JUNIOR YEAR

Ben was very adamant this year that Leslie having a boyfriend meant absolutely nothing to him.

Of course, when Leslie was dating Mark Brendanawicz, that didn't mean anything to him either. He totally didn't care, not even a little bit, not even when they kissed. And this time should be no different, because he made a pact to himself last year— he wouldn't get involved in Leslie's love life again, not after he put a hit on himself by inserting himself in the middle of her breakup with Mark.

It didn't matter that Dave Sanderson was nicer, if a little bit slow. It didn't matter that he didn't share any of Leslie's interests, or that he was the son of the police chief, and he had a pair of handcuffs in his locker because he wanted to be a cop just like his dad. It didn't matter that Ben was terrified of cops, didn't matter that Leslie and Dave kissed in the hallways, didn't matter that they broke up in a flurry of tears and unmistakable drama.

It certainly didn't matter that Ben had already kissed Leslie once, at Tom's party much earlier in the year, or that he gave Leslie his phone number after a drunken conversation just two months ago. And maybe Ben thought about those things a lot, even in bed. Just maybe.

But Ben didn't care. The kiss meant nothing, she never even called him, and they were still rivals at the end of the day. He didn't care that she fled into the girls' bathroom with tears in her eyes, or that Dave started carrying his handcuffs in his backpack instead. It was simple breakup drama, it would pass.

"Dude, he's going totally crazy," Andy said on the way to class one day, flailing his arms over his head for emphasis. "April keeps telling me what's going on because she's kinda friends with Leslie. Apparently Dave keeps, like, telling dudes to stay away from Leslie."

Ben grimaced at this, and tightened the straps on his bag. "Andy, I really don't think I wanna hear…"

"Like, he keeps threatening to pull out his handcuffs and that he'll lock them to a pipe in the bathroom if they talk to Leslie. He says Leslie still loves him and stuff."

Ben couldn't help it— he asked. "Well, does she?"

"Nah, April said Leslie never loved him at all," Andy said, and Ben pretended very hard not to care about this information. "But apparently Dave cornered her and told her he still loves her. Wants to get back together with her."

"Good lord, he's obsessive," Ben mumbled, shaking his head as they turned in the hallway, the bell ringing for class. "Is he really gonna act like that much of a crybaby over a breakup?"

"I dunno, dude, he's going wild. Pretty sure he might actually punch someone, or get a guy thrown in jail if they even look at Leslie."

Ben considered that, imagining a tear stained Leslie that he had seen earlier that day, before parting ways with Andy with a small wave. And it was terrible, so so terrible of him, maybe, but he felt bad. All he could do was say he shouldn't, that he should move on and stay away from this affair, but something in him just couldn't. There was a small part of him that still shuddered at the memory of her lips on his, the feel of her hip at his fingertips, a piece of him that just couldn't let this go, goddammit.

So when he walked into his classroom and saw her sitting in the back instead of her usual front seat, her head in her hands, he did the unthinkable. He sat next to her.

She didn't move for a second, just oddly still as if she were sleeping. He set his bag down to the floor and tried his best to act nonchalant, setting up his notebook and his pens for the start of class, as if he wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary at all. It was just enough noise, just enough to get her to shift, her head falling to the side. Her eyes widened at the sight of them, and he noticed they looked puffy and red, clearly not okay, sniffling as she wiped her face with her fist.

"Oh," she mumbled, clearly unsure how to greet him. For a moment, Ben thought she would yell, tell him to get away and not make things worse, but she didn't. It was possible she was just too exhausted. "Hi."

"Hi," he echoed, and for some reason he smiled. He felt no reason to pretend, no reason to hide his intentions in choosing to sit next to her. She had enough to deal with, and he didn't particularly feel like adding to it just then. "You're not looking so great."

She rolled her eyes, staring at her empty desk now instead of him. "You don't even know."

"I know some of it. I know enough, probably. Did you really think this school was big enough that I would miss some breakup gossip?"

"You shouldn't even be talking to me. I don't know why you are."

