I.


CHAPTER ELEVEN - Office Hours


Monday at school wasn't so bad. I supposed it was a little different. People may have been staring at me more. The hushed whispers may have been more frequent, but it was just like more white noise. The main difference was the amount of security on campus – lots of bike cops, signs that read "See Something? Say Something.", and metal detectors at the entrances to the Union, Stadium, and other larger buildings.

To me, the changes were minimal. For Ben, they were suffocating.

"There were like, three people at my spot in the library," he said when I went to pick him up for our tutoring session. "They all wanted 'to talk'. I vaguely recognized them from some of my classes, but I never spoke to them before. Now, all of a sudden, they want to 'talk'?"

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "Really, I am."

"They had voice recorders in the pockets of their hoodies! I could see them! They banned reporters from coming on campus, but I'm pretty sure they're paying students to get statements from me!"

I sighed. "They have been known to do shitty stuff like that."

"Oh, jeez. You know they were harassing my parents too? I only just managed to see them off this morning. Do you think they'll be safe from the press back up in Pismo Beach?"

"I think so," I lied. I hoped so, but there was no guarantee. The incident only happened Saturday. It was still fresh in everyone's minds. Ben had to stand being famous for quite a bit longer than that.

"I don't know how you do this all the time," Ben said glumly.

"Honestly? I don't know either," I admitted. "I guess after a while it all becomes like background noise. Faint buzzing you stop noticing, or at least bothers you less as time goes on. Every week since the war they photograph some version of 'me' hobbling drunk out the back of a club and getting into a cab with some strange guy. I literally don't even look at checkout lines or TV displays at stores anymore because I'm scared of what I'll see in the news."

It was just the burden of being a famous, conventionally-attractive blonde in southern California. We all sort of looked the same, so I was constantly being "spotted" partying too hard.

Ben looked at me sadly. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. They've connected you to me now. As far as the world is concerned, we're officially hooking up and I'm pregnant with your kid."

I was being sarcastic, entirely kidding, but I may have taken that a tad too far. He was blushing. I kept my eyes on the road. I didn't want him to see I was even more embarrassed. Not only because of the hooking up comment, but because of the lifestyle I didn't choose that he was now a part of. He had only seen a tiny glimpse of what it was like to be me, to be with me, and he already hated it.

"How are the Hork-Bajir?" Ben asked finally.

"They're...as can be expected."

"Pissed?"

"No," I snapped. Ben noticed me bristle and apologized.

"My bad, I didn't - "

"No, I didn't mean to snap at you," I said quickly. "It's just, I hate that everyone is assuming they're mad and out for revenge. They're Hork-Bajir. They're simple, they love everything. They are literally tree-huggers. Literally. People worried Hork-Bajir retaliation are fucking idiots."

"Right - "

"The Initiative are a bunch of lowlife bullies," I seethed. "Nothing more. Hork-Bajir aren't defenseless, obviously, but they are innocents. More innocent than anyone else on this stupid planet. They deserve more than Earth, and I wish they had a better place to go."

Ben nodded quietly.

"So no, they're not pissed. I'm the one that's pissed, we're the ones that should be pissed. They're devastated. They're mourning. This was our fault," I took a deep breath, realizing that I was ranting. "We're gonna send Jira, Kilni, and Graw back to the Deep on Saturday. Hork-Bajir tradition, they have to do rituals for a week."

I made sure to say their names whenever the subject came up. People had the tendency to forget that the Hork-Bajir were a living, breathing, sentient race that had their own emotions and culture and yes, individuality. They weren't just "the dead aliens". They were Jira, Kilni, and Graw. I knew I could trust Ben of all civilian humans to understand this.

"Back to the Deep?"

"It's a Hork-Bajir cultural thing. Like their version of a funeral. We're all going." Hork-Bajir funerals were actually very sweet, which made the whole thing that much more painful. To us humans, anyway. Unfortunately, we had been to a few shortly after the war. For Jara Hamee, and later Ket Halpak, our first Hork-Bajir friends and Toby's parents.

