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eruanna1875 · 3 years ago

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“Hope the stories are cool.”

At the half-murmured words, Ben turned to their source in the passenger seat beside him, brow furrowed. “What was that?”

Riley, staring out the window of Patrick’s weird-smelling car at the night around them, seemed surprised at the question. “Hm?” When he looked at Ben, however, it was clear he hadn't realized he'd said anything aloud until that moment. “Oh! Uh—" He shrugged it off with a nonchalant grin, turning away again. “Uh, nothing. Sorry.”

Oh, you’re not getting off that easy, Ben thought. “What’d you say? What stories?”

Riley rolled his eyes. “Ben—”

“No, no,” he interrupted, before a snide remark could be made, “I heard ‘stories’ and ‘cool’. Now, what cool stories were you talking about?”

Riley gave him perhaps half of a death glare, and for a moment, Ben thought he was going to ignore the question. But then he sulked back against his seat, and seemed to give in. “Well—” He scoffed, eyes on the ceiling. “Ours, I guess. I mean, we just stole the Declaration of Independence, Ben! The Declara—do you have any idea what this means?”

Ben frowned: maybe he was avoiding the question after all. “Yes, I think you've given me several ideas of the things this could possibly mean.” Besides, I thought you’d be worried out at this time of night, he added mentally.

“Yeah, but I'm not talking about going to prison, and Ian shooting us, and Abigail doing a lot more than slapping and shouting if we screw it up. She’ll probably… I dunno, impale us with those pointy heels or something.” He picked up an old neck pillow (he’d knocked it off the seat when he first climbed up front), and put it in his lap. “You know, maybe that’s why the spy chicks in the movies wear them all the time—if you can get used to running around and doing all those acrobatics in them, they can double as a lethal weapon.”

“Well, what are you talking about, then?” Ben pressed before the conversation could get too far off base: Riley could easily and resourcefully use the smallest sidetrack to avoid a topic he didn’t want to talk about. Kid was practically an escape artist.

“I’m talking about America. They're not gonna let us off with a simple little life sentence. They're gonna have us pegged even after we're dead.”

Ben bit back a comment about him watching too many ghost hunter shows, opting for the simpler, “How do you mean?”

Riley turned to fix blue eyes firmly on Ben; eyes that, to his surprise, he now saw were grounded in a gravity greater than worry. “Ben… whether we win or not, we’re gonna be locked up for basically the rest of time. Why?”

He leaned in closer, and spoke with such certainty, Ben had to suppress a shiver.

“Because we’re going to be in all the American history books for basically the rest of time. Do you understand that, Mr. History Buff? Kids are gonna be learning our names in the future. Your name, my name, maybe even her name—and unless something crazy happens, like really crazy, then…” He sighed, and plopped back against the seat. “Then even if we keep the Declaration away from Ian, we're gonna be the ones they remember stealing it.” He looked back up. “You know that, Ben?”

It took a moment for Ben to find the voice to reply. When he did, he let it out with a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, blinking a few times. “Huh, yeah.” He sat back, stunned, as the full weight of it befell him. “Yeah...” he whispered again.

The fact was, he had thought of it. From the moment he determined to undertake the task, he’d been aware of it. But throughout their escapades and machinations, he had kept it as just that—a fact—an awareness at the back of his mind. He hadn’t thought about it. Not until that moment, in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night. Not until Riley decided to be seriously, deeply right.

And… he wanted to tell him that. He wanted to tell Riley just how dead-center his aim had been. He wanted to confess to him the sudden fear it had struck in his heart. But somehow, he couldn’t. What somehow it was, he didn’t know. But it kept his voice from him.

He started to tell himself he just didn’t want to worry him further, especially with the way things were now, but he knew that wasn’t it. Riley was the one who started this particular concern anyway. It wasn’t a matter of trust, either. This was his best friend—Riley knew things about him even his father didn’t know, and Ben would have willingly put his life in his hands. There were times when he’d had to. And there were times that Riley’s life had been in his hands, his alone, and they both knew it. And for all he knew, that could’ve been what stopped him from saying those words.

You’re dead right. We’ll never be forgotten. And it terrifies me.

Ben’s highest hope, even beyond the actual finding of the treasure, had always been to become a part of history. Just like his ancestors. Just like the Founders. Just like the men who had been his heroes since he was a boy. And throughout his adventure, there had been many times when he had thought to himself, you’re continuing that story. This is the same old tale Grandpa told you, but it’s not over. It’s going on, in this exact minute, and you’re the one carrying it now.

The thought had given him purpose, over all those years. But now, he could not help but wonder what his part in that history would be. Would he be a hero, like those men of history, the knights (official or not) that he had always looked up to? Or would he be the one to bring it all down when he failed?

But, whatever the reason, he couldn’t say all that to Riley. He couldn’t say anything at the moment. So the moment was filled with silence instead, a weighty, waiting silence, on the precipice of what tomorrow might bring. The burden of history, both written and as yet unwritten, was for him in that moment almost physical.

“That wasn’t the story I was talking about when you heard me, though.”

The breaking of the silence almost startled him. Ben glanced up at Riley, confused and close to bewildered. For a moment, all he could manage was, “Then… what—what were you…?”

Riley also looked up, and seemed to notice something strange in his hushed tone. “Oh. Sorry.” What was there to apologize for? “It’s just, I accidentally had, like, a lot of thoughts, while you and Abigail were talking. That stuff was part of it, but it wasn’t the main thing.”

He fell silent a moment, but Ben gestured him on, almost insistently. If there was more, even if it was worse, he felt he had to hear it. What could Riley have possibly meant?

Riley hesitated, then looked down and began fidgeting with a loose string on the neck pillow in his lap. “You were telling her the story. About the treasure, and how you got all that history from your grandpa.”

Ben’s ears perked up: anybody talking about his grandfather got his full attention.

“And I got thinking about it, and I just…” He shrugged. “I wondered about, y’know, what if that’s us someday? What if… what if we’re the ones some cool old guy tells his grandkids about? I mean, I know he still might think it’s bad, but at least grandpas and textbooks don’t really tell stories the same way. I assume,” he added, with a glance at Ben for confirmation.

To his own surprise, Ben felt a smile tugging at his lips. Something in that homier view of history—despite the continued possibility of failure—put him more at ease, as if he were still listening to old yarns at his grandfather’s house, slowly losing the fear of the storms outside. The cloud of heaviness that had been on him began to dissipate. Even the night around them seemed less dark.

Ben breathed a chuckle. “No, you’re right. They really don’t.”

“Yeah, so he’d be telling like a grandpa, not like some bored guy in Milwaukee having to crank out school material! Right? And then, like, he says,” and at this, Riley briefly put on the persona of an old man, complete with motions and raspy grandpa voice, “‘Come here, m’boy, let me tell you the story of the Templar Treasure,’ and the kids go huddle up in front of him with those ginormous eyes little kids always have, because apparently the smaller you are the bigger your eyes look, and he tells ‘em the whole thing, right up to where your grandpa told it, and then—and then he tells about us.”

There was a noticeable pause, as if it even took a little of Riley’s breath away. He smiled softly, almost in awe himself. “He tells about us.”

A few seconds passed before he noticed the gap of words, which he immediately jumped over to continue his own tale. “And—and maybe there’ll be this one kid who actually thinks about it and is like, ‘man, this Ben guy was nuts! He just goes, oh let’s steal the Declaration of Independence, and expects everybody to be totally fine with it? How could anybody deal with such a crazy guy?’ And the grandpa would be like, ‘Well, shucks, I always knew you were a smart kid.’”

