A/n-So way back in June I wrote a story entitled "Pictures at an Exhibition" for Rhiannon Aurorafai's birthday. And in that story I made a reference to Riley getting sick sometime in the past. Not long after I wrote that story, I wrote this one. And then it sat on my laptop, utterly forgotten for four months. I recently stumbled upon it again, and figured I might as well post the damn thing. So hopefully it's not too weird or anything; I didn't really polish it up (though I did send it off to my beta).

Disclaimer-I'm a poor college student, so even if you tried to sue me all you'd get would be a box of Hot & Spicy Cheez-its, some spare change, and a few bits of lint.

Ben knocked impatiently on the door to Riley's apartment. The boy had missed the meeting entirely, causing Ian to seriously reconsider having allowed the young computer programmer to join the Templar expedition. It had taken a lot of cajoling on Ben's part to allow Riley on the team, and for the past month the younger man had proved his worth and then some. He had organized all the files they had on everything pertaining to the Templar treasure and had thrown all his technological know-how into the search, making more headway in the hunt than Ben had made in months. It was Riley who had proposed the theory that the meeting had been about: that "Charlotte" was actually a cargo ship that had gone missing in the 1700s. After nearly an hour and a half of waiting around for the younger man to show up, Ian had made some choice comments and had left, followed by his crew. Ben, on the other hand, was not going to give up so easily.

"Riley? Are you there? It's Ben, Ben Gates," Ben called, knocking loudly on the door. It wasn't like Riley to miss an important meeting, especially one in which he was going to reveal what he'd discovered. From what Ben had seen, Riley was as enthusiastic as he was when it came to treasure hunting. He wasn't in it for the gold or for the historical significance; he was in it simply because he believed it existed. He hadn't doubted Ben's story for a second, immediately offering his services and computers.

It had been the least-boring wait in the hospital waiting room that Ben had ever endured.

Ben knocked again, slightly worried now. He knew it was a real possibility that Riley simply wasn't home. After all, Riley was what, 23? Surely he had a life outside of the treasure hunt. But Ben couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Riley would've let him know if he had to miss the meeting, and Ben hadn't received any calls or emails all day.

Suddenly the door swung inward to reveal a very bedraggled-looking Riley. The younger man's hair was disheveled and sticking up at odd angles, a stark contrast to his very pale face. Dark smudges under his eyes gave him a gaunt, unhealthy appearance. In fact, everything about Riley screamed "unhealthy".

Ben couldn't help but exclaim, "Riley, you look terrible! Are you alright?"

"Huh?" Riley asked, his voice raspy. He cleared his throat. "Me? Yeah. Gotta headache. What're you doing here?"

"You didn't show this morning. I thought that…" Ben began, but Riley interrupted him.

"Crap! Ben, I'm so sorry. I forgot all about it. I've been feeling tired all day, and I've had this headache…but that's no excuse. I'll give you all I've got and you can show it to everyone else, if they're all still waiting…" Riley trailed off, hanging his head. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Are you sure you're OK?" Ben asked, frowning in concern.

"Yeah, it's nothing. I've had worse. Just give me another day," Riley shook his head, wincing as the pounding in his temples reminded him that doing so wasn't a good idea.

"You're sure?" Ben asked. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me. You really do look terrible."

"Thanks," Riley snorted weakly, not up to his usual sarcasm. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, 'k?" Ben nodded, and Riley all but shut the door in his face. Ben shook his head. There was more to the story, he was sure of it. Riley's speech and body didn't agree. While Riley maintained that he was fine, his appearance screamed that he was anything but. With a small shrug, Ben decided that Riley was perfectly capable of taking care of himself and he headed back to his car.

