AN: This beast of a fic ended up much longer than anticipated. Like, over twice as long. But it's been a fun ride and I can't thank you all enough for reading! Hope you enjoy the last chapter, more of an epilogue really.
Peace and love to you all!
Amelia's freckled brow furrows. "And then Lincoln died at Ford's Theatre?"
"You got it." Ben sits next to Amelia at the dining room table. He watches her make another note for her Bristol board project, pointing to the textbook open in front of them. They're a funny pair, Ben's long legs stretched out underneath the table, Amelia's swinging from the chair where they don't reach the floor. The room smells strongly of Patrick's gingerbread, which the two academics nibble on together. "When a prominent figure is murdered it's called assassination. He was watching a play at the time and an actor, Booth, assassinated him."
"As-sas-sin-at-ed. Did I spell that right?"
"Here." Ben prints out the new word in big, blocky letters so she can see it clearly. "You're doing great and I bet your teacher will love the theatre diorama idea."
"How did Lincoln die?"
"He was, uh…"
Ben opens his mouth, then closes it with a sudden, waxy glint to his skin. Something surrounding the telling of it spooks him, and he looks up to catch Peter's eye where he hovers in the doorway. His ribs ache and Ben grimaces, like he feels the phantom pain in his own body. Though Peter has been weaned off the meds, a month isn't as long or effective as the doctors told him it would be, body slow to heal. The joys of getting older.
Since Ben can't seem to get it out, Peter answers with a small smile. "He was shot from behind, ladybug."
"You mean he did all this stuff and…and someone didn't like it?" Amelia is outraged. Her fingers rap the book, cheeks flaming red. "Why did people hate him so much?"
This childish question is enough to wake Ben from unwelcome memories. It's adorable, quite frankly, watching him explain history concepts to a third grader with both mutual respect and patience for her delayed grasp on certain things.
"That's a bit of a long story," says Ben.
"Even longer than his life? It takes up ten pages of our textbook."
Ben stifles a laugh. "Oh yeah. Way longer than ten pages. Suffice it to say some people thought Lincoln was too progressive and shouldn't support the ideals he did. It was just after the American civil war, which didn't help things."
Amelia sits back, ladybug headband swaying, to digest this. Peter doesn't really care if this after-supper study time gets her a good grade or not. Peter's admiration is not so much for Ben's knowledge as it is for this one peaceful, exquisite moment of domesticity and Amelia being treated with the same kindness that they extend to Peter. For the first time, he gets to watch it from the outside—and it makes his knees weak.
Amelia is about to ask another question when there's a loud screech from down the hall. Both Ben and Sadusky jump, but for Ben the sound also launches him to his feet. They share a moment of alarmed eye contact.
Mel doesn't notice the exchange or the suddenly tense atmosphere and lights up. As an only child, she's fascinated by the ten month old. "That's baby Ellie, right? Is she hungry?"
But Ben is already off down the hall, so Sadusky places an arm around Amelia's shoulder after she climbs down from the chair. "We're going to let Ben handle this one, okay?"
"Okay," says Amelia, and her agreement makes him buzz with love for her, her easy going nature and excitement over this new life. Her brow crinkles again. "What does the baby need?"
Hesitating, Sadusky weighs how to answer in his mind. He can't very well tell her that this cry is a brand new one, specific to when one of them scares Ellie…when Riley scares Ellie.
You'd think, like the doctors and (work mandated) therapist certainly did, that between Sadusky getting kidnapped, held at gunpoint, shot, and then falling into a river, or with Ben trying to track down his friend and then almost not getting there in time, diving into rushing water with its already traumatic memory associations—that the two men would take the cake in the nightmare department. That they would be the ones to struggle and lose sleep and get triggered by the little things.
But to everyone's surprise, except perhaps Ben's, it is Riley who has the most nightmares of them all. Prepared as they were for Ben's terror with water, Riley's over being shot came out of left field and with greater intensity than expected.
"She's upset and just needs someone to rock her for a while," Peter finally answers.
Amelia's braid sways to either side when she bobs. "Oh! Can I hold her, Papa? I've never held a baby before."
Sadusky makes sure to halt Amelia before she can look inside the nursery, a gentle hand on her chest. "Wait here, ladybug, and I'll see what I can do."
She does with a nod, though it takes effort and she's on tiptoes in anticipation. Glancing back to throw Amelia a smile and make sure she stays there, Sadusky turns the corner.
