Ben

Oh bad, bad, bad.

"Get over against the wall," the man demanded, gesturing with his gun, an ugly smile on his face.

"Alright, listen," I tried to reason. "I'll give you what you want, but…" I was cut off abruptly as the man's gun slammed into the side of my face. Everything exploded into a fog of white then red then black. Someone screamed. I stumbled, trying to get my eyes working as my world became a sudden rush of blood and pain. I was vaguely aware of Riley's protests.

"Hey! Come on!" There was a sickening thwack, the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, and then Riley was dangerously silent.

I shook my head, forcing my way through the dizzying haze until my vision cleared. The man's smile was still in place. "Are you really going to make me ask you again?" he said smugly. He gestured toward the wall, opposite where the other hostages sat cowering.

Riley was glaring at him with mutinous eyes. I could tell he really wanted to say something. I tried to send him a message with my eyes, tell him to keep his mouth shut, but he wouldn't look at me. As I felt the warm blood dripping down my face, I figured out why. I must've looked horrible. "No," I finally said. "No, I don't think so."

The man nodded, obviously liking the power he held. "Go on, then."

I started toward the wall. Riley didn't move. He was still glaring up at the man, fists clenched. "Riley," I said. He still didn't look at me. "Riley," I said again, sharper this time. His eyes finally met mine. I'm not sure I'd ever seen that much anger in those eyes. "Come on," I said deliberately. "Give me a hand, will you?"

For one horrible split second, I thought he was going to do something stupid. He looked that furious. But he slowly rolled his eyes away, and stepped forward, going to my side. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and leaned on him a little more heavily than may have been necessary because he scared me so badly, and I was actually a bit worried that if he didn't think he was helping me, he'd…I don't even know.

We got to the wall, and I sat down on the floor. He leaned against it and slid down next to me. He was staring at those men again as they spoke in hushed tones several feet away, hands in white-knuckled fists at his sides. I'd never seen him like this before in my life.

"Riley," I said firmly. "Calm down. Calm down right now." He didn't. "Hey. Look at me."

"Rather not." His voice sounded strained.

Oh. I tried to dab away some of the blood on my face. "I'm fine."

"Liar."

"Riley."

Sometimes with Riley Poole, it's all in the tone of voice. I must've used the right one, because he relaxed somewhat. He took a deep breath as his fists slowly unclenched, and he shrugged out of his jacket and undid his cummerbund. Unbuttoning his dress shirt, he slid it off and handed it to me. "Here," he said. "Friday the Thirteenth is so not a good look on you."

I smiled and held the shirt against my head, wincing as I applied pressure to the wound. "Are you okay?"

He snorted. "Hate to be the reality check police for you, but my wallet's gone, I'm probably going to get killed by the Three Stooges, my burger is getting cold, and you're bleeding all over my shirt. Not my best day, Ben, no."

"We'll be okay."

"Not to mention that moron just beat the crap out of my best friend."

Oh, Riley. That would be what bugs him the most. The kid may be annoying, but he's not all mouth. He's as loyal as they get when it comes to the people he cares about. "You didn't come out of it completely unscathed yourself," I noted, seeing the fresh bruise forming on his jaw.

He shrugged. "Yeah, and it hurts, too." His token whine. That was a good sign. It was really more of a dismissal than anything else. "But at least I didn't end up looking like an extra in a bad horror flick."

"Touché. And you're not going to die. We're going to be fine," I informed him.

He gave me a look. "Yeah? How do you figure?"

"Because Abigail would've called the police."



Riley

Hollywood couldn't have cued it any better. Like as soon as the words left his mouth, we heard the sirens. I looked around at all the other people. Some of them looked relieved. Most all of them just looked scared. But what was really freaky was Larry looked like he was getting really skittish.

"I told you we should've just grabbed the money and gotten out of here!"

"Shut up!" Moe yelled. Moe had a really big vein in his neck that was kind of doing that gross pulsing thing veins do when people are getting really intense. "How'd they get here so fast?"

Now, to be clear on this point, I really hated this guy. In my mind, he was worse than Ian Howe. Ian never touched Ben. Moe bashed his head open. So it's obvious I was ticked. That coupled with my mouth, which may or may not always be hooked up to my brain, and you get my next sarcastic retort. "Cell phones, dude. Wave of the future."

And yeah, I realize that in a hostage situation, especially one in which you're the hostage, it's usually best not to call attention to yourself; so when Moe and Larry's heads swiveled around to look at me (which looked kind of funny, because they did it at the same time, so it looked almost like one of those lame sit-com moments), I cringed and mentally called myself an idiot.

Moe took a step forward. "You called them?" His cocky grin was gone. He looked really, really mad.

"Take it easy," Ben cut in, in that authoritative way of his that makes me think if my life was like Highlights for Children, he'd be playing Gallant to my Goofus. (I mean, come on. Who doesn't read those things while waiting in the dentist's office?) "He didn't call anyone. You've been here the whole time. You know he didn't make any calls."