Riley leaned back against the door. He really didn't feel well. For a fleeting moment he wished he hadn't kept up his "everything's peachy" façade and had let Ben see what was really wrong. But no, Riley was far too stubborn, proud, and independent to break down like that. He only wished he hadn't missed the meeting; as if Ian and Co. needed another reason to hate him. Riley wasn't an idiot. He knew the only reason he was on the Templar expedition in the first place was due to some hard-core persuasion on Ben's part. The other men weren't particularly fond of him, and Riley could see it in the marked apathy they displayed towards him.

Ben, on the other hand…Riley wasn't exactly sure how to classify Ben. He was a nice guy, that was certain. He'd fought to get Riley on the expedition, and Riley was grateful for that. He also seemed to genuinely care about Riley's opinions, allowing the younger man to speak his mind during their meetings. He'd applauded Riley's discovery of The Charlotte, actually crediting him for his work. And he'd shown up on Riley's doorstep, inquiring about his health. He wasn't there to pick up any paperwork on The Charlotte. He'd been concerned, and Riley wasn't sure how to deal with that.

Riley cradled his head in his hands. He'd had headaches this bad before, but at least with those there was a reasonable, concussion-related reason for them. Riley had successfully managed to keep from getting another concussion this time, but his head still hurt beyond belief. It was as if there was an army of tiny miners searching for gold up there.

Suddenly his stomach cramped, and Riley knew what was coming. Covering his mouth, he dashed for the bathroom, barely making it in time for his meager breakfast to make a reappearance. He heaved a few more times, bringing up naught more than bile. Leaning back against the bathroom wall, he groaned weakly. This was an exciting new development. First a pounding headache, then stomach cramps and vomiting…this was the worst illness Riley had caught in years. It was typical Poole luck that it would develop right as he was trying to make a good impression on the treasure hunters.

Ben sighed. It was no use. He knew Riley was sick, and he couldn't leave the poor man alone. Going back up to the apartment, he knocked on the door once again. There was no answer. Ben frowned. He knew Riley was home; he'd answered the door barely ten minutes ago. Ben knocked harder; if Riley was asleep, then Ben planned on waking him up.

Ben's concern mounted as there was no reply. What if Riley had passed out, hit his head, and was now lying on the floor in a bleeding, concussed, unconscious heap?
Deciding that such a scenario was quite possible, Ben reached for the doorknob. To his surprise and concern, it was unlocked. He entered the apartment, calling Riley's name cautiously.

Riley heard someone knock on the door, but was much too far gone to acknowledge it. His stomach cramped again at the mere concept of moving, and Riley shivered on the cold tile floor. He didn't feel up to moving the foot-and-a-half to the toilet, never mind answering the door.

It was to his immense surprise that he heard the door open and Ben tentatively call his name. He almost answered Ben, calling him into the bathroom, when he had the sudden urge to throw up again. With a burst of energy he didn't know he had, he made it to the toilet in time to bring up more bile.

The last round of vomiting left Riley with no energy whatsoever. He would've collapsed into the toilet bowl if it hadn't been for a pair of strong arms pulling him gently away. He was vaguely aware of someone alternating between soft reassurances, questions about his welfare, and colorful cursing. The toilet flushed and there was the sound of the sink running. Another second later, someone was wiping his mouth with a damp cloth. Riley's foggy mind recognized the voice.

"Ben," Riley croaked, somewhere between amazement and shame. "What're you…"

"Riley, shush," Ben commanded gently. "You're sick. Sick people shouldn't talk. Do you think you're going to throw up again?"

Riley hesitated, not bothering to indicate that if sick people didn't talk, he shouldn't answer the question. Not trusting his head to stay on if he indicated no, he managed to croak out the word.

"I'm calling an ambulance. You really do not look good," Ben started to move away.

"No!" The strength of Riley's voice surprised both of them. "No ambulance. No hospital. 'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Ben replied, but didn't make to move away again. "You could have food poisoning or the flu or some other sort of serious illness. You ought to get checked out."

"'m fine!" Riley repeated. "24-hour bug."

