Vault of the Oracle
Chapter 10: Liberation

A/N- It's been a really long time. But there's two chapters. They even out, right?
As always, many thanks for the reviews, and enjoy the chapters!

It always amazed Riley how quickly time passed when there was a crime looming in the distance. In this case, a week seemed to go by in about five minutes. Maybe ten, but that was being generous. Then it was time.

Finally.

He hadn't talked to Ben. Keeping secrets wasn't really one of Riley's stronger points, so he'd decided to be safe and just stay out of contact altogether. If he'd wanted to, he could've driven himself crazy wondering if Ben was bothered by that fact, or if he was too busy worrying about Abigail to care, or...

Cut that out, sheesh.

Coming up to a red light—his map told him it ought to be the last red light—he leaned back in the driver's seat and glanced at his passenger. "Ready?"

"I think so." Emily was doing an admirable job of not sounding nervous, which she promptly ruined by adding, "Are you sure this will work?"

"Do you want reassurance, or the truth?" he answered reflexively, then decided from her grimace that was probably the wrong answer. Oops. Intellectually, he was well aware he couldn't banter with Ben's mom the way he could with Ben. It was just that his mouth hadn't caught on yet. And probably never would, but oh well. "Relax. This stuff's pretty basic."

"That's easy for you to say."

You have no idea. "Yeah, pretty much." The light turned. "But I'm not worried," he continued as the van lurched forward. "Ben had to have gotten it from somewhere, right?"

"His father."

Riley grinned. "Uh huh. His dad can't even use a cell phone!"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Nothing, really. You're not supposed to point that out."

--

Nobody asked questions about why she had a transmitter in her ear. Riley had been right. Strangely, that made Emily feel much better. A part of her was still not convinced—even as she followed a guard down the stark gray corridors—that she was actually here to break her son out of prison. She'd visit, assure him everything would be okay, and be going.

Riley was a bit difficult to take seriously and that was part of her problem. His being right on that one small detail somehow made the whole thing more real.

"In here," the guard instructed, opening a door and waving her into a tiny, unwelcoming room. The only thing that convinced her it wasn't a cell was the clean but well-worn couch in one corner. "You've got twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes. Indeed. Ben was there already, seated on a rickety chair next to... oh dear.

"Patrick?"

"Oh." Riley didn't sound the least bit surprised. "Did I forget to mention they arrested him too?"

Emily made a mental note to never help Riley again. Or at least, without demanding full details first.

As he had always been so good at doing, Ben barged into the uneasy silence that had just opened up. "So I guess you had some free time to read the papers, huh?"

"Not really. I heard about the arrest from a... ah... an acquaintance."

She could hear Riley snickering through the transmitter. "You know, 'friend' would've worked," he suggested, undoubtedly well aware that she couldn't answer.

"Oh. Well, tell them thanks very much." Ben's tone made it clear he hadn't wanted her to find out about his arrest in the first place. Somehow, it was hard to be surprised by that. "But it's just a mistake, it'll get cleared up. I really didn't do anything this time."

"This time," Riley muttered.

"This time," Emily repeated at the same moment.

Ben sighed. "Yeah, that's been the general reaction."

She was pointedly ignoring Patrick, because to do anything else would be horribly awkward. Of course, it was going to be awkward no matter what. Fortunately, he didn't seem any more comfortable with the situation, so she could try to pretend he wasn't there and focus on her real reason for being here.

Which was... ugh, maybe talking to Patrick would be better.

Riley had given her a code phrase of sorts, something innocuous to say so Ben would know what was going on. Innocuous the comment was, but how she was meant to work it into casual conversation was quite beyond her. Maybe something would come up. "Have they been treating you alright? You aren't hurt, are you?"

"No, no. Charming place really." Ben gestured expansively to the ratty couch, bare concrete walls, one feeble light bulb hanging from the ceiling. And this is the visiting area. "The food's not even bad, by prison standards." He blinked. "Not that I'd know, uh, from experience."

"Of course not."

They'd used up five minutes already and Emily really, very badly wanted to get this over with, but she had no idea what to say. So the room became silent again, the only sounds a low hum of ventilation and the flickering of the light.

Wait a second...

She looked up and studied the dim bulb as it gave a particularly loud pop. "You know," she offered in what was hopefully an off-hand tone, "I heard not long ago that it took Edison two thousand tries to find the one way to make a light bulb work."

