Nota Bene:

This story has been kicking around since August, 2005, mostly in notes. However, I am rewriting most of this as my original timeline did not accommodate Book of Secrets. Also, I am less than thrilled about how cringe worthy my original notes look in the cold light of day. My challenge will be to write this in a manner in which I'm not treading on the toes of those who have already posted Riley-had-a-poor-life-before-meeting-Ben-and-finding-the-treasure stories.

This chapter is mostly a feeler, to see what interest is out there. The rest of the plot has not been definitively drafted out at this point. I am only working from a vague idea. It's possible that this could become quite contrived before I'm through. Worse case scenario is that it will become a crack addled work of insanity. At least it will be Riley-centric, crack addled insanity.

Obligatory Disclaimers:

1) I do not own the National Treasure characters. Sigh. I wouldn't mind owning a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed actor, but IMDB says he's already spoken for. Double damn! (Because one damn just won't do. )

2) I do not own any song lyrics that will preface this and the subsequent chapters. The artists will be credited accordingly, I promise.

3) I do my best to go over things (no beta), but errors never make themselves known to me until after I post my stories to the Internet. It's a constant that I have grown used to over the last eight years.

4) It has been a long time since I have written a long story one chapter at a time and posted as such, so bear with me. As my job and other obligations (like marketing my book) will certainly take priority, I cannot guarantee frequent updating. I wish I could take all the time in the world, but calling in to tell my boss, "Sorry, I can't come in, because my fan fiction needs attention," will not score me any points.

I guess that's all I can summon from my sleep deprived brain at this point. Let the storytelling commence! (*Bites lip and whimpers nervously before exposing said crack addled insanity to the poor, unsuspecting public.*)

Chapter One

"Well, I'm not crazy. I'm just a little unwell. I know right now you can't tell, but stay a while and maybe then you'll see a different side of me."

-Matchbox 20

Riley sat on his futon, in shock, mindlessly folding, unfolding and twisting a piece of paper in his hands. The content of the letter was still trying to sink in, the vessels of words trying to penetrate the mental wall it took him a lifetime to build.

It had happened three and a half months ago. That was how long it had taken for his father's lawyer to track him down. The letter was formal, stiff, cold. It might have been a grocery list for all the warmth it contained.

Dear, Mr. Ryerson P. Landley III:

It is my obligation to inform you that your father died in a car accident on October 16th of year last. In his will, you are listed as his sole heir. Your father's estate includes his entire fortune, the family home in Connecticut and the vacation home on Martha's Vineyard.

There will be an official reading of his will at my office on January 25th at 9 a.m., at which point you will be the legal owner of all remaining assets, minus fees for my services and the private investigator that your father contracted. Your presence is requested to sign the required documents in front of witnesses.

You can contact me at 555-523-4978, should you have any questions.

Regards,

Oliver Statten

Attorney at Law

Riley crumpled the letter into a ball one final time and threw it across his living room. He buried his head in his hands. Why did he have to be found? Why did the lawyer have to condescend to use his former name? Why did his father have to be so cruel as to leave him all that he had run away from? Why did the bastard have to hire a private investigator to track Riley down? His father hadn't wanted Riley when he was alive. Why were things different now that the old man was dead?

"The asshole must be laughing from his grave," Riley muttered. A part of him wanted to cry, but not to grieve over his father. He mourned the fact that all this had been exposed to the cold light of day, despite his efforts to keep himself hidden. Why couldn't his past stay buried like his emotions? His tears stubbornly refused to come to the surface. Riley could only utter an aggrieved moan.

His cell phone rang, jolting Riley from his thoughts. How did the world know when he didn't want to talk to anybody and why did it always pick that time to call? Sighing in frustration, he grabbed the phone and pressed the "Talk" button.

"Hello," he said, his voice sounding as flat as he felt.

"Riley, what happened to you? Are you all right?" Ben sounded slightly frantic.

"I'm fine," Riley lied. "Why? What's up?"

"You're two hours late."

"Late?" Riley pondered. What was he late for? Then, it hit him like a cold wash of ice water. He was supposed to Ben and Abigail's home for dinner. Ben's parents were invited as well. A quick glance at his digital clock told him it was 9:30 p.m.

"Shit! Ben, I'm sorry. I guess I forgot. I've been sort of preoccupied."

"You forgot?" Ben asked incredulously. "We all thought something had happened to you. It's not like you not to call. You had us all worried."

"Look, Ben, I said I was sorry. I got involved working on something."

"And you couldn't let us know that you wouldn't make it?" Ben's voice had developed a distinct edge and Riley bit his lip.

He didn't need the attitude right now. Lord knew how he didn't need it. Riley wanted desperately to tell him what was going on and how he really wasn't fine, but that story would dredge up a lot of pain, not to mention, a hopelessly entangled web of lies. Better to have them miffed at him for a dinner than eternally angry at him for years of deceit. Better to lose the battle than lose the war and the only friends he had.

"No," Riley said softly. "I guess I just lost track of the time." Ugh. How lame was that excuse? He braced himself for Ben's inevitable lecture, but none came. Instead, Ben emitted an exasperated sigh.

"Ben? It was just a dinner. There will be others. I really just forgot. I didn't do it to offend you." At least that part was true if nothing else.

"If you will excuse me, Poole," Ben said edgily, "I have to do some damage control with Abigail. I don't think she will be very understanding as she overcooked the turkey waiting for you to show up." With that, Ben hung up.

Riley pushed the "Talk" button and let the phone drop to his side on the futon's soft cushion. He couldn't blame Ben for being angry at him since he now had to go to bat with Abigail on his behalf. Riley grimaced as he envisioned Abigail's likely reaction to the news. It wouldn't be a pretty sight. She would be pissed on a nuclear level and rightly so. Boy, Riley owed his friend a huge apology and an even bigger favor when he got this sorry mess resolved.

Right now, the matter at hand took precedent. He woke his laptop up from its deep sleep and brought up the website for Bradley International Airport. He had four days to get back to Connecticut and the prison of a life he had left behind.