Ben nodded again. "Well, I don't know any of the Hork-Bajir, but I do want you to give them my condolences. For their, uh, Jira, Kilni and Graw's families. You know, just from some human kid who doesn't know them, but knows what it's like to lose someone."

I wondered what he was talking about. For the first time, I realized I had never asked him if he was affected by the war. A lot of people had died once the Visser engaged in open warfare. Or what if one of his family or friends was a Controller? More than one? The Animorphs tried desperately to keep human casualties to a minimum, but we had a far from perfect record. Had Ben been hurt by something we had done, without any of us even realizing?

He was looking out the open window, so I couldn't see his expression in the glass. He wasn't elaborating, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.

"You may not know them, but they know you," I said, managing to smoothly transition to something less dark. "You're more than just some human kid now, Sweet Tooth."

"All things considered, at least I got a cool nickname out of this," he mused. "Sweet Tooth's from this game, Twisted Metal? He's like this big, deranged, serial killer clown that drives an ice cream truck and - "

"He's in a competition fighting other psychos in weaponized vehicles, organized by a one-eyed creep offering to grant a wish to the one that murders everyone else."

He stared at me.

"I Googled it," I explained. "Don't give me that look. I'm not coming to your nerdy dark side, okay? I just wanted to see what everyone was talking about."

"But you think it's kind of interesting now, don't you?"

"No."

Ben smirked, knowing full well that I was lying. "Oh, I never told you. They're letting me keep the ice cream truck!"

"What?!"

"Yeah!" he said gleefully. "I was afraid I was gonna have to pay for the damages, but the school is fixing it up for me and letting me keep it! It's all some big publicity thing or whatever, but how cool is that? I officially have some wheels! Once my arm heals, I can drive you wherever you want!"

I snorted. "That's ridiculous, what makes you think I'd want to drive around in an ice cream truck?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure this is the first time you've smiled in days."

It was a struggle trying to fight my lips into a neutral expression, and it wasn't helping that he was grinning so brightly back at me, so I just let it happen.

Before actually coming up to the gate of our community, we drove past several signs warning that trespassers would be persecuted to the extent of the law, each with different wording that got a little more dramatic as you got closer to the entrance. There were also a few new ones, freshly posted since the weekend.

"ANY PERSON FOUND ATTEMPTING TO INTERVIEW, PHOTOGRAPH OR OTHERWISE GAIN ACCESS TO HIGH-PROFILE RESIDENTS WILL BE HALTED BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY. STAFF OF THIS COMMUNITY ARE NOT PERMITTED TO SPEAK ON THEIR BEHALF. "

"This doesn't make me nervous at all," Ben laughed anxiously. "By any means necessary?"

"Yeah, 'Beware of Dog' doesn't quite cut it for us," I said dryly. "I know it seems like we're going to a military barbed-wire zone but I swear, it's just a normal housing community for stupidly rich people."

"Right," he said, probably trying to weigh in his mind which was worse. I didn't actually know, either.

I drove to the east gate of our development. Four different wrought-iron gates provided access to the various residents that lived with us, including celebrities, government officials, and possibly the Mafia though that was mostly just Marco's suspicion. Because of this, our community was surrounded by a twelve foot stone wall lined with high-tech security cameras. Posted at each entrance were guards armed with tasers and batons. Every guest had to get their picture taken and sign in with a valid photo ID, as well as take off their shoes and walk through a security checkpoint.

By the time the guard finally strapped Ben's wrist with the guest bracelet and wished him a pleasant visit and wonderful evening, he looked like he'd been thoroughly harassed.

"It's only the first time," I said apologetically. "Repeat guests only need to show their ID, as long as they're on the list."

"I'm surprised they didn't ask me to pop a squat and cough!"

"We don't get a lot of guests," I said sheepishly. We drove up the ornate cobblestoned path and down a short road, bypassing several ridiculously large mansions. I felt my neck heat up in embarrassment as Ben gaped. His eyes widened at the sight of the President Bush's daughter reading a magazine on her porch and Angelina Jolie ducking into a stretch limo in her driveway. Prince Harry emerged from his vacation house and waved at her.

