Another oneshot from me! I'm really powering them out at the moment. I blame the super-awesome episode of late :P

This is an angsty tale of what could (but most probably not) happen with the events after Ben leaving and the 2nd Mass heading towards Charleston. There is character death.

Big thanks to everyone who has read my Falling Skies fics so far. I have a tag to episode 7 up as well, called Like a Shooting Star. It's told from nine of the main characters point of view, based on the events of the last few episodes. Also, another chapter for We All Bleed the Same Way should be up soonish too :)


BROKEN

DANCERINTHEDARK101


A story of what could happen, had things turned out a little differently. My take on what could happen with Charleston. Character death.


Hal was scouting on foot down a deserted dirt road, checking into the trees lining each side as he made his way away from where they had holed up camp for the night. It was the middle of the afternoon, the sun beating down on his head and shoulders, causing sweat to bead on his forehead. Being the middle of summer, it was almost stifling in the heat at this time of the day. Gun gripped tight in his sweaty hands, the black-haired teen continued his sweep of the road.

It had been six months since the Second Massachusetts had made their way to Charleston. They had travelled a very slow pace, taking weeks to arrive at the almost mythological location. It hadn't been easy either. There had been several ambushes along the road and many of their fighters and civilians had perished. They had a group of 147 people when they finally made it.

Charleston was a bust.

There was nothing there. They could see where buildings may have once stood, but now lay in piles of rubble; nothing more than a deserted graveyard. They had combed the rubble, finding hundreds and hundreds of dead and decaying bodies. Some had been burned almost beyond recognition while some had been left to rot.

Several had lost it then. The hope that they had been gathering for weeks had been destroyed in a single blow. There was no hope for them now. As they stood there, looking on in horror, Hal remembered that even Pope had looked shocked at the shocking turn of events.

Captain Weaver had really stepped up then. Once the initial shock had worn off, he had turned to the last standing Second Mass and said that they weren't going to give up. Just because Charleston was no longer, didn't mean that there weren't more survivors out there. Their new goal was to find a location that was hidden, secure and start to rebuild; attempt to do what Charleston had failed at. Scouting parties would leave for days at a time, searching for more survivors as the woman in the plane once had.

It took a few months, but they finally managed to get something sorted out. They had found an old abandoned movie set believe it or not. One built in the middle of nowhere that housed several buildings and other such amenities. It needed a good deal of repair, but they managed to get it looking somewhat liveable. Scouring off some old wood found, they build a perimeter with scout towers that looked like they'd come straight out of the dark ages.

But it worked. They had security, buildings and some semblance of normal. They had acquired several generators that they ran on low to have the power needed to facilitate everyone and they even managed to sort out a working water system. One a month, they used the generators to heat enough water to have one two-minute hot shower each. That was heaven.

Thinking about a hot shower, Hal didn't even notice the body on the ground until he tripped over it. He landed face first in the leave-covered ground, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. He quickly flipped himself over and scrambled forward, peering at what he had tripped on.

Realising it was a body; Hal began to brush the leaves away to reveal a male teenager about sixteen to eighteen years of age. The boy's clothes were tattered and ruined and he could see dark blood staining areas of the cloth. But it was the boy's back that made Hal's blood run cold.

The boy had silver spikes poking through the skin above his spine.

Ripping open the worn t-shirt, Hal gasped at the state of the skin. Around the spikes, hard green and crusty skin spread from the metal like poison. It covered almost half the kid's back.

Without any further delay, Hal gently rolled the boy over and immediately let out a low moan.

It was Ben.

His little brother had not been seen or heard of in six months. He'd walked away from the Second Mass after the hospital attack. When they'd reached Charleston, Hal and his Dad had searched the rubble for Ben, in case he had gone there. They hadn't found any evidence.

But now…

Ben's eyes were closed, his head lolling limply to the left as Hal pulled his head into his lap. His sandy blonde hair was dark with dirt and splatters of dried blood. Shakily, Hal pressed two fingers to his brother's neck to check for a pulse, leaning in close at the same time to see if he was breathing.

He wasn't breathing.

After a minute of frantically searching, Hal sat back as he fought back tears. Ben wasn't breathing and he had no pulse. His body was cold.

He was dead.

His little brother was dead.

Letting tears escape, Hal chocked as he struggled to contain the sobs threatening to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes, a fist coming up to press against his mouth as he fought the tidal wave of emotions.

It took a very long time for Hal to get himself under control. He could still feel the warm drops of tears rolling down his face as he stood. Bending down, he slipped one arm under his brother's knees and the other under his neck. Coming face to face with Ben again, Hal watched as a few of his tears hit Ben's pale, cold cheek.

He didn't even remember the walk back to camp. He hid the bike in the trees before continuing on, knowing the walk was going to take hours. All he remembered was the feeling of his lifeless little brother hanging in his arms, the spikes by his neck digging into his arm.

Hal felt himself close off as he walked. The tears eventually stopped, only to be replaced by a cold indifference. His brother was dead and he hadn't been able to do a thing about it.

The gates of the camp loomed ahead and it wasn't until then that Hal managed to look down again at his brother's lax face. He had changed a little in the six months he was away. His face was more defined, his cheekbones standing out a lot more. He'd obviously lost weight, but it wasn't in a bad way.

He heard someone calling out in the distance, but Hal paid them no attention. It wasn't until he got closer that he saw that quite a few people had gathered.

Looking at the man standing in the middle of the group, Hal locked eyes with his father. Grief threatened to overwhelm him then and there as he saw the questioning in his dad's gaze. Hal slowly walked towards the group, feeling himself begin to choke up again.

He stopped a few feet away.

"No…" the agonized moan came from his father as he laid eyes on the still form of his missing son. Hal could see the sympathy and shock coming from those also gathered around as they saw who Hal was carrying.

"…he's gone, Dad… he's gone."

It was then that Hal Mason watched his father break; his soul shattering into thousands of tiny pieces, never to be put back together again.

Later that day as he watched his brother be lowered into the ground, Hal vowed to remember the day – remember it as the day his father broke; the day the first of the Mason boys perished at the hands of the invading force. It was the day that Hal vowed he would protect his family the best he could, the consequences be damned.


Well, there you have it. This was inspired loosely by episode 6, when Hal and Maggie found Karen and the other kids. I had an image of Hal finding Ben in a similar way, months after Charleston, so I just had to write it :)

I just love the way the last episode ended, with Ben leaving. It opened so many doors for countless plotlines to appear, so this was my take on it.

Thanks for reading

-Rachel