A/N: Well, I wasn't going to update again today, but as some of you may know, RENT the Broadway goes, well, OFF-Broadway today, and I have really been depressing myself writing sad fanfics and all that. So I needed a short break.

Hostage

When Riley woke up, the first thing he noticed was how dark the room was around him. The air pressed against his eyeballs, suffocating him in its absoluteness. He licked his lips and swallowed, suddenly realizing just how dry his mouth was. He tried to raise his hand to massage his throat, but his arm wouldn't move.

At first, he panicked, thinking his limbs were paralyzed. Then he became aware of straps tying his wrists and elbows down. He tried to move his leg, and found that his ankles, too, were restrained. Pursing his lips, he concentrated on the rest of his body. There was a strap across his chest, another across his waist, more holding him just above the knees. He couldn't move from what he now realized was his hospital bed.

For a moment, absolute terror washed over him. He felt himself begin to hyperventilate, shaking in his bonds. He clenched his teeth, trying to stifle the cry he felt building up inside of him. But it was too late. His lips parted and he let out a single wail.

Seconds later, the door opened and light washed over the room. Footsteps approached Riley from behind, so he couldn't see who it was. He gulped and clenched his fists, trying to control the trembling.

Ian stepped into view, his eyebrows raised and a surprised look on his face.

"I didn't know people could make a sound like that, Riley," he said pleasantly.

Riley glared at him. "W-well, n-now you kn-know…" he muttered, his words shaking even as his heart rate slowed.

"Are you scared of the dark?" Ian asked curiously. Riley turned his face away, clamping his lips shut. Ian smirked. "Have it your way. You look bloody awful, though." He reached for Riley's foot, and the techie tensed, only to relax slightly when the ripping of Velcro revealed the Brit was freeing his foot.

Despite himself, Riley turned back inquisitively. "What…?"

"I didn't bring you here just to keep you tied up the whole time. If you behave, you may roam. But," and he leaned close, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, "if you misbehave…" He pulled his coat aside to reveal a gun tucked into his belt.

Riley shivered. He sat up as the rest of the straps were loosed from his body, realizing with some embarrassment that he was still wearing a hospital gown. Ian seemed to read his mind, for he pointed to a chair on which sat a T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a blue hoodie, along with a pair of tennis shoes. Riley recognized the clothing as his own.

"You – you were in my apartment, too?"

Ian shrugged. "You even forgot to lock the door." Riley glared at the older man again, but he seemed completely unperturbed. "Get dressed. The bathroom's the first door on the left, if you need it. And then maybe we can find you something to eat."

Riley hugged himself, his eyes not moving from Ian until the man had closed the door behind him. Then he slowly stood up, clutching onto the bed frame and pondering Ian's words.

Something to eat? Not that food didn't sound good. All Riley had had to eat in the past couple of days was Jell-O and Sprite…and they didn't exactly make for a complete meal. But he was reluctant to accept any food from Ian, even though it didn't seem as though the Brit wanted to poison him. Appearances could be deceiving, as was already evident with Ian.

Riley sighed and scooped the clothing into his arms, dressing slowly. He swayed slightly. Whatever had caused him to faint earlier had not entirely left his system, but Riley refused to admit that. He had to be strong. He didn't have a choice. He was a hostage now.

He stumbled to the door, half doubting that Ian had actually left it unlocked. When the knob turned in his hand, he shrugged away his surprise and tripped into the hallway, veering into the restroom. He did his business and splashed water on his face, trying to put some color back in his cheeks. When he realized the effort was futile, he sighed and abandoned the room, continuing down the hall until he reached a large open area that doubled as a kitchen and rec room.

He was halfway surprised at the sight that greeted him. Powell, Viktor, and Shippen slumped on a couch and armchairs, watching a movie on a flatscreen TV. They glanced up and stared at Riley until he looked away, whereupon their gazes returned to the screen.

Ian and Phil were in the kitchen. Ian sipped tea and read the newspaper while Phil messed with some kind of metal instrument on the counter. Riley's stomach turned over when he recognized it as a gun.

Ian looked up and smiled politely. "Riley. Hungry?"

Riley stared blankly at him. Then he muttered cautiously. "Yeah…"

"Good. We ordered pizza. I seem to remember you prefer cheese. There's soda in the fridge. You can have a beer, if you like, but unless your preferences have changed in the last two years, you probably still have an aversion to alcohol. Am I right?"

Riley blinked at the British man. It creeped him out, remembering how they all used to work together for so long. Ian still knew a lot about him, it appeared.