"And we, uh, don't really talk to our neighbors much."

"Yeah, I mean...no, yeah. Uh-huh."

I pulled up to our house, which must have seemed extraordinarily plain compared to all the others in our community. It was admittedly the smallest in the entire development, but the most charming by far. It was styled more as a cottage than anything, all weathered white panels and faded blue shutters. It was a stark contrast to all the modular retracting roofs, heated lagoons and waterfalls, and Porsches that lined our roads. The real estate agent had laughed at us when we asked to see the inside.

"This house?" Ben asked incredulously as we climbed out of the car.

"Yeah. What?"

"I don't know," he said, scratching at his head. "It's...not what I expected. I just figured, you know. Lots of money - big house. Your entire property can fit into most of these other people's garages. It looks like my grandma's house."

I shrugged. "It's just me and Cassie. We have an extra room for guests or whatever, but we don't need a lot of space. Come on, let's get inside."

We entered through the backdoor to the kitchen. I had purposefully arranged all my books and papers around the kitchen table, just messy enough so I didn't look neurotic, but neat enough that I didn't seem like a complete whackjob. My preparation for this afternoon had been almost comical, and I was glad Cassie hadn't been there to witness it. She was still stuck at her parents house, and unlike me, wasn't able to escape their worrying grasp quite yet. She was hoping to come back tomorrow, though.

I gave him a quick tour of our unnaturally immaculate house. I let him take a peek at Cassie's office, which branched off from the kitchen, and the bathroom I had nearly destroyed after Chicken Bacon Ranch Pizza Day. It was now fully functional and smelled only faintly of despair.

"Not much to our second floor," I admitted as we climbed the steps. "That door on the right is Cassie's room. She has her own bathroom in there. This is my room." I opened it up, and was immediately weirded out by how tidy I had made it. I hadn't made my bed like that since we had first moved in.

I was acutely aware that this was the first time someone other than Cassie had come into my room in a whole year. A guy, no less. It was impossible for my mind not to go there, but I couldn't help but remember the last time I had a guy - Tobias - in my bedroom. It had been a very, very long time.

My traitorous ears were turning pink, but Ben had his focus elsewhere.

"I didn't know you liked kids," he said, looked at a framed photo hanging over my desk. There were several photos there of my sisters and the other Animorphs, but one stood out. It was of me and a group of disabled children, all grinning in front of the Blythe Children's Hospital and Rehabilitation Facility.

It was the hospital where we had recruited James and the other Auxiliary Animorphs. The true unsung heroes of the Yeerk War. The other Animorphs and I made a memorial to them at the facility and I made a point to donate most of the royalties from our documentary to them, every year. It was nothing, a laughable tribute to the children who sacrificed everything for a planet that didn't even love them back. But it was the best we could do. We funded the sick and disabled kids, and tried to make sure people remembered who the Auxiliary Animorphs were.

Despite our efforts, the story of the Auxiliary Animorphs faded away, into nothing but the stone wall we'd engraved their names on. Ben didn't even make the connection. He had no idea our affiliation with the hospital. James, Craig, Erica, and all the rest were all but forgotten. But not by us. Never by us.

"Kids are okay in small doses," I said vaguely. Ben noticed my darkened expression and looked away from the picture.

"What?"

"Nothing," I waved my hand dismissively. "I'm just - it's nothing. Nervous about the test tomorrow, I guess."

The story of the Auxiliary Animorphs was something I could barely even stand to relive myself. I didn't know how I could ever tell someone like Ben about it. It was one the darkest stains, if not the actual darkest, on our history of the Yeerk War. James and his group would forever be quietly scarred into me, Jake, Marco, Cassie, Tobias, and Ax. Just one more thing Ben could never understand.

"Oh," he said. He knew something was wrong but left it alone, like he always did. I used to think that was great of him, but now I wondered, what kind of friendship was that? All those secrets.

"We should probably get to studying," I suggested.

