A little note from the authoress:

Thank you for the reviews! Feedback is always appreciated!

This little snippet came to me at the same time as There's More To It. When Patrick and Ben enter the dining room after their conversation, so Ben can tell Riley the key word for the playfair cipher, Riley looks a bit dejected (at least, to me). Now, it could very well have been fatigue from staring at the computer so long, but that's not angsty enough for this crowd. Therefore, I have written in some angst. Some of it, actually, was pulled from discarded ideas for IAR.

Oh, speaking of which, those next chapters are with my beta, at the moment. Progress is good.

Do I really need to write in the disclaimer? Y'all know I don't own anything here. If I did, well, maybe I should keep that thought to myself.

On to the story!

What Do I Keep Working For?

Earlier, in Patrick Gates' dining room…

"Keep working."

If I were in my normal, snarky mood, I might don my best Igor impersonation and reply with a snarky, "Yes, master." However, my heart is just not in it.

Forgive me for deviating from my task to express an inkling of concern for your father, Ben. What could I have been thinking? Oh, that's right. I thought I was asking as a friend.

Besides, what do you think I've been doing all day? I am not in your father's house, because I'm enthralled with the architecture. I've typed in every five-letter word I can think of to no avail and you have the unadulterated nerve to tell me to, "Keep working." How about, "Thank you," or something that might acknowledge the effort I've put into this. I know those words are in your vocabulary. I've heard you use them before. However, you never seem to be able to use them with me.

It's an annoying habit of yours, one that grows more annoying the longer I know you. You don't ask me to do things for you, you tell me. Most of the time, I let it slide. After all, friends help each other. That's the way of it. Nevertheless, there are times when it irks me and this is one of those times.

It doesn't help your case that I haven't seen or heard from you in a year. Then, you show up on my doorstep, unannounced, wanting a favor. No, that's okay, Ben. I'm fine. This year has been absolutely splendid. Thanks for asking.

Oh, that's right. You didn't.

Yeah, I guess I could have contacted you, too. Wait a minute! I seem to recall that I tried to call you a few times. When my calls kept going to voice mail, I tried e-mail. You answered one e-mail and I never got replies to the rest. I placed the ball in your court and gave up. I mean, you had your new, attractive girlfriend whose hip you were surgically attached to. It was obvious to me that I was a fifth wheel.

No, a birthday card and Christmas card signed from both of you in Abi's handwriting does not count as staying in touch. Actually, the only people on a card list are those you don't contact on a regular basis, like you're trying to assuage some guilt.

So, why do I put up with you and your annoying obliviousness? It's quite simple, really. Having an imperfect friend is still better than having no one at all. Ben, you can be completely oblivious to the human condition, but I guess you still possess some merit. After all, you didn't immediately cast me out of your life after the Templar's treasure discovery.

You could stand to extract your head from your ass, though. You've let that fame get to your head. Maybe your proctologist can help with that.

Of course, my cynical nature wonders if you would have looked me up at all had you not needed me to break into your house. If you didn't need this cypher decoded so desperately, would I be sitting here, now? Or would another year or two have gone by? Seriously, people aren't like your musty books. They won't wait around for you to decide you want to acknowledge them.

I want to believe we're still friends like we used to be, but you're making it difficult. Also, while I know you can be one-track minded, you could put the welfare of someone else before your own. Yes, I know you're wrapped up in this Thomas Gates conspiracy, but would it kill you to at least mention my book? You know, the one I sent you two months ago? You weren't reading it on my doorstep, so I can assume you've already read it. So, what is stopping you from bringing it up?

If you're merely trying to spare my feelings, you can save it. My feelings haven't been a consideration thus far in this hunt. Hell, you couldn't even vouch for me when Conner called me your sidekick. Therefore, I can't help but think there's a part of you that believes it to some degree and that hurts. I thought I was more to you than just your go-to technology whiz.

I rest my chin on my hand with an aggrieved sigh. As aggravated as I am, I doubt I would ever summon the courage to any of this to your face. Why risk trouble? It's bad enough that I hear from you so rarely. Still, seldom is better than never and, if you haven't noticed, Ben, I am not exactly rolling in friends.

I try to delude myself into thinking I'm an introvert and I don't need people in my life. That is partially true, but I can't survive solely on my own. Maybe you aren't around, but I know you're there, somewhere. If I were to tell you everything that's on my mind at this moment, Ben, you wouldn't see your fault in it. You would get angry and you would be gone. I've been totally alone before and it's something that I never want to experience again.

"Try death!"

Huh? I look up to see you stride into the room with Patrick fast on your heels. Obviously this is the product of a conversation I was not privy to. Jeez, for all the sense your request made, why not just bark, "Try Albuquerque!"

"The debt that all men pay is death," Ben rambled.

Okay, I'm still confused. There is a big part of this story that I'm missing. This is why I have long stopped trying to analyze your thought processes. They just makes my brain hurt, kind of in the same way that eating ice cream too fast gives you a brain freeze headache.

Plus, you could ask me to do something once in a while. I'm not your dog.

Well, what do you know? The word actually worked. Of course, it brought up the name of some historical figure that only makes sense to you and your father, but that is par for the course. You're happy and Patrick is happy. That thank you? I guess I'll take an I.O.U., as usual. This is certainly a Gates family moment and I appear to be merely an intruding bystander.

Regardless of my present feelings, I'll continue to help you in this hunt, Ben. Friends keep their promises. When this mystery is solved, I hope that we are still friends, no matter how flawed and that you won't disappear from my life for another year.

Then again, hope springs eternal.