"In this book, not only is there no happy ending, there is no happy beginning, and very few happy things in the middle." A Series of Unfortunate Events

"Mr. Gates?"

Ben glanced up from his papers, not knowing exactly who he was expecting on the sunny November afternoon. Abigail was working and Ben was preparing for a new series of lectures on a secret subgroup of the Masons…no one else was in the house.

Which was why he was surprised to find a dark, thin, small wisp of a boy in front of him. Before Ben could get out a word of exclamation, the child said, "I'm Darrel, a friend of Riley's. I just walked him here and I…well, I've been meaning to talk to you..." Ben's immobile face spurred the boy to talk faster.

"I don't' know very much about Riley or his past, but he really likes you and Mrs. Gates, he talks about you all the time, which is why I'm telling you this, because there's not much I can do. Yesterday he met with his social worker, right? About that case against his dad?"

This was true. It was the second in a series of three meetings Stephanie had requested with the boy. Ben had dropped Riley off at the office and picked him up. Ben had been meaning to talk to Riley about the case, but had been distracted by the research. He'd even been late picking Riley up, though the boy, in what Ben was coming to see as typical fashion, hadn't said a word of protest.

"Well, I think you should ask him about the meeting, or something. He won't lie to you, but he might not tell you if you, you know, don't ask." It was obvious that Darrel was getting uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and licked his lips several times.

Ben studied the boy carefully, then glanced up the stairs that he knew Riley would be coming down any minute. "Why can't you tell me?" he asked, already knowing and dreading the answer.

"He'd only been here three weeks, mister, and Riley's real shy, but I don't want to lose him as a friend, and what he said…it seemed kind of privet." Darrel was backing out of the room. "I need to pick up my brothers, but will you talk to Riley? Please? He needs help." And the black boy fled, leaving Ben feeling cold all over from a minute-long conversation.

Riley came down the steps, a smile on his face and a disk in his hand. "How is the research coming?" He asked quietly. Everything about Riley was quiet, but Ben was beginning to see that the boy had fortitude and strength far beyond his size.

"It's coming." Ben had also learned that Riley was a great researcher and eager to learn about the treasures that history had to offer. The man studied Riley as he settled into a chair, not missing the split-second wince as he leaned his back against the cushion. It had been a month, and still the scars persisted to show their signs in unexpected ways.

Like how Riley would look mortified if he did something loud, like laugh or clap. Or how he had cringed when he dropped a glass the other day. Or the way he sometimes jumped if Ben spoke to loud or touched him. How he got twitchy and irritable if he was in a room with a man he didn't know well.

There were many shortcomings to getting a child through the foster system, not the least of which being their nervous habits like the ones Riley had.

"I never asked how the meeting went yesterday…" Ben began watching Riley carefully. Everyone, Ben included, thought the case was a "sure thing". There was evidence of abuse, and Riley was ready to testify, if not willing. And there were other records…a hospitalization, visits to the nurse's office at school, a rape kit used once DYFS finally caught on…

Riley looked at him and used one finger to push heavy glasses further up his nose. "It was fine. Stephanie had to leave a little early to meet her boyfriend, so I got to walk through the park." Though it wasn't meant that way, Ben took this as a subtle reminder that he'd been late in picking Riley up.

"Did anything happen in the park?" And Ben knew he was on to something by the way Riley's ears turned red, a sure sign of a hidden truth. When the boy didn't answer and just tapped harder on the already-worn keys of Ben's ancient computer, the man prodded, "Riley?"

"Nothing happened." Riley looked at him pleadingly and moved an imperceptible inch further from the table. "Really, everything's fine." But his eyes were screaming his lie, and Ben couldn't ignore that.

"Did you see anyone in the park?" he asked, beginning to feel real anger rear its head once again. What was it about the slight boy that made him so emotional…so protective? "Your father?"

Ben couldn't begin to list the reasons why he hated the man. He'd told Riley he was worthless and dumb, too gross lies that nonetheless wrought havoc on the boy's psyche. The elusive "Pop" had physically and sexually abused his son in such a way as to make Riley think he was deserving of this type of abuse. Not for the first time, Riley's words of a few weeks ago came to him.

"Are you going to beat me?"

Riley didn't have to answer the question. The way his body seemed to fold in on itself was answer enough. Suddenly the anger built to a rage and Ben found himself wanting to hit something. "Did he speak to you?" Ben wondered at his ability to speak without yelling, shrieking, cursing the monster.

Large blue eyes flickered upwards and locked on Ben's for an instant. "Yeah…" Riley said, so quietly Ben could barely hear him. "Yeah, he did."

And Ben was on his feet, hands and arms and heart reaching for Riley, pulling him close both to comfort the tears that were pooling in the child's eyes and to examine the boy who had somehow become so dear to him.

Pulling up the worn fabric of Riley's favorite shirt, one of the few items he'd had before he'd moved in with the Gates, Ben forced himself to remain silent…not to let out the gasp of surprise or the moan of despair.

There had been some instinct in Ben that knew that if Riley's 'father' found him, the man would hurt Riley. And he wasn't wrong…bruises and small cuts littered Riley's newly-healing back. One abrasion near the base of his neck was in the shape of a hand.

Ben backed away, disgusted, and sat down heavily at the table, suddenly feeling very old and very, very tired. "Did he say anything to you?" Ben asked, though judging by the man's Neanderthal-like tendencies, it wasn't hard to discern the motives behind the attack.

Riley was staring at Ben with something like relief, "To not testify." He mumbled before looking away, then back again at Ben. "Sir…Ben?"

"Yeah, kid?" Ben sighed, one hand raking through his hair.

Riley's eyes were fixed on a point just above Ben's head, and his expression was sad, wistful. "Why does he hate me?"

The treasure hunter extraordinaire, one of the most learned historians in early American history had no answer for the soft question spoken so easily by the extraordinary boy.

Ben's going to get revenge. Soon. And, due to our lack of the system, and because it makes a better story, Pop isn't in custody of any sort.

Questions? Comments? Gripes? Concerns?