Here's the first chapter of yet another OC story I'm trying out. Yes, I can hear some of you already. "Haven't you done enough?"
Well, I probably have, but there's always a way to improve things and make them better. This is one of those ideas that lodged itself in my brain and wouldn't let go, no matter how hard I tried to release it.
A special thanks to Jade Opal, my awesome Beta reader! Thanks for your help, you rock!
Disclaimer: I have never owned and never will own National Treasure, its characters, plot, etc.
-O-
"Now remember: this paper will make up a large portion of your grade, and it's due -"
The shrill ring of a bell pierced the air, interrupting the sentence. Professor Samantha Evans gave her students a weary smile.
"Well, you all should know the date by now. You are dismissed," She said to her class.
The many students filed out of the room, and Samantha sat down at her desk, sighing as she eyed the stacks of papers littering the top of it.
"A teacher's work is never done," She mumbled to herself, though she smiled as she spoke. She had a deep love of teaching, especially when it came to the art history class that she taught now. She had been teaching for almost 5 years, and had enjoyed every minute of it. When she was in college herself, she knew she would have to choose between American history and art history, and it hadn't been an easy choice. History was her other passion, though art eventually won her over in the long run.
She put on a pair of thin-framed reading glasses and began to dig into the mound of papers, biting her lip as she focused all of her attention on grading the papers. As soon as the last student left, the phone rang, interrupting what would have been total silence. Letting out an annoyed sigh, she picked up the receiver without looking up.
"This is Samantha Evans." She said into the phone, speaking with a light accent.
"Hello Professor, am I interrupting anything?"
A faint smile crossed her lips at the sound of the familiar voice. She took her glasses off, setting them on the desk.
"Ah, not at all, Mr. Gates. It's about time you called: I was beginning to think you'd dropped off the face of the earth."
"I could say the same about you. I tried to call you, but you never answered. And is that a… French accent, I hear?"
"Well, if you'd have answered any of my calls, you'd have known I spent the last 9 months studying in Paris, Ben."
Samantha paused from writing for a moment, leaning back in her chair as she twisted the pen around in her fingers. "So I assume you've been busy as well? With the usual?"
"Of course, Sam," She could practically hear the smile in his voice. "That's actually what I was calling you about. You'll never believe this."
"Believe what?" Samantha questioned, wondering what Ben had up his sleeve this time.
She thought back on all the times he'd called like this before, saying the two of them should head out to check out some new artifact or historical record that might have something to do with the clue.
"I figured out what the Charlotte is."
Samantha froze, nearly dropping the phone from her ear. "Y-You figured out the clue?"
She stammered, her face blanched. The two of them had spent nearly 15 years trying to decipher it, only to end up hitting brick walls and dead ends. And he finally figured it out while she was gone? 'Story of my life.' She thought to herself.
"Yeah. Look, I'll explain everything to you over lunch. Could you meet me at Café Cannelle in ten minutes?"
"I-I'll be there. See you then." She hung up the phone up the phone and rose to her feet in a daze. She grabbed her purse and her coat, leaving the room. She stopped only to tell her secretary where she was going, and she set off. Samantha started walking down the street, pausing to glance at herself in one of the store windows. She stopped walking, studying herself.
Her pale skin was offset by her darker auburn hair, which was piled up in a bun on the top of her head. She had piercing emerald eyes that could glare down the toughest person, but could still become soft and friendly in the same second. She had to admit-she looked younger than her 35 years, but she had never really cared much about her looks. Though she was a petite woman, anyone who knew the 5' 4" brunette would tell you she had a fiery temper and was a force to be reckoned with.
She started to walk again, her legs moving in quick, fluid strides as her high-heeled shoes clicked on the pavement. About 5 minutes later, she stepped into the café, where the smell of cinnamon and coffee was thick in the air. She glanced around the shop, memories flooding into her mind like raging waters. Samantha suddenly realized why Ben had chosen this little: It was where they had first met. The memory was so clear in her mind it felt like it had happened recently….
(o)
A 14-year-old Samantha Evans stepped into Café Canelle, her back-pack slung over her shoulder. She bounced to the tune of the song that was playing over the radio as she walked up to the counter, ordering her usual: a cinnamon bun and a small cup of coffee. She glanced at the crowd. Many of them were familiar faces, and the place was packed. There was only one seat open, at the corner table. There was a boy sitting there by himself, his face hidden behind a book. Grabbing her coffee and her bun, she walked over to the table.
"Excuse me?"
The boy didn't reply, and it seemed like he hadn't even heard the question.
"Excuse me?"
He still didn't look up, and Samantha was getting annoyed. She set down her things on the table, sitting down.
Apparently the boy had noticed her seating herself and looked up from his book.
"Can I help you?"
"I just needed a place to sit." Samantha said. She studied the boy's face carefully, trying to tell if she recognized him. Finally something clicked in her head.
"Aren't you the history tutor that my friend Jennifer had? You're… You're the Gates kid, right?"
Some of the kids sitting at the surrounding tables snickered to themselves, and the boy looked up, his cheeks burning.
"That'd be me." He sighed. "The 'crazy kid who believes in conspiracy theories'."
"I don't think you're crazy." Samantha stated. "That theory makes sense to me."
He blinked.
"Really?"
She nodded, leaning back in her seat.
"So…" She took a bite of her cinnamon bun, chewing it thoughtfully. "What's your name, treasure boy?" She smirked at him.
"Ben Gates."
"Well, I'm Samantha Evans."
(o)
Samantha finally snapped out of the memory, but a second too late. She started to go forward, until -
SMACK!
She found herself colliding with another person, and she let out a gasp as hot dark liquid rushed down the front of her white blouse. She looked from the coffee stain to the young man who'd walked into her, whose face had gone crimson as he picked up a pile of napkins, handing several to Samantha. She could feel color rising in her own cheeks.
"My blouse!" She managed to choke out. "Oh, this is going to stain!"
"I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention, if you need to have that dry cleaned, I could pay…" The boy babbled on as he wiped coffee off of the floor, while Samantha tended to her blouse.
She noted that he didn't look much older than any of her students, if he was even out of college at all. He appeared to be… 22, maybe a bit older? He also had a head of messy dark hair that reminded her of many of the young men in her class, who looked like they'd never go near a comb if their lives depended on it. She'd have laughed to herself at this thought, but she was too preoccupied by the babbling young man to even think about it.
"Don't worry about it," Samantha sighed. "I'm afraid I wasn't being attention either…" She tossed the wet napkins into a trash can, smoothing out her navy blue skirt.
"But, really, if I can do anything…"
The door to the shop opened, and just as someone stepped into the building, both of them looked up and cried out the same name in unison.
"Ben!"
-O-
Well, it was relatively short, but it was just a bit of an introduction to Samantha. The next chapter will be a bit longer, and chapter 3 will start up with the movie's storyline.
Chapter 2 Preview:
"Well I guess I should introduce you two formally," He smiled, motioning a hand at Samantha. "Riley, this is Samantha Evans, the friend of mine who helped start this search. Samantha, this is Riley Poole, our computer technician."
Samantha nearly choked on her coffee upon hearing these words. She looked at Riley for a moment, incredulous. Then she turned to Ben, searching his face for any sign that he was joking. He wasn't.