At this, Ben laughed. Really laughed, clear and from the heart. How in the world could Riley complain and fret about their plans so heavily, and yet paint the future with such lightness that you could laugh at it? All the time he’d known this kid, and he still couldn’t quite understand him. But he didn’t mind. And, for the moment, there seemed nothing to fear. The weight was gone.

But Riley wasn’t finished. “Oh, but you know he'd still get pulled into it, the same way your grandpa pulled you in—the same way you pulled me in—and end up thinking it's the coolest thing ever, of course. I mean, who wouldn't, if they tell it like a Gates tells it? You guys don't skimp on the history stuff, especially family history. That’s what bought my ticket for this whole… train of thought... thing... in the first place, you and Abigail and all your history nerd talk the whole way here.”

Ben reeled back, taking false offense. “Oh, nerd talk, is it?”

“One hundred percent, man, and don’t you forget it. And it’ll still be nerd stuff when you’re the subject boring another average guy like me to sleep in the back of the car.” Riley threw his hands in the air with an air of finality. “And, who knows? Maybe one of those cute little grandkids gets all inspired the same way you did, and wants to go find a treasure and fight bad guys and figure all kind of crazy puzzles, and, heck, probably decides to go be a knight and stuff, just like u—”

He bit his lip, checking himself. But Ben took note of his near-words. Riley quickly continued on a corrected course.

“You. Just like you,” and he shoved his arm with a smirk, “Mister Sir Benjamin Franklin knighted-at-age-eleven Gates. You and all your Templars and Crusaders. ‘Cause I mean, what kid wouldn't think a guy smart enough to steal the Declaration of Independence, and crazy enough or brave enough to try to save it from the bad guys, was totally awesome?”

Ben was unvoiced. All his mouth could manage was a speechless smile, as he looked at his young friend. He felt like he’d just heard a little brother tell him he was his hero. And… maybe, in a way, he had.

But it didn’t take long for Riley to notice the smile. The moment he did, he covered his tracks with a roll of the eyes, hoping to pretend he hadn’t said as much as he had. “Except for the kids who actually have the misfortune to know you, I mean.” And on “know”, he chucked the neck pillow at Ben’s face, nailing him squarely.

“Wha—they have the misfortune?”

“Yeah, you know, studies show, the coolness-craziness ratio really gets skewed over time, especially where little kids are involved.”

Snatching the pillow from where it had fallen, Ben grinned and replied, laughter in his voice. “Well, maybe they should ask you to tell the story, then. You seem to have it pretty well mapped out.”

Riley gave him a look. “If I live to have grandkids, I might. And if that pun was actually intended.”

Noticing suddenly how the thought had come out, Ben considered it. “It is now.”

“Thought so.”

As he studied the young snark, another thought lit up Ben’s mind. One that simply could not be left under a bushel. But he did hide a growing grin behind his hand, as he prepared to speak again.

“But you know,” he mused, acting thoughtful, “I’m a little surprised at you, Riley. I mean, you left out one of the key historical figures involved in the story of the Templar Treasure. And he’s not one I thought you’d forget, either, let me tell you.”

“Oh great, here comes the history lecture.” Riley turned to him, eyes firmly planted on the ceiling just above Ben’s head, looking like a teen braced for a parental scolding. “Fine. Who'd I miss?”

“The other knight.”

At his confused look, Ben leaned back, gesturing with a bit of storytelling flair himself. “Riley Poole: computer genius and sole source of common sense, fellow treasure protector against the forces of evil and Ian Howe.” Then, as Riley gaped, Ben launched into a series of smaller voices (although he barely tried to sound like a child, let alone the three to four he seemed to be acting out). “‘Tell me more about him, Grandpa! Oh, he's such a funny guy, I like his jokes! How ever did he put up with that crazy Ben? That guy couldn’t have got anywhere without Riley!’”

Riley stared at him for a few seconds. But then, to Ben’s surprise, his mouth snapped shut, and the jaw behind it seemed, for a second at least, to clench. “Come on, Ben, not cool,” Riley muttered, jerking his face the other way. “I was serious.”

Ben felt a twinge of guilt at the almost angry reaction: Riley thought he was being mocked. But before he could feel so (mistakenly) betrayed he cut himself off from anything Ben had to say—a situation Ben really, really hated—he settled a hand on Riley’s shoulder. This earned him a rather cross glance. But, seeing past the glare, he looked his young friend dead in the eyes, with a small, sincere smile.

“So was I.”

The glance lengthened into a full-on stare. “Wait, you—”

Ben could see the exact moment that the words fully sank in. The irritation became stunned surprise, and that turned to a swelling, glowing pride. It wasn’t a joke. Ben meant every word. A smile twitched at his lips. Then the swell burst, short and sudden, in a laugh like a firework. “Wow.”

And it pleased Ben mightily to see it. The sight of those blue eyes lighting up with real joy, with no hint of sarcasm, was rare. And he was doubly happy, because he was also telling the truth. Truth in every single word. Including one word in particular. One that required a little testing. Ben paused, taking the moment in a bit longer, then lifted his eyebrows, almost humourously. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to drop the knight part…”

“No!”

Ben nearly laughed again at the eager speed of the answer. But Riley, upon realizing the same, nearly stumbled over himself to cover up with, “Um, no, no, that’s fine. The knight part… the knight part works. D-don’t worry about it.”

“Who’s worrying?” Ben grinned, hopes fulfilled. Ever since he’d told Riley about his boyhood knighthood (and truth be told, he’d never really dropped the title, at least in his own mind), he’d found it easier and easier to think of the two of them as fellow knights. But he never said that. He didn’t want to push a title on someone else if they might think it a little childish. That was why he’d needed a test, which Riley had passed with eagerness.

And yet, pleased as he was by that eagerness, it suddenly hit him how easily it could be snuffed out. The nearer they got to the treasure, the greater the danger would grow. He was sure of that. They’d already been through some real perils, and they’d escaped without injury, but how long would it be before they wound up in front of Ian’s gun again, with ever-dwindling negotiables? The old weight began to creep back over him.

“You are.”

Ben looked back up, confused. “I’m what?”

“Worrying.”

Is it that noticeable? “Oh. Am I?”

At that, something inside Riley seemed to crumble, something he tried very much to hide. “Oh.”

Ben furrowed his brow, definitely worried now. What happened? Did I say something wrong?

He started to open his mouth to ask, but Riley seemed to steel himself, taking a breath and lifting his head. “Yeah, and you know, I totally get it,” he said, quickly and in something of an apologetic tone, “it’s a personal thing from your childhood, it feels weird letting somebody else take over it. I get it. The knight part is your thing. So if you don’t want me tacking it on,” he raised his hands in surrender, “it’s fine, I won’t say anything else about it.”

“What?” This was it? After all the—he still felt out of place in Ben’s life? He still felt like he was being just a burden, a tagalong?

“What?”

Ben sighed and shook his head. “You’re not taking anything over. Knighthood is meant to be passed from one to another. And it’s too important a promise to tack on to just anybody.”

“Tell that to Jagger.”

“Too important for me to just tack on, then.”

Riley seemed reluctant to accept acceptance, no matter how many times he’d received it. “Really?”

“Trust me. You’re good. That wasn’t even close to what I was worrying about.”

He let out a quiet breath of relief. “Okay.” The pause wasn’t long, however, before he glanced back up. “But you were worrying, though. That was definitely the Ben Gates worry face.”

“I have a worry face?”

“Ehh, it’s rare, but I know it when I see it. I mean, it’s you. Worrying.” Ben conceded the point with a shrug. “So why?”

