A/N: Hello! This is the sequel to "First Patrol", I'm nervous, this is only the second sequel I've ever posted on this site...I usually promise them and never write them. If you haven't read "First Patrol", I highly recommend you do, a lot of things from that story will play heavily into this one, but if you haven't, I try to explain things best I can.
Summary: "You're not the hero of this story. At least, not mankind's hero." – The past is unchangeable, but the future uncertain. To protect the ones he loves, Ben will sacrifice everything, including his own humanity.
This story will be limited 3rd person, with dual perspective, flipping from Jimmy to Ben's POV. Usually they alternate chapters, sometimes it will be in chapter. It's fun, I get to play with it, because they boys tend to interpret things very differently.
Warnings: Sexuality, language, graphic violence, dark themes, and all that other fun jazz that earn anything an "M" rating. This story does earn an AU tag, it will loosely follow some of the first episodes of season 2 than deviate rather drastically. I will be taking liberties on the sci-fi aspects of the show. Not everything will follow cannon from season 1 either, mainly because I didn't have the time to do the hardcore research I normally do. There are going to be various other pairings in this story, and OCs that will play semi-important roles. I hate that this has to be a warning because of stupid people, but the main pairing of this story is of a homosexual nature, Ben and Jimmy are from the start in an intimate relationship, if you read First Patrol, you would know this. If pairings of this nature bother you in anyway, feel free to leave now. You have been warned, I cannot be held responsible if you choose to continue reading, I don't want to hear any griping on the matter, I will tear you apart if you attempt attacking me solely based on my pairing choice. Hell, I'll rip you apart if you piss me off, period. Which leads to my last warning, I am not always a pleasant person, in fact, sometimes I'm downright abrasive (bitchy). If that bothers you, PM me about, we'll go back and forth, it'll be fun. Don't leave a review attacking my person, especially an anonymous one, I will delete it.
This story is dedicated to all the people who read and loved First Patrol, for whom this story would not exist without, namely (and in no particular order): Haley, WhisperMaw, FacePalmer123, Greg, ScarlettLynn, CallMePox, JDMlvr1, Cookie97, 2nd Mass Redneck, Heracratzarism, and wherever he is, Avid.
Disclaimer: If I owned Falling Skies, Jimmy never would have died. Jimmy is dead, therefore I do not own Falling Skies. See what happens when I don't own things? People die. I hope you've all learned your lesson.
Some of you might worry at first that this is a rehash of "First Patrol" story-telling, because I used a similar technique at the beginning, all I got to say is, read it to the end.
Fire Light
I.
First days of school were always a little disorienting. Kids had to struggle to make that sudden transition from the careless freedom of summer into the structured schedule of fall. Ben Mason didn't have that problem; of course, he maintained a strict regimen everyday regardless of season. His older brother, Hal, on the other hand, was much like the rest of the student masses. He sat in the front seat grumpily because he had to rise before twelve for the first time in three months.
"I don't see why I have to ride along with the squirts to school," Hal complained, "My first class doesn't even start until ten." He was a senior in high school and only had four classes that year.
"Because your father has lectures all day and I'll be at work, so no one will be available to drive you to school," his mother calmly explained. It was the same thing she'd been telling him all morning, he just didn't listen.
"Why can't I just drive you to work and use your car?" Hal demanded, shifting anxiously in the front seat.
Ben peeked up from the book he was reading in the backseat.
"Why don't you just get a job and buy your own car?" he commented cheekily. His mother smirked at him in the rearview mirror.
"What was that?" Hal jeered. He reached back to steal his brother's glasses off his nose.
"Hey, give those back!" Ben shouted, stretching around the seat to try and snatch back the stolen eyewear, but Hal pulled it from reach, struggling against his brother.
"What's the matter, huh? Your dork ensemble not complete without these?" Hal taunted, "You know, Ben, you really got to stop copying dad's fashion sense, he wasn't popular in school either."
"Hal, give your brother his glasses back," his mother chastised and Hal rolled his eyes, relenting, and tossing the glasses casually into the backseat, "And for your information, your father is a very snazzy dresser."
Ben grumbled, reaching for the black-rimmed lenses and fiddling a moment with them in his fingers, before regrettably sliding them back up on his nose and attempting to resettle into his book.
"Mom, anything that requires the word 'snazzy' to describe it, is not cool. And why are you letting him read back there, anyhow, you know it gives him motion sickness?" Hal wondered and then stated firmly, "If he hurls today in class, I'm not picking him up."
