Author Notes: I've done this really late, it's what? Season 5/6 now and its taken me this long to upload this? Set in Season 4 when Locke has Ben locked up in the cellar. This will only be a one-shot unless someone changes my mind (in real life or fanfiction world.). Anyway! I hope you enjoy this -bows-.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost.
What If?…
Ben loved to play games with Locke, even with the risk of John killing him he still toyed with his mind. Ben was only doing it back to Locke because he was muddling the Other's mind though, when the knife-toting man had been trapped underneath the metal door he had been so scared, on that night Ben needed to force himself to move away from the wounded man, to get up and do the numbers… The reptilian/bug like man had been so afraid that night, the feeling left him confused, not one other person ever made him feel such strong emotions, it had made him feel weak.
Ben sometimes let his mask slip when no one was around and thought of what ifs but Jacob would never allow it, Jacob's word was law but the island brought Locke back to Ben even when the bug-eyed man had shot him and left him to die in the pit of skeletons.
The cellar door opened and there stood John Locke, a tray filled with breakfast foods balanced on one hand.
"'Morning Ben! Managed to raise that money yet?"
Bright azure blue eyes stared down at the dusty floor, noting with distaste how bad the cleanliness of the house must have become since his freedom of cleaning had been stopped. A small arrogant smirk - most likely seen as mischievous in his younger days - appeared and Ben looked back up into his captor's troubled eyes, the other Losties must be rebelling.
"They must be questioning your authority a lot today, John. Otherwise you would not be taking out your anger on me.
The smirk was still there, still waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting person and annoy them, it worked. Locke's face turned into Ben's favourite expression on the man - anger.
"Enjoy your meal."
The Tray was almost slammed down on the table, some of the juice escaping from the glass and dripping down as small orange flavoured teardrops from off the table next to Ben's shoes.
"I guess I was right."
Buggy-man flinched when Locke's hand turned into a fist, he had pushed him too far this time but all John did was storm upstairs, a look similar to the one his father used to wear before Ben received a beating on his face but John had not raised his hand to his prisoner, there was a kindness to John Locke's character after all. The Other picked up the cup, taking a small sip of the lump-free juice.
What if?….