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thenationaltreasuregazette · 9 months ago

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Interpersonal Aftermath: Riley and Patrick Edition

We continue our relationship aftermath series with Riley and Patrick, and with me once again underestimating how much I had to learn (and to write) from this investigation.

Now, these two have even less interaction then our other low-interaction duos, but let’s work with what we’ve got.

Patrick meets both Riley and Abigail when they show up to his house with Ben after the gala. Initially I thought Patrick would instantly dislike Abigail, but @emmi-kat convinced me that he’d take to her immediately. She also argues that a little bit of that compassion would extend to Riley as well.

I’m inclined to agree, but while I don’t think Patrick dislikes Riley on first meeting, I don’t think he particularly likes him much either.

To review, their first real interaction goes like this:

PATRICK And he dragged you two into this nonsense? ABIGAIL Literally. RILEY I volunteered. PATRICK Well unvolunteer, before you waste your life.

The main difference between Ben’s companions is that Abigail was roped into this nonsense, where Riley is here voluntarily. He joined Ben in the futile quest for treasure, and I imagine Patrick holds that against him, at least a little.

Can’t these guys see how they’re wasting their lives away? he must think. Patrick at least knows why Ben feels compelled to do this. Riley doesn't have generations of family history compelling him to be here. He could, as Patrick puts it, unvolunteer at any time.

That doesn’t mean Patrick doesn’t think Riley is smart. After all, he knows that Ben is smart, but that was never the problem. It didn’t help that Ben had the patience and the mind to study deeply and try to unravel the clues, but it’s his bullheaded dedication to the cause that has Patrick most concerned.

It’s an interesting question how much of this same determination he senses in Riley. After all, Riley just helped Ben steal the Declaration of Independence. He’s as all-in as you can be. And yet he’s in more because he wasn’t going to let Ben do this alone, not only because he has a blind belief in the treasure.

The fact that Riley doesn’t recognize the Ottendorf cypher might give Patrick a little hope for Riley. I think Patrick would find it reassuring that Riley isn’t a die-hard treasure hunter, at least not in the same way that Ben is.

And of course, there’s this gem, which is one of my favorite lines of the movie:

Patrick isn’t exactly impressed with Riley either. But then again, this isn’t a situation where Riley can show off his skill sets. In this scene, he’s fulfilling his everyman function with no tech in sight. He really is just “some guy” who Ben has tagging along.

I would expect most of Patrick’s frustrations to remain on Ben, but he doesn’t have a lot of reason to like Riley yet either. In the tension of the evening, I doubt Riley’s signature sense of humor isn’t even registering for Patrick.

They don’t meet again until it’s time to go down into Trinity Church, and even then they don’t interact directly until after the stairs collapse.

However, when they do, it’s Patrick patting Riley reassuringly on the shoulder and saying

PATRICK It's OK, kiddo.

after Ian leaves them in the pit.

That’s a pretty big shift from “What do you have, him?” So what changed? Well directly, as we’ve seen, almost nothing—Riley and Patrick haven’t interacted since. However, their circumstances have changed a lot.

I would argue that this fatherly instinct from Patrick is a result of three factors. One, everybody almost died a minute ago, particularly Ben, who was in peril for the longest. Patrick is probably feeling a lot of feelings about his son and the years they lost being estranged from each other. Some of this fatherly affection transfers over to Riley.

Second, the thrill/peril of the treasure hunt has awakened something in Patrick that he thought died a long time ago. In his worldview, this staircase should not be real. Hiding some artifacts is one thing, but secretly excavating a five story pit in the middle of Manhattan is a long way to go to prank the British. He must be starting to feel some of his long-extinguished hope that the treasure is real. This puts him in a good mood, hence “Kiddo.”

And third, even though their direct interactions have been limited, Patrick has spent enough time with Riley at this point to get a sense of Riley’s personality. And who wouldn’t love Riley Poole?

He might not realize it yet, but Patrick is bringing Ben back into his life, and taking everyone Ben cares about with him.

And what does Riley think of Patrick?

Although they had never met, I think that Riley has expectations of Patrick that trend toward the negative. In the 2003 script Riley explicitly knows about Ben’s tense relationship with his father before we meet Patrick on screen.

Outside the Archives he says

RILEY All right. I’m sorry. I know I'm not supposed to talk about your dad.

Now, Riley’s a slightly different character in the older script, and he has a slightly different relationship with Ben—Riley actually takes on more of a mastermind role—so it’s not a guarantee that any related details would be the same. We know, at the very least, that Riley knows enough to know that Ben is thinking about going to his dad’s when they’re in the park.