“Why?” Ben hesitated, taking a breath, but his mind made itself up quickly. No more. Riley had opened up to him; it was high time, however his friend reacted, he did the same. He slowly let out his breath. “Because I think we’re gonna need the knight part pretty soon. We’re probably coming up on some… well, some pretty difficult chapters of that story, if you know what I mean. And, if I’m gonna be honest,” and at this, his voice dropped, “I’m a little afraid to know the ending.”

Riley stared at him for a silent moment. Ben wasn’t quite sure what he was hoping for next. Hope I didn’t say too much. But then Riley nodded, slowly at first. “Wow. Yeah, I mean, me too, man.” His nodding sped up. “You know, maybe I will keep the knight part after all.”

Ben smiled, relieved, though he wasn’t sure why. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Yeah.” Riley was quiet only a moment more before he scoffed. “You know, it’s all fine when you’re just hearing about the dangerous stuff the heroes go through. You don’t really think about how threats to your life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness actually feel.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“But hey,” he shrugged, “at least those future-kids are gonna have a heck of a story. I mean, for them, we’re probably coming up on the best parts!” He laughed at his own words, but still grimaced slightly.

Ben smiled. Again, the complainer held the candle in the dark. And in that moment, Ben knew he was glad to have him on this… adventure, or whatever it could be called, no matter what happened. Riley really had been the common sense, the genius, the light (shaded in sarcasm though it was), throughout the whole thing. And Ben was sure he truly couldn’t have gotten this far without him. But he knew they were about to head off into more trouble when they got to Philadelphia tomorrow, very possibly of the life-threatening type. He had to make sure Riley was okay with facing it down.

“Sure you still wanna be a part of it?” he asked, nodding toward him. “It’s a big responsibility.”

Riley tapped the red, metal, tube-like container hanging on Ben’s seat. “I know.”

Ben nodded. “You’re right. There is a very big responsibility to keep the Declaration safe. We have enough danger just from that. But the duty of the Templars, the Freemasons, and the family Gates, now, that's all on me. Not you or Abigail or anybody else. I know I pretty much dragged you into this from the beginning, and if you’d rather stay out of the line of fire, I… wouldn’t mind letting you—”

“Oh no you don’t, Mr. Gates,” Riley interrupted, grinning widely and pointing threateningly, “you made me a treasure protector, same as all your Templars, Freemasons, and family Gates! And I promise you, I’m not about to let you write me out now!”

That’s a good enough promise for me. Then, attitude restored, Ben responded in a tone of dry humour. “Well, then, in that case, I dub thee Sir Riley.” And he smacked him on the shoulder with the neck pillow.

Sir Riley seemed to take offense to the smacking as a personal challenge, and snatched the pillow away. Ben could see a glint of war fire in his eye. However, before battle could be engaged, his eye caught a sight that was becoming pleasantly familiar, to him at least. He laughingly held up a hand.

“Okay, hold up, hold up, Abigail’s coming back.”

“Oh joy,” Riley deadpanned, a little disappointed in the forced ceasefire. Then, with a thought, he smirked at Ben. “You think even she’d be okay in a story? Like as a character?”

“Abigail?” Ben considered her qualifications for such a role. And he found he couldn’t help but smile; smile at her deep passion for history (close akin to his own), her unflagging determination, and of course, her absolute refusal to ever shut up. “Could be.” He chuckled softly. “Could be…”

He looked up to find Riley giving him a very pointed look, so Ben ignored him and glanced out at her instead. As Abigail crossed the parking lot, he pondered her a little longer. “Wonder if she thinks we're the heroes or the villains.”

By the time he noticed Riley’s movement, the window was already halfway rolled down. “Good question.” Riley stuck his head out the window and yelled across the parking lot, “Hey, Abi, do you think we're the heroes or the villains?”

Still halfway across, she stopped to give him a look and shook her head. “It’s Abigail to you, and for the record, I still think you’re lunatics.”

“Well, I knew that!”

“I mean for yelling across the parking lot.”

“Well, if we're stating things for the record, you're yelling too.”

Abigail simply rolled her eyes and resumed her walk. Riley laughed again. “Guess we’re gonna have to call off the Second Revolutionary War, huh, Ben?”

“Oh, you’ll probably break the truce at some point.”

“Keep on your toes, old man.”

Riley smiled, but fell silent as he did so, staring at the dashboard. In the moment before Abigail came up to the car, his voice returned. “So… just to be clear…” He took a breath before he spoke again, and looked up at Ben hopefully when he did. “Knights?”

Ben practically beamed as he nodded: he could finally say it was true. “Knights.”

Riley held up his fist, and they sealed their eternal covenant of knighthood and brotherhood with a knuckle-bump.

A moment later, the passenger door opened. “Also, you took my seat, Bill.”

“Sir Riley, actually. Nice to meet you, milady.”

---

Well, happy Independence Day, folks! Thanks for reading, and doubly so if you've stuck with me all the way through to the end here!

This is my first National Treasure fic, but my second Lord of the Rings fic (the first is ancient and in hiding somewhere). Since NT is so patriotic and honoring of America's history and forefathers, I figured I'd post this today.

The inspiration came from two things: firstly, that fanfiction I posted about a few weeks ago, and secondly, from the story scene in The Two Towers. The kids had the movie on, and I jumped in right around there. And maybe I just had NT on the brain, but that scene just suddenly struck me as very fitting for Ben and Riley. Who are awesome, by the way.

So I wrote up a (much shorter) first draft that day, and edited it over the next several weeks. And now it's done! And I'm rather pleased with it, for my part.

It's also on fanfiction.net and, for the first time for any of my fics, AO3, if you want to check that out too.

Again, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, and happy Independence Day!

#my fanfiction #national treasure #ben gates #riley poole #abigail chase #lord of the rings #happy independence day

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eavangeek · 3 years ago

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Guns and Roses: Ch. 1 - John Doe

Pairing: Male Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast, Male Cadash/Cassandra Pentaghast

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Summary: After the Hero of Fereldan in the Dragon Age, The Champion of Kirkwall during the Blood Age, Thedas has been at peace for most of the Silverite Age. However trouble brews between the New Templar Force and the Enchanter Colleges. Agent of Truth, Seeker Pentaghast, has been sent to the Free Marches city of Ostwick to investigate why they have been unaffected by the rise in violence...

Tags: FtM Cadash, Trans Character, Mob Boss/Secret Agent, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Secret Identity, Minor Character Death, Mild Gore

Total Word Count: 103,884

Chapter Word Count: 2,316

Author’s Note: Originally posted to Ao3 in early 2018, this was my first attempt at starting a long term fic.

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Author’s Masterlist || Ao3 Fic Link || Ao3 Author Link

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“...and that was the Rivaini Pirate Queens with their latest hit ‘Isabela’. Up next is Princes of Starkhaven and their new single ‘All for Honor, All for Her’, but now we go to local news. After the turmoil in our neighbours in Kirkwall, many are starting to wonder what will happen to the ol’ Templar Force. Now I know this might confuse our younger listeners, but the Templar Force is NOT our boys in blue in the Ostwick Guard. No, the Templar Force is in charge of all magical surveillance, which has been in motion since the Blood Age. During that time the Kirkwall Revolts, led by the then Champion of Kirkwall, eventually brought our Enchanter Colleges in order to replace the Circle of Magi. Now today when we think of the College we think of the sprawling campus, the study of magic and training of both mages and nobles alike. But back in the day the Circle of Magi was restricted to ONLY mages, and those poor souls weren’t able to go home during the holidays. No they lived and died in those terrible Circles. But that all changed didn’t it?