The room is dark when he enters, and yet somehow fear still charges the air in chain lightning blitzes. He doesn't get much farther than the changing table in an effort to give Riley, sitting in the rocking chair, and Ben, crouched in front of him, some space. Both of them are taut, rigid, though Ben lets his fingers hang loose in a visible effort to look nonthreatening. This isn't the first time Riley's dozed off and woken in confusion about the fact that he's safe, but it is the first time Ben hasn't jumped in right away.
Ellie continues her wailed chorus, face red where she rests against Riley's chest. Her eyes are open and up on Riley, confirming their suspicions.
"Sorry," Riley says, voice blank. His limbs jitter, trembling from head to toe. He blinks, as if surprised by his body's own reaction, detached from it. "I must have fallen asleep and jolted awake."
There's something diaphanous about his expression, shocked and bloodless, ready to be punctured at a moment's notice by an offhand word. Ben doesn't respond with words at all, however, reaching out—measured, eyes locked on Riley's face—to pull Ellie away and pass her back to Peter. Riley lets her go without resisting, like the last time this happened.
Ben and Peter breathe a unison sigh of relief.
Though Ellie calms in her father's arms, it's the distance from Riley and his shaking frame that seems to help the most. It causes a flip in Sadusky's chest when her warm body meets his hands. He tilts his chin to avoid a flailed arm, noting the girl's hot, upset cheeks.
He doesn't step out of the room right away, not the least of which because he's unsure how Riley will react if she's out of sight. Ellie rubs at her eyes, still sleepy from being frightened out of her nap, so he guides her onto his shoulder. The soft blue wool of his sweater acts as a sensory lullaby for her to nuzzle. She burbles into Sadusky's shoulder while he rubs her elfin curls. In the sudden hush and de-escalation of noise, Riley's skin regains a little colour.
The gesture of faith from Ben, who hasn't even glanced back to check on his daughter, winds Sadusky afresh. In his worry for all of them, he holds Ellie tighter.
"Sorry." Riley blurts it again, his fingers a spastic blur on the arm of the chair. "Shouldn't have let myself get so relaxed…"
"Riley." Ben's eyes pinch.
"It won't happen again."
"Riles, hey. Look at me."
Riley does so, but only after his gaze has skittered around the room once, then arrived back at home plate. Ben doesn't touch him right away and for once this feels wise, despite how tactile they are with each other.
"I'm good," Riley whispers. "I'm fine now, honest."
Ben shuffles closer, elbows propped on his knees. He's made himself smaller than usual by squatting, a little below Riley's eye level so Riley has the upper vantage. It puts him in control, uncrowded and therefore reminded of where he actually is, that Ben is not someone who will take advantage of or abuse the power of his size.
"We talked about lying," Ben murmurs.
Sadusky finally notices what Ben did right off the bat—that Riley is guarding his left arm against his stomach. It's glued there, plastered to his ribs in a way that looks almost painful when coupled with the trembling. The fingers shudder into hooked claws whenever a particularly bad shake assaults his frame.
"I'm not lying." Riley lifts his chin, a defiant and insecure expression that cuts straight to Sadusky's heart. "I know where I am."
With a tentativeness not often seen, if ever, in their relationship, Ben lifts a hand in Riley's direction. He holds it up, so Riley can see it. It hovers in the air for a moment, Riley's eyes wide and white and dilated, then lands, barely there, upon his bad arm, just near the wrist. Riley's whole body twitches.
"I'm sorry," he says for a third time. This round it sounds like shards of porcelain, edges harsh and crumbling.
Ben rubs one slow circle on the atrophied forearm. "I'm not mad at you, Riley. Not at all. Do you understand that?"
Riley's lips cinch. He looks down at Ben's hand with unblinking attention.
"I woke Ellie up, scared her." Riley's voice is so small Sadusky has to work to breathe.
With his other hand, Ben clasps the side of Riley's neck, where it meets his shoulder. His thumb ripples when Riley swallows against it. Ben strokes hairs at the base of Riley's head, short and wispy, darkened with sweat.
Ben doesn't even bother addressing this misplaced guilt. He just asks in a low, tender voice, "Was it the same nightmare? The one where Cole shot you through Peter?"
A wince lances across Riley's face and he tries to shrug, only to abort the motion when it pulls at his arm. Phantom pain in the bullet-scarred shoulder is not a new thing for Riley, but this fear is. In many ways he hasn't struggled with the home invasion shooting, at least not in any visible attribution that Sadusky is aware of, a relief to know that he's made it through without lasting damage.