RILEY Ben, you know what you have to do.

It’s possible Riley knows any amount of detail about Ben and Patrick’s relationship between “My dad and I don’t see eye to eye about the treasure” to full details of their falling out, Patrick’s perpetual disappointment with his son, etc.

So when he goes to the door with Ben and Abigail, Riley knows he’s about to walk into something but he might not know exactly what. Then Patrick insults Abigail (Is she pregnant?), Ben a bunch of times, and Riley himself (What do you have, him?) and Riley can’t be having a great impression of Patrick.

So I imagine the “Kiddo” moment marks a "oh, this guy's actually alright" on both sides.

Going forward, I don’t know that they’d get particularly close—Patrick has much more in common with Abigail, after all—but I imagine that Riley and Patrick get along just fine. Patrick will always think Riley is a bit hapless, and Riley will always think Patrick is a bit uptight, but Patrick respects the lengths Riley will go for Ben, and Riley is glad for both of them that Ben and Patrick are on a better footing now.

“He’s a weird, goofy little man, but he’s my son’s weird, goofy little man” 🤝 “I just wanna impress my treasure hunt father-in-law/new adopted history dad”

#the national treasure gazette #national treasure #riley poole #patrick gates

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where-dreamers-go · 5 years ago

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“Part 3 -- Lemons” Riley Poole x Reader

(A/N: Requested. Welcome back to the Riley Poole x Reader series! The Declaration of Independence is safe from Ian, but an unexpected turn of events has changed your plans. But you, Ben Gates, and Riley Poole have to find out what’s on the back of the Declaration in midst of a time crunch. Danger is racing to catch the three of you. Will you all be fast enough to outsmart the others and handle Doctor Chase knowing what you all were up to?

Ideally, I wanted to have this typed and uploaded in March, but…yeah..the rest of February happened and then…stuff. So~

Check out Part One and Part Two.

Word Count: 3,999)

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

The time seemed to tick away faster the more you needed it. A different destination in the plan, the van continued down the roads in the extremely late hour. The darkness eased some anxiety, if only because it meant no traffic in sight.

Sitting in the van, much quieter than earlier, the four of you entered a neighborhood. It was calm and held no activity. A familiar house sitting on a small lot. Patrick Gates’ house.

Having been friends with Ben since you with both teenagers, you just knew Patrick would not react well to any of the situation at hand. Not even if he knew a small fraction of it. You dreaded to see the look on his face if you knew about the Declaration. You cringed, actually.

To the left sat Patrick Gates’ house. Short green hedges lined as fencing. Lights were still on inside even on the second floor.

You peered over the back of the driver’s seat to get a better view.

“Looks okay.” Riley peered out of the driver’s side window as he slowed the van to a stop. The window that had been shot out by one of Ian’s men.

“Park a couple of blocks away.” Ben said.

“Well, how long do you think we got?” Riley eased the van forward.

“I'm gonna give them a couple of hours at least. I hope.” Ben started pulling off his bow tie.

“What do we do about her?” Riley gestured with his head to Abigail. “I've got some duct tape in the back.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Both you and Abigail looked to Ben.

“No, that won't be necessary. She won't be any trouble. Promise you won't be any trouble.” Ben said glancing over to her as she silently evaluated the situation.

She sighed. “I promise.” Abigail said without a hint of sass nor anger. She sounded more tired and over it than anything else.

“See? She's curious.” Ben said.

Well at least she toned down in her yelling and name calling, you thought. Added that one of the last things you wanted to do was be duct taping someone, especially her. She seemed more than capable of handling herself and getting all of you into extreme trouble later on. She didn’t appear inherently bad, just tired and appalled.

. . .

The walk to the house was cold. Quite cold. It made the four of you move even faster. Your feet would thank you for changing into even more comfortable shoes. Yet everything else would nag you for cold-weather clothes. You had considered nabbing a blanket from Riley’s van, however thought better of it because you wanted full arm movement without restrictions.

Head held as high as he could manage with the Declaration hidden in the maroon cylinder over his shoulder, Ben lead the group to the front door and rang the doorbell. Lights were still on even then. It was mildly surprising that Patrick was awake this late.

You took a deep breath, standing beside Abigail on the short path.

The door opened, Patrick answering in a robe.

“Dad.” Ben breathed out.

“Where's the party?” Patrick asked in a flat tone.

You glanced down at your attire. It wasn’t exactly casual wear. Ben was in a tux and Abigail was in a ball gown.