Their mother pulled the mini-van into the middle school parking lot and Ben eagerly tore off his reading glasses, tucking them in his jacket pocket, he shoved his book in his bag and tossed open the back door. He ruffled his younger brother Matt's hair beside him, and Matt voiced complaint, attempting to fix his mussed locks. Ben slung his backpack over his shoulders and said a quick good-bye to his mother, ignoring Hal completely, and went to close the door.
"Ben, don't forget your board," his mother called, pointing to where his travel chess board set sat on the backseat. Ben sheepishly gathered the object under his arm, his brother snickering in the front about his being 'such a dork', and hurried up towards the school's front entrance.
Kids were already beginning to gather outside, finding friends from previous years to huddle and catch up with, and exchanging summer stories. Ben hurried inside the building and weaved his way through the crowds towards the library, where he knew he would find his own friends waiting. He ran into a couple of boys and they gave him a reproving once over, as he stammered apology.
"Well, if it isn't Spacin' Mason, watch where you're going loser," one of the boys jeered and Ben repeated his apology, rushing past without looking back.
Inside the library, as predicted, Ben found his friends, five gawky teens gathered around one of the tables, enraptured in a game of chess between Arnie and Lindsey. Ben sidled up next to Hatchet, and murmured greeting, quickly assessing the situation on the board. He gave a low whistle.
"She's got him in five moves," he whispered to Hatchet.
"So long as she doesn't take his bait and move that queen too soon," Hatchet replied.
Hatchet's real name was Edwin Quattlebaum, but he only responded to Hatchet, his screen-name for the massive online role-playing game, Diablo. He had a level forty-seven fighter, which earned him a decent amount of bragging rights amongst their friends. He'd been discussing his recent rune choices with Crumb, or Harvard R. Crumb as the tall, bulbous boy wearing a leather jacket, Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon t-shirt and biker boots preferred introducing himself.
Lindsey made her next move and the surrounding teens all made varying noises of astonishment or praise. Lindsey smirked at Arnie who sighed, knowing his king was dead and it was only a matter of playing out the final battle scene, tipped the piece over. Lindsey bumped fists with Marty, the other girl, bulky, sporting more muscle than any of the other gathered teens combined, and garish, she eagerly talked smack to the boys for her best-friend, the soft-spoken willowy victor.
"In your face, in your face, and in your face," Marty exclaimed, then grinning toothily, "Morning, Spacin'."
Ben rolled his eyes and scowled.
"Morning, Martine," he glumly replied, taking a sick satisfaction in the way Marty cringed at her full-name. He dropped into Arnie's abandoned seat to be Lindsey's next challenger. Lindsey silently re-set the pieces on the board, perking a brow at Ben skeptically.
"You aren't going to use that weak-ass Romanian tower defense again, are you?" she asked coolly, running her hand over her thin blonde pony-tail and whipping it back over her shoulder.
"Just make your first move," Ben replied sharply.
Lindsey picked up one of her pawns, slammed it back on its new square on the board and glared expectant at the boy across from her. Ben thoughtfully assessed the move and smirked, so she was going with that tactic, huh? He plucked up his knight and reset it on the board. For several minutes, they moved their pieces back and forth, each of their turns taking progressively longer. Their friends all watched, entranced.
"I think I see where he's going with this…" Hatchet commented.
"You have no clue where he's going," Arnie responded sharply.
"Wait…wait…what are you doing? None of this makes any sense," Lindsey complained, "I don't understand what you're doing. There's no rationale to these moves. They don't make any sense."
Ben narrowed his eyes at the board. How could they not make sense? It all seemed logical to him. He could see exactly where every piece was going, as though he were watching them move all on their own; peering at them through the veil of time and space. It wasn't a checkered board and they weren't plastic pieces, it was a real battlefield and the pieces were living, breathing beings, fighting for their king. The pawns on one side were six legged creatures; the pawns on the other were smooth faced children just breaching adolescence. Then there were the queens, one looked vaguely like his father sporting a rough-hewn beard, wearing a trench coat and toting a repeater rifle. The other queen…the other looked like…
Ben pulled back from the chess board and stood from the table, shaking his head violently. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. His heart thundered in his chest, he couldn't draw enough air into his lungs. His friends all watched him in stunned surprise. Lindsey quirked a brow.
"Are you forfeiting?" she wondered snidely.
Ben didn't answer, slinging his pack over his shoulders once more and hastily exiting the library, nearly running headfirst into a group of obnoxiously loud boys, all laughing uproariously. He caught sight of blue and froze, breath catching in his throat for a brief moment as he locked eyes on one particular boy, one that felt so familiar but not.