And in other ways…well, they're beginning to wonder if this isn't a bad sign after all. Perhaps Cole Reeds was the crack in an eighteen month old veneer of trauma, Riley's mind finally dealing with how close he came to dying.
Ben just continues rubbing at the arm until it uncoils a bit. He takes a deep breath, lets it out through his nose, and after a moment Riley mimics the pattern. "Can I touch it, Riles?"
This is also a first. A huge first—Ben has never, not even once, bothered to ask for permission when it comes to examining Riley's shoulder. He'll take his time, let Riley see his hand coming, draw back if his friend looks uncomfortable. But he doesn't ask verbally, until right now.
It's Riley's turn to soften, leaning forward so they're in each other's space. "Sure, Ben. I'm fine, really. It was just a bad dream. In fact, they're getting more infrequent."
Again, Ben doesn't bother refuting this. He takes his palm off Riley's forearm to set it over the scar, dead center. It doesn't massage, doesn't knead into the knotted wad of tissue. Ben simply rests it there and maintains eye contact. He's unbearably patient, when the need arises, and it's a burden of gravity even while it causes a hot steam of devotion in Peter's chest.
Riley stops shaking. It's a gradual, messy thing, but eventually his limbs cease their violent trembling and he manages to take in a breath that extends beyond his chest so it lifts his stomach instead. The dark outline of his eyes morphs from black to blue as his pupils shrink back to a normal size.
Then Ben holds out his left hand.
Riley's breath catches. Despite claiming he is 'fine' only moments ago, the pall on his face betrays him.
It's a different hand than was extended that night in a precinct parking lot, but Sadusky understands suddenly that he's getting a glimpse back in time, witnessing the same trussed moment they lived through almost eight years ago. Different hurts, different fears—same offer of trust. People laud Ben for his belief, even when the odds and history itself are stacked against him…
But in seeing Riley stretch out his caged fingers to meet Ben's, peeling his arm away from his side, Sadusky thinks they've never met Riley Poole. His window of faith may be small, but he's given it all to Ben, every last iota of what trust he has left in his heart, a widow's two mites the entire fortune of his heart.
The two men link hands and Riley grins, a silent thanks.
"We made it home," Ben whispers. His own blue eyes are bright.
Riley glances over at Sadusky, who sniffs and nods back. "Home, Riley. We're home."
The words spark in golden firework bursts on Sadusky's tongue. Just saying them sets off a rocket in his heart, fizzing up high above the stratosphere of what he thought he deserved. For one lightheaded, dizzy second, he gets a glimpse of the true perspective of this new world of love he's settled in. How vast and uncharted it is, freely offered with no strings attached.
"Ajubah," says Ellie. It breaks the moment and they all let out a shaky laugh.
And for the first time in nearly a decade—Peter's feet at long last hit dry land. The world stabilizes and so too does his soul. He steps down from his lighthouse, knowing he's not the only one to man it anymore and never will be with this family again.
Little things start to pack more of a punch, inch by inch.
Sadusky catches himself getting emotional on sunny days or when he watches a mother robin feed her babies. It's ridiculous, at a certain level, but there's the simultaneous junction of gratitude attached to it that makes the joint of his hope easier to flex. He's forced to stand there and just witness these quiet moments, drink it in like a parched man in the desert. Coffee with Penny on campus does the same thing, especially when Emily passes by and hands Sadusky a copy of the latest book she's reading, or playdates where Abigail makes play dough castles with Mel and Ellie.
Moments like this take the cake, though—watching Ben and Riley walk up to the auditorium's glass doors entrance. They're nicely dressed, collared shirts and all. Their profiles cause him to swallow something thick in his throat. He himself wears the watch Ben gave him for his birthday and carries the little chapbook Riley drew him in his pocket.
It's a gracious miracle that they agreed to come here in the first place. When he asked Ben, he wasn't sure what they'd say. Peter watched part of the footage—though he managed to not kill the agent in question, settling for a blistering confrontation behind closed doors—and he knows how hard they still find it being surrounded by law enforcement like this. This is the nest of the beast, and yet Ben and Riley accepted the invitation at once, with the proviso that Sadusky be there the whole time.
As if they could drag me away.
The moist-eyed moment breaks when Peter sees Riley and his bizarre accoutrement close up. The hacker flings open the door in a sulk while Ben takes a shameless amount of pictures.
"Don't ask!" Riley barks out, hands up, before Sadusky can do just that.
