Hello, to all of you!

First, let me say, I know I'm horrible at keeping up with this thing and this has been a long time in coming. I'm sorry. I know IAR is lagging even further behind and I'm sorry about that, too. My life is so good at getting in the way of my art. Case in point, planning a wedding. Yeah, that's a time and energy sucker. It's hard to switch gears, sometimes.

Never mind the Hell that is IAR Chapter 10. I've lost count of the drafts.

As for this vignette, I'd had a few requests to write this over the last several years. The scene where Ben disses Riley's book seems to be a favorite among the fandom in terms of straining a shaky friendship. However, I have found that it's been written and rewritten several times over and I had a tough time making this version stand out. I think this is Draft #4, but don't quote me on that.

Now, for the tonality. It's dark. I know it's dark. It seemed to be the way to go if I didn't want to step on anyone's toes. I wanted a tie to IAR to match its overtone a little better. Likely, that's where these vignettes will head as it isn't too long after the movie universe ceases that IAR picks up. If you haven't guessed, I don't write fluffy feel-good stories.

On to the story!

GETTING THROUGH

Ben sat at his father's dining room table and took off his reading glasses, rubbing his tired eyes. He checked his watch. It read 12:45 a.m. Patrick and Abigail had long since retired for the night, but here Ben sat, unable to sleep. Instead he poured through books, trying to find any additional information about the President's secret book before he was to meet with Sadusky later that morning. He reasoned that if the senior FBI agent tried to talk around the subject, having some additional facts on his side might not hurt. However, the dusty volumes yielded nothing and Ben's brief, paltry attempt at a Google search using his father' computer had proved fruitless. So far, Riley had been the only one with any information about this mysterious book, whatsoever.

Ben sighed as he set his glasses on the table. Riley had been conspicuously absent the entire evening, citing a horrible onset of seasonal allergies as the reason. Ben knew better. Riley was avoiding him.

That had been his fault, hadn't it? While he hadn't any intention of ever reading his friend's book, the least he could have done was to make that fact a little less obvious.

"You didn't even - open it?"

The words kept replaying themselves in Ben's head and, each time, Ben swore that his friend had sounded a bit more hurt by the apparent obliviousness and the hitch in his voice became more exaggerated.

"If it was you trying to convince me, you'd have less evidence and I would already believe you by now."

Damn it! In all the time Ben had known Riley, he had never heard the younger man sound as genuine. There had been an air of earnestness in his eyes, on his face. This was what he had wanted, to break through that exterior and get a sense of who Riley really was. The kid had gone further than expected and worn his feelings on his sleeve and Ben had blown it, plain and simple. He had one, fleeting chance and he had blown it wide open. When he had replied with needing to confirm the information with Sadusky, Riley's wall had gone back up in record time and Ben could swear that the kid had added reinforcements in the form of steel bars. The earnestness in those sapphire eyes from his brief stint at playing know-it-all had snuffed out like a wind-blown flame and he hadn't said anything more on the matter. In fact, Riley hadn't said anything to anyone, aside from announcing that he wouldn't be able to join them back at Patrick's house. He had even declined Ben's offer of a ride home, saying that public transportation was perfectly fine. He didn't want to impose.

Ben hadn't meant the remark to be such an insult. He merely wanted to know the truth from someone on the inside before he continued to further subject everyone involved to a highly illegal and potentially dangerous circumstance. Lord knew it had been a rocky road, thus far, and their treasure-hunting competitor made Ian look like almost saintly.

However, he hadn't needed to be so blasé about everything like Riley's feelings hadn't mattered. They did. Ben couldn't even calculate how much this had set his overall effort back. He had a feeling he'd already walked backward over that precipice and now spiraled in a never-ending descent into the abyss.

Ben ran his hand through his thinning hair, mentally berating himself for his earlier lack of couth, and looked at his watch again. It wasn't too late to call Riley. The younger man wasn't known to be early to bed by any stretch as he claimed it threw his circadian rhythm off. Ben took his phone out of his blazer pocket and flipped it open. Just as instantly, he closed it, again.

No. He had to talk to Riley in person. If anything, it would make it harder for the younger man to blow him off, not that Ben didn't deserve such.

