Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise.

.:.

With the plan cemented and ready to go, Benny made his prompt way from the office to the subway. It was a half hour ride to the loft by subway, but it was more convenient than the half hour wait for the driver followed by the hour stuck in New York traffic. And there was no way he was taking his own car—he could only too clearly remember what had happened last time.

Before boarding his train, however, Benny moved to the first payphone he could see and, after paying the machine, dialed Alison's work phone.

"West Corporation, Advertising Devision, Diana Sanders speaking, how may I direct your call?" the chirpy voice of his wife's coworker greeted him on the other end of the line.

"Hey Diana, it's Benny—can I snatch Alison for a sec?"

Diana greeted him again after he announced himself and they had a brief conversation about trivial things before she passed the phone to his wife.

"Hey, honey, how'd it go?" Alison asked.

She worked in the Advertising section of the West Corporation. Alison works mostly with billboard advertising, as well as print advertising and Westport owned advertising air space. Benny quickly filled her in about the events of his meeting with her father before getting to the good part.

"In the end he agreed," he said with a grin, even though she couldn't see his face. "I'm in the subway right now—I'm going to catch a train to the loft and try to get through to them."

He couldn't see Alison's face, but she sounded alright. His old friends had always been an interesting topic between the two of them. She'd grown up elite, and for some reason he'd always assumed that his friends weren't worthy of her time. (Hell, it'd taken a while for him to figure out that he was worth her time, and he still wasn't sure). This had led to many an argument about he assumed she was too precious and how she wasn't a doll to be protected.

But she had seemed supportive enough last night, and she didn't sound unhappy now. So Benny pressed on. "I think that even if just the business side of this plan works, then at least they'll be more stable."

Alison sighed into the receiver. "Don't make this about business, Benny," she reprimanded him lightly. "You know why you're doing this, and so should they. If they think that this is all about the money again, then you're going to get nowhere with them."

Benny frowned slightly at her words, but she continued before he could protest.

"You be the brave man I know you are, and you walk in there and you say you're sorry. Even if it's totally stupid, you need to show them that you're willing to make an effort to get them back, alright?"

Benny smiled again. "What would I do without you?" he asked her with a grin.

He heard her let out a light laugh. "Crash and burn, sweetie." She said with a grin. "I've got to get back to work, Hun, but call me when you get a chance. Did you want me to make dinner tonight?"

Benny quickly declined, not really wanting to make her work too hard if there was a good chance he'd miss it. "Don't worry about it," he told her, "I'll get take out here. I might be home a little late though."

"Sounds fine, sweetie. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Yeah," he said. "Love you."

"Love you too."

As he hung up, he was smiling to himself. Making sure to not look too mopey (and therefore open himself up for a mugging from guys who thought he couldn't take it) he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench and quickly hopped on to the pod that had just arrived. But it wasn't as though he didn't have anything to smile about.

Alison was amazing. She was a confident, self-assured woman who didn't rely on her father's money to get her through life and had married him despite him so obviously not being worthy of her. She was happy to let him reconnect with his old friends, and she was happy for him to work for her father, even if she didn't really like it.

She was really, honest-to-god the same woman he'd fallen in love with when she'd insisted she help him doing whatever trivial job her father has insisted he do when he wasn't anything to either one of them.

As the train jolted, however, signifying to him the start of the half hour trip to the loft, Benny remembered what he'd been going to say to Alison on the phone.

What did she mean 'all about the money again'?

.:.

"Fuck."

Other than wincing at Mark's always colourful language, Benny wasn't quite sure what to do when the door to the loft slid open. He resisted the urge to say something sarcastic, knowing that he was no longer in a position when he was allowed to do that.

"Uh, Mark," he began, somewhat unsteadily, "hey."

Mark wasn't really listening. Instead, he pulled the door hastily close again. Just as Benny thought he was slamming the sliding door in his face he stopped. It appeared he'd just been moving the door to make sure that no one else inside the loft could see who was at the door. He pushed his body into the small space he'd left open, blocking Benny from the entrance to the loft.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mark demanded quickly, adjusting the glasses on his nose. Benny noticed that he wasn't holding the camera that Benny could have often mistaken for a third hand.

