I don't own Doyle. I don't own The Secret Saturdays.
I do own Benton, Corbin, Zander, the unnamed extras, and...the reason for the chapter title.

(There were originally two reasons, but this chapter has since been split off from the next one. I'll have to come up with a different title for that one.)

Note: Certain elements of this story—such as mythological concepts, geological features, and any other cultural elements—are a blend of reality, official canon, and things that I made up as I went along.
Mostly things I made up as I went along. I hope to salvage them for my original fiction.

As I've mentioned in previous chapters, for a while, Doyle will be referred to alternately as "the boy" or "the child," rather than by name.
The reason is simple: the chapters in question are told mostly through the point of view of other characters, people who don't know Doyle's name. (Well, there's another reason, but Doyle doesn't admit to that until the next chapter.)
About the only confusion I see is when I have two or three (or more) males referenced in a paragraph. I try to avoid that, or elaborate when I can, but the question of which "he" or "him" I'm referring to may still come up.
As I've learned in programming classes, "a mistake is sometimes visible only to another pair of eyes," so if you spot problems like that, please let me know!

Stray

The train ride took most of a day, leaving Benton plenty of time to observe the child.

He had many questions for the boy, but he couldn't even begin to decide how to ask. For instance, how had the child made it so far in so little time? If he'd gone by train, it might have been easy; easier still when he considered that Fae hadn't seen him in over a year.

Easy, that is, but for the necessary money or supplies to last him all that while. And given the child's behavior, Benton didn't think he'd have willingly traveled among so many people for any length of time. No, this child must have been alone and on foot. Something had convinced the boy to change his mind about Benton, but the hunter could see that it was difficult.

Then there was the question of how far the boy had traveled since Benton had last seen him. The only way the hunter could figure it was that the boy had wandered through the heart of the woods and mountains, through areas thought to be the gods' own hunting grounds, through places even Benton was superstitious enough to avoid.

The more details Benton managed to glean from his observations, the more he realized that he knew absolutely nothing about this child. Where had he come from? How long had he been alone? Why was he alone?

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the food cart. Benton bought two sandwiches and set one in front of the child.

The boy glanced once at the food, then stared at the floor. Benton raised an eyebrow and took the sandwich back, took a big bite of it, and closed his eyes as if in bliss. "Mm, this is delicious," he said, watching the child out of a corner of his eye. "Possibly the best sandwich I've ever had." He took another bite, then set the sandwich down. "And...ah, so filling. That's just what I needed."

The boy turned to stare at him with an odd look. The fear remained, but so was something new...something...calculating, almost.

The expression cleared, and Benton wondered if he'd imagined it. The child reached for the food, then snatched his hand back, watching the hunter.

"When we get to Corb's, there are some things you're going to have to learn," Benton said. "I think that we could start your lessons now. Beginning with etiquette."

"Eti—" The child frowned and mouthed the unfamiliar word before trying again. "Eti...ket?"

Benton nodded. "Oh, ah, sorry. It means manners. Being polite. Like saying—"

"Please?" the boy said, looking between Benton and the sandwiches.

"Right," Benton replied with a chuckle. "Liking saying 'please' when you want something." He held out the other sandwich, but the child drew back and shook his head. The child pointed at the half-eaten sandwich. "You want...the one I started eating?" The child nodded, and Benton just shrugged and handed it to him.

The child devoured every last crumb, pausing only for a mumbled "thank you," while Benton took only a few bites of the other sandwich. The hunter saw with mild amusement that the boy watched him again with that calculating look. Benton set the second sandwich in front of the child and continued to observe.

"You know, kid," a woman's voice said, "if he'd wanted to poison you, he could do it easy without hurting himself."

Benton glared at the woman who leaned against the door. She shrugged and smiled, a cold, calculating smile that was nothing like the look the child had been giving him. "Could be he's got medicine on him to make him better afterwards, or maybe it's some poison that he's got a tolerance for, so he doesn't get sick. He kills animals for money, so he probably uses poison on them; he could've given you some of that."