Patrick mumbled something that was either an agreement or a correction, she wasn't really paying attention as Ben's head shot up. Well. I'd say the message got through. He gave her a sharp look. "Mom...?"

"Smooth," Riley complimented, and then all hell broke loose.

Alarms seemed to be shrieking from every corner of the room, maybe every corner of the building. Ben was standing, eyes darting around briefly, and Patrick was pacing about and muttering "What's happening now?"

"Riley's happening," his son replied immediately, "calm down. The alarms are coming from the other side of the building." How in the world he realized that was beyond Emily, but that was the plan, so she nodded in agreement. "If they suspect a security breach they'll lock the entire facility down."

He'd barely finished speaking when a guard opened the door and stuck his head in. "We have a breakout in B Wing. You are not in any danger, but I'm going to have to ask you to remain here until the all-clear is given. Congratulations, you'll be having a longer visit." Then he was gone.

"You don't know the half of it," Ben informed the closed door. Then he turned around and shook his head, looking highly amused. "Riley, did you remember to bring the key?"

Emily had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but Riley immediately responded with "Duh," so she relayed that. Sort of. "He says of course he did."

"Good." Ben was frowning now, the look he always got when his brain was working faster than any of theirs could hope to. "We're going to need that..."

He kept musing on their next step, but Riley cut in over the transmitter. "Okay, it looks clear, as much as it's gonna get. Phase two begins in three, two, now!"

Emily heard him, but the words didn't entirely have time to sink in before the room was plunged into darkness. The room, and—she knew—the rest of the prison. There was shouting from the hallways outside, and Patrick was yelling something, but nothing mattered except it was dark, dark, dark, and she was frozen, blinded, drifting in blackness with no frame of reference. Nothing. This wouldn't work. It couldn't work...

"Emily? Emily! You still there? Emily, listen to me!"

It took her a moment to recognize the voice shouting in her ear. Riley had suddenly gone sharp, confident, commanding. Trying to control her breathing, she seized on his words like a beacon. "I'm here. The lights are out."

"Naturally," he answered as if she'd just paid him a compliment. She supposed, in a way, she had. "Okay, drag Ben along with you. Let him guide Patrick if touching your ex is too icky." Emily snorted. Now he sounded like Riley again.

"Come on." When her hand found Ben's, he seemed perfectly calm. Patrick's palms were sweaty. "We're going... ah, Riley, where are we going?"

"Well, the door's a good start." She turned and groped for the door's handle. Found it. Click.

"It's locked."

There was a low buzz. "Not anymore. Turn left once you're out." She nodded, for no good reason at all, and started down the hallway. Or what she assumed must be the hallway. "Keep going... keep going... stop!"

Emily stopped. Ben stopped. Patrick stumbled and ran into her, and she fell forward against something cold and metal. "Oof!"

"I told you to stop," Riley mumbled. "Security gate. Working on it." He'd barely finished speaking when there was a faint clatter and a sound of shifting gears. "It's not open very far. Go around the, uh..."

"Over here." Ben tugged on Emily's hand. "Sounded like it opened on this side."

Well. If she hadn't felt out of her depth this entire time, that would have done it. But she wasn't about to argue; this was Ben's specialty, after all. "Okay, we're past the gate. Now what?"

"Keep going straight."

She really didn't feel like the walk in had taken so long. Then again, every step through the pitch darkness seemed to take forever. "Riley, are you sure—"

"You're doing great." A moment's pause. "Okay, turn right before you smash your face again and you should see the exit sign."

Sure enough, there it was. A glowing red sign that might as well have been in Marrakech with her toothbrushes, for all the good it did. That far? They could be there for hours. But she steeled herself. Won't get there if we don't start.

The sign disappeared.

"...Riley, that wasn't funny."

"Huh? What wasn't?"

"Turning off the exit sign."

There was a brief pause. "Uh. I... didn't do anything to the signs. I can't. Emergency lights, y'know? Totally not on the grid."

Before she could respond to that, she heard a voice from ahead of her. "Hey! Who's there?" At the same time, half the light reappeared, silhouetting a guard's head that was blocking the other side. Emily froze. Uh oh. In all the commotion, it had been quite impossible to hear his approach.

"We've got a visitor having a panic attack." Ben gave her hand a significant squeeze. Just play along. But really, a panic attack? She thought she'd been handling herself quite well, under the circumstances. "Just taking her outside."

