A/N: My first post of the new year. Ahh...2008. Hope you all enjoy!

---

Riley

I stood there with my head against his chest, hands fisted in his jacket for two minutes and thirty six seconds. I heard his heart beat two hundred and forty one times. I talked the whole time about nothing. I couldn’t tell you what all I said. I was too busy counting. And he nodded and offered whatever response was required like an “Mmhm” or “Yeah” at all the right spots. But mostly he just listened and let me talk so I could count in my head and listen to his heart slow down from the way it was close to pounding at first to a slow, steady rhythm. And he was alive. And his heart still worked the way it was supposed to. And I hadn’t killed him.

Finally, when I was satisfied with two hundred and forty one heartbeats, and I got worried he’d figure out I was counting, I pried my fingers loose from the death grip I had on his coat. He let go of me as I pushed back, having to trust that heartbeat two hundred and forty two would come even though I’d stopped monitoring. I checked his face just to make sure. It was kind of a beat up face. But it didn’t seize up in pain or anything. His heart was still beating. And I hadn’t killed him.

He looked at me kind of weird, and I realized I’d probably stopped in whatever mindless monologue I’d been giving mid-sentence, but I really for the life of me had no idea what I’d been talking about. See, I can kind of put my mouth on autopilot and do lots of other useful things while filling awkward silence. Both a gift and a curse. I tried to recover. “Um…I’ll tell you the rest later?”

He grinned, and I think he knew I’d been out of it. “Sure. You ready to go?”

“So ready.” Oi, was I ready.

“Let me take a look at that leg.” That’s what doctors always said. Then instead of looking, they poked and prodded and made whatever it was hurt worse.

“Ah, no. It’s fine. Just scraped it.”

“Is it still bleeding?”

Ew. I didn’t know. I would have had to look at it. “Nope.”

He didn’t look satisfied, but he let it go. Looking down at Kent’s unconscious self, he shook his head. Then he looked at me. “Can you walk?”

“Been doing it since I was this tall.” Truthfully, I was a little surprised I could still stand. But Ben was alive, and he needed me to walk. I’d walk.

“Okay. I’ll grab this one. Let’s get back to the house.” He grunted as he somehow managed to get Kent up into a fireman’s carry. I winced as he took a first step. Had to have hurt with that beating he took.

“You know you could just drag him. I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“I got it.”

“Okay.” I followed a couple steps behind him so I could watch his back and make sure he wasn’t going to fall or anything. Plus, with me behind him, he couldn’t see the way I was limping.

“What happened to the orange guy?” he asked after a minute or two of walking.

I grinned and looked down at the bruises forming on my knuckles. “Paul.”

“Pardon?”

“What Paul taught me. It really works.”

He stopped walking and looked back at me. “You punched him out?”

“Yeah. Marine style.”

He smiled back at me and kept going. “Paul’s going to be so proud.” He didn’t say it all sarcastic. He said it like he was sort of excited about seeing Paul’s face when I told him I punched out a bad guy. I was kind of excited, too. I hadn’t thought about that. Paul was gonna be proud. Of me. ‘Cause I took out a bad guy.

We kept on walking until we came to the house. The heat was incredible, and the fire had spread all over the inside, flames jumping out through the windows and stuff. It was like the world’s biggest campfire only minus the hotdogs and marshmallows and ghost stories and stuff. Intense. Ben put Kent down on the ground and we both stood staring at the house for a minute.

“So…” I said.

“So.” He nodded.

“I’m guessing going in to make a phone call is out.”

“Yep. Let’s go. Get the keys.”

We found the car keys in Kent’s pocket. Thank goodness the guy didn’t leave them inside. Ben’s cell phone was gone. They’d taken it and his pocket knife when they took him. Probably both engulfed by flames. Swell. “Do you know where we are?”

“Roughly. Yeah.”

“Can I drive?”

“No.”

Fine with me. I was asking more for form’s sake than anything else. I was starting to feel really awful. “What do we do with Huey, Dewey, and Louie?”