That’s right folks, nearly a hundred years ago Thedas was flipped on it’s head when the Old Templar Order and the Mage Circles fell in Kirkwall. Now the riots from Kirkwall Enchanter College and the Templar Force has led to infighting in the city. Once again Kirkwall has turned into a battleground, with students at the College, mages and nobles alike, state that the Templar Force has too much control over what is taught and the security on campus has cracked down, leading to some mage scholars having to fight their way off campus. Imagine! Now I’m just your friendly dwarf radio host, I’ve never been in those campus, no siree! But we have a special guest with us, the Valedictorian of her time in Ostwick College, our very own Alexandra Maria Dawn-”

“Please, Alex is just fine, Mr Cadash.”

“Arolf! Please, just Arlof if we’re being friends here. Now the rest of the Free Marches has been at arms at this situation, but Alex it’s been said that you were able to stop protests at Ostwick Enchanter College. How did that work?”

“Well I’m glad you asked, Arlof, you see the problem between…”

Cassandra turned down the radio in the patrol car. She had moved to Ostwick a little over a month ago, and found out that nearly everyone listens to this station, mainly for Arlof Cadash’s talk show. She didn’t get the appeal of it, but it was important to her job to stay informed about the city.

She knew about the Kirkwall Revolts, how history was repeating itself once again. Ostwick however seemed to be an exception to this, the College experiencing not only peace but prospering during the turmoil. All because of this Alex. Alex Trevelyan, who wasn’t a mage, and if local gossip was correct, had been disowned by the Trevelyan House. Yet now she was the most influential person in the city, having taken down two of the most influential men: the former Commissioner and Knight Commander. She pulled into the headquarters for the Ostwick guard. A Vashoth on duty nodded at her car as she parked it. Their jaw clenched, the posture straightening up at the sight of her Seeker badge, it flashing from her waist. Cassandra ignored it, knowing that look from far too much experience. She walked up the steps to the door and went through.

Cubicles filled with officers and detectives doing paperwork, questioning suspects. She passed the tank, noticed that it was an elf in a red medical mask again. This one had streaks of black and pink in their blonde hair. They weren’t talking but the officer didn’t noticed that the sugar in his coffee was not salt, until he took a sip. In the elevator, a dwarf officer rushed to get in with Cassandra. He had a short blonde beard, his green eyes kept looking up as if to pray. It was then he noticed Cassandra badge.

“... Is there a prayer I can say that will save my ass from the new Commissioner?”

“Sorry?”

“Your badge. Your one of those Sister Cops yeah? You know any prayer that will help break the news?”

“I’m a Seeker, not a Chantry Sister.”

“Oh. Shit.”

The rest of the ride was filled with an awkward silence all the way to the top floor. A human was sitting at the clerk office. The dwarf grunted at the greeting he gave and made a beeline for the Commissioner's door.

“Morning Seeker!”

“Good morning, Jim. How is the Commissioner?”

“Oh he’s fine! A bit tense tho, there’s a cold case that just recently got hot again.”

“Oh? Who’s in charge of the investigation?”

“You just saw him, Sergeant Cadash. One of the few officers who wasn’t sacked when Commissioner Rutherford took over.”

“He must be good at his job then.”

“Well, not necessarily. He used to just answer the emergency hotline, sending buses and patrols out. A good man the Sergeant, but…”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S NOT IN THE SYSTEM!”

Cassandra and Jim looked at the Commissioner door. Two figures, one clearly a dwarf, the other wearing either a parka or bear on its shoulders.

“He’s still wearing that ridiculous jacket, Jim?’

“Yes, Seeker Pentaghast. It was gift from his sister in Ferelden. You’d think that the Ostwick winters would be summer for him, but he’s made his office purposely colder than the rest of the building. To be honest, I think he just wants an excuse to wear it-” Cassandra stopped listening to the clerk when she opened the door.

The office was cold, even in her bullet-proof vest and sports coat. Sergeant Cadash was visibly shaking, but whether that was because of the cold of the room or the stare of his new boss, it was hard to tell.

“Commissioner Rutherford. Seeker Pentaghast reporting.” both men looked up at her, and the taller of them straightened up when being addressed. His parka was opened, showing a simple suit that was unbuttoned. The dwarf relaxed, putting his hands back down. It was a flash movement but Cassandra could’ve sworn that he had a tattoo on his left thumb. It was a different pattern than the Casteless marking on his cheek.

“Cassa- Seeker. If you don’t mind but I’m in the middle of Sergeant Cadash’s report.”

“The cold case, I presume.”

“Yeah,” the dwarf said. “Wait, how��d you know about that?”

“You wouldn’t happen to be related to Arolf Cadash, would you sergeant?”

“He’s a cousin, second or once-removed. Distant cousin really- wait a minute. That bastard didn’t fucking talk about the body on the radio did he?”

“Sergeant Cadash, did you tell a radio host about this case, when I gave specific orders to not tell anyone?”

“Commissioner, your John Doe is not in the computer systems, I had to try something. Arolf knows everyone and everything, the prick. Without any identifiable markings, I had to look for other avenues and-”

“If I may. I only asked because you and Arlof share the same last name. It is just a coincidence that you looked to… other avenues.”

“Me and my fucking mouth.” muttered the dwarf. “Commissioner, I’m not a detective! Give this case to someone else, otherwise you’d have it go cold again, not me.”

Cullen sighed and waved the sergeant free. The Sergeant stopped his rambling to look between the two humans, only to give a salute and run out of the office. With just the two of them things relaxed, but not by much. Cullen went back to his desk, not sitting down but looking at the file that the dwarf had left behind.

“How did he become a sergeant, if you don’t me asking?”

“Honestly? He was the only one in his department who wasn’t corrupt or under the former Commissioner thumb. Immediately went from Officer to Sergeant. He’s better at barking orders than solving cases, but he is- was the only one who remembered the previous murders.”

“Because everyone else involved has been let go?”

“Yes.” Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, the carefully set locks ruffled out, leaving one curl to rest on his forehead.

Cassandra remembers when Cullen was just a Captain of the Templar Force in Kirkwall. He had moment of faith and went against his orders from Knight Commander Meredith, which led to the street riots in Kirkwall two years ago. Cullen left the Templar Force, went into rehab for a year just outside the city limits. He had been a wreck then, the withdrawals from the lyrium supplements wracking his body. Once initial withdrawal had subsided, the two began to talk beyond the chaos. Cassandra was proud that Cullen had gone back to protecting people, even if it wasn’t as a Templar. When Ostwick needed a new Commissioner, it was a shock that Cullen’s name had been suggested by an anonymous vote of the Ostwick City Council. He lead the investigation of corruption in the ranks last year, and in the last month has tried to keep the city streets safer than they were before.

Looking at the man now, even in his fur-lined parka, he was leagues better than when he was in hospital garbs scratching at his face and arms from withdrawal. Cullen was looking at the files again, as if staring at them would give him the answers he desperately wanted. Cassandra stood next to him, looking at autopsy reports and crime scene shots.

“Your John Doe is a dwarf, but you don’t know if he has Noble ties? Usually the Casteless do facial markings to distinguish themselves-”

“Yes, except that John Doe had his head smashed in. The body is preserved, having been found in a fisherman's net just off the Wounded Coast. But the body is… too bloated to really identify anything.”

“No teeth means no dental work. No skin means no fingerprints or scars to help identify him. What about his clothing?”

“Besides it being covered in moss and torn to shreds? Standard work clothes, most of it made with cotton or lambswool. The only lead we have is that his left thumb was cut off before he died. The rest of the body, minus the smashed in face of course, is intact. Two other bodies were found during the previous Commissioner's time. Both were missing their left thumb, both were dwarf.” Cullen flipped the second folder that was on his desk. The victim's files were on display.

