Everyone who knew the Masons before the invasion knows that Hal is so much like Rebecca Mason that it hurts. Everyone except Hal, of course.
Ben knows that it's worst for Dad. He can see it on his dad's face when Hal says something that sounds like it came right out of Mom's mouth. Dad thinks he's hiding the devastation, but Ben has always been able to read him pretty well, even when he was still a kid and they were still normal.
They've just gotten back from the sanctuary that wasn't, and Ben is spending hours and hours jump roping. He needs to find out what his new limits are, because they're leagues beyond what his old ones were.
The thing about jump roping for hours is that it gives Ben plenty of time to think. Ben never really had much time to mourn Mom before he was taken. One day Mom dies, and a few days later the skitters take him, and maybe it had been selfish, but he had been too terrified out of his goddamn mind while the skitters were holding him to give Mom a second thought.
And, of course, when he was harnessed, Ben had barely been thinking at all.
But he misses Mom, misses Mom so much, and while he's jumping and jumping she's all he can think about. She had been an incredible mom. Ben has no idea how it is that she had managed to keep them all in order- they weren't always the most cooperative bunch. But she always did it; she got Ben to go to lacrosse games, got Hal to go quizbowl matches. Even got them to pay attention, too.
Ben is thinking about how unfair it is that Hal and Dad were able to save him but there was never any shot at saving Mom when Hal comes over and starts teasing him again.
"I remember when your idea of exercising was reorganizing Dad's bookshelves," and Ben doesn't see Hal standing there, he sees Mom. She had always teased him about that, too, even as she brought him a snack.
It's hours later and he can't stop thinking about it. That's something he's noticed since he got back- sometimes it's really hard for Ben to get his thoughts to do what he wants. He'd had an active imagination even before the spikes, but this feels different somehow. Like a lot of things, he doesn't want to think about it.
Ben walks in on Hal lounging in a classroom, cool as always, cool like Mom, and the pain of missing Mom shoots right through him. Without thinking, he crosses the space between them and hugs Hal tight.
"Ben?" Hal practically squeaks, and Ben can't blame him.
"I miss Mom," Ben whispers into his shirt. "I miss her so much."
"Me too," Hal says.
Hal's chest heaves under his head, but his arms come up to hold him and it almost feels like Mom again, for the briefest second.