised to be back in a minute, wondering who would be calling this early…Abby wasn't due back, and post wasn't delivered Sundays.

Opening the door, Ben had to choke back a exclamation of surprise when he saw his parents, both of them, at the door, looking worried. "Benjamin…" His mother began, her voice a small sigh, and the word had the underlying connotations of the sentence she'd delicately left out, why didn't you tell us?

What could he do? Ben stepped aside, hurriedly asking them to please be quiet, that Riley was still sick and, besides that, he was jumpy and frightened.

Upon entering the kitchen, Ben was unsurprised to see Riley at the counter, stirring the soup and buttering the toast that had just popped. He was barefoot.

"Riley, sit down before you fall over." He said, forgetting his own plea and nearly shouting the words. Riley jumped, nearly tipping the soup on himself. He blinked at Ben, surprise and trust in his features, before curiously glancing at the two other people. "These are my parents."

"Hello." Riley murmured, his voice low and scratchy from the illness. "It's nice to meet you." He quietly slipped into a seat, feet dangling.

Ben's father glanced at his son, then at the tiny boy at the table. Patrick knew that the boy had to be around fourteen, but he looked younger, maybe twelve, eleven. He was tiny and pale, and his large eyes were hidden behind thick, cracked glasses. His shirt was too baggy, his hair too long…"Hello, son."Patrick said, trying to be jovial, though he and the other adults in the room noticed the wince at the word son. "You feeling up to an outing today?"

"Dad, that's not a good idea. We were just going to take it easy today." Ben's protest was expected, though unnecessary.

Emily sidled up beside her son, noticing, not for the first time, that he had grown to tower over her. "Your father wants to take Riley to church with him. Give you and me time to talk."

Ben nodded, understanding though not sure whether he'd allow this change of plans. "Did you guys draw straws or what?" He knew that both his parents were curious about this boy he and Abby had found so quickly. But his father was the more pious of the pair, and maybe taking Riley to church wouldn't be a bad idea. Ben had never thought of it, but he doubted the boy had ever set foot in one before.

"It's up to Riley. You feel up to going out, kid?" Riley's head cocked to one side and he bit his lip. Ben knew that the boy was reading him, judging how much he would let Ben down if he said no. A second passed, then a nod.

Patrick was at the stove, putting on a kettle of hot water for tea. "Why don't you get dressed in something warm, Riley. It's nice out but you'll probably freeze." His voice was low, gentler than Ben had heard it in a while. Riley nodded and shuffled out of the room in search of clothes.

"Now Ben." Patrick said as soon as they heard the door close upstairs. "What is this kid? And I know he's foster, but we need a few details."

"I can't believe you didn't tell us of his arrival. We would have been here to greet him, you know." And Ben did know that. "Plus we're both insanely curious." Ben knew that, too.

"Abby and I just thought it'd be easier for him to adjust if he didn't have a hundred relatives flocking around him." Ben explained half-heartedly, knowing that he should have at least told his parents of Riley.

"Well, what of it? Are you going to send him back in a few months or a year or whatever, when the adoption goes through?" Patrick's question cut right to the heart of the matter, and Ben answered as honestly as he could.

"I don't know." Because the future Ben had had for himself and Abby and their nameless child had shifted in the last week. Was their room for a fourth person, a frightened, eager, talented teen? "I really don't know."

Riley came in the room, then, dressed in an orange sweatshirt and jeans that, although they were child's sizes, did nothing but make him look smaller. Ben would have to remedy that --- just looking at the kid made him feel hungry. "Soup, Ri?"

The boy took the offered soup and sat down at the table, looking expectantly at the adults. "Ever been to a church, Riley?" Patrick asked and Riley, as they knew he would, shook his head. "Would you like to see one? It's a great old church, one of the oldest in the nation. Beautiful." And maybe that would be enough to entice Riley to religion, for Ben had found that the boy, like himself, perked up at the sound of history.

"I wouldn't mind, sir, but I don't know…I might be out of place." Ben winced at the boy's voice, barely a croak. But he had won both of Ben's parents over in a few words, and within an hour had been bustled out the door on the way to the heart of Philly, leaving Ben alone with his mother.

Riley sat in the car, not knowing what to do with himself. He felt uncomfortable with the idea of church, though he didn't know why. He knew that plenty of people found solace in the institution, but it was the matter of God that disturbed the young boy.

"You cold?" Patrick's voice was carefully pitched so he wouldn't frighten Riley. "I know I kind of threw you into this. You must be exhausted." And he was, but he'd never admit it. He wasn't cold, though, and forced his body to stop shaking out of sheer will.

"So, Riley…what do you like? If you were in better shape we could have gone somewhere fun after church…a museum, or something. But I bet being on a couch sounds appealing now."

Not wanting to admit to that, Riley said, "I like computers." He knew it was impolite to be so vague, but his throat hurt too much to allow him to say more.

Patrick realized this and didn't press any further, though he did start talking about Philadelphia. His voice, like Ben's rose in pitch when he described history and Riley found himself almost lulled to sleep by the convoluted tales of politics and battles.

"Riley, we're here." Out of instinct, Patrick didn't shake the boy to wake him up and merely said his name. It was enough, though, and sleep-filled eyes opened, revealing a soft, innocent blue. "C'mon, kiddo."

Riley wondered if everyone would insist on calling him kid, or if it was just the Gates family. Getting out of the car, Riley was grateful for Patrick's offered hand as his knees buckled. "Woah, now, just take it slow. We're a bit early."

They walked into the church, and Riley found himself craning his neck to look up at the gargoyles, the statues, the stained-glass windows. "You know anything about Christianity, Riley?"

He did. Pop had a Bible, and he often shoved it at Riley when he was being punished, telling him to learn of the damnation Hell offered him in the next life. "Some, sir. I've read the Bible."

"Then you know a heck of a lot more than most. Want to look around, or do you want to sit?" The artwork was too inciting to allow Riley to stay still, and he found himself being drawn to an alter celebrating St. Peter.

"Oh, he was always one of Ben's favorites, too. The rock, you know…" and Patrick went on, outlining Peter and other saints, pointing out different portrayals of the people long dead.

They walked around the church as if began to fill. At one point they stood in front of the alter and looked up into the face of Christ. Riley had to turn away, knowing that he was too dirty and evil to look at someone so pure and good. Pop had always said that he would be damned to Hell for killing his mother. Pop had always said that there was no forgiveness for that kind of sin.

Just another reason to hate Riley's dad, but now there's four people (five if you include Darrel, who's coming back soon) who care about the little guy.

Anyways, please review.