“Both victims have ties to the local Carta. A noble hunter who went by the stage name “Golden Beryl”. Poison was the killer, but she had been beaten post mortem. And a lyrium smuggler, male. Went by the name “Isana”, apparently because he was able to find surface veins of blue lyrium and not red.”

“I thought all of the red lyrium had been blocked underground, along with the remaining darkspawn?”

“You would think so, but like darkspawn, red lyrium finds a way. Meredith had found a red lyrium vein, remember?”

“I do. Continue.”

“Isana’s cause of death is unknown, his body was found by some Grey Warden scouts. Apparently deep stalkers had been eating at his corpse, so most of the evidence was, uh, tainted. The Grey Wardens did however note his Carta markings and that his left thumb wasn’t eaten but cut off. Again, the thumb was taken before death.”

“When did these two deaths occur?”

“According to the autopsy reports? About 15 years ago. The fact that a new body has shown up, same missing thumb, and if my theory is correct, the same ties to the Carta, we could be experiencing a turf war.”

“A turf war.” Cassandra raised her eyebrow, “who would the Carta compete against in Ostwick? The Red Jennies are anarchists, they don’t believe in anything organized. And the Coterie has had to repeal to Kirkwall because of recent infighting.”

“True, but who’s said it’s outside of the Carta? Ostwick has had one Carta House since the Dragon Age, but they didn’t start running things until the end of the Blood Age. Remember that movie, ‘The Godmother’.”

“Yes, I do. A shame it never got a sequel.”

“Well that’s because the sequel is Ostwick today. That story is based off Moma Cadash and her four sisters. They took over the Carta at the end of Blood Age, stating heritage to a former warrior caste turned golem. Shale, from the Fifth Blight. Still, times change and Moma apparently didn’t have a solid heir. It’s not a stretch that each of her sisters broke off and made different, smaller, houses.”

“But if that’s true, then both your Sergeant and that radio host are-”

“Connected to the Carta? I know. I may be the Commissioner, Cassandra, but I don’t have the men or the respect to start poking into those ties. Who knows, they might actually have no ties to the Carta, just the unlucky coincidence of sharing the same name with one the Bosses.”

“Give me the case.”

“What?” Cullen started to laugh, but then stopped when he saw the look on his friend’s face. “Oh, you’re serious?”

“I am. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Well it’s just, I thought you were busy, scoping out the Enchanter College and the Templar Force and-”

“Cullen, not everything has to revolve around mages and templars. It’s the people of this city that determine if there are riots or if there is silence. I need something- anything, to do. This case will get me out of your hair and allow me to continue my other investigation.”

Cassandra picked up both files, and headed out the door. Cullen cursed and followed her to the elevator.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get answers. Starting at the morgue.”

#GNR #Volkswritten #trans character #Male Cadash #Kallak Cadash #cassandra pentaghast #OC x Cassandra Pentaghast

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thenationaltreasuregazette · 2 years ago

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Articles Nonsense Fanart

Aftermath series: Legal and Medical Archeological Fallout Ben and Patrick Ben and Abigail Ben and Riley Abigail and Riley Abigail and Patrick Riley and Patrick Ben and Sadusky

Book of Secrets | Injuries in Book of Secrets

A Treatise on Book of Secrets: Intro | Ben's Character Arc | More on Ben's Arc |

The 2003 Script | Intro to the 2003 Script | Teaser | Act 1 | Act 2a, Act 2b

Treasure Hunt Movie Reviews | Mr. Car and the Knights Templar

Patrick | Why So Many Lemons??

Unsung Heroes | Meat Lady

Editorials: On watching National Treasure with a friend | On ignoring Book of Secrets

NT3?: Ted Elliot

Hot off the presses:

The 2003 Script: Act 3 NEW!

It's Treas-tober! - more stuff leading up to the big 20th

New articles Tuesdays-ish | New nonsense Thursdays-ish | Asks answered every other article-ish

P.S. If you've sent an ask I love you and I'm working on it!

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shellelynfandom-blog · 7 years ago

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Rileyisms: Part One

A/N: Riley Poole was my muse for years!!! This is just some crazy random story I wrote back in the day. :)

There's something about Riley that I've always loved.

The way he eats.

It all started something like this:

"Are you gonna eat all that?"

I looked up, raising an eyebrow, my fork just about in my mouth. "Are you... serious?" His plate is near empty and the waitress brought out our food no more than 6 and a half minutes ago. Somehow in the space of that time, he has devoured a plate of french fries and the biggest bacon cheeseburger known to man.

My plate looks full, like really full, and I can't believe the next words that come out my mouth, "Fine. Just. Eat it." I put my fork down, and scoot the plate over in front of him.

And, it's okay; I'm not really hungry anyway. He's been through a lot…and he deserves to eat. As he scoops a large fork full of pasta up, I sit back and begin to ponder…

How did I get so lucky to snag Mr. Riley Poole? It seems like I should have some sort of logical reason, but I don't. I simply don't.

I've always taken an active interest in history, I don't know why, maybe it was because when I was in High School I had an American Civilization teacher who made that whole time period come to life for me. Ever since then I found myself taking classes, reading books, and pondering what it would have been like to live with some of the greats. Who are those greats you might ask? Well, people like Abraham Lincoln and Benjamin Franklin. Men and yes, women too who shaped our wonderful country.

So, that's how I met Riley. I bought his book. Yes, I am one of those girls who actually paid attention to the news of the Knights Templar Treasure and the City of Gold being discovered. I am one of those girls who believe in conspiracy theories. I am one of those girls who knows my way around a laptop. And so I THINK that's probably the only reason Riley and I are friends. It can't be my beauty, it's my brains. Yet, there's some comfort in knowing that. Some comfort that Mr. Riley Poole knows he can be himself around me. No pressure.

HA. The spaghetti sauce is dripping off his chin. I can't help but smile. He's so… real. He's so… Riley. I continue to watch him, wondering what could possess him to eat two dinners in less than ten minutes.

"Hungry much," I smile and hand him a napkin and he takes it gladly. I love the way his blue eyes sparkle behind those wide-rimmed glasses.

He wipes his chin and smiles back, "…'m sorry. I haven't eaten much lately."

"Why not?"

"I've been working, Kate. You know that. I've got a lot of stuff going on this week." He sighs, leaning back, but not quite content with the way his stomach is feeling. "Hey, wanna get pizza?"

"RILEY!" I can't help but laugh… hard. I look into his eyes and I realize he's not kidding.

The waitress approaches our table, "Hi, everything tasting al-…wai….did…. you…."

I smile up at her, "He's a little hungry."

"You don't say."

"Could you get our check please?"

"I'll be right back."

I shake my head, focusing my attention back to Riley who is sopping up the rest of the pasta with his bread. Flabbergasting. Is that even a word? That's how he makes me feel sometimes. But, it's cute.

I decide to flip the bill tonight. He's not thinking about anything but his stomach. And I… well, I… can't help but notice the smug smile on his face as he is looking through his cell phone; undoubtedly searching for the nearest pizza place. He's cute… in that geeky, awkward kind of way. And I'm just happy to see him happy.

He's not always happy. Sometimes he's cranky, annoying, childish, or just a complete spaz. I simply adore when he's perfectly Rileyisticly happy. And this is one of those moments.

"Ready to go?" I ask, signing the credit card slip, pulling my purse over my shoulder.

"Yup." He gets up, taking one last swig of his ice water. "Pizza here we come."

I roll my eyes and smile. "You want to drive?"

"Sure Katie - thanks." I hand him the keys, it's my car but I'm not that fond of driving. Luckily, Riley is. Driving makes him feel more "manly" or something. At least that's what he tells me.

