(The file screwed up, which why the earlier posting of this contained gibberish. Sorry about that.)
A little ficlet I wrote up. Enjoy and let me know what you think!
Some days, Ben wished that no one knew who he was.
Even Grandpa Max and Gwen and Kevin and Rook, all of whom he owed his life to more times than he would admit (but not more times than he could count; no, he knew exactly how many times they had each saved his life and perhaps someday his pride would let him admit to that). It didn't matter how many times they had saved his life, for each, he could name ten times he'd put their lives in danger (and though he knew the exact number for that as well he did his best to forget it, not want to dwell on just how dangerous it was to simply be around him).
Then, of course, there was everyone else. Nearly all of the people he'd saved never would have needed saving if not for him. Almost everywhere he went he made enemies, and they sought their revenge by attacking innocent people. They knew he would rush in to save those they attacked, always determined to be the hero (in that way, his enemies knew him better than his friends did; the latter thought his fatal flaw was his pride, but the former knew his greatest weakness was and always would be how much he cared for others).
Some days, Ben wished he had never found the Omnitrix.
Yes, it'd made him a hero (but he would have found a way to be one without it eventually; he'd managed the few times the Omnitrix had been taken from him or rendered useless). But more than anything, it'd bought him enemies (the kind he'd never be able to negotiate a peaceful solution with, because they wanted him dead).
He hadn't understood the weight that came with being the wielder of the Omnitrix when he was younger (and now that he did there was nothing he could do about it). That wearing the Omnitrix meant that he could never have anything that even loosely resembled a normal life, that he'd stuck in the spotlight (a position he'd come to hate at times even if he never allowed that to show) until be died in battle (and he would die fighting; of that, he was certain).
Some days, Ben wished he could disappear.
Though he was careful to keep others from noticing (be it with a joke or a laugh or a smirk or a boast), there were times when he was just so very tired of everything. Times when he wanted nothing more than to go to bed without the worry that someone would attack while he slept; times that he could go out in public without someone recognizing him and calling attention to him (fame was cruel, and not at all what he'd dreamed it'd be as a child).
Some days, Ben wished that he could remove all the weight that sat on his shoulders and toss it aside, if even for just a few hours. That he could go the movies without having to leave to stop a crime, that he go to the mall without be heckled by at least a dozen of the more rabid fans. (That people would stop making him out to be a monster and a menace and a threat because he was just to be as much of a protector and a savior as he could be.)
Some days, Ben wished he could stop being the hero and just be the sixteen year old boy he was.
But other days, he'd go out and someone would approach him to thank him for all he'd done. Other days, kids would run up to him and pull him into their games. His family and friends would look at him with smiles and words of encouragement and praise.
Some days were bad. But other days were good. Other days, he couldn't dream of anything he'd wish to change.