"Yeah, let's - whoa, what happened there?"

He pointed at my wall and the side of my nightstand. He was looking at the deep scratches in and around my nightstand that looked like they were slashed into the wood by wolves. I'd gotten so used to them being there I had forgotten them completely.

"Long story," I lied. It was definitely not the time to talk about my nightmares. "Long Animorph story."

"Gotcha," Ben let it go. Again. "Your room is nice...and really neat. Really, really neat."

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Noticed that, huh?"

He smirked. "Don't tell me you cleaned up so much for me."

I tried to shrug casually. "Partly for you, maybe. But also partly for Cassie, who would kill me if I turned this place into a sty. She comes back tomorrow."

It was a total lie. Neither of us were complete slobs, but if one of us was the messier one, it was Miss Used To Roll Around In Animal Poop As A Kid And Now Climbs Trees With Hork-Bajir And Has Holes In All Her Clothes.

"Well, consider me partly flattered, then," Ben quipped as he stepped out of my room. I let out the breath I didn't even realize I was holding. "What's that door down there?"

He indicated the third door in our upstairs hallway. Our guest room with the large window that faced the woods.

Tobias's window.

"I guess you could call it my office," I said. "It's the guest bedroom officially, but I used to go in there all the time. I liked looking out into the woods. Sometimes I read in there, or listen to music. My bedroom is too loud and cluttered and chaotic sometimes, too busy, too..."

"Too you?" Ben finished for me. I laughed.

"Yes. Exactly. Sometimes I want to get away from all that, get away from me..."

It was the room I used for escape. I would leave the confused, tormented, out-of-place Rachel behind and go in here. I would crawl into the mostly unused bed, open the huge window, and blast music into my headphones until I felt the small breeze of a red-tailed hawk landing on the headboard. Then, I would really escape. Cassie used to hate when we did that. We'd leave the window open and make a draft through the entire house.

"...so I come here and sit in the peace and quiet. Weird, I guess."

"Not weird. I totally get it," Ben said. If he noticed how quiet I suddenly got, he didn't mention it. "It's your spot. Like mine in the library."

I looked at him, surprised. "Yeah. I guess - yeah. Sort of."

"Gotta say, I didn't expect your house to be like this. It's all so ordinary."

"We do try."

Ben looked at me. "You can try all you want, but even if you didn't save the world, you'd never be any less than extraordinary."

He suddenly turned pink and went back out into the hall.

"Come on, you don't have a lot of time to cram. I only have one night to make you good at math."


"So one function asks another function, 'why are you so bent out of shape'?" Ben said conversationally. "And the other function says 'my regression model was too tight a fit'!"

I stared at him. We were sitting at the kitchen table trying to practice a few calculus problems. Ben had showed me that I wasn't completely a lost cause, but it probably didn't bode too well that most of his dumb math jokes were flying right over my head.

"I don't even think we learned what a regression model is," I grumped.

"Oh, you will. It'll be great!"

I shook my head pityingly. "I don't know how you manage it, but your love of calculus makes me both like you and hate you at equal extremes."

Ben beamed. "There's more where that came from. Then what's the first derivative of a cow?"

More staring.

"Prime rib! See, you're about to laugh. I almost got you that time!"

My hand flew over my mouth to hide the smile. "I'm only amused because you think I'm not going to punch you in the head."

"Why do they never have alcohol at math parties? Because you shouldn't drink and derive!"

I took a light-hearted swing at his ear, which I fully expected him to dodge easily. What I didn't expect was that when my fist flew past his head and I was bent slightly closer to him, he leaned in and kissed me.

It was startling at first, I banged my knee against the table and sent my pencil rolling. I heard it clatter off the table and end up somewhere towards the counter.

Then, I heard nothing at all but my heart pounding in my ears as his lips pressed against mine. At some point his good hand found its way to the back of my neck and the kiss deepened.

We didn't even hear the keys clinking in the door.

"Hey, Rach, did you see all the new warning signs outside in the - ?"

We launched apart from each other, both of us bright red.

