Disclaimer: Still don't own. Jerry, I really want to see Justin Bartha in movie number three, and can you get to work on it please SOMETIME SOON?
Three months later, Abigail emerged from the hospital like a butterfly that had finally made its way of the ordeal of the chrysalis, discovering that it has wings. Thus, Abigail was stronger, and blithely returned to bickering playfully with Ben almost immediately. Riley began to be included as well in her teasing of them both, but now it was tempered by the knowledge that she was beyond a doubt Ben's Templar Treasure and Cibola combined.
During the first month of Abigail's recovery, Riley had dropped hints to Ben that he suspected that the men behind the hit and run were probably Ian Howe's stooges. Ben took him seriously, and brought the matter up with a none-too-thrilled Sadusky, who still had his misgivings towards Riley's latest book. But he took the idea gravely in spite of that, ordering an investigation drawn up. It was soon discovered that Ian Howe was actually the one driving the van, and he was swiftly impounded, yelling threats that he'd break out of prison within a year.
It was now the second week of July, around the time of the due date for the Gates' baby, so both treasure-protectors and the archivist started drumming out names. One day, Riley dropped in for one of these sessions without alerting the Gates to prospect that he was coming over. Hearing the doorbell ring, Ben hurried to answer it. On the granite doorstop stood Riley, clasping his laptop under one arm. Abigail appeared from beside Ben, and once Riley noticed her, he strove to hold back a wince of rage at the sight of her colorless scar, glaringly obvious on her forehead in spite of how delicate it seemed.
"Riley," Abigail exclaimed. "What a surprise! Please, come in," she continued, extending her hand for the techie to grasp. After a moment's hesitation, Riley took her hand gently as Ben stepped out of the way so his wife could lead his friend inside. The first thing Riley saw was the leaning towers of Pisa stacks of history tomes, historical fiction, and baby names books lying around on the floor, decorating the dining room table, even obscuring Ben's computer that he scarcely ever used, preferring to leave the technical issues to Riley. Most of the books were gaping at them impatiently, the names in them having been discussed thoroughly and then forgotten.
"What's going on?" Riley exploded; stopping short as his mind fully apprehended the chaos. Abigail had departed for the kitchen to bring back a snack, leaving Ben to explain.
"This is what happens when two history nuts decide to try and name their child after a historical personage or event," Ben expounded, half-jokingly as Riley placed his laptop on a safe place on the table amongst all the clutter of the volumes. The two men swiveled around when Abigail returned, bearing a traditional German snack called Salzstangen, a type of German pretzels. Abi's was an old family recipe, soft and buttered and succulent. Well, when you are around the Gates family, you can always expect them to go all out, Riley mused to himself as he took a pretzel from the china plate Abigail offered to him, smiling. He grinned in return, keenly aware of her scar, even though the woman herself appeared unconscious of it, acting like she did always. When Riley looked over at her giving a pretzel to Ben, he noticed them flirting with each other. He shrugged, somewhat in embarrassment. Feeling he wasn't being polite, he decided to speak up.
"How does Charlotte sound?" he inquired, referring to the hidden ship in the Arctic, remembering that the discovery of the ship unveiled the clue that had lead him and Ben to Dr. Chase, thus sparking off Ben and Abi's romance. At the couple's reflective nods, the techie determined that they wanted him to continue.
"And what about Abraham Lincoln Gates for a boy?" As they stood close together, Riley gazed at Ben and Abigail Gates, who set it other off so well. Ben with his dark and still suave good looks balanced by Abigail's gold and cream complexion. Riley sighed, wondering if he'd ever have that. Ben noticed his melancholy sigh, returning his look with a silent expression on his face that indicated he understood Riley's predicament. Abigail broke the silence.
"Riley, if the baby's a girl, what do you think Charlotte's middle name should be?"
"Okay –wait. Let me think for a sec," Riley answered, turning away from the Gates, crossing his right arm over his chest while his left arm propped up his face while he thought. Rotating to face Ben and Abi again, Riley offered, "How about Justin – like after Justin Martyr, the first great Church Father? Or you could call her Justine, the feminine version of the name, after a great girl in a series I'm reading." Cradling Abigail in his arms, Ben glanced down at her.
"Well, Abigail, what do you think?"
