157Wow! I can't believe the response the last two chapters got! Thank you SO MUCH to all my reviewers!
A/N: This is not the last chapter. Just thought I'd let you know.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Riley
When I woke up, I was lying on a bed. Not a comfortable bed, because the sheets were so starchy that I had probably left a permanent dent in them, but still a bed. And I felt like I never wanted to get up again.
I looked blankly up at the bare, white ceiling for a second, trying to figure out what was going on. My eyes wandered to the bare, white walls. And the bare, white floor. And everything suddenly fell into place.
The hospital. I was in the hospital.
I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. And I nearly jumped out of my skin—or scanty hospital gown, whichever was more accurate—when a quiet voice said, "You okay?"
I felt sudden, uninvited tears poking at the back of my eyes when I heard the familiar voice. Very carefully, I turned my throbbing head to look at Ben, who was sitting beside my bed in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs. He hadn't left.
"Yeah," I whispered, not trusting myself to speak any louder. "How long have you been here?"
"It's 10:30," Ben answered. "So, a while." He smiled a little, but it didn't reach his troubled eyes.
"Is Abby here?" I asked, trying to distract Ben from whatever was bothering him.
Ben shook his head. "She left a couple hours ago, because there's only one cot here. But I practically had to drag her out of the room kicking and screaming. You know how she gets."
I grinned weakly. "Yeah. Did she give you the I'm-going-to-make-you-eat-broccoli-casserole-for-a-month look?"
"Worse. The I-am-going-to-kill-you-if-Riley-wakes-up-while-I'm-gone look."
"You are so dead," I said.
Ben agreed with a nod. Despite his joking words, he looked really worried. And tired. And . . . guilty?
I shifted position a little, and the resulting pain that shot down my arm made me gasp. Ben was immediately up out of his chair, gently pushing me back down. "You want me to call the nurse?" he asked anxiously.
I almost shook my head, but thought the better of it. "No," I answered quickly, with a little too much force.
Ben looked at me doubtfully, but sat slowly back down. If he had looked guilty before, he looked absolutely miserable now.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
Ben shook his head incredulously. "Riley, you're the one in the hospital bed, not me."
"My point exactly. Those chairs have to be worse than the beds." I gave him a pointed look.
"Riley . . ." Ben seemed to struggle with himself for a second. When he finally spoke, it was in a strained voice. "I'm so sorry. This was all my fault."
I rolled my eyes. "Your fault? Ben, that's like saying you're sorry you found the Templar treasure. And since when do you have a guilt complex?"
"I just . . ." Ben sighed, seeming lost for words.
"This was bound to happen sometime, Ben," I told him. "I have a Ferrari."
Ben smiled, but then his expression sobered. "So, what happened to you? If this is your definition of 'a little beat up,' then we're going to have to talk."
I groaned, but started telling the story.
NTNTNTNTNTNTNTNT
Ben
Riley looked exhausted, but very pleased with himself, as he related his misadventure. I listened attentively, laughed occasionally at Riley's theatrical and hilarious version of events, and asked questions. Mostly, though, I just focused on Riley himself, thinking over and over again what a miracle it was that we were even having this conversation.
"Hey. Ben." Riley's voice snapped me out of my contemplation. He looked at me quizzically. "You like zoned out for a second. Are you as bored as I am when you talk?"
I shook my head with a smile. "No, I was just thinking. When the medics tried to get you into the ambulance, you kind of panicked on them. What happened?"
Riley's expression, which had become animated during his dramatic rendition of his kidnapping, immediately changed. "I just . . . don't like hospitals. Ben, I—well, I really don't want to talk about it, okay?"
Judging by the alarmed tone of his voice, I knew that pushing the subject would be a bad move. "All right. We don't have to talk now."
"Thanks, Ben. You . . . you're a great friend." Rubbing his swollen eyes, Riley smiled a little. "Bet this wasn't how you were planning on spending your birthday," he said regretfully.
I smiled at his concern. "It doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're okay," I said sincerely. "You had me in a real panic."
Riley's expression was shocked. "You? Seriously?"
"Yeah. When the gun went off . . ." I couldn't even put into words the horror of that moment.
Riley closed his eyes, a look of intense concentration on his face.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm trying to picture you losing your composure. It's not working." The kid sounded disappointed. He sighed hugely. "The one time you freak out, and I didn't even see it. Oh, well. Maybe next time."
I looked sternly at him. "There's not going to be a next time."
Riley closed his eyes. "Trust me, Ben. I never want anything like this to happen ever again."
The sincere tone of his voice made it clear to me that the past three days had shaken the kid more than he cared to admit. I could also tell that he was close to falling asleep again, although he was trying to stay awake for me.
"Glad to hear it," I answered, my tone just as honest as his. Riley opened his eyes again, blinking owlishly. "Go to sleep, Riley," I told him.
"Not tired," he protested, his voice back to its normal whine. That was one of the best indications I could get that he was feeling better. Which may sound weird, but makes perfect sense to anyone who knows Riley well.
"I know, but if Abby comes in, and you're awake . . ."
". . .you're as good as dead." The kid smiled a little, closing his eyes. "Thanks, Ben. And happy birthday."
A/N: Aww. A non-cliffhanger chapter! Yay!
If you want to find out what Riley got Ben for his birthday, REVIEW!