"Sorry!" Cassie yelped. "Sorry, I'll just go upstairs and - "

"No, no, it's okay," I said hastily, waving her over. It took all of the goodwill left in my entire soul not to be annoyed at her for ruining the moment, but I managed. "You didn't tell me you were coming back tonight."

"I had a thing in the city early tomorrow, so I convinced my parents to let me go tonight. I didn't mean to...interrupt. I should have called."

"No, no, you live here," I said, though my eyes clearly shouted, Yes you should have, jerk! My best friend had a shit-eating grin on her face that I was very calmly trying not to hate her for. "You okay?"

"Oh, shut up, you know I am," Cassie said dismissively, her eyes glowing so brightly I couldn't look directly at them.

"This, um, this is Ben. Ben, this is Cassie."

"We've met, actually," Ben smiled, standing up. "Nice to see you again. Do you need help with your bags?"

He started to walk over to where Cassie was standing with her rolling suitcase and backpack. She shook her head, clutching her stuff away from him.

"Thank you, but don't be silly, you shouldn't be helping anyone with lifting!" She eyed his arm. "How does your wrist feel? Have you been doing the exercises they taught you?"

Ben held out and wiggled his fingers. "Yeah, and it feels okay, I guess. It's kind of a shame they didn't listen to any of my ideas at the hospital though. They didn't install any of the lasers or rocket launchers that I wanted."

Cassie and I both laughed, but I stopped short.

"Okay, wait a minute," I narrowed my eyes at her. "What do you mean you've met?"

"She was nice enough to visit me at the hospital," Ben explained. "Wanted to thank me and remind me that you would get mad...if you found out...she visited me...because you hate when she's nosy...so I wasn't supposed to say anything...oops. My bad."

Cassie laughed again and started to wheel her suitcase over to her office. She dumped both bags inside and motioned for Ben to take a seat again. They both sat at the table while I fumed at them.

"Smooth, Ben," she said.

"Sorry. I forgot. But it was nice," he insisted, giving me a look. "I appreciated it. She didn't pry or ask me anything weird, I promise. She laughed at like, all my dumb jokes."

"He appreciated it, see?" Cassie said innocently. The little brat.

"I guess someone has to think he's funny," I relented, deciding to forgive her for snooping. A little. "Wait 'til you hear his calculus jokes."

Cassie grinned. "As hilarious as I'm sure they are, I think I'll pass. We don't have people over a lot, Ben. Sorry if this place is a..."

She trailed off, looking around our kitchen, napkins in the napkin holder, sink clear of old dishes, garbage and recycling bins empty. She could see our living room as well, throw pillows arranged on the sofa so symmetrically it was like straight out of a magazine ad.

"...a flawless example of exquisite housekeeping. It's, uh, it's always like this."

"You hungry?" I offered politely, changing the subject.

She held up a paper bag. "I have a burrito I'm gonna stick in the fridge for later, thanks. I'd love to join you, but I have to shower, empty out my email inbox, make some calls, you know, all that stuff. You guys get back to studying. Nice meeting you again, Ben."

"Likewise."

Cassie dutifully went upstairs, but not before shooting me a thumbs up behind Ben's back. Dork. Ben was carefully looking down at the table. I cleared my throat awkwardly.

Then the oven timer rang. Saved by the bell, I got up and peeked at the pork chops I had been roasting. They looked perfect and smelled even better.

"How can I help?" Ben asked from the table.

"You have one arm," I pointed out. "Just shove our math crap to the side, I've got this."

In almost complete silence, I started setting the table as Ben stacked our papers and books on one of the empty chairs. It only took a few short minutes to get my pork chops, green beans, and rice pilaf served in front of us. We ate quietly for another few minutes before I finally looked at him nervously. He had been looking at me, too.

"Sorry for kissing you," Ben said, at the same time as I said the exact same thing.

"Don't be sorry," we said together again.

Ben chuckled. "Okay, me first, since I'm the one who kissed you first. I just... really like you, Rachel. I know I'm not most girls type, with my math jokes and Justice League t-shirt wardrobe and the fact that I'm dirt broke, but..."