"I think those a fine names – thank you, Riley, for your help," she replied, first to her husband and then she directed her comments toward Riley. Feeling weary, Abigail excused herself, going to lie down, knowing her potentiality for the baby's birth could be at any time, and she needed all her strength. Before she left, she advised the two men to catch up with each other – as the baby was not the only reason she had decided to leave, as she had instinctively felt that Riley had something he ought to have her husband's assistance with. Receiving his wife's subtle clue, Ben guided Riley in the direction of the enormous library he and Abi supervised as a subsidy of the mansion, in the hopes that their collection could be passed down to prosperity. Riley's eyes widened in astonishment as he gazed upon the shelves upon shelves housing all the various books on history Ben and Abi had garnered. The treasure-protector grinned, unbeknownst to the computer expert, as he knew that expression fell over Riley's features ever time he stepped foot into the Library of Congress! Finally, Ben touched Riley on the shoulder, causing the thirty-one year old to look up at him. For some reason, he somehow seemed much younger than his age, standing vulnerable and alone in the midst of their big library, restlessly rocking on his feet back and forth. At last, he glanced up, his bright blue eyes wide with nervousness. Facing him, Ben felt his heart wrench with sympathy, pondering what was wrong. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, Ben demanded gently,
"Riley, what's the matter?" As if in response to his question, Riley's cell phone, shattering the silence of the library. The techie reached into his pocket, bringing the device up to his ear warily.
"Hello?" he asked quietly.
"Riley Poole?" answered a chirpy, female voice. "Is that really your voice I'm hearing? Am I talking the author of The Templar Treasure and Other Myths that are True? That book with all the finely detailed technological expertise? Well, Mr. Poole, we would like you to speak at our TechCon, explaining how you did all that splendid material spoken of in the book? The TechCon is on the 21st, be there! We'll be looking for you!"
"Wait!" Riley exclaimed. "Yes, I am Mr. Poole, and yes, I am the author of the book The Templar Treasure but I don't really see why you want me to come speak on it – a large majority of what I did was, ahem, not legal in many senses of terms," he continued, glancing at Ben, "and by the way, miss, what's your name? How did you ever find out mine, anyway?"
"My name is of no concern," she prattled on. "Just come to the TechCon, Mr. Poole – we would LOVE to hear you talk about your experiences! Oh yes, and I forgot to mention, but we are also big on legitimate conspiracy theories here, so we'd adore hearing about your next book. Oh, and all the people who come to TechCon are bigwigs – even the great FBI Agent Peter Sadusky is going to be here! I'm just the little secretary." Ben raised his eyebrows, thinking to himself, My, she's an effusive one, all the while casually taking a book from the shelf to look inconspicuous as he examined his friend's reaction. When the name "Peter Sadusky" had been announced as one of the participants, Riley's already pale face had gone completely translucent, and Ben knew that he'd be the one providing moral support this time instead of the other way around. Riley cleared his throat, halting the overenthusiastic secretary's stream of words.
"I'm sorry, miss," he said gently. "But I cannot attend this TechCon, no matter how much I would've liked to. I know literally nothing of public speaking outside of a class I took in High School and the book signings…."
"Oooh, you're just being humble," the secretary crooned. "That means you'll be there! Oh thank you so much, Mr. Poole! All of the participants are going to be so pleased when I get this announced! Laters!" she cried out, blowing a loud kiss into the phone before the connection went dead.
"So, this is what you've avoided telling me," Ben said pointedly from behind the book he was reading – making Riley glance up at him, puzzled, his bright blue eyes burning with anxiety mingled with disinclination before the younger man noticed the title of the book his friend was browsing: The Templar Treasure and Other Myths that are True.
"You're reading my book," Riley whispered in grateful awe, but then his face slumped as he recalled his bewildering phone conversation with the secretary, Sadusky, and the fact that they wanted him to speak about his illegal activities in the service of aiding Ben in discovering his family's Treasures of the Ancients.
"Ben, you're too perceptive," he groaned, sliding against a wooden bookcase until he found the carpet. "I can't do this, Ben. I can't. Sadusky's going to be there! Ben, that guy could arrest me when he hears all the information they're obviously wanting me to talk about…." "Well, it wasn't all me," Ben countered, bending down to so he could look into Riley's face,
"Abigail suspected something was up with you, and urged me to investigate. But though, it wasn't like I didn't have my own suspicions." Riley sighed, leaning his head against the bookcase tiredly. He was still loath to attend the TechCon, not telling his friend that the "secretary" had already dialed him up twice, and not to mention that he feared Sadusky's wrath – and potential incarceration. He wasn't sure he was able to come through with it – not even out of loyalty to Ben for bringing him this far. The newfound interest in him as a person was refreshing as it meant people no longer regarded him as Ben Gates' mere assistant. His eyes grew moist with frightened tears as he contemplated his lifelong fear of speaking before crowds. Ben put a hand under his chin, gently easing Riley's face up so he was looking at him.
