A/N: DUDE. Annie better be in season 6 and we better get some Bennie action. OR I WILL CRY. Or rather, Jack will cry.
Summary: You're the bravest person I know, Ben Linus.
Bravery.
She was small. Frail and freckled, brown hair hanging down just past her shoulders. She gave him the candy bar. And he knew he was her's forever. That their fingers and destinies were curled together forever. That wasn't how he saw it just then, but he could feel it, could feel that steady grip her future had on his. And he liked it.
Her name was Annie. Annie and Apollo bars sneaking into his dreams at night, dreams that normally were usually riddled with haunting images of his mother, his father's booming voice, rabbits that didn't wake up when he called them. His fingers unwrapped the candy bar. And let her see a bit of his heart.
He was young then, he arms and legs a long tangled mess of youth and awkwardness, mixed with her smile and butterscotch laugh. It was enough to make him smile himself. To talk just a bit, even only to her. She understood his silence. Where others pointed to it as a weakness, she saw it as one sees a birthmark. Something unique. She would do the talking and every once in a while, he'd say something. She wouldn't act surprised, just take his voice in and smile.
When she was gone, he found his silence filled in the gaps she left and made them deeper, so he didn't think about that. He worked instead. Made his plans. Plans with Richard. With the Hostiles. There were things to be done. And if he could find the bravery to do them, then it might make up for losing her. For never seeing her again. She had left the island in exile with her family and he would never see her again.
Slowly he slid chocolate in his mouth and looked at the doll in his hand, feeling her lips over his, soft and cool against his hot bruised skin. The blood on his mouth didn't seem to bother her. She'd whispered and cooed over him when he'd arrived on her doorstep, bleeding and sobbing. Roger had done a number on him. Her parents were working. She led him into the kitchen, their sixteen year old bodies keenly aware of the way the sweat on his skin and how it pressed against her.
"You're the bravest person I know, Ben Linus."
"No, I'm not. You just don't know enough people." She giggled and wiped alcohol over his cuts. He hissed and she chided him for being a child. They remained silent. Still aware of their skin. Of the blood. She set the bottle down.
"I'm going to do something, and you're going to have to trust me. Can you do that?"
"Of course," he said, his voice shaking and giving away his anxiety. What was it she would do? He was afraid. Afraid of contact and touching and her. Afraid of her because she had become beautiful and desired and he wore wire framed glasses and shook like a leaf in front of his classmates.
"Close your eyes," she whispered. He felt her breath on his skin. Their foreheads touched. He heard the smile in her voice.
"I love you, Benjamin. I really do." And then she leaned forward.
Their lips met gently. Instinctively, he opened his own and allowed her to lead, mostly because he was still afraid. Her breath was shaky and he heard a small whimper behind her throat. She was scared, too. But she was better at hiding it. She was on her knees and so was he. Her hands were behind his neck and they were hungrily meeting and breathing. Nothing had ever felt like this before. Nothing.
They parted and laughed quietly.
"I love you...too much," she said. "And I don't think-" He shushed her and kissed her again.
"I'm not good at saying it," he murmured. "But I can try."
"Take your time..."
"As long as you'll wait."
"We have all our lives."
And thirty years later, when he thought about that, he would cry to himself. Because she had lied to him without ever knowing it.