Ben shrugged. "I won't lie to you. I don't know either. But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, so."

Leslie glared at him sideways, peeking at him from behind her hair. "Sure you wanna stick to that? You don't wanna be seen with me right now, Dave might handcuff you in a bathroom or call his dad on you, didn't you hear that part?"

And though he shuddered inwardly at the idea, for some reason it didn't repulse him as much as it should've, as much as it did earlier. He stayed glued to his chair, his eyes on her, watching as she tried not to cry again.

"I don't care about that," he told her, and she perked up, clearly not expecting that answer. "I mean, I'm actually kind of… deathly afraid of cops, but I don't care. Let Dave come for me. You should probably stay safe though, because if you're gone, I don't have any other rivals to argue with."

Her reaction was slow, gradual, as if it was taking a very long time for this response to process in her brain. But as it did, she actually started to smile in return, some color added to her cheeks, something so genuine in the way she looked at him that it made Ben's gut churn.

This was very delicate.

"You mean that?" she whispered, as if afraid he might take it all back, or laugh in her face for even daring to think it. "You'll stay?"

Ben didn't even hesitate. "Of course I'll stay."

Those words held more meaning than they should have, more than they meant for them to. It was like a commitment, then, something unsaid between them both, an odd feeling that something had just changed. They both shifted in their seats, trying not to think of that night they kissed each other, and Leslie's face burned red.

"Well," she said, looking him in the eye now, "you shouldn't be afraid of cops. They're unprofessional and they're bastards. You should hate them more than anything."

Ben grinned cheekily at the malice in her voice, the passion with which she called cops bastards. "If you hate cops, why were you dating the Chief's son? He wants to be a cop."

"It's a long story."

Class started, a long and boring lecture that most times only Leslie could pay attention to. But today was different. Today she had broken up with her boyfriend and her enemy had chosen to sit next to her. Today she and Ben had chosen civility.

"We've got time," he whispered to her, way in the back of the class. And there it was again— her smile.

"I don't even know why you wanna know," she mumbled, lightly scratching the edge of her desk. "It's not interesting. I started dating Dave because he said he liked me, and he wanted to bring me coffee, and… and he was nice."

Ben rose a brow, clearly not buying it. "That's all? Just because he asked you and he was nice? I mean, come on, did you even like him? He seems to be under the impression that you're in love with him."

"Oh god," she sighed, head in her hands again. "You heard about that?"

"I hear about a lot of things, Knope."

"I just… fine. Okay, fine. I decided to go out with him because I thought it would be a nice distraction."

This made Ben pause, and something almost like fear bubbled in his chest. "What, a distraction from Student Council workload?"

"No," she breathed, looking down. "I… no. A distraction from someone else. There was this guy I like, I guess, but he doesn't like me back. And I knew that. So I just… tried to ignore it."

It struck him, really, that this was a very vulnerable Leslie Knope. He was no complete stranger to this, or her tears, but there was something new here. Something almost confessional, deep enough to reserve for a close friend and certainly not an enemy. The last time he had seen her even remotely like this was Tom's party a few months ago, where they sat out on the back patio and talked about their parents. She rushed to leave then, and she looks absolutely ready to bolt now.

"Well," he asked, "did you ever even tell him you like him?"

Leslie pursed her lips and looked at him again, her eyes dark. He worried for a moment if he overstepped, if he should back out now before both of them did something they would regret, but nothing happened. She just sighed, studying him gently, and shook her head. "No," she said. "No, I can't."

"Then how do you know he doesn't like you back?"

She shut her eyes tight. "I just know."

PRESENT DAY

Ben and Ann don't even give Mrs. Perkins any time to react before they're leaping up off the floor and grabbing Ann's car keys. Ben hops in the passenger seat while typing furiously at his phone, updating both Andy and Tom, scheduling times to meet with the group again to go over their new findings.

But first, the police department.

Ann drives with a little too much reckless abandon, taking shortcuts and cutting corners, her jaw set and something dangerous in her eyes. He's seen her like this before, of course, but always only directed at him. Always when Leslie needs defending, when Ben needs knocked down a peg, when he would go a little too far in fighting her.