“Well. I guess we put them in the car.”

“We…tie them up first, right?”

“With…?”

I pointed him toward that old shed in the back, thinking I’d seen some rope in there. I stayed by the goons and the car on shaky legs, seriously doubting how much longer said legs would hold me up. The walk back had taken a bigger toll than I really thought was fair, and standing next to all the smoke billowing off the house was making my lungs a bit touchy. I still didn’t have the guts to look at my leg. But I wasn’t going to complain. Ben took just as much beating as I had, worse really, and he wasn’t whining about it. I could stick it out long enough to get back to my dorm and crash. My dorm. And it would be just me. And I wouldn’t have to worry about hiding my important stuff or sneaking around or getting hurt. I grinned suddenly.

Ben got back, rope in hand and caught the look. “What?” he asked.

"Nothing. Just glad it's over, I guess.”

He nodded and smiled. “Oh, yeah. It’s over.”

We got to work, tying them up. I tried to help Ben get them to the car, but I was so shaky, all I could really do was hold the door open. “We need to get you to the hospital,” he grunted, manhandling Juan into the backseat.

“Look who’s talking. What…uh…happened to your hand?”

“Burned it on the top of the barrel when the gun went off. Superficial.”

“Just painful.”

“I’ve had worse.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. He rolled his eyes as he finally shoved Juan in. I tucked Juan’s foot in after him. “Don’t worry. I’m going to let them check me out, too.”

Well, that at least was something. With three dangerous unconscious people in the back of the car, I shut the door and sat back in the passenger seat, adjusting my mirror so I could see those three dangerous unconscious people. Ben got behind the wheel and started her up. “We’re about twenty, twenty-five minutes out of town. You can catch a nap if…”

“I’m fine. I got to sleep all night.”

“You were unconscious from a concussion.”

“You say ‘tomato.’”

“Riley.”

“Ben.”

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Great. So I’ll sleep then. Until that time somebody’s gotta keep an eye on the crazy psychos while you drive. So drive on.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes before backing out. “You’re impossible.”

“Part of my charm.”

NTNTNTNTNTNT

Fortyish minutes later, me and Ben were sitting on the hood of Kent’s Cadillac in the parking lot of a gas station, fifteen yards from the payphone we’d used to call in, watching the party train come rolling in. Police cars, ambulances, a fire truck, the whole shebang. I tensed, eyes darting around, catching the stares from any and all bystanders. Kent and Kenny had both come around, though Juan was still out. The three of them were still in the back tied up.

I leaned over to Ben. “You sure they’re gonna believe us? We’re the ones with three guys tied up in the car. What if we don’t have enough proof?”

“Trust me. Look in the mirror. We are the proof.”

I wasn’t so sure. But I kept my mouth shut as two officers approached us. “Is anyone here in need of medical attention?” one of them asked straight off. Ben had been pretty vague on the phone. He was basically like, “My friend and I were kidnapped at gunpoint and beaten.” Then he told them where we were. They really didn’t have a clue what was going on. I edged a little closer to Ben.

He smiled at the officer and said almost happily, “I think pretty much all of us, sir.”

NTNTNTNTNT

Two hours later I sat with fourteen stitches in my leg. It really was kind of a disgusting wound. They’d had to clean it all out, too, which hurt like crazy. But I was in the middle of trying to simultaneously glare at a thermometer-wielding nurse and remember what the question was that this really intimidating police guy just asked me.

“Mr. Poole, I really need to take your temperature…” the nurse was saying.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“But…”

“I’m beat up, not sick.” Maybe not entirely true, but I wasn’t going to let them find anything that might try to convince them to make me stay a minute longer than necessary.

The lady looked helplessly at the officer. He just sort of waved her off, and she looked disappointed that she didn’t get to keep poking me with needles and whatever other evil tortures she’d planned. “I’m sending the doctor up as soon as he’s free.”

“Can’t wait.” I rubbed at my aching head as she left the room.