The boy stared at the sandwich, white-faced.

Crap! Is that what that was about? Benton turned to the woman, shifting to hide the child from her view. "Are you trying to scare him? Or do you think it's funny that he's practically starving?"

He nearly shouted that last, knowing there were other passengers who'd faced hunger, or who had family and friends with such difficulties. They would not appreciate her humor any more than he had.

She merely shrugged again and walked off, unfazed by the people glowering at her.

Benton trembled in barely controlled rage. First the villagers, then that—that—

What did those people want with this child? Why had those like that woman been asking the farmers those questions? For Benton was certain that the woman had been one of them; the same ones, he was sure, who'd been asking about that gypsy woman and her protector, a few years back. He would stake his life on it.

Between his anger and the child's fear, the second sandwich went uneaten.

—

"Found him," the woman said into her radio. She withdrew a small weapon, nothing as flashy as that spear, but infinitely more effective.

"Solés," the voice on the radio said, "don't even think about it."

She stopped. "Am I allowed to ask why? We've been trying to grab this kid since—"

"Since you had his parents killed and allowed the child to escape?" the voice suggested in entirely too pleasant a voice.

She trembled. "Sir, I am trying to remedy that. I need—"

"To observe the child, only. That girl has finally come out of the monastery, and our people have determined that she has...atrophied. She may yet be of use to us, but not so much that we can risk grabbing her without further observation. Do you really wish to eliminate potential specimens, just to acquire one child who may also have atrophied?"

Solés decided it would be unwise to remind her superiors about what they'd learned from those farmers.

"Or to risk losing him—again—in the confusion?" the voice added. "You are to observe the child, and observe, only. You watch where he goes, what he does. You gather information on the child so we can decide if he is still useful, and you make certain that you always know where he is so we can collect him when we choose. Nothing more."

"Understood, sir."

—

Nobody bothered them for the rest of the trip, though Benton thought he'd seen that woman and other grey-coated people snooping around.

He never did convince the child to eat again, and did not know whether the child would choose to starve rather than risk poison. He was thankful that they had reached their destination; he was confident that Corb could deal with that problem before it became a problem.

The train pulled into the station, and Benton eventually coaxed the child into following him outside, and they finished the journey on foot.

The sight of the boy outpacing him should have amused the hunter, but very little could force its way through Benton's anger.

The boy cringed away from the hunter, unaware that Benton's anger was not directed at him.

"Ho! Benton!" Corbin called out. "This the lad you wanted me to see? Your wild child?"

Benton's smile upon seeing his old friend was tight. "Aye, this is him."

"Benton," Corbin scolded when they neared. "He looks half-starved. Don't tell me you didn't feed him."

Benton's smiled faded. "You recall what I'd said before, when I'd first seen him, right? With that fox?" Corbin nodded. "I'd gotten him to eat a bit, on the train, except he wouldn't even look at the food until after I'd tried it. Only...." Corbin waited for him to continue. Benton sighed in disgust and told him what that woman had said.

Corbin grimaced. "I agree that her...joke...was less than tasteful, but maybe she only spooked—" Benton interrupted with a shake of his head. "No? Well, if he'd been living as a beggar, he could've easily gotten food that'd gone bad—"

"You didn't see his face, Corb," Benton interrupted again. "I ate it and was just fine. He watched me eat it; he saw that I was fine." He grimaced. "I won't know until he says, but I think someone tried to poison him on purpose." And she knew it, too, didn't she? Benton shook with anger. She wasn't being mean...wasn't just being mean. He had been poisoned, and she knew it.

Corbin rubbed at his forehead, and sighed. "Well, given your story about that fox, might be I can do something right away." They immediately set to work coaxing the child into the house, and Corbin requested the servants to prepare a simple meal.

He did not specify how simple the fare must be, or explain the reason. The household was entirely too familiar with the strays he took in.