With that, he stood up, fishing his keys from his trouser pocket. Quietly, he left his father's house and went to his vehicle. He gently backed the SUV out of the driveway, so as not to wake everyone up, and drove to Riley's townhouse.

He parked on the street, in front of Riley's front door and killed the ignition. He spied the silhouette of the "For Sale" sign on the front lawn and frowned, unease of the inevitable gnawing at his mind. Riley hadn't said when he needed to find other living arrangements, but Ben suspected it was sometime very soon. When the time came for his friend to leave, where would he go? Would Riley stick around to see this latest exploit's end?

"If I don't get this straightened out, it will be a foregone conclusion," he resolved as he stepped out of the vehicle. He walked up to the front door and knocked, trying not to be so loud as to disturb the neighbors.

Nothing. Ben knocked again and frowned when he got the same result. Maybe Riley had actually turned in earlier than normal on account of being "sick." Ben waited a moment and turned to leave when he spied a flickering light out of the corner of his eye. He looked through the window and saw that Riley's large screen television was on.

Ben knocked on the door a third time and, this time, the door cracked open. Ben waited for Riley to poke his head out and ask him what he wanted, but no such thing occurred. Curious, Ben pushed the door open, only to find an empty entry hall. His concern piqued, he stepped inside.

"Riley?" he called as he shut the door behind him. Slowly, he walked into the living room and stopped dead as he crossed the threshold.

The television illuminated an absolute mess and that said a lot considering Riley's housekeeping skills needed work. Papers were strewn on the floor, haphazardly. The bookcase had been tipped on its front, the volumes spilled out and pinned underneath. As Ben ventured further into the room, something crunched under his shoe. He looked down to see glass fragments glittering in the dim light. They lay next to a broken frame that had held a picture of him and Riley, taken during the media aftermath of the Templar expedition.

"Riley!" Concern turned to outright fear and he began casing the rest of the house. He raced to the kitchen and flipped on the light. It was devoid of people and in a similar state of disarray. Dish and glass fragments littered the floor and a plastic container of granola cereal had been thrown against another wall. The top of the container had broken off. The trashcan had been overturned, its contents strewn. Ben spied a broom propped up in the far corner. He snagged it for a possible weapon. Even pathetic weapons were better than none at all.

He walked hurriedly up Riley's stairs to his bedroom. He flipped the switch on the wall to reveal another empty room. The bed was unmade and clothes littered it and the floor. However, Ben had difficulty discerning if this was the bedroom's normal appearance.

He turned off the light and turned to walk out of the bedroom when he smacked straight into someone or something he couldn't identify. The unknown entity screamed, Ben screamed and he brought the broom up, ready to smack it down on the unlucky soul who had dared to invade his friend's home. He stopped short when he finally focused on the unmistakable blue eyes staring in fear at him.

"Riley!" Ben dropped the broom on the floor. "Are you okay? Where the Hell were you? I called you twice!"

Riley's fear turned to incredulity as he clutched his chest. "Are you kidding?" he asked, breathlessly. "I was in the Goddamned bathroom! What's the big idea just walking into my house like that? You almost became a statistic!"

Ben looked down at Riley's other hand, which lay at his side. In it, he had been clutching a four-inch pocketknife. Ben swallowed, thickly as he looked back at his friend.

"I'm sorry. I knocked and the door opened by itself. I called to you and when I got no answer I started looking around. When I saw the mess in the living room, I thought-," he broke off and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Anyway, I'm sorry for scaring you."

"Likewise," Riley replied looking equally shaky as he closed the switchblade and put it in his pocket. "That door latch has been tricky, lately. I need to get it fixed."

"How come you didn't hear me calling you?"

Riley fished in his pocket and pulled out a pair of earbuds, holding them up. "I was listening to tunes."

"In the bathroom," Ben mused. "Novel, indeed."

"Yeah, well the song ended and I heard someone's heavy footsteps outside the door. Seriously, Ben, don't ever do that to me again."

"Sorry," Ben replied and he gestured to Riley's pocket. "Since when do you carry a knife, anyway? I don't remember you having one before."

"No reason."

"Riley!"

Riley avoided eye contact, looking at his bedroom lamp, instead. "I was involved in a near mugging last year. The other guy got scared off before he could get or do anything, but I thought it would be a good idea to carry something in case it happened again. See, I lived to breathe another day. Satisfied, now? Can we move on with life?"