The strange boy looked away first, never breaking in his stride down the hall, and with his friends he rounded a corner and disappeared. An arm fell over Ben's shoulders and Marty's cheerful face filled his vision.
"What's with you, Spacin'?" she asked, keeping her tone light to hide the worry. He shrugged her arm away.
"I don't know…everything seems wrong," he murmured, trailing down the hall the direction that other boy had gone, Marty followed curiously after, "Did you see him? Did you recognize him?"
"Who 'him'?" Marty questioned.
"That boy…with the blue eyes," Ben explained distractedly, hurrying down the hall and rounding another corner, darting his head back and forth to scour the crowded halls for one more glimpse of that familiar stranger.
"First of all, there are a lot of boys in these halls, and second, you know I don't pay much attention to boys," Marty jokingly replied, then exasperated, she called out," Where are you going, Spacin'? Class is this way!"
Ben turned corner after corner, the hallways seemed to stretch on forever. He felt like he needed to find that boy, as if he might have answers, maybe he could explain the chess board, maybe he could explain why that queen standing behind those six legged creatures looked the way that it did. He turned a final corner and found himself at a dead end, staring at a heavy, beige-colored door. He could turn back around, though he wasn't entirely certain how he'd gotten there, or he could go through the door.
Something told him to go through the door. He put his hand on the knob, gave it a twist, and pushed in.
There wasn't a classroom on the other side, not even a room, just an endless stretch of emerald green field. The sky glistened a purplish, pink; shooting stars rained from the heavens, streaking silver and orange and exploding in the distance.
Walking towards Ben was a girl, young, slender, pretty. Her thin blonde hair framed her face neatly, brushing her shoulders and curling round her chin. She wore a white, lace dress that draped elegantly over her tiny frame and billowed around her. When she was close enough, she looked deeply into Ben's eyes, her own a hazy green gray. She smiled.
"I've been waiting for you," she said, her voice airy, and high-pitched, it sent a shiver up Ben's spine.
"I was looking for someone…" Ben admitted, glancing nervously around, "Where are we?"
"Exactly where we belong," she answered easily. She took his hand in her own; her touch tingled up his arm, as she guided him across the field. Creatures that defied imagination ran rampant around them, and the landscape continued to shift and change into ever more impressive, fantastical arrangements.
"I don't understand," Ben whispered pleadingly, again demanding explanation, "Where are we? What is this place?"
He faltered when he saw them, children, hundreds of them standing in straight lines, row after row, spread out across the rolling fields. They were like him, just like him. He could see it in them, in their eyes, feel it in them, in their thoughts swirling, crashing, against his own.
"No," Ben cried, aghast. He ripped his hand away from the girl, "This is wrong. This is all wrong. It's not meant to be like this!"
"Yes, it is meant to be like this. This is right. This is the proper course of events, our destiny. This is our future, Ben," the girl insisted, reaching her hand towards him, imploring him to join her, "Embrace it."
"I don't understand any of this," he protested, taking several steps back from her, and clutching his head in his hand, "This isn't right! This…and that piece…the chess board…I don't get it. What is it supposed to mean? I don't understand!"
"Yes, you do. You know exactly what it means. You have always known what it means," the girl calmly explained, "You're not the hero of this story, Ben. At least, not mankind's hero."
Ben bolted up from his cot, gasping for air and drenched in sweat. The metal spikes that ran the length of his spine burned white hot and through the darkness he could see they were illuminated a bright blue that, after a moment's time, faded away along with the pain.
He ran his hands over his face and through his hair and gathered his bearings. He was in the tent he usually shared with his brothers, pitched outside of the community center where the human resistance unit he belonged to, the 2nd Massachusetts, had recently set up base camp.
Despite there being more than enough room in the community center to house all the members of the 2nd Mass, people weren't comfortable with Ben sleeping in a common area with them. While no one ever actually voiced complaint, he rather preferred avoiding the dark pointed stares of suspicion that followed him everywhere and simply opted to sleep outside, by himself he insisted when his brothers offered to keep him company.
Fully awake now, and nothing he could do about it, Ben decided to take a run. He exited the tent, sweeping his eyes over the area, taking stock of the few people awake at that hour, wandering around or sitting in groups chatting. Mostly they were fighters; some on patrol, some on watch, and some that just couldn't sleep. He caught sight of Jimmy amongst one of the groups, and his heart skipped a few beats, an unbidden smile crawling into his features. He couldn't help it; the other boy just had that effect on him.