“Mr. Poole…”

“Riley,” I corrected the officer without looking up. “Mister” seemed so cold.

“Riley,” he said levelly. “I need you to go over this for me again.”

“Can’t I just fax you? You’ve got all the bad guys in custody. I’ll e-mail you or call you or write you. I will choreograph and videotape an interpretive dance highlighting the exciting parts and send it to you if you please just let me go crash for a day.”

He didn’t seem entirely moved. I heaved a heavy sigh.

“Fine. Once again: those guys kidnapped me to make me drop out of school. Ben Gates, the guy I came in with, showed up and surprised them, I guess, and they took him, too. They roughed him up pretty good, too, which is assault, which I’m pretty sure is illegal.”

“That’s the part we’ve been over. I want you to tell me why they would do that.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Where’s Ben? Is he out of x-ray, yet?”

“Please answer the question.”

“Okay. You’re going to need to call the school, though.”

“The school?”

“MIT.”

He pressed his lips together. “Yes, I know it’s MIT. Why do I need to call the school?”

I ducked my head. “Because if they sift through the computer records under the student account of Kent Bishop, they’ll find approximately six hundred thousand dollars in stolen money from the same bookstore scam that Jason Donley got busted for early this semester.”

I looked up in time to see his eyes widen the slightest bit as he raised a knuckle to his lips. “How do you know that?”

“Kent’s my roommate. He and Jason are best friends. I heard things I wasn’t supposed to hear.”

“I worked Donley’s case. You were the one who…?”

“Gave the tip. Yes.”

“Why didn’t you come to us with this sooner?”

“I didn’t have any proof. And I didn’t know Juan and Kenny were in on it. But I thought if I could just wait it out until the end of the semester, they’d find it anyway. And I didn’t know…I figured if I came forward and knew what I knew…”

“You’d be a suspect,” he finished for me.

I shrugged. Then looked up at him. “Am I?” I knew the sort of stuff that came with being a suspect. Interviews. Background checks. All my records. Even when they found out I was innocent, there was still no way they wouldn’t be able to do some simple addition…

He looked at me, and for a moment, he looked less intimidating. “No, kid. I already checked you out.” He lowered his voice just a bit. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

My shoulders relaxed slightly as I let out a quiet sigh of relief. I looked him in the eye. “Thank you.”

He nodded and suddenly went back to being all business. “All right. I want details. You’re going to need to tell me exactly what you heard and when you heard it. I’m going to need a list of offenses perpetrated by Mr. Bishop and the other two. Everything that happened while you were…”

I suppressed a groan as he kept talking. Cops. But I would talk to this guy for days and days if that’s what he wanted. He was going to leave me alone. So I pretty much owed him.

NTNTNTNTNT

After the hospital, where both Ben and I were deemed relatively okay. Ben because he really was, thank goodness. Me because…well, mostly because I wouldn’t let them touch me. But my leg was sewn up good, and I had a big, fat bottle of Tylenol in my room. Anyway, after the hospital, I had to go talk to the school administrators. Which was fine. The admin building was only a few little yards away from my dorm. The campus was full of people with suitcases and backpacks packing up their cars to go home for Thanksgiving. Ben rode with me to the school, I guessed because he still had to pick up his car.

He looked over at me as we wove our way past the housing buildings toward admin. “I have to call my dad. Tell him I’ll be late.”

I nodded. Oh. He was going to his Dad’s for Thanksgiving. Well, yeah. That made sense. Thanksgiving was a family holiday. “Where does he live?”

“Few hours away in Hartford.” He glanced at me. “What about you?”

I shrugged. “I think I’ll just stick around here. I have stuff I can get caught up on. It’ll be nice to have it quiet for a change.”

He got a crease in his forehead. “Here as in on campus? Riley, you can't stay here. This is a closed break.”

I blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“A closed break. Everybody leaves. Buildings are closed. Cafeteria doesn’t serve. Everyone goes home. Students aren’t allowed to stay on-campus. All the residential students have to be checked out by tomorrow.” We pulled up to administration. Oh, geeze. A closed break? Could they even do that? Testament to how much I hadn’t been paying attention the past few weeks. My heart was trying really hard to speed up as I realized I had no place to stay for the next week. I couldn’t afford a motel. I didn’t even have a car. Man.

I shrugged my heart into slowing down and wrote it off as something I’d deal with later. I’d think of something. “Oh, that’s right.” I tried on a smile. It didn’t fit quite right, so I swapped it for another shrug. “Yeah. Got it covered. You leaving today?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Right. Have a good break. Glad you’re okay. See you in a week.” Short sentences usually worked best. I opened the door and stepped out. Ben was looking at me.

“Yeah. You, too.”

I nodded and shut the door as the police cruiser pulled away from the curb, taking him toward his car. I turned around and started limping my way up the steps, police officer at my side, toward what I was sure would be a painfully long conversation. My head wasn’t really in it, though. My head was more into convincing itself that nothing had really changed. I still didn’t need anybody. I hadn’t needed anybody for a long time. And the fact that Ben was going home for Thanksgiving was awesome. Good for him. I’d be fine. It was just a freaking week. Geeze, what was wrong with me?

NTNTNTNTNT

The conversation had been painfully long. But it was over. The police had wanted me to stay in touch. All I could give them was my dorm extension. Oh well. They had Ben’s number. When he got back, he could tell me anything they wanted me to know. And anyway, I was so ready to crash. I had until the next day to get out. Which meant I had until the next day to figure out a place to stay. As I stumbled up the stairs to my room, I worked out a plan in my head. Most of the days I could spend hanging out at coffee shops and libraries. Shopping centers if I got bored. Thanksgiving Day would be a bit more difficult, what with most places being closed. But there was always Wal-Mart. Was that a pun?

Nights were a bit more important. I had to find someplace warm with a door that locked where I’d be safe shutting my eyes. Churches usually worked best for that sort of thing. But most of them were getting security systems and stuff, so I’d have to check that out during the day. Putting it on my mental to-do list, I stopped outside my door and gave a tired smile. I didn’t have to worry about what was on the other side of that door. It was nice.

I pushed it open and didn’t even bother looking around, just made a beeline for my bed and collapsed as gently as I could, hissing as the stitches in my leg tugged a little. I think I was passed out before I could finish saying “Ow.”

And when someone shook me awake a little while layer saying something about sleeping and having a concussion, I didn’t think much of it. Mostly because I wasn’t thinking much period. I just mumbled at whoever it was to leave me alone and went back to sleep, figuring I was imagining things. So I was probably imagining my sneakers being pulled off my feet and the blanket tucked around me, too. The hand that brushed across my forehead my mostly-asleep mind automatically assumed was my dad’s. And for that brief second before I fell back into sleep, I was twelve and safe again.

---

Ben

I watched him sleep for awhile, listening to his breathing, making sure he was okay. It was only 8:00 p.m., but it had officially been the longest day of my life. Stretching out on the bed across the room from Riley’s and setting my watch to wake me up in two hours for the next concussion check, I closed my eyes. I’d been back to my apartment for a shower and my luggage for the week. Then I'd called my dad. He’d been understandably confused.

“Dad, I’m not going to make it back tonight.”

I’d heard the silent “Oh.” “Well, son, I can understand that. Plans change.”

The man really didn’t think I was coming. Come on. “Dad, I’ll be home tomorrow. I can’t give you a specific time just yet, but…here’s the thing. I have this friend…”

“That Melanie girl?”

“No, Dad. We broke up. I told you that.”

“A different girl already? Ben, I don’t think…”

“No, Dad,” I said as patiently as I could. First of all, Melanie was the second girl I’d ever really dated. Second of all, it’d been four months since we’d broken it off. Wasn’t like I was seeing a new girl every other week. “Not a different girl. A friend from school. He doesn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving.”