Ben looked at the younger man, astounded at the nonchalant confession. "So, when were you going to tell me about this?"

Riley leveled a glare at him. "Probably the same time you were going to tell me why you're traipsing through my house at one-thirty in the morning."

"Right." It was time to focus on why he'd come here in the first place. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Riley shrugged and he walked out of the room. Ben followed him downstairs. "Okay, I guess."

"Bullshit."

Riley turned, abruptly, at Ben's reply. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Ben, I was feeling under the weather and came home. How is that bullshit?"

"Because, in the time I've known you, you haven't suffered from a single allergy."

"Well, you of all people know how much it sucks to get old. Everything just starts going to Hell."

Ben bristled at the jab, but he let it go, exhaling the tension through his nose, instead. "I'm sorry about what happened, today."

"What happened, today, Ben?" It hadn't been an innocent question and Ben knew it. Riley's eyes blazed. The kid was testing him.

"I'm sorry about not reading your book."

"You and the other millions of people out there, no doubt. They'll come in droves any day now to offer their heartfelt regrets for not dropping $19.95 on my book." Riley turned to walk into his living room, flicking on the light as he did so. Ben was close on his heels and the younger man sighed.

"You know, I appreciate your concern, but this is awkward and potentially stalker-like on your part." Riley bent down to lift up the small bookcase back to an upright position. "I mean, you already have one strike against you for breaking into my house. Now, you're crowding me."

Ben stooped down to pick up a small stack of books and handed them to his friend. "You know, I do believe you about the President's secret book. I never meant to imply that I didn't. I know you wouldn't feed me information you knew to be erroneous, especially in this circumstance knowing what's at stake."

Riley didn't look at him as he accepted the books, but Ben could see his shoulders climb over his ears. "But?"

Ben sighed. "But, I want confirmation from the inside. Buckingham Palace was too close a call for my comfort as was the Library of Congress. Never mind that Mitch Wilkinson is a loose cannon. Who knows what he's capable of. I don't want to go into this blind, anymore. Maybe we'll have a better shot at pulling this off inconspicuously."

The younger man looked at him with an arched eyebrow. "You don't know the meaning of the word."

"Then, you need to help us figure out the way we're going to do this. Are you still in?"

Riley shook his head. "I don't know how you ever became a treasure hunter without knowing how to navigate out of a paper bag. Listen, I've got this. Why don't you go home? I'll see you in the morning?"

Ben didn't want to go home. He still had a ton of questions for the young man, but Riley was obviously done talking. That was that and Ben knew it. "1 p.m. too early for you?"

"Just have a pot of coffee brewing. You might want to make one for yourselves while you're at it." A small smile crept on to Riley's face.

"Dually noted."

Riley's smile faded. "By the way, it might be better to call first next time you feel like being overprotective and case my house."

"Got it. Likewise, next time you're ticked off at me, you can let me know instead of trashing said house, so I don't think someone has broken in and killed you in some kind of botched home invasion."

Riley looked a little embarrassed. "Yeah," he muttered as he looked down at the floor. "Sorry for worrying you."

There was a pause. "Are you sure you don't need any help cleaning this up?"

"It's okay. Go home, Ben."

The tone of Riley's voice implied that Ben was perilously close to overstaying his welcome. On his way out, he stopped to pick up the broken picture frame. He handed it to Riley.

"We're still okay, right?"

Riley took the frame and frowned at it, looking a bit distant. "About as okay as we've ever been." The young man muttered the phrase so softly that Ben was unsure if he was actually speaking to him. Anyway, it was hardly reassuring.

"See you tomorrow, kid."

"Later, Ben."

Ben left, then. As he walked to his SUV, he risked a look through the window. Riley's back was to the window, but his head was bowed. As Riley turned toward the window, Ben could see that he was still staring at the photograph. However, his face bore a look, not of annoyance or contempt, but almost a sad longing for something that was and would never be again.

Ben turned away and walked to his vehicle before Riley could spot him lurking in the window. As he climbed into the driver's seat, he wondered how their friendship could be repaired if Riley didn't think it existed. The troubling thought followed Ben as he drove home and deprived him of sleep the rest of that night.