I stuck a fork in my rice and pushed it around a little bit before answering softly.

"I like you, too."

"Really!?"

I couldn't help but grin at his humbleness. "It's not that hard to believe."

His eyebrow quirked. "So...we're good? This doesn't have to be weird?"

"I...don't know. I don't want it to be weird between us," I sighed. "You're the only good thing to happen to me in like, months, Ben."

He hesitated, and I felt a cold sweat.

"Okay, I'm gonna be real with you…"

I braced myself, but then suddenly, his expression became amused.

"I have no idea how to eat pork chops. I've stabbed it with this fork like a thousand times and nothing is happening. Can I just...?"

"Just pick it up with your hand, you loser," I snickered.

"Thank you!" Ben picked the pork chop up with his one hand and gouged into it. "It drives my mom crazy, but I've been in college for too long now, I've forgotten how to eat like a human being."

I watched him eat, weirdly endeared by all this. "It's nothing I've never seen before."

"Oh, man, I'm lucky I can't use my other hand, otherwise you'd have to watch me devour this plate like a Neanderthal. This is so good."

I picked at my food, watching him and his dinosaur cast in the sling. He was injured because of me. He was being harrassed by reporters because of me. Ben was such a happy person, but the two most annoying things in his life were entirely my fault.

We were so different, Ben and I. I liked everything I knew about him. His dorkiness, his shyness, his bland, normal life. His brilliant, dimpled smile. His bravery and kindness. Similarly, Ben liked everything he knew about me.

But he knew nothing about me. Every time I trailed off before coming to a complicated Animorph story, we were hitting a wall. The photo in my room, the scratches in my nightstand, Tobias, almost every story about my life, we hit a wall where we could not proceed any further. Even tidied up and clean, my own bedroom had to be a mystery to him. Ben would never understand.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"What for?"

I reached out with my fork and pushed his lopsided pork chop back on his plate. Then I rested my hand on his shoulder to pull him in closer. I could feel his breath on my lips as our foreheads touched. This was wrong. This was such a bad idea. I had to let him go.

But I couldn't.

We were kissing again, slowly, deeply. It was different than with Tobias. There was always an adjustment period with him, where Tobias always had to get used to fumbling with hands and fingers again. Even with one hand, Ben was more confident. His fingers were bigger, stronger, more sure in their movements as they started from my upper back and brought their heated touch lower. His chair creaked as he moved nearer, his chest so close I could feel the fabric of his shirt. He kissed with his whole body, moved with certainty, like someone who was human full-time and had total control.

Still, it was my tongue that prodded against his lips first, and I felt his smile on mine.

Then, I leaned forward and his cast caught between me and the table. He yelped in pain and I was pulled back to reality.

"Oh, my God! Are you okay?!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Ben said through his wincing. He wiggled his fingers feebly. "It's fine. That only hurt a little."

"You're not okay."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"What are you talking about?" Ben asked, thoroughly confused.

"Nothing." I shifted my chair away from him, my brain finally catching up to the rest of me. I had made a huge mistake. What was I thinking? Nothing, of course. I hadn't been thinking anything. I was just… "I'm sorry, Ben, I just don't think this is a good idea."

"Why not? Rachel, what's the matter?"

"I'm Rachel Berenson, the fucking savior of the planet. That's what's going on."

Ben looked deflated. "You don't...?"

"Oh, God, no that came out wrong," I said quickly. "It's not you. It's me - "

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. That's what you're going with?"

"No, really. Ben, trouble just follows me around. Things literally blow up all around me, in every sense of the word." I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing some fingers against the bridge of my nose. I could feel a headache coming on. "My life isn't, well, my life. You've seen what it's like. Mobbed by fans and reporters, targeted by terrorist groups, shouting and screaming everywhere..."

"You think I care about that?" Ben demanded.

"You have a secret quiet spot in the library, Ben! The library. Libraries are already the quietest places in the world! My life is anything and everything but quiet."

