A/N: Sorry for the extra day's wait. Chemistry has become very, very time-consuming very, very fast. I really wanted to update yesterday, but there was simply no time. This is the next-to-last chapter - told you it was short. Mostly, I wrote this story because I had a little idea that I wanted to bring to fruition. I've still got a big idea for a new, hopefully unique National Treasure fic...but that'll take a while!


An Unfortunate Companion

"So, Riley, you change your mind?" Ian asked casually, circling the smaller man tauntingly.

Riley glared at him. He was still tied to the chair, which had been moved out of the main area to his room in the back. His face sported several marks of the encounter with Ian's henchmen. One of his eyes was swelling shut and there were several bruises on his cheeks and jaw. Most likely more on his stomach. He couldn't answer Ian's question because the duct tape was still wound around his face.

"Just nod," Ian told him. "That'll be sufficient."

Riley's glare intensified and he shook his head very firmly, twice. The universal signal for 'no.'

Ian's glare deepened and he crossed the room in two quick strides, backhanding Riley so hard the chair fell over. Riley cried out in pain but refused to let tears fall in front of the Brit. His position hurt, as his right wrist was tied between the chair and the floor.

"Now?" Ian asked him. Riley only stared up at his captor. Ian growled and kicked Riley twice in the stomach. The techie grunted and squeezed his eyes shut. "You'd better rethink your priorities," Ian muttered, shutting the light off and slamming the door, leaving Riley in complete blackness.

He trembled, whimpering in pain. Twenty-four hours ago, he'd been watching "Mission Impossible" out in the living room. Now he was tied to an overturned chair, beaten and threatened. Tomorrow – he could be dead.

--

"We're going to have to try a new strategy," Ian murmured to Powell in the kitchen. "The geek obviously isn't going to help us without some real persuasion of his own."

"Who?" Powell asked eagerly.

"I believe it's high time Dr. Gates took a larger role in this scenario."

"The girl? But she's Gates' wife. What makes you think Poole will cooperate if we have her?"

"They're a tight-knit group. He'll care. He'll do it if she begs him to."

"I don't like the idea of hurting a woman…" Powell said uneasily.

Ian shook his head. "Don't be stupid. I have no intention of laying a finger on her." When he saw his henchman's confused expression, he sighed. Imbecile. "Listen very closely. The sight of Riley getting hurt will be sufficient to make Dr. Gates beg him to cooperate. And he will. Not to mention Ben will be that much more cooperative if we have his best friend and his wife…"

--

Abigail parked her car in its usual spot near the Archives and made her way quickly to the building. Ben had tried to dissuade her from going to work that morning, but Abigail insisted. Still, the less time spent out in the open, the better. She glanced around, carefully noting her surroundings, and hurried into the building, sighing with relief when she was safely past the security desks.

At lunch, she was much more distracted. A call from Ben had informed her Riley still wouldn't cooperate. Abigail surmised from Ben's tone that this meant more beatings. She was striding along the sidewalk, considering taking the rest of the day off, when she became suddenly aware of someone walking just next to her, matching her pace exactly. She didn't look up until something cold pressed against her thigh.

Slowly, she turned her face upward. Ian grinned down at her.

Oh.

"I-Ian!" she gasped.

"Don't make a scene, Dr. Gates. Just come with us and I promise you won't be harmed."

Abigail didn't see that she had any choice. Two of Ian's henchmen were in view now, shadowing them inconspicuously. And Ian, at least, had a gun.

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. Why did Ben always have to be right?

"Good choice." Ian removed the gun but took Abigail's arm, leading her to a black Escalade parked by the curb. He ushered her into the passenger's seat, producing a pair of handcuffs and securing her hand to the seat belt. Then he manned the driver's seat as his henchmen – Powell and Viktor, Abigail thought – piled into the back.

Abigail kept her lips locked together as they drove. She tried to memorize the roads, but Ian kept taking nonsensical turns, so she gave up as they slowly left the city and coasted through a nice suburban street to an apartment block. Ian parked the car in a tiny parking lot.

As Ian unlocked her cuff, Abigail looked around at her surroundings, hoping to catch some sign of where she was. But not a single street sign was in sight. And the street was terribly deserted for a family area. Ian steered Abigail into the building and they took the elevator to the top floor. There was only one door. Ian unlocked it and stepped inside.

The apartment was nice. A small kitchen and living area. Two more henchmen were watching something on TV. They grinned at Abigail, and she looked away. Ian led her down the hall to the room at the very end. He unlocked the door and opened it a crack. It was very dark inside.

"Someone wants to see you," he announced unpleasantly.

Abigail cautiously stepped inside, feeling along the wall for a light switch as the door shut and locked behind her. She found it and the room filled with light. At first sight, there was only a bed – a hospital bed, Abigail realized with dread. And then she spotted the overturned chair and, most importantly, the person tied to it.

"Riley?"

He shifted and peered at her, horror evident in his eyes. There was no vocal response, however, which made Abigail wonder until she noticed the duct tape. She flew to his side.

"Oh, Riley. Let me help. I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt."

She found the end of the tape and gingerly began to pull. Riley didn't make a sound until the final layer, whereupon he hissed and twisted, trying to get away. Abigail's own eyes filled with tears as Riley's watered in pain. But at last, his mouth was free.

"Thanks…" he murmured, moving his jaw experimentally.

"I'll set you upright and try to get the rest of this off." Abigail grunted with effort as she pulled the chair upright and began to peel at the tape binding Riley's wrists. After a good fifteen minutes, his wrists were free and he helped Abigail with the ankles. Emancipated at last, he kicked the chair against the wall, stretching.

"Thanks," he repeated.

Abigail's eyes narrowed. "Riley Poole, you're an idiot."

He furrowed his brow, obviously surprised. "What?"

"Why wouldn't you cooperate? Why did you refuse to hack into the bank?"

"Um…let me think – because stealing's wrong!" Riley protested sarcastically.

"You could've fooled me! You stole the Declaration of Independence and the President's secret book, and now you've decided to go all innocent?" Abigail couldn't help screeching.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Riley shouted back, tears shining in his eyes. "I thought they'd just kill me if I said no. I didn't know they'd take you! If I had, I wouldn't have done it this way!" He slumped onto the floor, leaning against the wall.

Abigail's face softened. She sat down next to her friend. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just can't believe you'd put a bank's welfare over your own life."

"It wasn't just that," Riley mumbled. "Ever since I've known them, Ian and the other guys have treated me like some little kid, pushing me around, ignoring me...I wanted them to know I'm not the wimp they thought I was."

Abigail put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. Ben will find a way to get us out of this."

For a moment, Riley's usual crooked grin appeared. "Of course he will. Ben's Superman." Then his face crumpled and he hid it in knees.

Abigail put an arm around his shoulder and leaned against him for support.


A/N: Next chapter is the last. :D Review?