"Right," he murmured. But he didn't move.

Ian rolled his eyes. "Riley, we're not going to suddenly turn on you. For goodness' sake, please do something. Watch TV with the others, read a book or something. We have a whole shelf of them."

Riley watched him silently, than moved with leaden legs to the fridge. He pulled out a Coke and examined it closely. Still sealed. Sighing, he opened it and wandered awkwardly to the bookshelf, pulling out a random book and flopping down in the TV room, a little ways away from the others. They didn't so much as acknowledge his presence.

Dimly, Riley noticed the movie was "Mission Impossible." He flinched. Jon Voight seriously resembled Ben's dad. He did not need that reminder at the moment. Instead, he glanced down at the book he'd chosen.

Treasure Island. Of course.

Abandoning the book and the TV, Riley wandered back down the hall and into his room. Leaving the light on, he shut the door behind himself and slid down the wall, head in his hands.

What could he do? He didn't have his cell phone. It had been on the nightstand in the hospital, so if anyone had it now, it was Ian. He had no way of contacting anyone. Even if he did, he had no idea where he was. And on a different note, Ian wasn't even trying to hurt or kill him. He was so confused.

Ben…where are you?

--

"Yes, that's right," Ben confirmed. "Peter, I'm absolutely sure it was Ian who did this."

Sadusky stroked his chin thoughtfully. "And Mr. Howe has yet to contact you, is that right?" At Ben's nod, he sighed. "Any clue as to what he wants?"

Ben shook his head. "I don't know. Revenge, certainly. Money?"

"I hope it's money…" Abigail murmured.

"What do you mean, Dr. Gates?" Sadusky asked in surprise.

She frowned. "If Ian only wants revenge, Ben, how can we bargain for Riley? What if he…what if he wants to kill him? Kill us?"

Ben swallowed. "I won't let that happen."

Abigail whispered. "How can we stop him?"

The phone rang.

Everyone jumped and looked immediately to the phone.

"It – it could be him," Ben muttered.

"Put it on speaker," Sadusky directed.

Ben reached to the monitor and hit a button. The phone cut off mid-ring.

"Hello?" Ben said uncertainly.

"Benjamin."

Ben mouthed 'Ian' to the other two.

"Let him go, Ian," he pleaded aloud.

"You know it isn't that easy, Ben."

"Don't hurt him!" Abigail blurted, clapping a hand over her mouth instantly.

Ian chuckled. "Nice to hear your voice, Dr. Gates. Yes, I know you and Ben tied the knot. I must say, I'm rather disappointed I didn't receive a wedding invitation. And you don't have to worry about Riley's well-being. As we speak, I believe he's eating a slice of pizza and reading a book."

"What?" Ben was caught off-guard.

"I don't want to hurt him, Ben. But whether that remains the case depends on you."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Where we met, Ben. Look around. You'll find a clue. And don't bring the police into this, if you want Riley's situation to stay the same."

There was a click, and a dial tone.

"Where you met?" Abigail wondered. "Where was that?"

Ben ran a hand through his hair. "Ironically, where you and I met. Where it all began."

She raised an eyebrow. "The Archives?"

He nodded. "The Archives."

--

Riley sighed as he watched the final scene of "Ocean's 11" play out onscreen. He really wished the other guys would watch something other than heist movies. They only served to remind him of his predicament.

Riley had remained in his room until the pizza arrived. When he heard the knock on the main door he stood and wandered to his own door, peering through the crack. If only he could somehow signal the pizza deliverer…But that idea was immediately swamped when Riley's view was blocked because Powell was standing guard outside his door. Well, it had been a good idea…

As soon as the pizza guy was gone, Powell left and Riley wandered out to the main room, where he was presented with his own plate of food. Having nothing else to do, he settled down with the rest of the group in front of the TV and read the first few chapters of Treasure Island. Ian left the room once, for just a few minutes, and when he came back Riley could had sworn the Brit kept glancing at him. But he didn't turn full face to look. Ian would win that staring contest.

And now the movie was over and the credits were rolling. Everyone was standing and stretching and Riley suddenly realized how tired he was. He stood, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

The truth was that he remembered all too well similar situations to this one, pre-Templar Treasure. The group would get together to work on some aspect of the hunt, then end the day watching a movie on TV. The only differences between those times and this were that Ben and Shaw were missing and Riley was no longer "one of them." Instead, he was a hostage, forced to be there against his will. A well-treated hostage…but the way Phil put a hand on his shoulder and steered him back to his room proved he was their prisoner. And the click that locked the door…that did, too.

A/N: Review!