“Foreign exchange student or something?”

“Not quite. But seeing as it’s just the two of us this year, I didn’t think you’d mind…”

“No. Not at all. If you have this friend who needs help, by all means. I have the room.” I could hear it in his voice. He thought I was bringing someone home to take some of the heat off myself. That wasn’t the plan, really. This was about Riley. Though if having the kid in the house could save us from arguing, I won’t lie, I’d count it as a definite plus. “Does this man have a name?”

“Riley.”

There was a short pause. “That's his first name?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Dad. His name is Riley Poole. That’s Poole with an ‘e’ if you’re making place cards.”

“No need to get snippy. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ben.”

“That you will. Bye, Dad.”

I’d hung up, too tired to try to explain any more of what had happened. It’d be hard enough to explain face to face, especially the way my face was so well-decorated at that moment. Ah, well. Why dwell? So instead I just laid there, hands behind my head, listening to Riley breathe, which had nearly become a habit at this point, and trying to come up with the best strategy for kidnapping a very independent, very self-conscious, very vocal computer science major. I’d ruled out duct tape, chloroform, and holding his laptop for ransom by the time sleep finally claimed me.

NTNTNTNT

The next morning, I saw the moment he started waking up for real. I had the feeling Riley was a light sleeper and thanked his concussion for the fact that he still didn’t realize I was there. I’d been opening and closing drawers and pulling things from the closet all morning. I sat on the bed opposite his and waited. He rolled over onto his back and blinked up at the ceiling, reaching up to scrub at his eyes. Then he dropped his hands back down and let out a huge sigh, resulting in a few heavy coughs that made me sit up a little straighter. He sat up slowly with a wince, rubbing at his chest. It took approximately .09 seconds for sharp blue eyes to zero in on the bags sitting on the floor. Then they looked up and found me. Then they grew about six sizes. “Ben?” He swallowed a cough. “What are you doing here?”

“I am…I was…checking on you. Concussion. I know you didn’t let the doctor check you out properly. So on a not completely unrelated note, where's your inhaler?”

“I blew it up,” he said sleepily.

My eyebrows jumped. Oh. The fire. Really? “You…Of course you did.” Mental note: stop by the pharmacy. I smiled and shook my head. He looked very confused.

“Ben, I thought you were leaving last night for your dad’s.”

“Well, that was the original plan. But with everything that happened, I was exhausted, you were exhausted. Figured a night’s sleep would be the best thing if I wanted to make the drive.”

His hair was sticking straight up on one side and he was blinking owlishly, trying to understand what I was saying. “Oh. Okay.” His gaze fell again to the bags on the floor and he rubbed his head, face showing how puzzled he was. I kind of liked him like this. He seemed a lot more pliable. I could use that. “Are those my bags?” he asked.

“Mmhm. Yep. As soon as you’re ready, we can load up.”

“Load what up?”

“The car.”

“I don’t have a car.”

“My car.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Ben?”

“Yes, Riley?”

He took a deep breath. “What the heck are you talking about?”

Okay. With any luck, he’d still be too tired and bewildered to argue. “I was actually wondering if you’d want to come with me to my father’s house for Thanksgiving break.”

The look on his face made me worry he’d misheard the request. He looked like I’d just asked him if he wanted to jump off a bridge. “What?”

“Well, it’s just me and him this year. We’ve got plenty of room and way too much food. It’s kind of short notice, I know. I just figured if there wasn’t anywhere you needed to be…”

“Why?”

The monosyllabic questions were not a good sign. “Because you’re sick, injured, and need a place to stay?”

“Wh…ah…” He shook his head. “No. Uh, no. Thank you.” He had a small, surprised smile on his face, and I think he was impressed, perhaps even a little delighted that I’d asked. But he shook his head. “I’m okay here. Go spend some time with your dad.”