Still, it doesn't stop him from staring. He pokes at the midnight blue velvet hat nestled on Riley's head, silver stars, puffy brim, and all. It pushes his ears out, a hair too big for him. The tall hat is similar to Mickey Mouse's, one of those kitschy Merlin replicas famous the world over thanks to the pop culture influence of Fantasia.
"These are going in the album," says Ben, once he's apparently had his fun.
Sadusky tries to find a bright spot, something that will take the sting out of this public humiliation. "It almost makes you the same height as Ben."
Riley's eyes narrow, arms folded. "Watch it."
"Well?" Ben prods Riley's shoulder with his own. "Aren't you going to tell him?"
"Was that really part of the deal? Talk about cruel and unusual punishment."
"He's going to find out either way."
Riley sighs, adjusting a laptop bag on his shoulder. He pulls out the leather notebook and hands it to Sadusky.
Peter grins when he flips to their dog-eared page. A forest of tallies clutter Ben's side, with only ten on Riley's. "Ben won the bet."
"Of flipping course he did."
Ben pats Riley on the back. "At least I didn't make you do karaoke downtown."
"Oh. Trust me." Riley kicks Ben's shoe. "This is much worse."
Sadusky clues in after a moment of eye contact arguing between Ben and Riley. It really lands when a few agents-to-be pass by on their way inside the auditorium and stare at the two men, but mostly Riley's hat, and he colours.
Peter chokes out a startled noise. "Wait a minute—Riley, are you wearing that for the cryptography lecture? I thought you'd take it off once you went inside."
A rosy hue of gratification lights up Ben's features. "Nope. He lost the bet, so I said he had to give his half of the talk while wearing this stylin' hat."
"I repeat: cruel and unusual punishment," Riley snipes back.
"Hey, we'll explain the bet to the students first, so they can appreciate this masterpiece in all its glory."
The throwback joke and their playful, bantering looks at each other herald a return of the gentleness in Sadusky's gaze. He doesn't know how he ever managed without them.
Before he can get too lost in the absurdity and joy of it all, another duo enter the foyer.
"Hendricks." Sadusky is genuinely taken aback. "Spellman. What are you doing here?"
Spellman smirks at the hat but has also learned by now that it's better not to ask, where Ben and Riley's odd dynamic is concerned. "I've been saying for years that Quantico should teach more about the history of code breaking and decryption. I hope you don't mind that we skipped work, boss, we just didn't want to miss this guest lecture. You're the talk of the town, Gates."
Hendricks, however, hasn't learned yet. He nods at Riley. "It's a good look for you."
"Not you too." Riley rolls his eyes. "I'll never live this down."
Spellman can't help but laugh. "No, you probably won't. Federal agents have long memories."
During this, Hendricks has been eyeing Ben with something calculating. Fragile in its thick cracks. He seems to debate with himself, coming to some long mulled over conclusion. Sadusky has a feeling about what it is but keeps silent, knowing this is something he has to do by himself.
Ben spies the look after a moment. Though his face doesn't change, a faint stiffness appears in his hands and the line of his back.
It prompts Hendricks into action, to dispel it by sticking out his hand. The motion is abrupt but deliberate and Ben only loses a moment in surprise before he reciprocates.
"Thank you for all you've done, and I'm sorry for how we…I treated you that day in the office."
Coming from a sharp witted, satirical man like Hendricks, this is a huge moment. He's had to overcome a lot of self sufficiency to be the stellar agent he is now.
Ben must sense something of that as well, for he lets out his breath and the tension flees with it. "I understand, Agent Hendricks, and I'm just glad Reeds didn't get what he wanted."
"Paul." Hendricks smiles. "Call me Paul."
Ben blinks, floored. "Paul."
"Speaking of Reeds," says Spellman. "We finally found him, boss."
Sadusky catches the wording at once. "Found him?"
"He…" She glances at Hendricks, who nods in encouragement for her to continue. "His body was found just outside a veterinary clinic in Virginia, where he'd been seeking illegal treatment. Without a blood transfusion, he died of blood loss within forty eight hours."
"Bosses upstairs agreed his death was justified, self defense on your part," says Hendricks. "They want to promote you."
Peter snorts, waving a hand. "Pah! I don't need another promotion. What I need is a vacation."
Spellman smiles. "And that's exactly what we told them."
"Wow." Riley looks up at Ben. There's a lilt around his eyes and the pocket of his lips that speaks of inundated relief. "A month later and it's over."
