History

Ian sat in the waiting room of the hospital with his head in his hands; Ben and his bird had left, and he was glad to have some time alone; yeah, he just needed some time alone to think about everything that had happened, that would make things clear.

He reckoned it had all started in jail. With so much free time on his hands he had a good thinking about what had happened; he felt so foolish to have jeopardized his lifelong friendship with Ben for money…..that goddamn money. It had been a hell of an adventure, and he still had to smile when he thought about the way Ben eventually got him arrested; the cheeky bastard. It had taken Ian by surprise to see Ben standing outside the prison gate on the day he was released, and it took a while before the weird tension between them had passed….but after that, it seemed like the college-days again. Although, sometimes, in the beginning, he had searched for signs that would tell him Ben didn't trust him. But he knew that was not like Ben, God bless the good man. However great their reunion was, Ben didn't just look him up for that. Apparently Ben's wife Abigail had discovered an ancient book which could be of great value for the research of ancient languages, but of course they weren't the only ones who were after this little artefact. He had felt so proud to accept Ben's request for help, so damn proud. And by god, it had been a great journey – and they had managed to obtain the book -, but at this point he would have gladly reversed the whole ordeal.

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "You can go see him now, but just for a little while, he's still asleep. So please, be silent." He nodded and quickly entered the small hospital room, afraid the nurse would for some reason change her mind. The sight of the young man lying so still in his bed made his heart miss a beat. How could he fucking have let this happen?! He was responsible, he should have kept him safe. For fucks sake, he had promised him, just before they had left the museum….he could still hear his own voice "Don't worry kid, I'll look after you." But he hadn't seen the man behind the car, he had seen the gun too late…..and now here he was, standing in this cold hospital room, looking at his friend.

He sat down in a chair next to the bed, and let his head rest in his hands again. His thoughts were racing, but the sleepless nights since the shooting started taking their toll, and it wasn't for long that Ian felt his eyes getting heavy with sleep. He fought it for a while, thinking he needed to be awake to be there for Riley, thinking over and over about what had happened. "Why," he thought, just before he fell asleep, "why did you do that? Did you mean what I think you meant?...."

Riley looked at the man that had once been his enemy. He sat in a chair next to the hospital bed, and his head rested in his hands. He looked tired. In fact….he was asleep. A smile formed around Riley's lips. Ian the great, tough man-of-the-word, worried sick about….him. He slowly turned is head, afraid to move his wounded body, and stared at the window. The curtains were closed, but through a small opening between them he could see the black sky. "Endless," he thought, "endless, remarkable." He tried to hold on to that thought, but couldn't fight the upcoming memories for very long…..the book, Ian, the museum, the things he said to Ian moments before he himself got shot. Oh god, he had been so scared, lying on the cold pavement, fighting to stay awake. He remembered the confusion, voices screaming, someone holding him tight, Ian pleading for him to open his eyes, it was all such a mess in his head. And now here he was, in a hospital room, finding himself staring at the man sitting next to his bed. He didn't remember turning his head, but he caught himself staring nonetheless….he still remembered his disbelief when Ben had told him he and Ian were picking things up again. "Are you insane, I mean, uh, how, oh god Ben, you can't be serious?" He had finally given in because Ben was, like, his best friend, his brother, and he realised he hadn't regretted that decision. "Funny," he thought, "it's funny how almost dying makes you realise the truth about things that were in front of you all along. Why does it always take such extreme measures to smarten up?" He sighed. "Truth, such a funny concept, the truth always comes out they say," he mused while his memories brought him back to the moments just be fore he got shot. He thought about his own truth, the truth he had revealed to Ian, the truth that was out there, but remained unanswered, uncommented on, maybe would never be touched upon again. And as he tore his eyes of the friend sitting next to his bed, he sighed again. "Riley," he thought, "you're a pathetic excuse for a man. Forget about it. You're enough of a nuisance as it is, even for a nobody. God, they didn't even read your book." Tears started swelling up in his eyes, and he wondered if this was another truth, or maybe, dare he think it, just a thing in his mind, imagination. He hoped the latter, but feared the first….cause that was what people had taught him to do, had told him it was all he deserved, for years. That was the only kind of personally history Riley new…and by God, how he hated personal history. He wondered if he'd ever have some nice history.

"Fuck." Riley turned his head, startled by the sound, feeling the sudden movement throughout his whole body. He groaned. Ian looked at him, bewildered. "His head must have slipped out of his hands," Riley thought, smiling at the man looking at him. It took Ian only seconds to gather his thoughts and realize what was happening. "Jesus, Riley are you okay do you need anything can I get you anything please forgive me I hadn't seen the man I'm so stupid are you sure you don't need anything I'll get the doctor don't worry no I'll stay it's all my fault you must hate me please don't hate me I…" Riley held up his hand. "Stop, please stop Ian, you're not making any sense. Calm down." Ian smiled sheepishly, staring at the bed cloth, "I'm sorry…you should rest." Silence followed, a heavy silence, Riley still heaving away the pain, Ian gathering his thoughts, wondering if he should say anything, at all. He felt silly, and insecure, feelings he did not like at all. He glimpsed at the young man lying in front of him, and he decided now was as good a time as ever. "I was scared." Silence. "We all were, you're our friend Riley, we were all afraid to lose you. But that's not what I mean." Riley remained silent, holding his breath to hear every word of what was about to come. "It's not a truth," he thought, "they do care." And it was not so much he gathered that from those few words Ian said, although they were nice to hear, no, he could see it all over Ian's pain stricken face. He waited, as Ian struggled to find his words. "What I mean is, I was scared when I saw you collapse and hit the pavement, when I held you, trying to get you to stay awake, to open your eyes...," pause, "scared I wouldn't get the chance to tell you that I know what you meant," pause, "that I know what you meant, and , well, you know…" Riley smiled. He had a pretty good idea of what those non verbalized words were. "Well, aren't you going to say anything, why are you smiling?" Ian desperately tried to sound cool, normal, but knew he was caught. "Oh nothing, just a thought," Riley chuckled. "About what?" And as Riley's fingers softly touched Ian's hand he said, "history."