“Riley…”

Just then there was a stamp of feet and a bellowed, “Lady on the floor!” in forewarning I suppose for any college-type guy she thought might be running around naked, before her footsteps came down the hall, the door opened, and Melanie popped her head in. When I'd called her, I'd said she hadn't needed to come. She'd hung up. “Where…” Her eyes caught sight of the two of us. She gasped. “Guys. Oh my…oh my gosh.” It was nearly whispered. Melanie doesn’t whisper often. She brought a hand up to her open mouth as she stepped further into the room. She held out a hand toward me. “Your face…”

“I’m fine. We’re fine. Both of us. We’re okay, Mel,” I promised.

“Ben, you didn’t tell me they hurt you like this.”

“Hey, I’m fine,” I said again.

She told me as gently as she could to shut up, looking truly and utterly horrified. My face was still tender, and I knew I had a few cuts decorating it. But apparently the bruising had set in as well. And Riley. That kid just looked torn up. He had angry bruises coloring his eye, reaching halfway down his cheek, making the rest of his face look even paler than it actually was. He was still in the same shirt he’d worn the day before, dirty and patched with blood in a few places. I’d at least had a shower. He looked like he’d just been mauled. “Boys,” she said, shaking her head. There were real tears turning her eyes misty. She turned to me, started to slap me on the shoulder, thought better of it, and asked, “Is it okay to hug you?”

I smiled and pulled her into a hug, doing a wonderful job of not wincing as she pressed against those tender places I’d been hit, if I do say so myself. “We’re okay.”

She nodded and stepped back, blinking and steadying herself. “Riley Poole, are you huggable?”

I glanced back at Riley. Poor kid was starting to wake up. “Melanie, what are you doing here?” She tilted her head to one side. He waved a hand in the air. “I mean yes. Hugs. Fine.” He let her hug him like he was made of stained glass. I was just glad he was still on the bed, legs under that blanket. He was still wearing yesterday’s jeans, and the woman would have a fit if she saw the long streaks of red down one leg.

“Paul’s on his way up, by the way,” she told me as she finally let go of Riley. “He had to stop on his way in. Some guy whistled at me.”

I nodded, mental picture already painted. Paul was probably outside, “explaining” to the young man the meaning of propriety. At the end of the day, the young whistler would probably either be opening doors for all the young ladies or enlisted in the Corps.

Riley blinked. “Paul’s coming here?” There was a flash of a smile followed by a look of confusion. “Why? And why are you here?”

“Ben called and told us what happened,” Melanie explained. “We had to come see if you were okay. How you feeling, sweetie?”

Riley looked up at me. “There’s really no answer I can give that’s going to satisfy her, is there?”

I shook my head and mouthed a “Nope.”

He turned his eyes back to her and gave a cheekily exaggerated smile. “You look stunning today.”

Surprisingly enough, Riley had managed to convince her he’d be okay with that, not even having to answer her question. He was good. She tried to look stern, shaking her head as her face split into a smile. “You’re trouble.”

“Personified. Yes. I know.” He smiled. “Thanks for coming. I’m really okay.”

“Debatable.”

“Ben, could you debate with Melanie while I take a shower?” He rubbed at his head and finally stood and grabbed his shower stuff, rummaging around in his drawer for clothes. Melanie caught a look at his pants and gasped, swinging her head around to look at me. I shook my head and motioned for her to let it go. Riley looked up at me. Then down at the duffel and backpack on the floor. “Did you pack my stuff?”

“Just enough for the week.”

He shot me this amazed look and shook his head. “Crazy.” He grabbed the clothes he needed and the towel off the back of the door. “Thanks for coming, Mel. See you next week.”

“Sure, babe.”

“Riley, you’re not supposed to get those stitches wet.”

He sighed and shoved his hand in a drawer, coming out with a tube of plastic wrap. He waved it at me and kept walking. “Have a good trip, Ben. Thanks for everything.”

“Of course.”

Once he was across the hall in the bathroom, Melanie looked at me, her voice quiet. “He really thinks we’re going to be gone when he gets back, you know.”

I sighed. “I know.”

“He’s really been living with the monster who did this all semester?”