"Where's your camera?" he asked quickly.

It wasn't the right question to ask.

"For fuck's sake, Benny," Mark hissed, keeping his voice low. "If this is another one of your stupid publicity stunts then I swear to god, I'll let Roger have his go at you right now. I can't deal with this—"

Benny held up his hands in a defensive gesture, taking a step backward. "Mark, calm down. It's not about publicity. I was just curious."

Mark fell silent, and narrowed his eyes. He examined Benny in silence for a second and then leant back into the room. For a terrifying moment Benny assumed that Mark was going to follow through with his threat and let Roger have his go at him, but instead he called out "there's a delivery downstairs, guys. I'm just going to grab it."

There was a chorus of "kay's" and "right's" and one distinctive, "why the hell are you telling us?" from Maureen, before Mark moved back outside, rolling his eyes. Pulling the door close behind him, mark ushered Benny out into the hall.

"Why are you here Benny?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

Benny took a deep breath. Where his plans were flawless with Mr. Grey and his family, they usually always fell through when he was around his old friends. It probably had something to do with the fake representation of himself being a huge illusion that every single one of them could see through with effortless ease. No matter what it was, the evidence was clear to see.

His plan to put a stop to Maureen's first protest had been a failure—but had he really tried to make that happen. It was true that he'd failed when he decided (with a lot of thought) that taking all their stuff was a good idea, and even stupider when he messed with Roger and Mimi by returning it.

So, really, all that was left was how to approach the new bridge mending tactic he'd come up with (this time in a combined effort with his intelligent wife).

He'd tried to figure out how to do it on the subway on the way here, and after drawing blanks the entire time; he'd decided that it was obviously just come to him in the moment.

Well, it was the moment.

And he certainly didn't feel like he was about to get an epiphany any time soon.

"Uh…" He made a long, confused noise.

Mark rolled his eyes, let out a derisive string of cuss words under his breath and shifted his weight with agitation.

"Look,' he said, "I don't have time for this." He said, with more conviction that Benny had heard Mark speak with in a long time. "Mimi doesn't want to see you—and even if she did, in a completely platonic way, now would not be the right time."

Oh. Right.

They thought he was here for Mimi.

"I'm not here for Mimi," Benny hastened to explain, deciding to not let his curiosity about her state change the ultimate reason for him being here. If this worked, then he would be able to know how Mimi (and everyone else) were doing the without having to pry the information out of them. "I'm here because something's happens at Westport—and it's bad."

Mark's eyes widened, while his brow furrowed and his face contorted into the amusingly out of place look of panic Benny could recognise anywhere. But it seems that bad news from Benny can't be trusted and the look quickly fades.

"Are you going to lose some money, Benny?" he asked with false sympathy almost drenching his words. "Trying to save your own ass again?"

Benny managed to control himself and not clench his teeth or fists. After all, this inane stubbornness was one of the reasons they'd been friends for such a long time. They'd managed to share a house amongst five people and hadn't killed each other. How was it that with space, everyone was angrier?

"No," Benny said, "that's not what this is about. But, please, let me tell you. Just… hear me out for five minutes?'

.:.

Five minutes later, up in the loft, with four accusatory faces glaring at him (well, three, really. Collins, Mark and Maureen were definitely not happy to see him, but Joanne seemed rather indifferent) Benny was suddenly not quite so sure his idea that they hear him out had been a good one.

"This better be good, Benny," Maureen growled, and despite her stature, Benny swallowed. Anyone who knew Maureen knew better than to underestimate her.

"It is," he said, trying to convince himself, as well as the others. Apparently, they didn't buy it.

"You don't sound convinced." Collins growled.

Benny looked to Mark. "Why do I have to do this here, again? Couldn't we have, I dunno, eased them into it?"

Mark simply glared at him. "You've yet to ease me into this secret news of yours." He said with an indifferent shrug. "And would you rather I wait until Roger and Mimi get back?"

Benny nearly asked where they were. Nearly.

Saving himself from what would definitely become a large argument about why he had no damn right digging about in Roger and Mimi's business, Benny cleared his throat and thought to the plan. Thought to the plan that was hopefully going to save his job and his boss and more importantly, heal the old friendships that he'd already lost.