But it's amplified now, some kind of fury that terrifies him, and he pities whatever man finds himself in Ann Perkins' warpath. She's set to kill, set to knock some heads together, and Ben's never been more grateful to have her on his side, on his team.

"What are we gonna do?" he asks her, looking away from his phone to check their location. Three minutes away. "I mean, how are we gonna fix this?"

"By beating some cops into the ground," Ann hisses, and it's said with enough malice that Ben doesn't question at all how genuine she is— he even kind of fears her.

The car is barely in park before they're both slamming the doors, running up to the station, palms slapping flat against the front desk. They're nothing but a couple of sweaty, angry eighteen-year-olds with a bone to pick, which should be ignored any day of the week, but it's obvious that these guys know. They take one look at Ben and Ann and they know exactly what they've come for, exactly why they're angry, and exactly who they want to see.

"Where's—"

"Chief Sanderson is on his lunch break," one woman says, cutting over Ben instantly. She's wary, rocking back and forth on her feet, and she keeps glancing at the office door. "I'm sure whatever it is can wait—"

"It can't," Ann cries, slamming her palm again. "Bring him out now, or I'll yell. I'm serious, I will do it."

"She really will," Ben adds, noting their skeptical faces. "I once saw her steal the mic from the DJ at a party so she could yell at everyone in the room."

The cop considers this for a moment, opening and closing her mouth. "I really don't think this is necessary—"

"SANDERSON!" Ann screams, so piercing and so sudden that even Ben flinches, his hands shooting up to cover his ears. "SANDERSON, GET OUT HERE AND ANSWER FOR YOUR CRIMES, ASSWIPE—"

The office door opens, and despite the fact that it's what they wanted, it's so surprising that it cuts Ann short, the scream dying in her throat. Chief Sanderson stands in his doorway, bags under his eyes, a hand reaching up to rub his temple. Despite it all, despite the clear irritation, he's not shocked in the slightest. No, he's resigned, shuffling closer until he can get a better look at them.

"Wyatt," he greets. "Perkins. I'm right to assume why you're here?"

"You dropped her case," Ann says, still red-faced and trembling, her hands in fists. "There was information everywhere, and you actually fucking dropped her case."

"There wasn't information everywhere—"

"There was if you were competent enough to see it! It was everywhere! It still is! But you're getting outsmarted by very recent high school graduates every single day. Do you have any idea how embarrassing you look right now?"

Chief Sanderson takes a deep breath as she speaks, trying to compose himself, holding a hand up. "Miss Perkins, if you'd let me finish—"

"No," Ben cuts in before even Ann can. "No, no. You don't get to talk to her like that. Don't brush her aside, she's right. And I know exactly why you're dropping Leslie's case."

Even Ann looks surprised to hear this, both her and the Chief spinning around and exclaiming, "What?" at the exact same time. Ben shrugs as if it's completely obvious.

"This has to do with Dave, doesn't it?" he accuses, and Ann gasps, cupping her hand to her mouth with the sudden epiphany. "Your son, Dave. You're hiding something. And it's because of him."

Chief Sanderson switches instantly from a resigned look to a defensive one, standing straighter and putting his hands to his belt. "Are you accusing my son of kidnapping that girl—"

"No," Ann breathes, understanding now. "No, no, but you are hiding something, aren't you? I know you talked to Leslie after she broke up with Dave."

Now it's Ben's turn to act surprised. "Wait, what? You talked to Leslie?"

"He did. Dave was so upset and getting absolutely deranged with the power handcuffs gave him. Leslie told me Dave and his dad came to her house. I was told the Chief gave her a very stern talk about upsetting his son."