Rather than join the child at the small meal of hot bread and milk, or attempt to encourage him to eat the food that he only stared at, Corbin held a whispered consultation with Benton and one of the servants.

The servant ran off for a moment, and returned with one of Corbin's older cats and placed the animal on the table.

The cat investigated the child, then helped itself to the dish. After it had lapped up half the milk, it stretched and made itself comfortable in the child's lap.

Finally, the child decided to eat, but even then, he only picked at the food.

Corbin shook his head. "He's not a completely lost cause," he said, "but this will be difficult."

"Corb?"

"He seems willing to trust the animals' judgment," Corbin replied. "That's a good sign, especially given what your grey woman had said to him. But...." He shook his head.

—

Corbin tried to give the child another helping, but he refused to eat it. Neither Corbin nor Benton could decide if this was because the cat ignored it after a sniff, or if the child simply didn't want any more. On the one hand, an additional problem with the child's ability to trust; on the other, an intelligent decision not to stuff himself. Given what Benton had said about the child, either one was likely.

Corbin finally gave up on the food and tried to encourage the boy to follow him to the next step: a quick medical exam.

Benton raised one eyebrow to see Dr. Perez waiting for them, but he said nothing.

A few minutes later, Perez gave the child a clean bill of health. "Naturally," the doctor said, "there are a few problems with malnourishment, but as long as you can convince him to trust you, that should be fixed easily enough. Given what Benton had said of the child's eating habits, I don't think you'll have to worry about him ever stuffing himself sick, though I'd keep an eye out for a while, just to be sure."

Corbin nodded. Good news, so far. Better than he'd expected.

"It's amazing, though." Perez shook his head, unable to believe his own findings. "In spite of those habits, I've found no evidence of food poisoning—the natural kind," he quickly amended after noticing Benton's anger. "It will take more than that quick exam to check for any other sort. And do you know, I haven't found even a hint of a parasite on him? I haven't seen nobles this clean."

Corbin thanked the doctor, and after a promise to let him know how things turned out, saw him on his way.

"Well, young one," Benton said, "what do you say we take a look around, huh? That sound like a good idea, Corb?"

"Sure," Corbin called back. "He may be here a while. The sooner he gets to know the grounds, the better. Least if he wouldn't rather find his bed, first."

The child shook his head. "When...." He looked between Corbin and Benton, uncertain who to address. "When do I start working?"

Corbin hesitated for just a moment. Then he smiled at the boy. "In the morning, I'd wager." He summoned one of the servants to show the child around. "Ah, Benton?" he called, the smile vanished. "A word, please?"

Benton followed the child and servant outside, forcing Corbin to rush to keep up.

Corbin pulled him back so they could speak privately without whispering. "Benton, exactly how long have we known each other?"

Benton thought for a moment. "Probably since we've been in diapers. Or near enough as to make no difference."

"And how long have you been bringing strays to me?"

"Almost that long." Benton's expression turned grim again; he knew where this was going, and had hoped he could have talked it over with Corb before it had come up any other way.

"Since when did you think it was a good idea to let that boy think he's here so I can put him to work?"

"Well, he seemed to hit it off well enough with those farmers. You know enough of them can't afford another mouth to feed, unless it's attached to a hand that can work."

"Benton—" Corbin's tone adopted a warning note.

Benton sighed. This was not how he'd wanted to approach the subject. "He told me—he told me—that you don't get something for nothing. He'd figured out I'd been leaving things for him, like clothes and food and that knife and stuff.... And he decided I must want something from him in return."

Corbin blinked a few times. "Crap. So if I try to convince him that I'm taking him in because it's the right thing to do—" He shook his head, and ran a hand through his hair.

"He won't understand," Benton replied.

"Or worse, won't believe me," Corbin added. "I don't want him thinking I'm only pretending to be nice." He shook his head. "Damn it all." He looked up only briefly to see the child investigating the stables up ahead. He looked back at the ground and thought for a while. "Benton?"