“Without telling a soul.” I shook my head. “If I hadn’t been there, I don’t think I’d ever have gotten the full story from him.”

She nodded. “He couldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“My guess? It never entered his mind that you’d want to help. Right now he probably thinks your life is as close to perfect as it gets. And he’s the one messing it up. The less he messes up your perfect life, the longer he’ll get to be a part of it.” I was quiet for a long moment. Melanie understood Riley, I think. That’s why they got along so well. She’d had to overcome her own abusive past, one of which I will most likely never know all the details. She recognized the signs in Riley like I did, but she understood them in a way that I never could.

“How do I convince him otherwise?”

“Time.”

I nodded once, running a hand through my hair. “I can do that.”

“I know you can.” She chewed her bottom lip. “This was scary, Ben. Are you really okay?”

“I guess…I’m still processing,” I answered honestly, sinking down to sit on the bed. “You’re right. It is very scary.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“The court date is going to be set after a preliminary hearing. The holiday throws things off a bit. We’re both going to have to testify, though. They pushed the hearing back until after Thanksgiving. I haven’t actually told my Dad…any of it, really. But I’m going to see him tonight. Somehow I have to manage to get Riley to come with, because I truly have no idea what he plans to do with himself this next week, and that thought terrifies me just a little, because…well, look at him. And when I finally get him down to my father’s house, I’m worried Dad’s going to see me like this and overreact…”

“What would overreacting to this look like, Ben? I don’t think it’s possible to overreact to this.”

I paused. “Good point.”

Paul waltzed in then. The big man got a look at me and whistled. He winced sympathetically and said point blank, “Ben, you’re not all right.”

Dear Paul. Man always gets straight to the point. He’s also impossible to lie to. “Not a hundred percent. No.”

He nodded. “You’ll get there. Where’s the littler one?” That got a smile out of me. Riley would die.

“Shower.”

“And he’s…?”

“Also not all right. Picture not all right plus pneumonia plus stitches plus a concussion plus severe emotional trauma all wrapped up in an eighteen year old kid with no family.”

He nodded knowingly. “So you’re just…not all right plus the severe emotional trauma all wrapped up in a single-man-turned-worried-parent.”

I sighed. “Worried friend. I’m not that old.”

“Technically...”

“Paul.”

“Okay. But listen, you need to talk to someone, you call me. Understand?”

I was a step away from giving him a “Sir, yes, Sir.” Bit I didn’t. “Of course I do.”

“Good. So what’s the game plan?”

Melanie spoke up, sitting down on the desk chair. “Operation Get-Riley-to-go-home-with-Ben-for-Thanksgiving.”

“All right. Mission objectives?”

She giggled. “Heretofore stated in the operation title. Paul, you’re ridiculous.”

He grinned at her. “Okay, then. How about a plan of attack?”

Melanie gave a thin smile. “I think it’ll be relatively simple.”

“Yeah?” I asked. “Please expound.”

“All we have to do is give him a choice.”

I blinked. “I gave him a choice. He said no.”

“So we give him a choice. ‘No’ just won’t be one of his choices.”

---

Riley

I stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around my waist. There wasn’t anyone else in the bathroom. Most everyone had left the day before as soon as classes had ended. This was perfectly fine for me. I slipped on my boxers and de-plastic-wrapped my leg. I was supposed to change the bandage. That would be fun. I winced, looking down at the bandage just above my knee which might’ve been slightly damp around the edges. Stupid plastic wrap. I stood in front of the wall mirror at the end of the row of shower stalls and took stock. My face looked kinda gory, the bruises already forming this deep purple color, but I wasn’t cut like Ben. Most of the bruising on my torso was old and that light yellow-green color, but there were the few odd new ones I’d gotten in this last little caper, the most notable being the one where Kenny had nailed me. A few scrapes. Nothing a little time wouldn’t heal.