“Well…uh…I'm in a little trouble.” Ben started slowly.

“Is she pregnant?” Patrick asked, glancing over to Doctor Chase.

You clamped your mouth shut.

Oh, dang.

Riley and Abigail looked at each other. Everyone else glanced at her.

“Well, if she is, are you gonna leave the woman carrying your grandchild standing out in the cold?” Ben played along, anything to get indoors.

“I look pregnant?” Abigail’s voice was hushed as she directed her question to Riley and later to you.

He shook his head and looked down, couldn’t look at her.

You kept your mouth absolutely shut, shaking your head. It wasn’t entirely surprising to hear Patrick say that, for how long you had known Ben, but still.

Without a word, Patrick stepped back inside with a beckoning hand gesture as he allowed all of you in.

Ben, cautiously, walked in first. His father whispering something to him that you could hardly make out besides the words ‘dumb treasure’. Riley followed in second as you and Abigail were the last ones to enter.

The four of you shuffled into the room to the right. A living area with a fireplace.

“Well, have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable.” Patrick said as he walked into the room passed all of you. “There's some pizza. It's still warm, I think.”

All of you walked further into the room. It was nice, cosy, and decorated with various historical pieces. Yet your eyes darted towards the cardboard box of pizza.

Hello, you thought, walking over to the thin box. Starting to lean down to snatch a piece, but you stopped when you noticed the box was on top of a few books. How could he? And on the ottoman no less? That’s s—.

“Dad… I need the Silence Dogood letters.” Ben said, he stood with his father at the other end of the room. “Yeah, it's about the treasure.”

“And he dragged you three into this nonsense?” Patrick turned to the three of you.

You straightened your posture and gave a weak smile.

“Literally.” Abigail said as she crossed her arms.

“Kinda.” You said quickly.

“I volunteered.” Riley smiled.

“Well, unvolunteer, before you waste your life.” Patrick walked closer.

“Knock it off, Dad.” Ben moved in front of the fireplace.

Riley walked around you and opened the top flap of the pizza box. More than half of the slices were still uneaten. Plenty for a couple of hungry adults. Riley sat down down in the armchair as you immediately reached down to nabbed a piece of pizza.

The pizza was room temperature, but honestly at that point it wasn’t much of a negative because you were hungry and cold.

“Sure, sure, I know, I'm the family kook.” Patrick’s voice rose as his hand gestures increased tenfold. “I have a job, a house, health insurance. At least I had your mother, for however brief a time. At least I had you. What do you have? Him?”

There was a fit of uncomfortable silence.

At that moment, you did not want to tell Patrick that you were more talked into it than dragged. You wanted to help your friends. So you took the hero card instead of sitting at home in a large puddle of anxiety.

“And you’ve brought (Y/N) into this. Ben, their parent was/is a freemason!”

“Dad.”

“Master Mason,” you murmured before taking a rather large bite of pizza.

Patrick glanced at you for a second. Long enough to make your shoulders hunch and you sink closer to the pizza.

“Look, if you just give us the letters, we're gone.” Ben said calmly.

“You disappoint me, Ben.” Patrick walked to the other side of the room once more.

“Well, maybe that's the real Gates-family legacy. Sons who disappoint their fathers.” Ben fired back.

“Get out. Take your troubles with you.” Patrick spoke without even looking to his son anymore.

Ben stood his ground, however less tense.

“I found the Charlotte.” Ben added in, his voice soft, happy.

His father stood still, rigidity gone. Possibilities running through his mind.

“The Charlotte?” Patrick glanced back to his son. “You mean she was a ship?”

“Yeah, she was beautiful. It was amazing, Dad.”

“And the treasure?”

“No, no.” Ben tried getting back to the positive conversation, knowing he was literally walking a thin line. “But we found another clue that led us here.”

“Yeah, and that'll lead you to another clue. And that's all you'll ever find, is another clue. Don't you get it, Ben? I finally figured it out. The legend says that the treasure was buried to keep it from the British. But what really happened was the legend was invented, to keep the British occupied searching for buried treasure.” Patrick tried persuading his son. “The treasure is a myth.”

“I refuse to believe that.” Ben stood unmoving.

All attention in the room had focused on the two Gates. Their tension in different views on the treasure was well spoken. Neither man was one to hold back their thoughts.

“Well, you can believe what you want. You're a grown person. What am I doing? Do what you want, Ben. Do what you want.” Patrick said walking out of the room.

“He's probably right.” Abigail spoke up. “You don't even know if there is another clue.”

