Convergence
Chapter Six: Intensity

August had mostly consisted of abstract strategy discussions and long poker games. Riley had actually never played poker before, but with competition like Ben, he at least managed not to outright lose that often. The treasure hunter was undoubtedly brilliant, but hiding his thoughts wasn't one of his stronger traits. Big surprise there.

Then came September, and someone decided it was time to get down to the real work before winter rolled in and made a mess of logistics. That meant things became serious. It also meant... more people and longer poker games.

The second round of introductions had gone much more smoothly than Riley's first meeting with Ian, partly because he'd been given plenty of warning this time. Mostly, though, it was because Ben hadn't met the rest of Ian's team either, meaning the younger man could just hide behind a computer and let him do all the talking. Ben was good at talking.

Ian had four henchmen. He indicated they'd been working together for quite some time, but didn't really specify what they did. Something about being 'business associates' was all he'd say. Riley had his opinions, of course...

Most of these were inspired by Shaw, Ian's right-hand man. He generally stood around playing grim overseer, rarely speaking unless he had something particularly important to say. Actually his main talent seemed to be keeping his companions in line. But what bothered Riley wasn't what Shaw did, it was what he failed to do. And that was mention his first name. Ever. Even when being introduced. People with no first name were inevitably bad news, and so the young tech resolved to keep an eye on him. Or even better, stay away from him.

Igor Powell and Viktor Shippen did the grunt work, and seemed to spend most of their time arguing about soccer. Or at least, that was what they did when Shaw's back was turned. Other than that, Riley wasn't too sure. Igor seemed genuinely interested in what they were doing, though; he kept asking questions, and was solely responsible for at least fifty percent of the historical lectures Ben gave while they were working. Rumor had it Viktor was the team's designated driver and nearly got them killed twice a week. So that was another thing to remember—never get in a vehicle with Ian's gang.

Then there was Phil MacGregor, who handled the technical side of things. Riley had been gearing up for a good old-fashioned vendetta and then, to his surprise, found that Phil had no problem with someone ten years younger than him knowing more about computers than he did. It evened out, anyway. Riley knew computers, but Phil was the expert on most of the other equipment.

His own work had largely been based around refining his tracking model. It was all well and good for the Charlotte to be somewhere off northern Greenland when they were deciding whether they needed boats or snowmobiles. If they planned to actually find a ship, on the other hand, 'northern Greenland' just wasn't going to cut it. What this meant was that while everyone else was stuck doing work, Riley got to do programming.

"Hey Riley, could you come take a look at this?"

Well, most of the time he got to do programming.

"No problem, Phil. What'd you break this time?" Vendetta? Of course not. Friendly rivalry? Well that was just what happened when you put two technophiles in the same room.

The other man smirked and waved him over. "This GPS is acting up. I tried, but I just don't have your gift for insulting electronics into working properly."

"Ahh. Yeah, you've really got to have a detailed knowledge of the circuit psyche." Riley took the receiver and scowled at it. "All right, you obnoxious device, you've got about thirty seconds to prove that you know a lake from a water-filled hole in the ground."

Phil shook his head, grinning at his young companion's antics. "Detailed knowledge of the circuit psyche, huh?"

"Trick questions. It's important to get them confused so they don't know which way to glitch." When that didn't get a response, he glanced up and made his usual offer in such situations. "I can keep going all afternoon if you want."

"Someday, I'm going to take you up on that, but not until we've got an audience."

--

Ben barely bothered to look up when the door opened anymore, but the muffled cursing and yelping in Igor's familiar accent convinced him to go have a look. What he found in the front room was the stocky Russian sprawled on the floor with several metal detectors on top of him. "You okay?"

"Nothing hurt but my pride," Igor mumbled. "Those stairs, they're a menace. Viktor had the right idea, stayin' behind to park..."

Ben reached down and helped him to his feet. "Sorry about that." His new apartment was centrally located and had a functioning doorbell, both of which were important now that it had become the command center for the Charlotte expedition. But the stairs were a bit of an issue considering all the equipment being moved in and out.

"Why d'you need these anyway?" Igor inquired, starting to pick up the detectors. "We're looking for an old ship, won't it be all wood?"

"Mostly. Some parts will be metal though, most importantly it should have a nameplate somewhere on the hull. Besides, we don't know what kind of cargo she was carrying." The other man nodded his understanding. Of all those involved in the hunt, Igor seemed the most interested in the story, as opposed to the treasure—or in Riley's case, the distraction. "These in for storage?"

"Not yet. Warehouse flooded, gotta have the techies check 'em out. Pretty big mess, really. Ian and Shaw'll be here in another hour or so, they're sortin' through the rest of it." He shouldered the detectors. "They in the back room?"

"Yeah. Phil's checking out the GPS systems and Riley's... well, he's doing something on his tracking program."

Though he wouldn't admit it to the others (he had something of a reputation to uphold), even Ben could only focus on some aspects of treasure hunting for so long. Working out travel details this far in advance was one of them. So he decided to take a well-deserved break and check up on the two who'd been in his study for the last hour and a half.

Riley was actually nowhere near the computer, instead sprawled on the floor poking at a GPS receiver. Phil was with him, but stood as soon as they entered, relieving Igor of the metal detectors. "What's all this for?"

"Flood in the warehouse. A few aren't working, Ian wants them all checked out. Said he figured you two could fix 'em pretty quick." He turned and slipped out of the room before anyone could suggest that he help them.

Ben laughed at the nasty look Phil shot after his departing comrade, and went to clear off his desk so they'd have a place to work. "Do you need any help?"

