Chapter 3

Extract from the journal of Benjamin Linus c.2004

SJ seemed to take a perverse enjoyment in beating me almost senseless, although it did annoy him immensely when it transpired that he couldn't break me. He pretends to be ashamed of his past, but secretly I imagine he is more than a little proud of his ability to extract the truth from his victims. I can still take a punch, Annie, that's certainly been proved. I'd only been beaten once before and my response was much the same this time; a stubborn refusal to be provoked into giving myself away, coupled with distraction from the pain by picturing you in my mind. Some people claim to forget a person's face when that person has gone. Yours will always be in my thoughts. It brings to mind the story of the king who asked his subjects to bring him something that would make him happy when he was sad and sad when he was happy. He was brought a piece of paper with just four words written on it; This too shall pass. If I wanted to feel the same thing, I would be shown a picture of you.

As Ben had rounded a corner on his way to Annie's house, he had been grabbed by three pairs of strong hands and shoved against a wall. He had less than a second to recognise the young men – friends of Joe Anderton, whose names he had never considered important enough to learn – before a fist slammed into his face and another into his stomach, making him double up in pain, his back connecting sharply with the wall.

"Going to stalk Annie again?" one of them sneered. "You'd better stay away from her, Psycho."

Ben straightened up to his full height and fixed the boys with an icy stare. "And why do you imagine I'd listen to any warning from you?" he smirked.

Immediately the boy who had spoken punched him again. Ben tasted blood at his mouth, but made no sound.

"She's too good for you, Psycho," the second boy said. "You're not wanted here. Just stay away."

"Joe humiliates Annie and tells her he doesn't want her, then he sends his little henchmen to try and scare me off? The guy needs to make up his mind."

At this, all three boys laid into him at once; kicking, punching, delivering blow after vicious blow. None of them could provoke a single sound from Ben. Each time they knocked him down, he would stand back up, always staring one of them directly in the eye. He could feel his face swelling and he had been spitting out blood, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. Instead, he laughed; a small, low snigger almost under his breath.

"What the hell are you laughing at, Psycho?" the first boy demanded, grabbing Ben by the collar. Ben just continued to laugh. Because I know something you don't, he thought to himself. His meetings with Alpert had granted him a new-found confidence recently, so much so that it had begun to border on arrogance. None of this mattered to Ben any more. He was immune to anything these idiot boys could throw at him. He had something more important to prepare for and he would be patient. He could wait. And there was always the thought of Annie to distract him from the pain.

He was still being held by his shirt collar when he heard the shouts. Two figures, running towards them at full speed; one was the distinct form of Horace Goodspeed, the other Annie, looking frankly murderous.

"Come on guys, back away. Come on now," Horace called, holding out his hands to the boys in a gesture of peace. They did not move.

"Let go of him now!" Annie added forcefully. Ben felt his collar being released and he slumped against the wall, breathing heavily.

"What on earth is going on here?" Horace asked, looking personally affronted at the attack on Ben. "This isn't what we do on this island. Dharma does not solve things with violence. Things are supposed to be different here. You're acting like a bunch of Hostiles."

The young men looked a little sheepish. One of them began to suck at his bleeding knuckle. Ben simply couldn't resist. "Oh," he asked, feigning apology, "did you hurt your hand? I do hope my face didn't break it."

"Hey, Ben, that's enough now. It's finished," said Horace quickly, before approaching Ben's attackers. "You three. Come with me please."

They trudged reluctantly after Horace, leaving Ben alone with Annie. She walked over to him and studied his face as if appraising him. An angry black bruise was materialising over his right eye and there was a deep cut over his left and another across his cheek. He was bleeding from his nose and the corner of his mouth.

"I'll say this for you, Ben, you can take a punch," she whispered, raising a hand to touch his face but stopping before she made contact, clearly afraid of causing him more pain. "What have they done to you?"

"I suppose I should be lucky you don't love me for my looks," he said, every word a painful effort.

"Nah. Blood looks good on you," she said jokingly. "Just as long as I can still see your eyes." She paused, the forced irreverence now gone. "Are you OK?"

"Yes," he answered, doing his best to smile at her through a split lip and not entirely succeeding. "I will be."

"Embarrassed?" she asked.

"No," he answered honestly.

"Anyone else would have been. You know, girlfriend fighting their battles for them and everything."

"Do you really think I care about what they think of me?" he asked her, studying her intently.

"No," she said, smiling softly, "I guess you don't. I just wish they would accept you, Ben. I wish they saw what I see in you."

"It won't matter in the end, Annie," he said, matter-of-factly.

"No. I suppose it won't," she replied, a little surprised. "I don't care. They don't know a thing. It's just me and you against all of them."

"Annie, we are not in a Bruce Springsteen song."

She smiled then despite herself, as she always did in the end when he infuriated her enough. He loved seeing that smile. She was right though; one day it would just be the two of them and they could finally be happy. It was moments like this that made it a little more difficult for him to be patient.

"Come on," she said, wrapping an arm around him and helping him to stagger back to her house. "Let's get you cleaned up."

That night they made love for the first time, in the clearing by the fence where they knew no one would find them. Ben was shy and inexpert; despite his own face and body being covered with bruises, his main concern seemed to be not hurting Annie and he was gentle with her to the point of timidity. She hadn't expected much from him this first time, but she couldn't help feeling more than a little disappointed by the absence of the passion she had been expecting. Afterwards, afraid of saying anything that would make him feel inadequate, she lay silently in his arms and watched the moon pass behind the splayed leaves of the tree above them. Then, quietly in the dark, he told her he loved her with such feeling and sincerity that she knew his passion for her was greater than anything anyone else had ever felt towards her. He just needed to stop telling her and start showing her; but that, she reassured herself with a slight smile, would come with practice.