River shook his head as Watson spoke, unwilling to listen, unwilling to believe. Father Lamont had told them time and time again that the outside world was dangerous. Strangers would try to weave false narratives in order to trick and ensnare, and the boys couldn't allow themselves to be tempted by demonic tongues. This Watson, he seemed friendly enough, but what was that adage? You attract more flies with honey than with vinegar? If the police officer wanted to harm them, it certainly made sense he would pretend to be their friend. But River and Ezekiel didn't have friends. They only had one another. River had given Watson their names in a desperate attempt to free him and Ezekiel from their hold, and all it had resulted in was pain for both of them. Ezekiel's mother was coming, and River was sure the woman would want to tear them apart, just like everyone else. Perhaps the officer's words had some ounce of truth to them, but River didn't want to consider it.<br/><br/>“You don't understand,” River repeated, shaking his head, though his eyes did briefly grace the files and papers Watson had presented to him. He shifted Ezekiel in his lap slightly like a parent might a toddler, continuing to stroke the blonde's soft hair as his bright, sad eyes examined the evidence displayed before him. “Why should we believe any of this?” River asked slowly, looking up at Watson and shrugging his shoulders. “You could have made all this up. You were gone a while. You and your people could have fabricated these things to try and trick us.” Clearly, River did not share Ezekiel's doubt, or perhaps he was just in a desperate loop of denial, unable to snap himself out of it.<br/><br/>Both boys were silent while they waited for the food Watson promised, though they shared identical looks of distrust as the sandwiches and shakes were placed in front of them. Instinctively, River did not touch anything until Ezekiel did, though his stomach growled and ached at the sight of the food. When Ezekiel finally took the first bite and did not seem to suffer any consequences, River mimicked him, taking a bite from the andwich and then a long sip from the cup, his tongue savoring the sweet flavor of the vanilla milkshake. Father Lamont never would have given them anything like this. The sandwiches, maybe, but not a milkshake. Sugar was bad, very bad, and sweet things were temptations left by the devil to lead boys into sin. But even after a few long sips, nothing seemed to happen to either Ezekiel or River. Nothing at all.<br/><br/>Things were calm for a short while. Watson didn't bother them, and the boys were allowed to eat their meal in silence, which they liked. Talking was typically overrated, especially between the two of them. They mostly communicated physically, with delicate hands and affectionate kisses. Words were superfluous. River only barely registered Watson's absence when the older man stood up and left the room, uncaring that he was gone. A few minutes passed before a middle-aged woman came bursting through the room, and both boys looked up at her, eyes wide and terrified as she stared at Ezekiel, still sitting contentedly in River's lap.<br/><br/>When she rushed for the older boy, even River was terrified, and he cried out as Ezekiel flung them both to the floor, grunting as his shoulder hit the ground<i>hard</i>. But the pain didn't concern him as much as Ezekiel did, and River threw himself on top of Ezekiel to shield him from the imagined beatings that were never going to come. It was a habit he had grown into whenever Father Lamont came down the stairs, seething over some perceived insult or mistake the boys had committed. Eventually he had learned the best way to punish the boys was to threaten the other, and even in the real world outside of Lamont's basement, River did the only thing he knew: sacrifice himself.<br/><br/>Cassandra Benett called her husband and spoke to him in harsh tones, but River did not move from his protective position, he refused. Watson's partner, his bronze nametag glistening OFFICER N. KELLER in the harsh lighting, had entered the room behind the two adults, his eyes drifting from the boys on the floor to the hysterical woman and back again. When she began hissing at Watson, he shook his head and nodded to the boys.<br/><br/>“Ma'am, with all due respect, I don't think you understand. Merely suggesting these two separate for even a minute will send the boys into an absolute tailspin. We had to pull teeth to even get them to tell us their names. We don't know where they've been all this time or what they've gone through, but it's apparent they've suffered some... psychological trauma. If you go in there trying to haul your son away and pull him from the only person he seems comfortable with, you're likely to inflict even more damage on him than he's already suffered. We understand you want your son back, but this is an extremely delicate situation.”<br/><br/>“Go away,” River mumbled, not to anyone in particular, situating himself a little more loosely on top of Ezekiel now that the woman was keeping her distance. “It's okay, Zeke, I'm here. I'm scared, too.”<br/><br/>He looked over his shoulder at Watson, his eyes narrowing, avoiding the harsh look of the blonde woman who was trying to take his Ezekiel away. “We want to leave now.”