"Listen, Rile, it's okay. We've been friends for so long, I know your fears – and since you're my brother, they're mine too. Come on; lean on me during this time. I promise I'll help – in fact, let me introduce you to an ancient method of speaking in public that forces you to speak well, that of Demosthenes' pebbles. The only way you can conquer this is to face it and to know…" "That 'courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear' Mark Twain," Riley finished, letting Ben take his hand to help him to his feet. "Well, I suppose we should get to work…." He continued. "But can I grab another one of Abi's pretzels before we head out to the Mall?"And they both laughed...
NTNTNTNTNTNT
Ben kept his promise, daily taking Riley out into the crowds surrounding the famous landmarks of Washington, DC for practice sessions. First, Ben instructed that Riley learn how to speak with pebbles in his mouth like the renowned Grecian orator Demosthenes in order to strengthen his voice. While Riley practiced speaking with pebbles gathered in his mouth from the Reflecting Pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial, Ben would encourage him by clapping loudly whenever he spoke clearly in spite of the rocks blocking his appendage, and later, as a reward, he would regale him with stories to hearten him about other famous speakers ranging from Abraham Lincoln to Winston Churchill and, naturally, Demosthenes, because he knew how much Riley loved a story.
NTNTNTNTNT
In fact, that was the reason they had bonded years ago. Riley hearkened back to his memories trapped in the dismal office space, that claustrophobic windowless cubicle, idly using his talents for whatever necessity his overbearing manager demanded of him, until that day when his friend (who'd even babysat him back when he was knee-high to a grasshopper) strolled into the office, laden with sheaves of notes and a strip of leather, which had immediately caught Riley's attention, leaning back over his desk, vainly trying to see what it was as Ben talked to Gerald Winston, the NSA boss of his department - the computer repair – and when Riley found the spare time, he worked on manipulating technology to intercept enemy missives, which were occasionally in the form of ciphers. Winston was not compliant with Ben's idea of lending him one of his workers – even though Ben was willing to pay for their services. The altercation grew louder, and, as Riley crept closer, the man he barely recalled from his earlier years thrust his arm passionately onto the table, scattering various items off of it, which he didn't notice fall of; he was so frustrated with Winston. The techie's eyes brightened as he glimpsed the leathery strip nearby. Reaching his hand out, he brought it close to him, unrolling it to disclose the message. The secret lies with Charlotte. The Treasure of the Ancients! He gasped, sitting back awkwardly as a long shadow fell upon him, glancing into Winston's office. Thankfully, his boss was still there, and Riley breathed a sigh of relief, still clutching the leather.
"Hello, Mr. Poole," the shadow spoke, causing Riley to scramble backwards, frightened. He looked up into the light blue eyes of a tall man he only vaguely recalled. "I see you've found my secret."
"Who are you?" Riley squeaked. "I remember you from somewhere." Just as Riley asked his question, Winston called for him. He sounded belligerent. The young man groaned inwardly as he hurried back to see his boss, completely forgetting to return the parchment slip. Once inside Winston's workplace, after closing the door behind him, the young man scooted over to the corner as his boss stalked over to where he stood. Riley noticed Winston's cold grey eyes glittering with suppressed anger, and momentarily he wondered why.
"Why is that crazy Gates guy here?" he demanded of the techie, causing him to plaster himself alongside the side as the wall, attempting to make himself as small a target as possible in case Winston should hit him in his rage against the man he had referred to as "Gates".
"I-I don't k-know who h-he i-is," Riley stuttered, his crystal blue eyes quailing under Winston's glare. He placed his hands against the wall as his boss from hell leaned so close to him that he smelled the pungent breath emanating from his mouth. Riley grimaced, averting his face from directly looking into the eyes of his superior. His hand, clammy with concealed fear, loosened its grip on the parchment. It fell to the floor beside his black Converse. Casting a side glance at Winston, the techie silently placed his shoe over the priceless clue, but not before Winston noticed. His dark eyes widened with something inherently close to greed flitting in them, and he shoved Riley aside, into the wall, bending to pick up the parchment. You can't have that – it's not yours! Riley gasped inwardly, his blue eyes huge saucers behind his geeky glasses as he watched his boss unfold the parchment, reading the message – the clue – on it. Winston glanced over at him with a careless, deadly expression on his visage, and Riley felt fear shaft through his insides again. Defiantly, the techie stared at his supervisor with angry determination smoldering in his eyes.
"Give it back to me, Winston," Riley demanded, reaching out for the slip of parchment. "I need to return it to that man – it doesn't belong to you!"
Obviously this story is intent on becoming a multi-chap. :S Stay tuned! Sorry for the dearth in updates on it.