The five of them stand there, statue still, once the realization sinks in. Not just the closing of this serial killer case, but how full circle it's all come. Sadusky would never have guessed, five years ago, that he'd be standing with a man they arrested for treason and theft—and see him as family. They've mounted the steps of expectation to brave clearer air.
"It's almost time." Riley waves a USB drive. "I'd better go set up. You coming?"
Ben shakes his head. "In a minute."
Sadusky feels a stirring of protectiveness, the thought of him facing all those people alone, and points to his two agents. "Keep an eye on him."
Spellman salutes. "Always, boss."
The loud murmur of two hundred or so students and faculty wafts out to them in the foyer when the door opens. The agents filter inside after Riley, laughing when they hear questions about his getup already.
Ben must be on the same wavelength, not ready to go in yet either. Not able to digest what all this means, that this nightmare is well and truly ended. Sudden quiet descends, upon the door hissing shut, and for one freeze framed minute the two men stand in silence. Absorbing the presence of each other. Of how it could have all gone very differently.
Sadusky wouldn't even be here without this family. His body would have washed downstream somewhere, a statistic for his agents and a dark stain upon Amelia and Penelope's memory of him for the rest of their lives.
Speaking of family…
"You know." Sadusky breathes through a scalding lump in his throat and can't help eyeing Ben with that same fire. "All this free time has given me a chance to look up old precinct records."
By contrast, Ben's eyes are on the slice of lecture hall visible through the door's rectangular window—the shuffling crowd, that ridiculous Merlin hat, a rubber duck screen saver on Riley's laptop, projected overhead while he queues up their presentation. The proximity is more than close enough to see swan feather wrinkles at the corner of Ben's eyes.
"And?" Ben keeps his voice low. "Where is she? I assume not in jail, otherwise Riley would have busted her out by now."
Sadusky's heart gives a strange tug, a steel cable licking at exposed nerves. "Marianne Poole was homeless or sometimes found squatting in an abandoned crack house. But she's alive and well, though I'm sure Riley already knows that."
Ben glances askance at him. "Was?"
"I may have pulled a few strings and gotten her checked into a halfway house. A job counsellor will be visiting the center soon to help her with a resume." Peter ignores the knowing smile from his friend. "Reading the file on her and her children…I definitely spent a few hours alone with a mug of scotch."
Ben sobers. He can hear what that means. "Thank you, Peter, for doing what I've wanted to for years."
In truth, Peter had wept. Tears mingled with alcohol in his glass for the boy who grew up too fast amid the washing machine of America's foster care system. His file had a happy ending, but only by a hair. He thinks again of Cole Reeds, a man without love and how that blackened his heart to any human empathy.
Riley wouldn't be here without this family either.
"Is this what the random hug for Riley was about yesterday?" Ben asks.
Sadusky doesn't move for a minute. Then he nods. "Yes. If you'd like details…"
Ben's eyes harden. "No. I don't want to know until Riley bestows the honour of telling me about his childhood himself. He deserves that much."
There will never be a time this doesn't amaze Peter. Their monolithic compassion continues to be used in such nuanced and supple ways, unspoken often times in the same way their conversations are.
"How does it feel to still be listed as Riley's father on official police records?" Sadusky can't believe Riley or Ben didn't set the record straight years ago.
There's a little puff of air and then Ben finally turns to him. "How does it feel to have secretly let one of the country's worst thieves get away on purpose?"
There's no point in censoring the warm, buttery feeling. It softens Peter's face and he winks. "Or one of the best, if you think about it."
"We got caught."
"You found the biggest treasure in world history."
Ben shrugs. "Eh. Some days you get lucky."
Peter outright scoffs now, because it had nothing to do with luck at all. They found the Templar and Cibola treasure through blood, sweat, and loss. Then he hears the hidden meaning behind Ben's words, though he hasn't veiled anything and rarely does, and fights back a sudden sting behind his eyes.
He thinks about how his heart shifted that day, when Ben sat across from him at the table. Refusing to let Riley or Abigail take the blame for any of it. Just the sight of Ben's flinty eyes, desperate but willing to face off against Sadusky at any cost, was enough to flip a switch inside his heart.
Apparently the same thing happened to Ben.
"Yes…" Peter watches Ben watch Riley and knows that somehow, despite what the textbooks will say one day and all the biographies yet to be written about him, they'll never capture this moment, the depth of love and how Ben would give every pennyweight of that treasure away just to keep the real prize safe. "Yes, we really do."