The two had grown close since their first patrol together, what seemed ages ago but may not have been more than a couple months. If there was anyone in the camp that could soothe Ben's restless soul at that moment it was Jimmy and part of him desperately wanted to join the other boy across camp, but the other children that Jimmy was chatting with, mostly civilians around his and Ben's age, caused Ben to stay his ground, keep his distance.
There had been a great shift recently in how the other children in the 2nd Mass treated Ben, a lot of them had abandoned their outward cruelty towards him, and many of them were almost friendly now. Though Ben appreciated the change, he knew it wasn't because they'd come to trust him by any means, more so, they didn't want to incur the wrath of Jimmy. Ben didn't want to burden those children in that small cluster with his presence more than he had to, and he didn't want to deal with their forced kindness either, like a cruel, unusual torture all its own.
Ben stalked out into the darkness, away from the warm crowd slumbering in the community center, the warm glow of the camp fires, and the warm chatter of the fighters. He didn't belong in that warmth any way. He started in a slow jog around the 2nd Mass perimeter, nodding to a couple fighters on patrol in his passing who returned the acknowledgment, stiff nods of their own. He focused on keeping a steady breath and even pace.
Before he had been harnessed by the alien invaders, Ben couldn't run like this. He'd had acute asthma. His mother made him take at least two inhalers everywhere he went, and now he didn't even need one. He moved through the abandoned streets of that small town around the community center with an effortless Olympic track champion speed. He could run like this forever, leave the world behind, and race off into the horizon and beyond. Never stopping, never slowing, the path before him was endless and he could take it anywhere.
Ben could almost feel thankful of the aliens for harnessing him, if only for this, the breath that pumped cleanly in and out of his lungs.
He wasn't sure how long he ran for, perhaps an hour or more, until his body was thickly coated in sweat, his t-shirt clinging to his frame, and hair matted down to his forehead and neck. His body didn't feel sore as it should, the muscles didn't so much scream for relief but, oddly enough, to push on, to keep moving, as if running were the only relief they needed.
In the distance, the night lit on fire, and Ben staggered to a stop between two rows of pastel colored cookie-cutter houses that were all, for the most part, partially-destroyed. His eyes watched the tail of a seeming shooting star streaking across the sky and then crashing past the horizon, blanketing the world in an ethereal glow of red and orange and bright yellow, as blinding and captivating as the sun.
Ben shuddered, glared at the horizon as the light died away. A strange feeling erupted in his chest, a feeling he couldn't explain, a sudden desire like a moth to flame, to follow that path to that fallen star in the distance.
Instead, he used his already damp shirt to wipe away as much sweat from his face as he could manage and started back towards camp. He was still a block away when he heard the distinctive slap of footfall, and faltered, straining his ears to better identify the sound. Another 'bonus' to having been harnessed, Ben's hearing was severely heightened. Some people joked he could hear the enemy coming from a mile away and, though he had never actually tested the range of his new ability, they weren't too far under the mark.
Ben first located all of the patrolling pairs in the area, none of them close enough to be the approaching intruder on his nightly stroll. Whoever it was, however, was heading towards him from the 2nd Mass base camp, so it wasn't an outsider. Though, unfortunately for Ben, that didn't exactly mean it was a friendly. He sighed heavy, hoped for the best and spun round to greet the unknown. He grinned.
As though caught in the midst of an indecent act, Jimmy froze on the spot across the street, those big, beautiful, blue eyes staring owlishly out at Ben, his rifle slung casually over his shoulder.
"Hey," Jimmy called uncertainly after a few seconds of recovery, "What are you doing out here?"
"Nothing," Ben answered, slowly closing the distance between them.
Jimmy swept his gaze reproachfully over Ben, taking in his disheveled appearance.
"You been running?" Jimmy wondered, taking an instinctive step back from the approaching boy.
Ben really hated when Jimmy did that, it only made him want to pursue, and Jimmy hated when he pursued, and it was just this endless cycle of Ben chasing Jimmy, when sometimes Ben just wished Jimmy would give in, and just let himself be caught. But then, of course, where would the fun be in that?
"Maybe. Why?"
"Because…well…you're kind of disgusting right now," Jimmy noted, a hint of tease to his tone. Ben smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes.
"Oh, is that right?" Ben challenged, "So then…you probably wouldn't want me to…do…this."
Ben moved quickly forward, too quickly to be countered, grabbing one arm around Jimmy's neck and dragging the other boy, who valiantly yet failingly struggled against him, into a tight embrace, being certain to crush Jimmy against all the dampest areas of his chest, and rubbing his sweaty face against Jimmy's own.