I settle into the passenger seat, with perfect confidence in him getting us to the pizza joint in safety. My thoughts drift as Riley pounds the steering wheel, along to the beat of the music that plays on the radio.

I think back to when we first met. It all went down at the Library of Congress. It was the President's Day celebration, and the night was filled with a bunch of stuffy dignitaries and overly dressed women.

"Riley, I'd like you to meet Katie Jorgenson. She bought your book." Benjamin Gates said, motioning him a bit closer. Riley raised his eyebrows, "Reaaallllyyy, I mean, uh, of. Course."

"Right." Ben stated, clearly annoyed with his young friend, "Anyway, Katie is working at the Library of Congress for the summer, kind of a semester abroad if you will."

"Ah. Fascinating…So, how is it spending your evenings with over twenty million books? Must be stimulating." Riley's tone was filled with boredom and leave-me-alone snootiness.

'I oughta slug the kid,' Ben thought to himself.

"Thank you Riley, it is. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff in here. If you'll excuse me."

Riley watched as she walked away, clearly annoyed. At that moment, he actually felt Ben's eyes burrowing into his very soul.

"WHAT?" Riley remarked, rather loudly.

"What is your problem this evening?" Ben questioned, with a very serious tone.

Riley shifted his weight, uncomfortably, "Listen. Ben. I know you feel bad about the fact I don't have a date this evening. But, you don't need to rub it in by bringing over some chick who you probably picked up at the desert bar. Aren't those chocolate éclairs to die for though? I mean – I tell ya –"Riley stammered, the look on Ben's face grew more intense. "Dude – I'm – chill, alright?"

"That happens to be a very smart, talented and extremely nice woman – who actually took the time, seeking me out, so she could be introduced to the man who wrote your BOOK!"

"Wait. Wha-" Riley furrowed his eyebrows. For some reason that hadn't made any bit of sense to him.

Ben straightened up, fixing his bow tie, "Alright. Never mind. Have a good evening."

"Psh. Whatever. They're out of éclairs." Riley managed to spat out as his best friend walked away.

"Kate? How's about we just grab some pizzas and take them back to my place? I'm kinda not in the restaurant mood at the moment." Riley's voice broke into my thoughts; I turned to face him processing what he had just said.

"Mm, what Riley?"

I realize we're at Godfather's pizza now, the red neon lights reflect in his glasses.

"Let's get the pizza to go. You know, I'm. Gonna. Take. It. To. My. Apartment. Coo'?" Riley spoke slower, as if I couldn't understand a word he was saying.

"Yeah. Yeah, fine. Just… hurry. Do your thing. I gotta get home."

Riley looked somewhat… upset. What was that about?

"But, I thought you'd wanna come over for my pizza party!"

"Riley! My goodness. Okay, yes. FINE. Just go get the pizza!"

With a cheesy smile he hopped out of the car and ran for the door. I just smile, enjoying the few minutes of quiet until he turns that noisy radio back on. Normally I love rocking out with him, but… not tonight. Tonight I'm calm and I just feel like crashing.

To anyone else it would seem as if Riley and I would never become friends. After the way he treated me the night of the President's Day bash … I would probably agree with you. But I'll never forget the night when it actually happened.

I was working the night shift, due to get off at 10:00pm, or as soon as I had shelved all the turned in books. It was a quiet night at the library. Most normal people do have lives on Friday nights so I can't say I was surprised about that. What I was surprised to see was Riley, at the end of a shelf of books, in a moderately lit area. The table he sat at was covered in books, papers, pens and his ever trusty laptop. I pretended not to notice he was there at first. I half wanted to avoid him at all costs. It just figured the guy would be a snob. I agreed with every bit of his book. In his book he was smart, witty and totally intelligent and I so wished that would have been true in real life. He knew things. He knew about government conspiracies and nothing would have given me more pleasure than hearing him talk for hours on end about this stuff. But, no. He wouldn't even give me the time of day… he wouldn't even respect the fact that I thought he was pretty much freaking amazing.

"Hello."

His voice startled me, and I dropped the book I had been holding. I bent down to pick it up, feeling his eyes look me up and down. At least I had cute business woman look going for me tonight, even down to the black pumps. "Sorry to disturb you." I didn't even turn his way.

"No problem. Hey… wait a sec- I know you… You're that library girl."

I closed my eyes tightly, afraid to turn around and look into those blue ones. Must. Not. Turn. Around. "No, sir, I have no idea what you're talking about."

He pushed his chair back, and stood up. Crap. Think. Run away. Make a mess. Do SOMETHING.

"No. It's Kate right? Hey… Listen… I –"

"My name. Um, It's not Kate. It's uh…"

His shoulders drooped. "Come on. Yeah it is." He was walking close now. I had to do something. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to look at the guy. I had admired him so much. But, he was such a – "JERK!" I yelled. Oh. My. Gosh. STUPID.

"Jerk? Well, I'm Riley. Nice to meet ya."

I had to fight the smile playing on my lips.

"Jerk…" He put his hand on my back, "Turn around."

I did. I slowly did. I didn't want him to think I was crazy. And then – he saw it. My eyes were brimming with tears. Why? That was so stupid.

"Hey.. are you oka-?"

"Sorry. …'m fine. I have dust in my eyes. These old books." I tried to laugh, anything to avoid making direct eye contact, at least until I regained my composure. What was wrong with me?

Riley grinned, and I didn't know why. It kind of scared me a little. "What are you…" I began, only to be cut off by his finger pointing to my blouse.

"Katie. That's your name. Aha! I knew it!" Riley laughed. And then he just went off, "Look, I'm sorry for being a big freak the other night at the bash. Let's just say… I wasn't myself. I hardly am anymore. It's this work you know? These endless ideas just hacking at my brain and… augh… it's' so frustrating you know!"

I look at him, his eyes full of depth and conviction. I feel myself wanting nothing more than to get inside his head. I want to understand the genius behind Riley Poole.

"Apology accepted." That's all I can muster, and he smiles. A real, genuine smile.

"Hey, come over here. I gotta show ya somethin'!"

It was at that moment, I realized my Friday night had taken a turn for the better.

"Hold this will ya?"

I suddenly notice the dome light is on, and Riley is standing there shoving pizza onto my lap. He ordered two large pizzas? I can't believe him! What is he thinking?

The drive home is mostly silent. We get to his apartment and I find myself relishing the idea that I get to spend the night cuddled up on his really expensive La-Z-Boy couch, eating pizza and watching movies until I pass out. He lets me stay here sometimes, when it's too late to drive home. He never has liked me to drive home by myself. That's just him. He always thinks I'll run out of gas or something… and since I live about a half hour away, I gladly accept his invitation. Saying no to Riley is impossible. He gets this look on his face that's all about 'What? My apartments not good enough for you? You'd rather abandon me?' thing. I can't stand it. Or maybe I can, but I don't admit that to him.

I immediately go for the couch the minute he opens the door, leaving him to carry both pizzas and a bottle of root beer. What does he expect? I LOVE this couch.

"Scootch over." Riley walks into the room, a slice of pizza hanging half way out of his mouth, and a pizza box balanced in each hand.

I reluctantly move over a bit, and just stare at him. He props his feet onto the coffee table and leans back, "Ahhhh…" He lets out this sigh of relief and hands me a piece of pizza. It looks like it has been overcooked, but I don't care. I eat it anyway, because someone has already eaten one of my dinners tonight and I'm not about to get cheated again.

He keeps eating. And it's cute. It's really, really cute. I don't even know why. It must have something to do with the happy sparkle in his eyes, the smug look on his face and the way he chews. Yeah. The way he chews is cute. It kind of reminds me of a little boy. A little boy who is having his most favorite meal – like Mac and Cheese or something.