"If you say so," Ben didn't sound entirely convinced, but he wasn't about to drag the visibly-ill younger man into the hospital if he didn't want to go…though if Riley worsened, he wouldn't have a choice in the matter. "You think you can make it to your bed?"

"Fine right here. Doin' good," Riley smiled tiredly. Ben sighed. He wasn't going to get any help from Riley in his condition. So he heaved the younger man to his feet and slung Riley's arm over his shoulder. Riley made some sort of grunting protest, but was too far gone to really even care. Riley was visibly exhausted, whether it was from the illness or previous insomnia Ben wasn't sure. All Ben knew was that he'd walked in on the younger man "worshipping the porcelain god", as it were, and that the journey from the bathroom to Riley's bed was made without any effort on Riley's part. Ben practically dragged the younger man from one room to the other.

Depositing the younger man on the bed, Ben noted that Riley was half-asleep already. With a sigh he removed Riley's shoes and tucked the already-mussed covers over him. Riley made some sort of contented sound before dropping off entirely.

When Riley awoke, he had no idea how he'd ended up in his bed. One second he'd been tossing his cookies, and the next he was in his bed. At least his headache had gone away, but there was a lingering bile flavor in his mouth. Heaving himself off the bed, he made his way into the bathroom to wash out his mouth.

Upon exiting the bathroom, he noted a mysterious lump on the couch. Scowling, he cautiously made his way over to it and prodded it with his finger. The lump made a snorting sound and shifted, revealing itself to be Ben.

"Ben!" Riley could hardly keep the rather loud explanation from coming. Ben shifted again and opened his eyes, looking Riley up and down.

"Hey, you're up," Ben grinned. "How're you feeling?"

"What are you doing here?" Riley asked embarrassedly. "I mean, you're welcome to my couch, but I daresay your own bed is significantly more comfortable."

"I was making sure you were OK," Ben replied, sitting up. "Seriously, how are you feeling?"

"Better," Riley admitted. "Headache's gone. I'm hungry."

"What do you want?"

"Huh?" Riley was beyond confused. He thought he'd be asking that question, along with 'why are you here?'.

"For breakfast. There's a little place not too far from here that has the most amazing waffles," Ben threw the blanket off and stood up.

Riley made several incoherent sounds before actually answering, "That sounds fine. But honestly, what are you doing here? I'm fine."

"You weren't last night. Riley, why didn't you just tell me you weren't feeling well?" Ben asked, real concern shining in his eyes. Riley cocked his head in confusion.

"It wasn't a big deal. I threw up, big whoop. I'm fine now."

"That's beside the point. You could've choked and died."

"Not a pleasant thought."

"It's not funny, Riley!" Ben seemed genuinely mad. Riley frowned.

"I don't see why you care about my welfare. We've known each other for what, a month?"

"We've seen each other practically every day, once a week at the least. Don't you consider us friends?" Now Ben seemed sad. Riley was utterly confused. He just couldn't figure this man out.

"Yeah…"

"And friends care about each other, right?"

"I suppose…"

"So why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think you'd care," There. It was out. Riley blushed a bit and looked at the floor. Ben was shocked into silence. Why on Earth would Riley think that Ben wouldn't care? Ben shook his head.

"Riley, look at me," Ben waited until the bright blue eyes met his. "You're my friend. I care. So if you're ever feeling sick again, I want you to call me. You can call me for anything. You know that."

"I do now," Riley admitted. For some reason or another, Ben really seemed to care about his welfare. It wasn't something Riley was particularly used to, but it was a nice feeling. He didn't want it to go away, ever.

"Good. So what do you say about breakfast?" The issue wasn't over as far as Ben was concerned. He was a bit interested in why Riley would think that Ben didn't care about him. But Ben had the impression that it wasn't something Riley would be particularly keen on discussing, so he kept the issue to himself. For the time being, Ben would have to be content with making sure that Riley was safe and healthy. It wasn't a job he minded one bit.