Benton looked away from the stables. "Yeah?"

"What...sort of job am I supposed to be giving him? Did you talk to him about that?"

Benton scratched his head. "That's kind of up to you, but...." He let out a quick breath. "The kid asked me what I wanted, so I told him—" He shrugged. "I told him about Zander. I told him maybe he could help Zander feel better. I figure, if nothing else, Zander'd be a good inf—"

Something that wasn't human shrieked within the stables, and both men took off at a run.

The servants, accustomed as they were to Corbin's strays, did not spook easily, but this one was frantic. It didn't take long to see why.

"Sir, I'm sorry, I don't know how he got in there—"

"What happened?" Corbin demanded. He looked to see the child pressed up in a corner behind one of the more vicious animals.

"It's Viper, sir," the servant managed to reply. "The kid, he—he'd gotten into Viper's stall—I'm sorry, I was watching him, I don't know how—but now he can't get out past Viper, and the stallion won't let us near enough—"

"Enough," Corbin said. He waved away the servants; if the stallion was agitated any more, the child could be hurt. He approached the rearing stallion, pitching his voice to be heard over the animal's battle-cry, while still trying to sound soothing. He talked to the stallion gently, convinced it to drop to the ground and let him come closer.

He stepped around the animal to approach the child, when the stallion's teeth snapped in front of him, and he went staggering back.

Benton and Corbin stared at the animal. "He's always tolerated me," Corbin whispered. "What—?"

Viper calmed down a fraction and sniffed at the child. The two men stared at this unusual behavior.

"Corb...." Benton blinked several times. "Corb, is that...is that monster being nice to him?"

The child, apparently unaware of their confusion, reached out to pet the stallion's nose. The stallion accepted the rub, closing his eyes in a moment of bliss. He opened his eyes again immediately to glare at the other humans.

"Impossible," Corbin breathed. "I've had plenty of strays in here before; Viper's never been nice to a one of them. He isn't even nice to me, he just tolerates me." He shook his head. "He's always been okay with the foals, but any other species, he's as deadly as any snake."

—

They could not convince the child to come out of the stable, and any approach was warned off by the stallion's snapping teeth or lashing hooves.

Corbin had no choice but to give up; he tried to reassure himself that he wasn't leaving the child with a potentially deadly animal, that the stallion was actually protecting the boy.

He sent one of the servants to collect bedding from the house, and allowed the child to choose where he would sleep.

Corbin didn't think he could be surprised again that day, and merely shook his head when the child chose to lay out his things in Viper's stall.

When the child asked again about work, Corbin only said that they'd talk about it in the morning.

Section 2: Oh, so that's why they haven't gone after Drew.... And why they haven't gotten Doyle yet. (Aeron's interference in "Runaway" besides the point.)
And there is clearly a difference of opinion within the ranks of the Grey Men regarding effective techniques...and not just between Solés and Epsilon. How much is simply a question of time (and Epsilon's argument for why Solés failed), and how much an actual difference of opinion, I don't know.

Section 3: I wanted to give Doyle some milk toast, but Corbin told me that adding the butter might be overdoing it, at least until he has a better idea of what Doyle can digest. So he got hot bread and milk instead....

Original characters:
Dr. Perez started out as a character in my Skinwalker storyline. You may learn a little of his background (including the reason why Benton showed mild surprise upon seeing him) in that storyline...whenever I get around to writing it. Suffice, for now, to say that he's not a conventional "family practice" doctor; Doyle's experience thus far with other people is probably the only reason why Perez was an appropriate choice...maybe the only choice.
I don't know the reason for his name; it is not meant to reflect cultural or ethnic heritage in any way. Unlike some of my other original characters (and at least one of Doyle's aliases), I did not choose to call him that.
That's just the name assigned to him by whichever part of my brain is responsible for labeling (like Solés, Marie, Jacob, and at least one other original character, who will make her first appearance in a few arcs...and at least one of Doyle's aliases).
And like those other characters, the name stuck.