"You think that because I'm a private person I don't want to be with you!?"

I let out a slow breath, trying to choose my words carefully. He had to understand that I was doing this for him, and he hadn't done anything wrong. I was hurting him because I had made the mistake.

"No, I do know you want to be with me. And...I think I care about you too much to let you. I'm dangerous for you, you just don't get it yet."

"I said, I don't care."

"You should! I do!" I said forcefully. "You're hurt because of me, and your family is being followed by mobs of reporters and photographers because of me. I did this to you, and I don't see things getting a whole lot better in the near future."

Ben scowled at me, pushing away his plate. "You're being ridiculous. It wasn't your fault Cassie was kidnapped! And it's not your fault those jerks follow you around like gnats!"

"Maybe not, but it's my fault for letting you be close to me!" I slid my chair away from him and picked up my barely touched plate. "Look, I'm the one backing away, from this, okay? Let's just be - "

Ben gently brought my hands down and lay my plate back on the table. Then he pulled one of my hands towards him and held it tightly until I met his eyes.

"Would you stop being the fucking noble hero for like one second, please?" he asked. "It's getting really, really annoying. I said I. Don't. Care. I'm not some damsel in distress, you don't have to save me."

I pulled away from his grasp. "You're not getting it - "

"I get that there's things I will never understand about you and your past," he insisted. "That's why I never ask. But you deserve more in your life than those awful things. I just want to give you...more."

"More what?"

"More anything," Ben said, with a hint of desperation in his voice. "More everything. Whatever. I'm here right now because I care enough to try."

And there, in one fell swoop, was the one thing that made him different than Tobias. He had absolutely no connection, no history with me. He never knew me from before the war, or during. All Ben knew about me was this, post-war Rachel. Weird, out-of-place, broken Rachel that gets him into trouble. And he still wanted me. Would sacrifice for me. Still thought I was worth all baggage I dragged around with me.

All the more reason I didn't deserve him.

He leaned into me again, our noses touching, his hand in my hair.

"This is a mistake," I told him.

"You're 'Queen of Mistakes', if I remember correctly." He grinned. Even now, he was happy. Hopeful.

I pushed away. "I can't let you make this one. As much as I – I only ever wanted to be just friends with you. That's all I wanted." It wasn't his place or duty to give me more anything. It wasn't his burden.

His grin faded. "But...really?"

"Ben," I said weakly. As his expression deteriorated from hopeful to hurt, I felt my energy draining. "You're so...great..."

He got up, setting his utensils neatly on his near-empty plate.

"I know you're broken. I know you're keeping things from me. I know it's bad. Maybe I am getting in over my head. But I've never met anyone more worth that risk than you."

Ben gathered his things and struggled to pull on his jacket. Guilt stabbed at me, and I was too ashamed to offer my help. He glanced at the clock over the sink.

"You don't have to drive me home. I saw a sign at the gate for the shuttle bus to the depot. The next one is in ten minutes. Gary can get me from there."

I got up and grabbed my keys. "No, please, let me drive you. The reporters will be all over the bus depot if you're seen there - "

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me," he said flatly. "And don't forget to isolate the derivative d/dx, you keep confusing it and losing it in the problem. Just remember to simplify all the equations before trying anything. Basic algebra first, then you do the hard stuff."

I watched him thoughtfully lock the doorknob before closing the door behind him. At the loud clicking noise, I heard Cassie's door creak and her footsteps coming down the stairs.

She stopped when she saw me sitting at the table alone, arms crossed on the surface and my chin resting on them, staring blankly at the two half-eaten plates of pork chops.

"Oh, Rachel."

When Cassie leapt to my side and rubbed circles into my back, whispering encouraging nonsense into my cotton-filled head, I didn't push her away. I let her talk. I pretended to listen, gave the appropriate nods. When she was done, she sat back and stared at me, waiting. She expected me to get up and storm out, like I usually did. Disappear into the night, retreat into a morph and do...whatever.

But I didn't. I sat there in the fog of silence, feeling absolutely nothing.