“Well, I can think of a way where we could find out. And we can find out right now.” Ben nodded.

The dining room. Ornate and fully furnished. It would become the testing room for the Declaration of Independence.

With a few questions for locations of specific objects, the four of you set up the room. You had cut up a couple of black trash bags and used Riley’s duct tape to piece them together to cover the table. You weren’t about to mess up the table nor contaminate the document. Being that the table was quite long, Abigail helped you tape the plastic together without leaving any bumps or gaps. It made the process faster and it eased your need for having it straight and clean. The dining chairs had been pushed out of the way while gloves were gathered.

Working quickly, the group of you placed a small dish with freshly sliced lemons, yellow gloves, blue gloves, two pairs of white gloves, an open box of baking powder, a small glass of q-tips, a box of tissues, and four short drinking glasses all onto the table. You left the salt and pepper shakers on the table. Force of habit, maybe? It wasn’t any of yours’ table. Riley set a big roll of paper towels down beside the roll of duct tape.

Abigail and Ben had removed their jackets before grabbing the maroon cylinder. You and Riley stood adjacent from the pair. Once all of the necessary tools were set out and ready, each of you put on a pair of gloves. It was time to get started.

After taking the Declaration of Independence out of it’s protective containers, Ben and Abigail gently laid it out on the table. The four of you were silent, focused.

“Looks like animal skin. How old is it?” Patrick’s voice startled all of you for a second.

“At least two hundred years.” Ben answered.

“Really? You sure?” Patrick asked, hands holding the disposable remnants of dinner.

“Pretty darn.”

“Now if this thing's in invisible ink, how do we look at it?” Riley asked.

“Throw it in the oven.” Patrick answered.

“No.” Abigail voiced strictly over Riley’s “Uh-uh.”

“Ferrous sulphate inks can only be brought out with heat.”

“Yes, but this…” Abigail started, but Ben cautiously took the lead in explaining.

“It's very old.” Ben said slowly. “This is very old, and we can’t risk compromising the map.”

“You need a reagent.” Patrick insisted as he started walking away with the empty pizza box.

“Dad, it's really late. Why don't you get some rest?”

“I'm fine.”

Ben took a moment to compose himself.

“Lemons.”

Riley offered the bowl of lemon wedges and Ben chose one. Like surgical work on M*A*S*H, Riley acted as the nurse.

Just as Ben went to squeeze the lemon wedge, Abigail seized ahold of his wrist.

“You can't do that.” Said Abigail.

“But it has to be done.” Ben said, if more to himself than to her.

You had not realize that was how he planned on using the lemon. Obviously, there needed to be a tad more communication. He had not fully explained how to reveal invisible ink prior to getting the document.

“Then someone who is trained to handle antique documents is gonna do it.” Abigail said sternly.

“OK.” He straightened up slowly.

“OK.”

Ben gave Abigail her space as she prepared.

“Now, uh, if there is a secret message, it'll probably be marked by a symbol in the upper right-hand corner.” Abigail explained. Her voice was professional and informative.

“That's right.” Ben whispered.

She rotated the cotton end of the q-tip on the lemon wedge, allowing the material to absorb the liquid.

“I am so getting fired for this.” Abigail said as her right hand and the q-tip reached its destination.

All of you watched on, eyes trained to the back of the document. Abigail only hesitated once before gliding the q-tip across the corner. She did not stop until the small section was covered.

Seconds ticked by as everyone waited. The document had only gotten slightly darker because of the liquid, but nothing appeared.

Abigail gave Ben a firm look.

“I told you. You need heat.” Patrick piped up from a doorway. Head held high and a proud smile on his face.

After multiple checks to make sure the other was going through with it, Abigail and Ben leaned close and breathed onto the document together. A small freemason symbol appeared. The pair smiled.

“See?” Patrick said leaving with a kitchen towel in hand.

The symbol slowly started fading away.

“We need more juice.” Ben nodded.

“We need more heat.” Abigail smiled, actually happy.

You bumped Riley’s arm, “It’s real.”

The four of you rushed out of the dining room.

You went into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator for lemons. There was a whole bowl of them. Thankfully plenty more than you thought you needed earlier.

Why’s he have so many lemons? You thought. Probably got a bag of them. Too bad he didn’t have any lemonade..wait. No.

“Riley?” You called out as you grabbed the bowl of lemons.

There was a patter and squeak before Riley appeared in the doorway.

“Can you help me cut up some lemons?”

“Yeah.”