Mac and Cheese. It reminds me of a time when Riley was sick.

"Sit down Riley."

"I have to go to work."

"No you don't. Will you please just sit still for a second? I'm trying to take your temperature."

"That's just… wrong."

"Shush."

"Ben says that, and I don't like it."

"Riley!"

"Okay."

I took the thermometer and stuck it under his tongue.

"Ish ishz sho shtupid." Riley's words came out all ridiculous.

"I told you to be quiet. So, be QUIET."

A few minutes later I'm taking the thermometer out of his mouth. Yup. The boy sure isn't going anywhere today.

"But Katie, I told you. I have to be at that gala. There is NO WAY Ben'll let me miss it. He'll… do…. evil things to me."

I raised an eyebrow, "Like?"

Riley shrugged. "Bad things. Like throw me into a deep hole of death and despair."

"Riley, you've already been there, done that."

"Oh. Oh yeah. But, um… this would be like twice as deep…"

"Okay. But you're still… soooo not going."

Riley grumbled, tilting his head back towards the ceiling. "Kate…"

"I'll call Ben, don't worry."

We spent the next three days bunked up in his apartment. I didn't want him to be alone, and if you knew Riley at all you'd understand the importance of taking care of him.

He had all the wretched signs of the flu, but being the stubborn man he is I still found myself making macaroni and cheese for him.

I took it to him while he was in bed, propped up by a large amount of pillows.

"Oh great! I'm starved!"

"Hold it buddy!" I pulled the bowl away from him, "You've got the flu. You need to take it easy… I figure it's pretty mild but still…"

"Yes Nurse!"

"Hey!"

"Okay."

I handed him the bowl and he started eating with delight, and I thought.. wow… he's on the mend!

Well, I thought that… until about 11pm that night.

I sat reading by his bed when he weakly turned his head towards me, "Kate?" He whispered; his voice hoarse, "Please"!

"Hmm?"

Riley coughed, oh how it must hurt him. "Kate? I need your help so bad. I really...I...gotta go." His voice was louder and shaking with pain.

I rubbed my eyes, waking up. My voice filled with concern, "Riley? Go where?"

Riley swallowed hard, the pain in his stomach becoming intense. "Kate," Riley turned white, "I think I gotta puke...I..." His voice became full of emotion.

"It's ok. I'll help you. C'mon."

Riley pulled himself up, grasping my arm. He flinched and let out a painful sob. After a little bit of a struggle walking, we found ourselves in the bathroom.

"Awww..crrrraaappp..." Riley moaned, falling to his knees in front of the toilet.

"Are you okay?"

"Nooo..." Riley's head hovered over the toilet bowl, the world spinning around him.

Before I had a chance to ask why Riley began throwing up violently. I immediately kneeled down by him and massaged his back in small circles. "Oh Riley, hun, it's okay. Let it go. Let it alllllll go." And he did.

I sighed with relief. It appeared he was done for the moment. He was now leaning against the wall, breathing hard and holding his weak tummy. I just looked at him sadly then slowly stumbled to my feet. "Let's get you cleaned up."

I wet a washcloth in the sink and walked over and knelt by him, wiping his mouth and chin.

"I'm...so... c-cold...Ka...Kate. Pl..please..." I saw some tears fall down his hot cheeks.

I wrapped my arms around him, rubbing his back, trying to get the blood flowing. But, that wasn't the problem. He was burning hot. "Stand up okay?"

After the war between Riley and the toilet was over, I dragged him to his bedroom.

"Here now love, let's get that nasty shirt off." I looked at him. He looked so pale and his eyes were so tired. Lifting his shirt up off his head became a difficult task, and it was lucky I was there to assist him.

I went to his closet and looked inside. Nothing but nice dress shirts and ties. What the? Does this boy ever do his laundry? Luckily I found a white tee-shirt in the bottom drawer of his dresser.

"You are so lucky Riley, or else you'd have to sleep in your suit." I smiled slightly, reaching the shirt out for him to take from my hand.

"At least I'd look smashing."

"Right…" I laughed, "Just put the shirt on and get your butt in bed. Please?" I'm still waiting for him to take the shirt, when he doubles over, not able to stand on his own anymore. I take his arm, shocked by the heat of his skin, and set him down on the foot of the bed. "Here you go. Ya alright?"

He looks up at me, his hair sticking up all over the place, unshaven, with eyes so bright and blue. They were longing for me to just take care of him, he needed that right now. So, without another word I start to dress him, slipping his shirt over his head, bringing his arm through each sleeve, and then I pull it down over his chest. He has his eyes closed, and he's kinda rocking back and forth… like a….child. A child who just needs his mommy to make the sickness go away.

At that point, I'm pretty sure my motherly instincts took over. Taking his hand gently into mine I said, "Sit up Riley. Let's get you into the covers."

He reluctantly agrees and scoots back so his head rests on the pillow. It's then I look around his room, leftovers of mac-and-cheese still remain so I begin to pick up a bit. Last thing on earth he needs to see right now is any kind of food that's been sitting out for more than two days.

After disposing of all the waste in the kitchen trash can, I return to the room and find Riley staring up at the ceiling. I wonder what he is thinking about, but I don't want to interrupt… especially if he has another wave of whatever that crud was in the bathroom. Didn't ever want him to live through something like that again.

His voice is wavering when he says, "Kate? Am I gonna die?"

"Riley! You're not gonna die, it's the flu!"

The corners of his mouth curve into a smile, "I know. I've just always wanted to say that." He begins to laugh, while I just stare at him, as his laugh turned to a cough.

"Settle down boy." I walk over and sit on the side of the bed, "Do you want the covers on?"

"Nah, not yet." He grimaced in pain, discomfort… I wasn't quite sure which. "I hate this. This really just sucks." He places his hand on his forehead and rubs it. "I got this blasted headache that's never going to leave!"

I don't say a word, but my face is full of worry, I can tell. I couldn't think of what to do for him… next thing I know my hand is on top of his stomach. I begin to rub it gently, small circular motions, and the pain on his face seems to subside. "Oh Kate… that's… mmm…" He kinda moans and stretches his arms above his head. I figure he likes it.

My fingers trace little hearts on his stomach. I don't know. It just seemed natural. Riley doesn't seem to notice, and all I want is for him to feel better. My poor, sweet, geeky Riley. His breathing becomes steadier now, I think he's near asleep and that is so comforting to me. I run my fingers through his hair and then lean over, placing a small kiss on his forehead.

Yup. Gotta be asleep.

I begin to stand up, my hand sliding off his stomach, but I'm surprised to feel him reach for me. He places my hand back on his stomach and covers it with his. "Don't go…" He whispers.

I smile slightly, "You're supposed to be asleep." I take my free hand and rub his cheek. He's burning up and I wish so very much I could do more for him. But, no pill I give him seems to help.

I watch as he turns his head towards the palm of my hand, and a shiver runs down my spine when he kisses it softly.

"Ri..-ley?"

"Shh…" He kisses my palm one more time and whispers into it, "Thank you."

"…for… what?"

"For helping me out of… well," He swallowed, "The bathroom, and just…everything else."

I'm kind of nervous. I don't even know why. "Mmhhm, Riley, that's what friends are for."

"You're the best."

He shivered and I realized his covers were still down around his legs. Prying his hand off of mine, I tugged the covers up, tucking them under his chin. "You need to sleep, sweetheart." Sweetheart? Did I seriously just call him sweetheart?

"…'kay I will, thanks."

I run my hand through his hair once more, and pat the side of his face. Then I got up, stretching. I guess it'll be another night on that lovely couch of his.

