A/N: Hey, everybody! Here, finally, is the story I promised! Just so you're aware, it contains references to my other story, Happy Birthday?, and explains the reasons behind Riley's biggest fears. It probably isn't necessary to read that story to understand this one, but it would be helpful.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Riley. Sadly, I only write profitless fanfiction about him.

CHAPTER ONE

Ben

"I don't see why we have to go to another museum-opening thingy," Riley whined, trying to work out the rather large knot he had made of his tie. "Can't they book a different pair of handsome, treasure-hunting heroes for once?"

I glanced at Riley's reflection in the mirror. The kid was wearing that expression again, the one where he looked like a pouting eight-year old. I sighed hugely. "Riley, if you still want to drive, no more complaining."

"I don't know why I ever agreed to that," Riley lamented. "Ben, you know I hate these things."

"I do know. Just humor me, okay?" I straightened my own tie and moved to help Riley before he accidentally—or intentionally—strangled himself. "It won't be that bad, I promise."

"Yeah, just the usual," Riley said gloomily. "Some hundred-year old, dried-up curator is going to shove us onstage and blind us with lights. We'll be stared at by the general public like we're in some kind of zoo." The sarcasm in his voice was withering.

"Something like that," I agreed. "But it'll be over pretty quick and then we can get dessert or something after, my treat."

With Riley, 'my' and 'treat' were the magic words. He perked up a little. "Okay. I guess I'd better start behaving, then, so we don't have to take your car." He pretended to shudder at the idea.

"Enough about my car, okay?" I said sharply, annoyed. "Let's just get out of here before I change my mind about bringing you."

Riley frowned. "Wait. You're considering not bringing me? How do I get you to do that? Ben?"

I was already walking out of the bathroom, pulling on my suit jacket. "I'm already doing it."

Riley ran to catch up. "Ben—"

"What, now you want to go?" I realized a second late how he might have taken my words. I turned to face him, judging his expression carefully. Riley had an almost petrifying fear of being unwanted, of losing my friendship. I could usually tell if I'd said something wrong just by the look on Riley's face—the way he ducked his head a little, squared his shoulders, and made his expression and eyes carefully blank. The way he tried to make it look like he didn't care. Even though he did.

Luckily, I hadn't crossed that particular line tonight. Riley just sighed. "I don't want to go, but the museum booked us both. And, let's face it, you're totally lost without me. I'm the one people really come to see."

"Right," I said with a smile. "Let's not disappoint."

()()()()()()()()()()()()

Riley

It started out as the typical gig.

I ran the standard power point while Ben detailed our little "archaeological expeditions" (leaving out all the illegal parts, of course). Then Ben and I stood on this brightly lit platform thing while the museum curator—an old fogey, like I'd predicted—talked about the Cibola exhibit. It took all the willpower I had, and a death glare from Ben, to keep me from yawning or checking my watch. But seriously, the curator was like ancient, and sounded like his favorite hobbies were reading the dictionary and watching paint dry. He was totally monotone.

When he finally, finally finished, Ben and I were "invited" (a.k.a. ordered) to attend the dinner party in the adjoining room. I trailed after Ben while he talked to some important people, snagging shrimp and little cakes as the trays passed by.

"Ben," I said, when he had a free moment, "how much longer?"

Ben smiled. "Just a few more—"

He was cut off when the lights suddenly died, plunging the entire hall into blackness. My breath caught.

It was really dark, and the crowd pressed close on all sides. People were screaming.

I felt the familiar sense of panic crashing over me, and it was too late to stop it.

I had to get out of there.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

"Hey, Riley! Are you okay?"

I felt Ben's hand touch my shoulder as he crouched down beside me. What a stupid question, Ben! I thought, but I couldn't get the words out because I was hyperventilating. From past experience, I knew that I needed to calm myself down soon, or I was going to either throw up or pass out.

Ben seemed to recognize my predicament, because he started rubbing my back, saying, "It's okay, kid. Calm down. It's okay."

Gradually, my breathing started to slow. The blackness at the edges of my vision receded, and I closed my eyes, concentrating on holding in each breath for three seconds.

When I felt close to normal again, I felt the embarrassment creeping up on me. Had I really just lost it in front of all those people? And Ben?

I looked up into Ben's concerned face. Yep, I had.

People started to escape the hall, pouring out onto the lawn. I realized how much of a scene I was making, lying there in the grass with my best friend bending over me. It didn't help that both of us were in tuxes. I rolled over and got to my knees, which was more difficult than it should have been because I was shaking so badly.

"Hey, can you walk?" Ben asked anxiously. I must have really looked like crap.

Stubbornly, I pushed myself up. "Yeah. Been able to do it since I was one."

Ben ignored that, still looking at me with a certain amount of worry. "What just happened?"

"Nothing," I said, trying to shrug it off, but Ben was more persistent than that. After all, he had spent his whole life looking for a treasure that no one thought existed.

"I'm having a hard time believing that," he said. "Do you want to talk about it now, or later?"

"Neither!" I said, a bit too forcefully. "It's—it's nothing, Ben, okay?"

We stood there for a moment in silence. Ben fixed me with this intense stare, and I looked back at him, hoping that he would just leave this alone. Alone, hidden away in the corner of my mind where it belonged.

My legs started to wobble a little, and I was getting a killer headache. "Let's just go," I said, hoping I didn't sound like I was begging. But I knew I did.

Ben sighed. "You remember where we parked?"

I felt relieved beyond words. "Yeah. Between two silver cars."

"That's specific," Ben said sarcastically. Unfortunately, though he was acting pretty normal right now, the determined glint was still in his eyes. The first time I saw that look, we'd ended up going on a fun little high speed car chase with the stolen Declaration of Independence and a whole bunch of guys with guns. Great. I wondered just where we'd end up now.

"It's a Ferrari, Ben. How many other people here have bright red, convertible Spyders? If you can't find it, then you are a disgrace to your profession." I tried to make my voice sound as normal as possible, keeping both the tremor and the relief out of it. I hoped.

Ben said nothing, but simply began walking. I followed, trying to keep my knees from buckling. When I stumbled forward, Ben grabbed my arm to steady me. He made no comment, but I knew that his worry was only increasing. There was something about the way his face was carefully blank that made me sure that I was going to get the interrogation of my life soon.

Soon, but not now.

Despite his complaint, Ben found the car pretty easily. "Better let me drive," he said.

I was out of breath, and my head hurt so badly that I swore my vision was blurring. "'K," I answered shortly, dropping into the passenger's seat. It kind of surprised even me that I was giving in so easily.

Ben said nothing as he backed the car up and sped out of the parking lot. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the seat, grateful for the cool air on my face. I must have fallen asleep, because I definitely couldn't remember the rest of the car ride or stopping on the drive at Ben's house.

"Hey, come on, Riley. Get up." Ben gently tapped my shoulder, and I opened my eyes. "Let's get you inside."

"What?" I asked sleepily. Everything is so confusing when you first wake up.

Ben said nothing, just opening the door for me and offering me a hand.

"Why—I mean, this is your house, Ben." Wow. That was just about the least articulate thing I'd said all day. I got up, and the pounding headache made sure it wasn't forgotten. I groaned.

"You're starting to scare me, kid." Ben's tone made that clear, which was bad. If Ben was scared, then the world was about to end. Probably.

"Sorry," I said, walking unsteadily beside him up to the house.

"It's not your fault."

"How do you know?" I asked, almost to myself.

A/N: Hmm. I wonder what's up with Riley? Push the periwinkle button labeled "review" to find out!