Or: The Return of Ian. Set somewhere between NTs 1 and 2 in my AU with Kara (see Just Along For the Ride)
The whole treasure-gang, including Patrick, had met at Abby and Ben's mansion to have lunch. Sadusky was going to be joining them, and he had requested the meeting. Abby was just finishing lunch while the other four sat in the kitchen wondering why Sadusky wanted to see them all, together. Then the doorbell rang and Ben got up to let his friend in. Sadusky was welcomed warmly when he walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the island the others were gathered around. He had evidently come from work and was probably going back. Even though he was now on friendly terms with them all, she had never seen him in anything but a suit, and she thought that he worked far too much. She was not a meddler by nature, but perhaps, in this case, a little push might be required. She was too busy musing on what this push might be to have followed the conversation.
"What?" Abby dropped the casserole on the counter, loudly and put oven-mitted hands on her hips.
"How did that happen?" Patrick demanded, standing.
"How can you let them?" Ben stood, too. Sadusky looked resigned, as though he expected this.
"Ian's out next week," Riley whispered in her ear. His face did not show outrage, or fear, or any strong emotion. He had his mask on. Kara would worry about him later.
"Guys," she said quietly. Patrick and Ben were still sputtering in outrage and Abby was laying into Sadusky pretty good, some choice German phrases interspersed in the tirade she was unleashing. "Hey," she shouted it this time, standing up on the stool. "I've got a nifty idea. Why don't we let him explain exactly how he cleverly engineered Ian's devious escape from justice?"
"Sadusky wouldn't do that." Ben said.
"Then why are you yelling at him?" Ben looked at Abby, who was realising that Kara was right, and then at Riley, who was sitting very quietly with a neutral expression, and then at Patrick, who was already back in his seat. Ben then sat, feeling slightly foolish.
"Viktor and Phil and Powell and McGregor are still in though, right?"
"Yes."
"So how is Ian,"
"Better lawyers. Perfect behaviour. A genuine or genuinely psychotic remorse and ability to manipulate the judge, jury, and court-appointed psychiatrist."
"Okay."
"If he comes near you, calls you, makes the slightest hint of taking revenge, call me immediately and I will personally get you a restraining order. If he violates that, I will throw him back into jail before he can even blink. His psychiatrist managed to convince the parole board that I should deliver these," he pulled five plain white envelopes out and handed them out. "His only court-approved initiation of contact with any of you. You are permitted to reply, but you can also," Patrick ripped his into pieces. "Do that." Sadusky finished. "I'm sorry. I don't think I will stay for lunch, thanks all the same, Dr. Chase. I have to get back to the office."
"We'll reschedule." Abby said, but most of her attention was on the envelope in her hands. Patrick had scooped up the pieces of his letter and was dumping them in the fireplace in the living room.
Kara and Riley were having lunch like the millionaires they were, eating pizza on a park bench.
"Did you read your letter?" Kara asked.
"Not yet." Riley's expression clouded over. "What about you?"
"Yeah. I think – Riley, I think he really is sorry."
"He's sorry he got caught."
"I think it's more than that. Riley, I know I wasn't in that ship with you, but he said he didn't mean to escalate it like that."
"Sure. Blame it on the dead guy. What about the threats to our life and leaving us to die?"
"Threats depend on you believing that he will use force, but he didn't, not really. Until Shaw died. Riley – they were really close, he says. If you – to watch your best friend die in front of you would mess you up pretty bad. Especially if you felt it was your fault."
"It was his fault." Riley insisted.
"Okay. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up." They sat for a moment in silence.
"Are you going to forgive him? Are you going to get in touch with him?"
"Yeah. I think so. I'll keep you out of it. We're just going to have to agree to disagree on this, okay?"
"Whatever."
She did get in contact with him. They exchange emails and met for coffee. Ian apologized profusely until Kara threatened to hit him, and he rubbed his arm and made a joke. When he wasn't maniacally chasing a treasure, he was surprisingly funny and charming. And, she believed, sincerely sorry. He didn't really know anyone except felons he was forbidden to contact and other than the treasure-hunters, she knew no one except people who wanted limelight/money. She swore her associations were more dangerous. He conceded that she was probably right. Somehow, incredibly, they became – dare she say it? – friends.