"Kate?" His voice sounds soft, and I want to make sure I hear him so I go back over and sit on the side of the bed.

"Yes, Riley?"

"Do you believe me?"

"Believe you? That you're sick? Of course. Who was it who just witnessed that scene in the bathroom? Hm?" I touched his nose and smiled.

He just rolls his eyes. "No… not… that. I mean, well, er, do you believe that I've seen the President's Secret Book?"

Oh. This again? The whole time I've known Riley he's always been nervous about his book, especially since it wasn't really "sought after" or "respected."

"You should know by now that I do."

"No, but… really. Kate, I never even got to hold that thing in my hands. Do you know how frustrating it is to come THISCLOSE to something you live your life for, and then walk away?" His eyes are all passionate again, and I wonder if the Tylenol will ever kick in. I love hearing him talk like this, but not when he's in pain and torment.

"Listen, who was it that bought your book at midnight at Borders? Who was it that practically stalked Benjamin Gates just so he could introduce us? Who basically lives and breathes for whatever amazing thought you're going to have next? Me. And I trust you. I know you."

He licks his lips and smiles up at me, his eyes are getting kind of droopy now and I wish for the sake of his poor body he'd just sleep. But, I should know better. The wheels never quit turning in that wonderful head. When he's not awake, he's dreaming of some new idea or contraption.

"Sleep, Riley." I tuck the covers back around him that have managed to slip off. I got up and walked to the doorway, pausing, listening for his breathing.

And I can't be sure if he was awake or sleep talking but as I turn out the light I hear, "No more mac and cheese please…. Ever."

I shake my head and smile.

I think sleep has finally come.

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olwog · 7 years ago

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So Peeps, We assemble in the car park at Helmsley and check the prices. At £6 for over six hours we feel it’s a bit steep and when the Pilgrim arrives she mentions that parking on the road is free so several seconds later we parked on the Church Street and High Street saving twelve quid in total. After a brief pause we discover Lou is at the Cross in the Market Square waiting for us as we sit outside the toilets at the Cleveland Way car park waiting for her!

This could have taken some time but after a quick chat and an observation that the walk is listed as beginning where Lou, Elizabeth and Heather are currently patiently waiting so they initiate the start from there.

The weather is unbroken sunshine although there is a threat of a shower. Peter assembles us under the shade of some young trees all sporting their new summer clothing of various shades of green. With all of his years taking wedding photographs Peter had spotted that the softer light would result in a picture with subjects that are not squinting and it reduces the possibility of panda eyes, the excellent results are evident in the photos that he takes.

There is another group of people starting this leg of the walk but within a mile or so they’re well behind us. There are sheep with their lambs poking their heads from under the hedge. The lambs are inquisitive but the older and very slightly wiser ewes eye us with suspicion and round up the little ones and quickly recover them into the adjacent field. The lambs are a delight as they gambol in the sunshine and they remind me of childhood days in blue sky weather through summers that seemed to last such a long time. The scene is framed with trees of different species and whilst this seems mundane, it isn’t. We tend to have woodland that’s planted and invariably pine. This is Black Dale How Wood, it’s deciduous, largely broad leaved, varied and beautiful. It adjoins a group of similar woods that cling to the banks of Ryedale and the river Rye. They’re contained by bursts of a dry stone wall in varying states of repair but even where it’s falling apart it’s still interesting as lichen and moss adorn the elements that are in the shade. We walk adjacent to the wood at the edge of the field and enjoy the smells of both wood and grass as we give silent thanks for such an idyllic scene.

We turn left into the wood and down some very slippery steps that lead through a glade with sun shining through the trees and lighting sunbeams of moist air and insects like a scene from a children’s story book.

At the valley floor there is very little flat area and we’re almost immediately starting our ascent on greasy steps that need a little care due to the rain that we’ve had over the last couple of days. At the top we pause for breath and allow time for the team, which had begun to string out a little bit, to regroup.

Out of the shallow gorge we’re on the flat with more wood to our left and open fields to our right with blue skies and the odd cumulus in the distance, after several days of torrential rain this is wonderful. We pass Griff Lodge then begin our descent through Whinny Bank Wood. There’s wild garlic down here and it’s in full bloom; the smell is pungent and glorious and the conversation is reprogrammed to discussions about the relative merits of wild garlic flavoured soup and salads that are both flavoured with the leaves and decorated with the lovely flowers. We decide on both.

At the bottom of the track it joins the interesting stretch of road called Ingdale Howl leading to the turn for Rievaulx Abbey which we ignore in favour of the Cleveland Way over the lovely little bridge. We take a little bit of time to admire the garden of the house on the right. It has some beautiful plants but also the added advantage of a stream running through with its own little waterfall as it meets the River Rye.

Onwards again now with Ashberry Hill on our right then we turn right and back onto tracks and lanes through Nettle Dale with some animal and bird reserves on the right. This is a very formal dale with what looks like planted woods on either side. The up side is that they’re broad leafed as well as the faster growing pines. We turn right and begin a steady ascent on a good track towards Cold Kirby. There is a huge display of wild garlic and at the top of the bank the fields open out but disappointingly the weather is moving from the open blue skies of the morning to threatening cloud and a noticeable wind.

We take a short break in Cold Kirby then, as we leave the village, take a left and head towards the glider-drome. There are log cutting machines in the woods as we pass and the smell is evocative of the joiners workshops that we would visit when I was a child, I love this

The weather is getting a little colder but we’re only a half hour away from the cafe at Sutton Bank and the completion of this leg.

This is just over 10 miles (16km) and will get your heart rate up but is not difficult.

Enjoy the snaps…G..x

For information…

The Cleveland Way

Was the ‘second’ national trail eventually being approved in 1969. It was first mooted by the Teesside Ramblers in the 1930’s who pressed for a long distance path to link Hambleton Drovers Road with other tracks along the Cleveland escarpment and other footpaths on the Yorkshire coast. It stemmed from a proposal presented to the North Riding County Council in1953 so it was a long time in the making but entirely worthwhile. It stretches from Helmsley to Filey and winds its way around the periphery and sometimes over the North Yorkshire Moors then hugs the coast from Saltburn to Filey. It is 110 miles long and is very scenic. Most people walk it in sections by driving to a start point and walking 10 or so miles then returning to that point at a later day and doing it all over again. The rest bite the bullet and set of in either Helmsley or Filey and reach the other end in 9 or 10 days.

The ‘first’ national trail was the Pennine Way and it was established over a number of years and the final section declared open in 1965.

Helmsley

Historically, many towns were established or indeed, ‘happened’ because of the physical surroundings. For instance, a fork in the river that would make it easy to defend, a crossing where a ferryman could ply his trade or a road or track junction. In the instance of this lovely town it was both a river crossing and a junction, it’s also on the southern edge of the North Yorkshire Moors National Park and for us, its importance is the start of the Cleveland Way (or the end if you start in Filey).

Cold Kirby has a motley history from 1086 when Henry 11 granted to Robert de Stutville who later gave it to the Knights Templar until they were dissolved when it returned to the Crown in 1312. At one point it belonged to the Archbishop of York and passed through various hands and five years ago the Lord of the Manor was Mr. H. W. F. Bolckow.

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Cleveland Way – Helmsley to Sutton Bank So Peeps, We assemble in the car park at Helmsley and check the prices. At £6 for over six hours we feel it’s a bit steep and when the Pilgrim arrives she mentions that parking on the road is free so several seconds later we parked on the Church Street and High Street saving twelve quid in total.

#Cleveland Way #Cold Kirby #Helmsley #Landscapes #Photographs #Photos #Pictures #Sutton Bank #Walking #Walks #Yorkshire #Yorkshire Moors

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