AN: I'm new to the National Treasure fanfiction scene... So, bear with me if the characters are slightly OOC. Though this is fanfiction, so in reality, I can make them act however I want :)

Summary: Ben's not the only one with a weird, treasure-protecting family. Shelly Witchor, Riley's great grndmother, just might have left behind a clue to a treasure more valuable than gold... The location of the Fountain of Youth. How can our favorite boys pass that up? Eventual Ben/Riley, brief Ben/Abigal.

Disclaimer: I do not own either of the National Treasure movies. Unfortunately.

FDOS: This first part is just a short, sad piece about Riley's great-grandma and the hatred of birthdays.

Prologue: The Library of Shelly Witchor

Little Falls, New York

1988

Shelly Witchor had been an eccentric yet lovable individual since her romping youth and this personality remained even now, at the amazing age of ninety-nine. She was supposed to be deathly ill. No, she was deathly ill and should have been lying in a hospital bed with her friends and family beside her. Despite the wheezing breaths that she could barely draw, despite the almost unbearable pain squeezing at her lungs, despite her fever and dizziness and great-grandson that wanted to see her before she left this world, Shelly knew that she had a responsibly. The secret was no longer safe. That…that infernal man had entered the family. He was an imposter, a power-hungry thief, an abusive monster! She would not let him have the secret. It belonged only to her great-grandson. No one else!

Her feeble hands clutched the string-bound papers, shaking from her deteriorating health and fear that their precious secret would never be found. The boy was smart, that she knew for certain, but it would be years before he found this library and even longer for him to be curious enough to intricately explore. Doubts flooded her. She couldn't guarantee that he would stay home with the family. He loved her and his parents dearly, but he'd always expressed a desire to travel the world. The kid was a crackling, restless ball of energy and she feared that he would leave as soon as he was able. What if that evil man found it first? He'd use it to his advantage! The world would never know the truth if he got his slimy hands on it!

A wet, hacking cough rose in her throat, stalling her racing mind for the moment. She was running out of time. Wasting it on silly worries wouldn't get her anywhere. Shelly finally arrived at the perfect hiding place and stopped there, gazing down at the notes she was holding. Her hands were no longer trembling. This was her responsibility, her last duty to her loved ones and the world. She would just have to trust that her great-son would discover it someday. And when that day came… He would be revered throughout history. She suddenly let out a breathless chuckle as she tucked the papers away.

"Maybe the little brat won't hate history so much if he's part of it…"

When the final piece was in place, Shelly closed her tired eyes, the smile from her laughter still stretching the wrinkles on her face. This was how they found her two hours later and the coroner pronounced her death at 7:15 PM, Saturday, November 24th, 1988. In a quaint, moderate-sized home close nearby, a seven-year-old boy listened to his parents whisper to someone over the phone. Tears welled up in his soft blue eyes. From that point onward, Riley Poole knew that he would always hate his birthday. It had taken his Nana from him.

AN: Any good so far? Let me know and I may continue.