It didn’t take long for you two to slice lemons. Abigail had made it back into the other room with an old hairdryer before Ben had a chance to check up on you two.

Back at the covered dining table, you set a bowl full of lemon wedges down. There wasn’t much time to calmly take a moment before running the tests. Time was still ticking. Even Riley removed his coat before all of you set up more q-tips absorbed with lemon juice. Abigail was firm in that she would be the only one to run the test. None of you argued. She was trained. You all trusted and respected that fully.

Abigail immediately plugged in the hairdryer and waved it over the document once she was finished using the q-tips. Numbers and dashes appeared as the heat activated it. Ben carefully wrote down the code on a yellow pad. He did not want to risk miswriting anything.

“That's not a map. Is it?” Riley asked, taking a closer look.

“No.” You answered in a hushed voice.

“More clues.” Patrick said, watching on. “What a surprise.” He layered on the sarcasm and you suppressed the oncoming eyeroll.

“Are those latitudes and longitudes?” Riley then asked being as he still didn’t know what they meant.

“That's why we need the Silence Dogood letters.” Ben explained to his friend.

“That's the key?” Abigail questioned.

“Yeah. ‘The key in Silence undetected.’” Ben was on a roll. “Dad, can we have the letters now?”

“Will somebody please explain to me what these magic numbers are?” Riley asked from the end of the table beside you. Couldn’t blame him for wanting to be in the know when others were.

“It's an Ottendorf cipher.” Abigail said once she shut off the blowdryer.

“That's right.” Patrick said, still observing.

“Oh, OK. What's an Ottendorf cipher?” Riley sighed.

“They're just codes.” Patrick shrugged.

“Each of these three numbers corresponds to a word in a key.” Ben answered further as he stepped back from the table.

“Usually a random book or a newspaper article.” Abigail added.

“In this case, the Silence Dogood letters. So it's like the page number of the key text, the line on the page, and the letter in that line.” Ben pointed to the numbers with the tip of the pencil. Riley and yourself leaned in to see. “So, Dad, where are the letters?” Ben stood straight with a bright smile on his face.

“You know, it's just by sheer happenstance that his grandfather—”

“Dad.”

“—even found them. They were in an antique desk from the press room—”

“Dad.”

“—of The New England Courant. That's a newspaper.”

“Dad, where are the letters?” Ben asked, his genuine smile gone.

“I don't have them, son.” Patrick finally answered.

Ben blinked. “What?”

“I don't have them.” His hand gestures had stopped completely.

A sickening feeling filled your stomach. If the anxiety from breaking the law and most likely having your name on radar was troubling you, having another obstacle wasn’t helping. You were rushed and had a time limit before anyone, Feds especially, came to the house looking for information.

If Patrick didn’t have the letter then that meant there was another step as well as another trip. It was becoming increasingly harder each time you all accomplished one task you had set for yourselves.

Your lips formed a thin line to avoid grumbling or mouthing a curse word. That and you really didn’t want to start down the dark, rapid tunnel of anxiety at the moment.

Ben sat down in the chair behind him with a thump. Frustration rising, he used his teeth to pull off his white glove.

“Where are they?” Ben asked his father without loosing eye contact.

“I donated them to the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia.” Patrick said firmly, if not stubbornly.

“Time to go.” Ben pushed himself up and walked passed Abigail to retrieved his tux.

You started pulling off your blue gloves, your mind giving you visual steps of what you might do next. Having a drink of water and using the bathroom were on top of your list.

Tiredly, you looked over to Abigail who had her eyes back on the document.

“I still can't believe it. All this time no one knew what was on the back.” Abigail spoke softly as she stared down at the Declaration.

“The back of what?” Patrick’s hands were already reaching out.

“Uh-uh-uh!” Riley lurched forward.

“No!” Ben spun around.

You ran into the table’s edge and did nothing but cause pain in your midsection.

It was too late.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” Patrick’s hands remained on the sides of the document. The more he looked, the more he touched it with his bare hands.

You cringed, physically and internally.

“I know.” Ben stated.

"Oh, my God. What have you done? This is... this is the…” Patrick stuttered.

“I know!”

“This is the Declaration of Independence.” Patrick could probably cry or crumble to the floor.

“Yes.” One of Abigail’s gloved hands delicately held the top of the Declaration. “And it's very delicate.”

“You stole it?” Patrick asked as he backed away. Panic had been quickly replaced by disappointment.

Riley immediately pointed a finger at Ben.