"Nah, we should have things covered." He opened a panel on the top device and scowled at what he saw there. "Ugh, what a mess. This is gonna take forever... hey Riles, do you have the wire cutters?"

Riley, who'd been moving over to the desk wearing his most businesslike expression, froze. His eyes clouded and went... well, it could really only be described as empty. Ben took a step toward him. His first thought was that his friend looked very ill.

"Riley?"

Phil glanced over and his eyes widened. "Riles, man, what's—"

"Don't call me that!"

The young tech's voice was low and cold, almost unrecognizable. Ben recoiled. He didn't sound angry, really, just... hollow. The same as his eyes.

"Don't call me that..." It was only a whisper now. And then, before anyone could react, he darted out of the room. Ben heard a door slam, then he and Phil exchanged concerned looks. What in the world...?

A blond head poked in through the doorway, looking confused. "Is everything alright? The kid just about ran over us while we were coming in." Shaw appeared next to Ian, looking distinctly ruffled. "What happened?"

Phil shook his head. "I think I offended him."

Though he decided not to comment, Ben somehow didn't think that was the problem. Riley hadn't looked like someone who was offended. That wasn't indignation. That was fear.

--

Looking back, Riley would be very surprised that he made it out of the building without severely injuring someone, most likely himself. He hadn't been paying any attention to where he was going until he found himself sitting on the sidewalk. All he knew was he had to run. To get out.

Because that's how you handle all your problems, isn't it? Run away.

His eyes narrowed and he leaned back against the cool brick wall, trying to get his panicked breathing under control. Matter of fact, that was how he handled all of his problems. There was more than one reason he lived in a van rather than somewhere more stationary. It wasn't a reflex he was ashamed of, annoying voices in the back of his mind notwithstanding. It was how he'd survived so far.

Then again, 'so far' had involved working alone in a cubicle and ignoring everyone he wasn't actively mocking. Actually working together with other people was a little different. And now that first reflex might be problematic.

God, that was stupid.

His outburst was sure to raise questions. Of course it would. How could it not? He was pretty sure he'd never done anything to hint that he might snap like that, let alone over such a simple thing. Phil couldn't have known, couldn't have had any idea.

Riles.

Just thinking the name made him shudder, and he had to fight to keep his breathing even. Only one person called him Riles. Only one. Nobody else had ever been allowed to use that name, and nobody else ever would.

Footsteps came up behind him and he frowned. Just someone else leaving their apartment. Definitely just... when the footsteps stopped just beside him, he bowed to the inevitable and looked up. Sure enough, Ben was standing there. Wonderful. This couldn't go anywhere good.

The older man didn't say anything, which was somewhat disconcerting. He just stood back and watched as Riley slowly started to pull himself together, which really wasn't that easy with someone staring at him. As soon as he'd calmed enough to speak, he looked up. "Hello." Immediately he regretted saying anything, because that hadn't come out at all as calm as he'd been hoping for. And it would probably prompt Ben to ask something stupid, like—

"Hey. You okay?"

Like that.

Riley shot him a scowl. Do I look okay? "Yeah, fine." If he was really going to ask a question that dumb, he could hardly expect a serious answer.

"Uh huh." Understandably, Ben did not sound convinced. He sat on the sidewalk next to the young man and looked up into the cloudless sky. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Yeah." It was—sunny, not too hot, not too cold—but they were certainly not out here to discuss the weather. Then again, if Ben wanted to give him an excuse, that was fine. "I just, uh, needed to get some fresh air." Yeah. Because he's going to believe the guy who spends twelve hours a day indoors poking at his laptop had a sudden urge for fresh air.

His companion nodded wisely. "That always helps."

"Helps?" It came out before he could stop it.

"Helps clear your mind, if something's bothering you." Ben grinned, looking as close to sheepish as Ben Gates ever got. "It's a lot less desperate than getting drunk, anyway."

"Granted."

Riley kept waiting for something else. There had to be something else, because this was Ben, and he asked questions. That was just what he did. But he remained silent, watching the traffic pass by. The silence got unnerving pretty quickly.

"Shouldn't you be working?"

"It's just travel arrangements. Hardly urgent." Thankfully, he refrained from pointing out he wasn't the only one who was supposed to be working right now. "You looked like you'd seen a ghost."

He probably hadn't been looking for a laugh, but Riley laughed anyway. You have no idea. "I'm fine, I just really don't like being called that. I overreacted, that's all." That would probably put him in the running for the Understatement of the Year award, but it was probably his best bet at this point. "Just, uh, I need a little time to, you know, cool off. I'll come back up in a couple minutes."

"If you're sure..."

"I'm sure."

Ben stood and gave him one last searching look. Riley hated those looks, and he'd been earning an awful lot of them lately. I've got to be more careful. This job was supposed to keep his mind off of his problems, not make them worse. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all to join up with someone whose natural curiosity made cats look downright complacent. Go on, you know you want to ask more, get it over with.

"Okay, I'll take your word for it." Ben gave him a nod and headed back in, leaving the tech to stare blankly after him.

So much for expectations.

--

"He'll be back soon," Ben answered Phil's unspoken question as soon as he walked in the door. "You just... riled him up a little."

It had been a truly horrible pun, and he couldn't blame everyone in the room for groaning. He wasn't so sure Ian had needed to hit him, but hey, to each their own. The joke served its purpose, at least: nobody asked any more questions. Because even if Ben could've answered them, he wouldn't have.

Riley didn't like questions. That much was painfully obvious. He was determined to respect that, for one thing just because it was polite. For another thing, he did owe the kid. And he needed his help. No sense chasing him away by making him uncomfortable. Yet trying to avoid questions kept raising new ones, and he kept coming back to the most glaring.

Why?