I sighed and pulled my shirt over my head, trying hard not to think about how close I’d come to seeing Ben get killed for my mess. The guilt I expected, but I couldn't shake the fact that it still scared the crap out of me. That stupid scene kept popping up in my head with Kent’s gun inches from his face. Kent pulling the trigger. Ben could’ve died. By all accounts, without some miracle, Ben should’ve died. Maybe God had heard my angel prayer after all. His timing was way better.

I shook myself out of it and slipped into my jeans. And after all that, after I essentially get him killed, what does the guy do? He invites me over for Thanksgiving dinner. I shook my head. He’d have done it, too, I knew. It was a pity offer, sure, but he really, truly would've done it. Blew my mind. One of these days, that guy is going to trust somebody and get it thrown right back in his face. I’d have to make sure to watch out for that.

I walked back across the hall toward my room with a mind to grab my stuff and go when I heard the voices coming through the wall. They were still there. What the heck? I walked in. Even Paul was there. This became immediately apparent as I was suddenly grabbed up into a Marine hug.

“There he is. You scared the crap out of me, son. You know that?”

“Uh,” I coughed. “Sorry?”

He pushed me back, a hand on each of my shoulders. “I heard you had to use what I taught you.”

I ducked my head and grinned. “Yeah. You…were right. It worked.”

I glanced up at him to see this big, giant-sized smile. “You. Are. Amazing. Not a guy in a thousand probably who could’ve done what you did up there. Proud to know you, Riley Poole. Proud to know you.”

Whoa. He was totally serious. I could feel my face burning. “Um…thanks. But I didn’t…”

“Stop after thanks, son. Humility’s good, but I’m telling the truth, so you might as well accept it.”

I let out a breath and gave a small smile. “Thanks.” Paul may not have had his facts totally straight, but he was smiling and proud to know me. And he said not to argue, so I couldn’t argue with that. He was a Marine. But then he said something I could easily argue with.

“I think you have a fever, by the way.”

I pulled back and walked around Kent’s bed to sit on mine, trying not to limp. “I just took a hot shower.”

“Where are your pills?” Ben asked.

“I…am done with them.” I was. Just because Kent had made me done with them a little sooner than I was supposed to be didn’t mean I wasn’t done with them.

“He took them?”

Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who “he” was. “It’s really fine. It’s been a week. I’m recovered.”

“How much of this week have you been going without your pills?”

Who asks questions that specific? Seriously. “It’s all a blur, really. I…have a concussion.”

“That’s true, Ben,” Melanie spoke up from her spot on a chair. “People with concussions like that shouldn’t be alone. Especially with pneumonia. He’s going home with you, right?”

Ben nearly winced. I think I did, too. He tried to answer. “Well…”

“Well, if he’s not going with you, he’s coming with me. I’m going to see my family in Minnesota. Fresh air. Probably the best thing for him, anyway.”

A crowbar could not have gotten my eyebrows down out of my hairline. “What? Uh, thanks, Melanie, but really, I’ll be…”

“Minnesota?” Paul asked. “That’s way too far. I don’t know if that long of a trip is a good idea. Ben, if you’re not taking him, I want him. Jana loves him, and the kids are already asking when he’s coming back.”

What the heck? “Paul, I’m staying here…”

“Minnesota’s not so terribly far,” Melanie argued.

“It’s freezing up there this time of year. He has pneumonia.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on us walking there.”

“Oh, not walking. You live out in the boonies of Minnesota. I’m relatively sure at this time of year your house is only accessible by dogsled.”

“No,” she scoffed. “Let’s put him in a house with a bunch of screaming kids. Perfect place to recuperate.”

“Guys, Ben already asked,” I put in quickly, practically dizzy from looking back and forth between them. “I’m, um, I’m going with Ben.”

Ben’s eyebrows rose, and he sort of smiled at the other two, reaching out to nudge my shoulder. “See? I told you, guys. I’ve got dibs.”

I nodded. Then I shook my head. Wait. What just happened? Oh, crap.

---

A/N: And thanks to all who reviewed! Wow!