You stood frozen. The best you could think to do or do instinctively was to remain absolutely still. You already knew how much trouble all of you were in to not spark anything more from Patrick.

“Dad, I can explain, but I don't have time. It was necessary. And you saw the cipher.” Ben said as he approached his father.

“And that will lead to another clue, and that will lead to another clue! There is no treasure. I wasted twenty years of my life. And now you've destroyed yours.” Patrick huffed. “And you pulled me into all this.”

“Well, we can't have that.”

He gave his son a questioning look.

“Hey, Patrick?” You asked, taking off your gloves and tossing them onto the table.

“Yeah?”

“How do you feel about duct tape?”

“Excuse me?”

. . .

After quick bathroom trips to freshen up, the group set to work again. Car keys were found, a disposable cup was filled, and the tv remote was located.

You approached Patrick.

“Hey, if this doesn’t work out…I have undeveloped photos in my camera hidden by the rice in my apartment.”

“Oh—I’m not getting invol—.”

“Of The Charlotte.” You quickly added.

His mouth sort of hung out in a look between shock and happiness.

“By the rice. Camera film. All yours,” you said.

“The Charlotte,” he whispered. Patrick shuffled passed you and the armchair in a daze.

Riley walked in with his roll of duct tape.

“You’re so weird,” you smiled.

Riley made a face, looked down to the tape in his hand briefly and replied, “You have like three types of tape in your apartment.”

“…true, but technically I have like five or six.”

“Focus,” Ben voiced as he pushed a chair in front of the television set.

. . .

Open road in front of all of you, the quest to protect the Declaration and the treasure continued. The four of you left after taping up Patrick to a chair with a tv remote in one hand and a cup of soda in the other. You had all ‘stolen’ his car, but at least you left Patrick in front of the television for entertainment until the Feds arrived.

The car blended in better than Riley’s van and had seating for all. No chance of anyone falling on the vehicle’s flooring.

Ben took his turn in the driver’s seat on route to the Franklin Institute. It was his father’s car anyway. Doctor Abigail Chase sat calmly in the passenger’s seat. There seemed to be less confrontation after she had more time to digest that you all truly wanted to protect the Declaration of Independence. She had not even raised her voice since leaving the van. Perhaps she was seeing how the three of you weren’t out to hurt anything of historical importance. That you were just people who loved history. Aside from the fact that Abigail had yelled, insulted, and scolded you all in the beginning, she was pretty cool. She had a right to react that way then anyway. You’d be pretty peeved too.

You had your head leaning against the window as you sat behind Ben. Sharing the backseat with Riley and the Declaration of Independence was pretty comfy. Then again, you were so tired you could probably sleep on the floor. Riley had his legs bent to be as close to a cuddle position as he could while still sitting with a seatbelt on.

“Your dad's got a sweet ride.” Riley muttered as he hugged the maroon cylinder and his backpack.

“I think we should change clothes. We look kind of conspicuous, don't you think?” Ben asked.

“I'd love to go shopping, too, but we have no money.”

“Here, I took this from his house. He usually tucks a few hundred dollars somewhere between those pages.” Ben said, handing Abigail a small handbook.

“Common Sense. How appropriate.” Abigail mused. She shook out the cash onto her lap.

You yawned and accidentally kicked the back of Ben’s seat as you adjusted your legs.

“When are we gonna get there? I'm hungry. This car smells weird.” Riley rambled off with closed eyes.

“Food’s on me.” You announced, padding your side where you had a wallet of emergency money in other hidden pocket. “I didn’t know what would happen. Plus I went out to eat with…,” you paused, aware of Doctor Chase listening, “my friend.”

“Cool.”

It was better if you and Ben were the only ones who knew which person let you go as a guest to the Gala. Then again, if the Feds had Ben’s name then they very well had checked the list even after checking who Ben was close to. Meaning that your friend was definitely questioned.

Crap.

“What friend?” Riley murmured.

“The one who is probably really confused right now.”

“That’s not a name.”

~~~~~

(That concludes Part Three - Lemons. I hope you enjoyed it. I enjoyed writing it. I haven’t written more since February, so it’s weird, I’m excited to move on throughout the story of the movie National Treasure. How do you think relationships will change now that the friends’ plans have be altered and danger lurks around the corner? Let me know! All the best!

If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @imacuteprincess @gingerlaserbeam @cubedtriangle @sledgy14

PART 4

#Riley Poole x reader #Riley Poole x reader series #Riley Poole #Riley Poole fanfiction #National Treasure #National Treasure fanfiction #where dreamers go #requested #masterlist

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