A/N: Next chapter, as promised. Oh - for all of you who thought Ian's behavior too good to be true? Hehe...well, you were right.

A Dramatic Change

"Here's where we met," Ben announced, sweeping his arm dramatically around the vicinity.

Abigail raised her eyebrows skeptically, surveying their surroundings. "On a bench…in front of the Archives building…"

Ben nodded, leaning back on said bench and sighing. "If I could go back to that time and tell myself something, I would warn myself never to get involved with Ian Howe."

"Without him, you may never have found the Charlotte," Abigail reminded her husband, sliding onto the seat beside him. "And thus never have found me."

Ben pecked her on the cheek with a quick smile. "But Riley wouldn't be where he is now, either. Which reminds me…" His eyes skimmed the bench. "Ian must have left something around here for us to find…Aha!" He straightened, having pulled an envelope out from underneath their seat.

Abigail leaned forward as Ben eagerly tore the envelope open and turned it upside down. A small silver key slid out.

"What is it?" Abigail asked.

Ben frowned. "I don't know. It looks like…a house key."

Abigail's eyes widened in realization. "Ben, that's the spare key to Riley's apartment!"

It was.

Ben shrugged and stood. "Then…I guess our next stop is Georgetown."

--

They let themselves into Riley's apartment, flipping on the lights as they went. As usual, the place was a disaster area, littered with clothes, wrappers, half-eaten food, and other junk and paraphernalia. Abigail lifted a banana peel with an "ew" look on her face, tossing it into the overflowing garbage heap.

"This is gross," she muttered. "We'll never find anything Ian might have left us here."

Ben tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Actually…this is Ian we're talking about. He knows Riley. So where would the logical place to leave something be?"

"His computer!" Abigail gasped.

Ben rescued it from a nest of candy bar wrappers and flipped the lid open. The PC was already on. Its screen lit up, revealing an open Word document.

It read:

Dear Ben,

If you've gotten to this, you have a good memory. Congratulations. But now that we've played my little game, it's time to get down to business. I have Riley, and I'm not giving him up until I get what I want. I want what should have been mine - my finder's fee. You're going to help me get it. Ever robbed a bank?

Here's the real punch: I don't really care if I ruin your life along the way. So for Riley's sake, Ben? I'd get to work.

-Ian

Ben groaned and pinched his nose.

"It's money and revenge," he moaned to Abigail. "There's no guarantee he'll leave us alone once he gets his compensation. And how the heck am I supposed to rob a bank?"

"Rob a bank?" Abigail asked in alarm. "No, Ben, we need to go to the police-"

"We do that," Ben said, very quietly, "and we never see Riley again."

Abigail bit her lip. "Look, Ben, I know you stole the Declaration of Independence, so if anyone can pull this off, you can…but you had Riley with you then."

"I know," Ben sighed. "I'm not going to be able to do this without him. I just don't know how to convince Ian to let him help."

--

As it turned out, it was very easy to get Ian to allow Riley's help.

"Fine, if you need him, you have him. I can set him up with equipment here and we'll keep in touch."

The problem was Riley himself.

Riley did not emerge from his room the second day, though the door was unlocked. He was not comfortable with the cheerful demeanor his former colleagues, now jailbirds, possessed. All of it was way too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

He found it.

"Nuh-uh. No way! I am not helping rob a bank," Riley argued, pressed against the wall several feet away from Ian and Powell, who provided impressive adversaries.

"Don't make this difficult, Riley," Ian growled, his pleasant smile gone and replaced by an ugly sneer.

"I'm not doing it," Riley insisted, shaking where he stood.

Ian pulled out his gun. Riley went pale.

"Yes, you are. I'm sorry to resort to this, but you left me no choice."

The Brit nodded at Powell, and before Riley had time to react, the Scotsman had seized him and was dragging him roughly down the hallway, forcing him to sit in a chair in the living area. Riley struggled and protested, but his scrawny limbs were certainly no match for Powell's muscles. Phil appeared then, a stupid grin on his face and a roll of duct tape in his hands. If possible, Riley paled further and squirmed and struggled even harder, but Powell held him down while Phil bound his arms behind the chair and attached his legs to the chair legs as well.

Even then, Riley kicked and bucked, trying to free himself of the chair. The others watched his fruitless struggles in amusement.

"Now." Ian leaned down until he was at eye level with the techie. "I'm going to ask nicely one last time, Riley. Help us do this, and you can go home."

Riley spat in his face.

Ian pulled away and wiped his cheek in disgust.

"Give him some persuasion," he told his henchmen carelessly, leaving the room.

Riley shrank into the chair as Ian's henchmen surrounded it.

"H-Hey, guys…"

He flinched as Phil pulled a strip of duct tape over his lips and twisted it around his head.

The first punch landed on his stomach. Riley cried out, the tape muffling the noise to a squeak. The second punch caught his jaw and sent his world spinning. Everything after that was a blur.

--

Ben and Abigail waited for Ian's call confirming Riley's cooperation.

"You think he'll agree to help?" Abigail asked in a terrified whisper.

"He has to," Ben said confidently. "To save his own life, at least."

The phone rang.

Ben answered it immediately. Abigail leaned in close to hear.

"Hello?"

"Ben," Ian said simply.

"What did he say?" Ben asked. "Will he help?"

"Actually, he flatly refused to be involved in any way. But don't worry, my men have ways of making people cooperate."

Ben's knuckles went white on the receiver. "What? You said he wouldn't get hurt!"

"I said he wouldn't get hurt if you cooperated. And he's one of you. And he's not cooperating. I'll call you later, Ben."

"No, wait, Ian-"

But the other had already hung up.

A/N: We have ways of making you talk...mwahaha...Ahem. Review?