"Right, go ahead." The guard sounded preoccupied. "It's alright, ma'am."

"Inspired," Riley commented, relief clear in his voice. "There's a second set of doors right after the first, and you'll be home free."

Emily really doubted that, but as it turned out, he was right. Bursting out the door into the sunlight was, at that moment, every bit as glorious as exiting the flooded depths of Cibola.

--

The van was waiting, Riley leaning out the window watching for them. Ben threw open one of the sliding doors and herded everyone inside, then took the seat in front and glanced over at his partner in crime. Literally... usually.

"Riley, did you seriously get my mother to help you pull off a prison break?"

"Oy. Sit down, buckle up, shut up." Riley grinned at him, then shrugged. "It was kind of the only thing I could do, short of leaving you in there, and that would just be silly. Besides, she did great."

For a moment, Ben wished he'd stayed in back so he could see his mom's reaction to that, but shrugged it off. "I wasn't worried about that. I'm just trying to figure out how you convinced her to go along with it."

"Just my natural charm, I guess." He started the van and shrugged. "So how long do you suppose it'll take them to figure out there's nothing wrong with their electricity?"

"You didn't turn it back on?"

"Nah. More fun that way." He coughed. "Uh, more time to get away, rather. So where are we going?"

"Aren't you the one running this prison break?" Ben looked in the mirror and studied the gutted back of the van. He hadn't seen the interior of the vehicle since the night they'd stolen the Declaration, and it seemed odd without a jumble of equipment in the back. Plenty of space, at least.

"Hey." Riley shook his head. "You're out of the prison, aren't you?"

"Granted."

"You mean you don't know what to do now?" Emily spoke up, sounding affronted. "You said you had a plan!"

"I did have a plan: ask Ben." A sharp turn silenced him for a few moments as he concentrated on actually driving. "I can keep us going on the road as long as we need, but I'm assuming there's somewhere more productive we could be trying for."

Indeed there was. "Egypt."

Riley turned to stare at him. "Uh... no."

"Yes. It's where the next key is hidden. Whoever took Abigail and framed me is after the treasure, getting back on the trail ourselves is the only way to find them."

"No," Riley repeated, wheeling around at the next intersection. "That's going to be a disaster. You know that, right?"

"Well, yeah. But it's our only option."

"Right." Riley sighed. "Do you have a miracle to pull out of your sleeve to get us on a plane, I hope? I'm not sure I can tell my GPS to show us the nearest bridge over the Atlantic."

Ben had, in fact, already been considering that. "Mom can buy the tickets. By the time she's a known suspect, we'll be out of the country. Even if we're recognized entering Egypt, I doubt they'd stop us."

"And what passports are we using to get in?" Patrick inquired, one eyebrow raised.

Oh. I knew I was forgetting something. "Uh."

"My checklist for this was: get laptop, get key, get your mom, get in trouble. 'Get passport' was definitely not on it." Riley shrugged again. "Think we have time to go grab it?"

Unlikely. His mind was racing. Even if they could beat the cops to Riley's apartment, his father's house was out of the question. For that matter, his mother's would be equally impossible; they only had so much time before her involvement got out. Ugh.

Given some time, he had no doubt he could come up with a plan to retrieve the documents. There was no time. Every second made it more likely they'd be unable to board a plane. Every moment Abigail was in more danger. Possibly. You don't know that. But he couldn't afford to stall and take the chance.

"I don't suppose you have a printer for your laptop."

"Not with me."

"Great."

The van was rolling down streets he didn't recognize, but he was willing to trust Riley's judgment on the matter. Not having to worry about that was one less distraction, besides. But he was starting to get the impression the kid wasn't just taking random streets to make them hard to follow.

Sure enough, Riley sighed and looked over at him. "I know what we have to do." His voice dropped. "But I really don't want to."

Huh?

Ben opened his mouth to ask precisely that, then shut it. No. No questions.

It was a reflex he'd spent the better part of two years beating down. The young tech had raised a thousand questions since they'd met. He'd answered...maybe three of them. And one of the very few things he'd ever really asked of Ben was to let his past stay in the past.

Asking that of Ben Gates? God, it was hard. But Riley was his friend, not a puzzle to be solved.

"If you don't want to do it—"

"I think it's our only choice." Grim determination burned in Riley's eyes. "Just do me a favor and play along."

That last, Ben knew, was directed to his parents and not him. He didn't need to be told to play along. That was pretty much the story of his life.