Unsurprisingly, this did not satisfy the man. He yanked me up by my arm, squeezing hard enough to make me sure my bones were about to shatter. I tried not to wince as he got in my face. His breath smelled like pork rinds and booze. Why don't the bad guys ever bother with a mint? "Did you call them?"

What, did he seriously think I was going to say yes? My thoughts must've shown on my face, because he squeezed my arm impossibly tighter, and jerked me up even closer. I couldn't stop the little sound of pain that managed to get out. It really hurt. "No. I didn't call them."

He eyed me for another minute, trying to intimidate me or something. And I would've been intimidated. If I wasn't so mad. He finally released me and shoved me off toward the windows. "Shut the blinds," he ordered.

I rubbed my arm and looked at Ben. He tilted his head toward the blinds. Do what he says, kid. I can't get us out of here if you get yourself killed. I'm pretty sure that's the message he was trying to convey. I glared at the bad man before turning and grudgingly doing as ordered, making a note to tell Ben to quit calling me kid in my head. When I looked out the window, there were a whole bunch of cops and stuff milling about, getting ready, I hoped, to save all of our lives. Then I saw Abi. She was still in her gown, though she'd lost the spikey shoes. I allowed a small, smug grin. I was so right about those things.

Then she looked up and saw me. I kinda wish she hadn't. I wouldn't have had to see the scared look in her eyes. Abi's pretty much a superhero. Or heroine or whatever. It's unsettling to see her looking so…unsettled. She waved at me, looking frustrated and worried and like she was trying not to cry because she never cries. I waved back.

"Hey!" I jumped as Moe's angry shout sounded from behind me. He held his weapon on me. "Shut 'em! Now! And get back over here."

I did. As soon as I was done, I headed back over. As I passed him, he shoved me in the chest back against the wall. I groaned. "You know you're unnecessarily violent?"

"Who were you signaling?"

"The snipers," I answered flippantly. I didn't mean to actually say it. I just can't stand when people ask stupid questions. Plus I was slightly freaking out and when I freak out, slightly or otherwise, I tend not to think wonderfully clearly. His massive hand pushing on my chest, and the gun suddenly pressed up against my head made me take it back, though. "Nobody. Nobody," I backpedaled.

Ben was suddenly standing up beside me. His head had to be killing him. "Come on. Nobody can see you now, anyway. It doesn't matter. You want to live? Let him go and calm down."

I just kept talking. "It was just my...my sister. She was waiting in the car. She's out there with the police right now, just waiting for us, you know? I wasn't signaling…" The phone rang, interrupting everything. I had much love for that phone.

Moe looked away from me. "Blaine! Keep your eyes on these two." Curly came lumbering over. His name was Blaine? Really? Like is that even a name?

Moe let go of me and walked over to answer the phone, talking to who I assumed was the hostage negotiator. Hostage negotiator. Because we were hostages. That word carries so much more weight when you're really living it instead of watching Without a Trace on TV. I looked at Ben. Ben looked at me. I'm sure we both pretty much looked like crap. I tried to smile. "Abi says hi."



Ben

My head had stopped bleeding, but it was still throbbing with every heartbeat. And I was starting to get worried. The three men were starting to get antsy, and I was getting a bad feeling about the whole thing. Not that a bad feeling wasn't to be expected. It was just this nagging sense in the pit of my stomach that things were somehow going to get worse. I usually save the pessimism for Riley, but this time...I don't know. I really wasn't liking it. But Riley was looking at me, begging me for something, something to make it better. Something to let him know we really weren't going to die. I've never been one to beat around the bush. "We're really not going to die, you know."

His lips quirked. "Oh. Well, when you put it that way..."

That's when Blaine decided to step in. "You two sit down."

"I was just sitting down. That guy told me to stand up," Riley almost pouted.

Before the man could process, I took Riley by the shoulder, sat us both down, and shot him a disapproving look. "You really need to learn to shut up."

He shrugged, lacking the social grace to really look repentent. "It's a coping mechanism."

"Find a new coping mechanism."

"All the good ones are taken."

"I'll let you use mine."

"What's yours?"

I gave him a look and pointed to my closed mouth. He heaved a huge, put-upon sigh that seemed to come from all the way down in his toes.

He crossed his arms. "Okay, okay. I get it. No more ticking them off. I don't always do it on purpose, you know."

I gave half a laugh. "Yeah. I know." Oh, did I know.

"I don't like those guys."

"Well, I'm not incredibly fond of them myself, Riley."

"I know," he said. "Does your head still hurt?"

"Yes."

"Oh." He was quiet long enough for me to start worrying about him. I casually sat up straighter, using the opportunity to shift my position so our shoulders touched.

"What's up?" I asked.

"We're hostages," he answered dully. There was something else going on with him, though. I could tell. The way he sort of freaked out earlier testified to that much. I'd never seen him like that before. It was like he was somewhere else.

"Yeah? What else?"

He gave me a look. "That's not enough for you?"

"Hey..." That's when that bad feeling I had erupted in my gut as the leader slammed down the phone. He sauntered over casually.

"Everyone," he announced, "you're free to go. Single file, please. No running." He looked down at Riley and me. "But you two gentlemen. You're my ticket out of here."