"Augh, gross! Ben," Jimmy groaned, roughly shoving the other boy away. He shook his hands as though to knock the wetness away and wiped disgustedly at his face, complaining heatedly, "You're such an asshole!"
Ben grinned proudly in response. Jimmy shook his head, obviously annoyed, as he continued in his vain effort to 'clean' himself. He muttered incoherent angry phrases under his breath for a few seconds.
Then, after Ben's laughter had long died out, Jimmy asked, or grumbled more like, "Is everything okay with you?"
"Yeah, why?" Ben returned, stretching his arms lazily over his head.
Jimmy stared at Ben a moment, that narrow-eyed glare of his that prickled in Ben a dozen mischievous thoughts. Honestly, if Jimmy didn't want to be harassed so much, he should put more effort into not being such an easy target.
"Because you're running. In the middle of the night," Jimmy pointed out, "Which I'm guessing means you can't sleep. Which typically means you're not okay."
"You never sleep," Ben replied earnestly.
Jimmy folded his arms over his chest and his brow wrinkled dramatically.
"Point and case," he shot back, haughtily, "I am not okay. Cut the crap, Ben, what's up?"
Ben shrugged. Jimmy really was no fun when he was in serious grump mode, but then again when was he not in serious grump mode.
"Nothing is going on. I just had a weird dream," Ben explained nonchalant.
Brazenly, he reached a hand out, took hold of Jimmy by those securely folded arms and dragged him begrudgingly forward, gently touching their mouths together and leaving them like that a moment, waiting for the other boy's ever-unpredictable response. Would he continue the fight or would he finally just surrender? Ben never knew when it came to Jimmy and in a strange way that was part of the excitement.
Eventually, Jimmy did surrender, settling into the kiss, though still somehow managing to get his annoyance across even as he unfurled his arms and curled his fingers loosely, tentatively into Ben's t-shirt. Ben shoved his hands into his own pockets and tried not to grin too arrogantly against Jimmy's mouth, it would really piss Jimmy off, but he couldn't help bragging a little by sliding his tongue along the edge of Jimmy's lip.
When they broke apart, Jimmy rolled his eyes and steadily informed Ben, "You're still an asshole," then turned to lead the way back to camp.
"Whatever you say, babe," Ben retorted.
Jimmy stopped dead in his tracks.
"Sweetheart…?" Ben tried again.
Jimmy turned a dangerous look on the other boy.
Ben snapped his fingers, "Honey."
"I have a gun, Ben," Jimmy deadpanned, in that kind of calm voice that usually preceded a serious shit-storm. Ben shrugged sheepishly.
"I was just trying it out," he muttered, falling in step beside Jimmy, their arms brushing nicely against one another as they walked.
Ben contemplated taking Jimmy's hand, just to see how that felt, but decided against it. Jimmy was already irritated, that would probably be the catalyst for a violent reaction. The other boy didn't always take affection well, which was understandable, given what little of his history Ben had managed to pry out. Put in simplest terms, Jimmy wasn't exactly hugged a lot as a child.
After a moment, Ben questioned, "Hey, what do you think that light was earlier?"
"What light?" Jimmy responded disinterestedly.
Ben scrunched his brow, "The one off in the distance, over that way," he gestured back the direction he'd come from, "It was pretty bright. I was sure you could see it from camp."
Jimmy frowned, shaking his head and glancing almost apologetically at Ben.
"There was no light," he said with certainty.
Ben paused, turning back to stare through the distant darkness to the black horizon beyond, his mouth pressed into a thin line and eyes narrowed, focused. His entire body, every muscle, was held tense, his hair stood on end, his senses on a high alert. Something prickled in the back of his mind, something electric, like the crinkling sound of static, a distant white noise. Jimmy stopped a few steps ahead of Ben, glancing concernedly to the other boy.
"What is it?" Jimmy questioned, darting quick glances to the horizon, but mostly keeping his attention tuned on Ben.
"I don't know. Probably nothing," Ben shrugged. He shook his head and smirked grimly at Jimmy, "But I don't like it."
.
.
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A/N: Hm...strange things are happening. Let me know what you think! Reviews are always appreciated.
I'll be updating on Sundays. So...see you all next Sunday.
(**Oi...had to repost. I really need to proof these things before I upload, was reading back through and spotted all sorts of mistakes...I mean, mistakes are inevitable but it was ridiculous. Hey, Greg, you reading? Did you still want to beta? I could probably use one of those...not really abundant with the time right now. If not, I'll make do.)