"You guys know how Westport owns the rights to the performance space that Maureen does her work in, right?"

As he'd expected, there was a chorus of groans as his audience realized he was going to be talking about the performance space again. "Haven't we done this already?" Joanne groaned dramatically.

"Dude," Mark caught his attention. "If I'd known this was about that stupid performance space then I'd have just let Roger go for you."

"It's not stupid, Mark," Maureen growled at her boyfriend. "And Benny, if you try for that space again, the protest will be even worse—with or without the cops."

Unable to help himself, Benny threw Maureen a withering glare. "If you don't listen to me now," he reprimanded her, "then you'll be the one being protested about."

Again, there was uproar. For the first time, Joanne spoke, raising an angry eyebrow and demanding "did you just threaten my girlfriend?" Mark and Collins were angry too, no doubt about the subject matter and the way that this conversation was taking place.

Hell, they were probably angry that this conversation was taking place at all.

Funnily enough, whenever these sorts of situations arose in the past, it had always been Benny who fixed them. He was a quiet man, by nature, who's always thinking mind had brought him to the top. He fell back to this position now, holding up his hands.

"Please calm down and let me explain," he pleaded with them. "There's a new competitor in town. He took notice of your protest and more specifically, Westport's failure to take the performance space." Benny took no notice of Maureen's smug look, but made a point to watch when he wiped it off her face. "He's made a bid for it, and there's a good chance he's going to get it."

Maureen scoffed loudly. "Right," she drawled. "Benjamin, if we can stop you, what makes you think we need your help to stop this guy?"

"This guy isn't like anyone you've met from Westport, Maureen." Benny said, managing to keep calm. "He's British for one," he joked.

There was an awkward pause, and Benny cleared his throat.

"He's young, he's successful and he always gets what he wants. He's been knocking down and rebuilding huge blocks of New York real estate and selling condos for over ten times the properties original value." He tried to explain.

"So?" Mark said, "We'll hold another protest."

Benny sighed, momentarily wondering if Mark's difficulty with blindly following any suggestion of Maureen's had lessened when she dumped him for a girl. "You don't understand. This guy is popular. He knows how to get into a community and convince them that it's better for them. As soon as he's done, he tears them out and dumps them on the street. He's a developer, and he'll do anything to get his hands on that space—especially if it means showing up our company."

When explaining it to Benny, Mr. Grey had been far more fluent than Benny was being now. But it seemed, in this situation, specific words were required. And he wasn't getting them out properly.

Maybe he was just a bit too worried about what time Roger would be getting back. That was a confrontation that Benny wouldn't mind saving for later.

Trying to push all thoughts of his very angry old friend, Benny focused on the task at hand.

"This guy is not just an old man that's interested in just property investment. He's a young man, who gets what he wants, and I guarantee that if you hold any sort of public protest, he'll turn it around on you and have you out by morning. He's done it before, and he can do it again."

There was a silence after he finished this time, as his old friends digested this new news. Maureen looked as though he'd just offered her a challenge, and was already calculating a way to get out of it. He could just imagine all the amazing, stupid ideas she was concocting in her strange mind. Hell, she'd managed to make a nursery rhyme riot raging last time. There was every chance that he was just underestimating her again. Maybe she'd be a strong opponent for the young Mr. Tate.

Joanne was watching her girlfriend with an apprehensive look. Apparently she was thinking exactly the same thing that Benny had been. When she wasn't out and about, flirting up a storm, there was something frightening about a Maureen who was putting her scarily creative brain to real use.

Mark looked to be frowning—the amusing panicked look settling in for the long run now. Again, he straightened his glanced, before swallowing. He had found his camera and, in an effort to retain some semblance of understanding, had turned it on to record the entire event.

Collins was silent as he took in the news.

Then Mark, making the decision, looked to Benny.

"What's your plan?"

.:.

I know that it's still very Benny centric at this point, and that's probably putting a lot of you off of continuing to read. We're going to get into the individual plot lines soon—I don't intend for this fic to be too long (fifteen, sixteen chapters or something). And we'll see some Roger/Mimi stuff next chapter.

Please review with all the constructive advice you can cram into those review boxes.

G

PS. Writing Benny is really hard. Any pointers?