"It was just a fatherly talk, because I'm protective over my son," the Chief says, looking a little worried now, even embarrassed. "I was upset because he was so ruined over the breakup. That's no reason for my family to ever—"

"You're dropping the case because you don't care where she is," Ben says, as if the realization has hit him. He says it like a fact, to scare him more than anything, despite the fact that he doesn't know if any of this at all is true or just their fears talking. "You don't care about finding her, so you've been lazy about it. All because your dumbass kid couldn't handle a breakup—"

"That's enough!" Chief Sanderson yells suddenly, and the entire room freezes. There's something there, when a cop yells, that strikes fear not just in Ben's heart, but something that forces you to stop. Maybe it's the power he holds, far too much of it, as they can now see. "You don't get to waltz in here and accuse me and my family of crimes we didn't commit. There's a real and genuine reason we're dropping this case— but maybe you need to find out for yourself. I shouldn't be the one to tell you."

"What are you talking about?" Ann asks, leaning forward so far that Ben has to hold her back. "What do you mean? What's the reason, what happened?—"

"Go home, both of you. Now."

Neither of them particularly want to, feeling that there's so much left to say and learn, but their nerves are fried and Ben has already set up a second meeting with their group of friends. He has a text from Tom stating that he's gathered everyone in his backyard again, ready whenever they are, and it's the only thing that's really holding Ben together— the possibility of validation.

"Let's just go," he tells Ann, dragging her out by her elbow. "We'll deal with this, I promise. But first we have to tell our friends."

"Jen," she whispers suddenly, her eyes glazing over, and Ben nods.

"Yeah, Jen is waiting for you. So let's get to Tom's place, okay? Tom's place."

Ann is so angry and frustrated at this point that Ben steals her keys and opts to drive instead, while she stares out the passenger seat window. They're quiet for a while, their anger simmering under the surface, remaining just close enough to come back to whenever they need it. It's enough to make the air feel fragile, the tension between them edging closer and closer to shattered glass.

"What are we gonna do?" Ann says out of nowhere, tracing patterns with her finger on the car window.

"I really don't know," Ben answers honestly. He's past the point of being able to lie for even his own sake.

"It just… it feels hopeless. And I really thought we had something. We were doing so good, Ben."

He thinks of their notebooks and bulletin boards, enough binders to make Leslie proud. He thinks of late night calls and group meetings and somehow becoming best friends with this girl who he barely even spoke to in high school, just because they all of a sudden have a loss in common. They grieve together and they work together, just to see it all fall apart together. They really did have hope, for just a moment, bundled between them and keeping them warm. And now they're watching it slowly fizzle out.

On the other side, it's just a deep, bitter cold.

"We were," he admits. "It felt… very close to something concrete."

"We can't do this on our own, can we? I guess I just always thought… I thought that when we compiled enough evidence we would bring it to the cops and finish out the investigation. Find out who did it, figure out where they are, and bring Leslie back."

She's still not looking at him as she speaks, and they feel very oddly disconnected. "I thought Swanson said not to go to the police, though."

Ann groans and pushes against the car window. "Okay, well, I kind of assumed we would tell Swanson and the cops, because more backup is better than nothing. But considering the school was working with the Pawnee Police Department, I don't see either being much help right now."

Ben considers Ron, and the battles he would fight for Leslie, and he wonders if truthfully, deep down, this is one battle the man would be willing to die for. If Leslie meant just enough that he would sit in the trenches and take his shots, fight even if he falls down, push back even if he's bleeding out. How far does his loyalty go?

Is this worth a call?

He thinks of Ron's phone number sitting comfortably in his brain, burning a hole in his pocket, just begging to be used. Once they have enough information. Once they feel there's a path clear enough to walk across. And it's not much, but it warms Ben just slightly, like some tiny spirit of Leslie inside him, telling him that if nothing else works out, at least there's still this. At least there's still Ron.

They pull up to Tom's house, and the energy in the backyard is significantly different than that of the car ride. Ben and Ann stumble to the back, heads down with their hands in their pockets, to be met with casual chatter and little spatters of laughter. Andy and April are giggling over something together, Donna is threatening Jean-Ralphio, and Tom is reaching for snacks. Jen leaps up from her chair as soon as they cross the gate to throw her arms around Ann, pressing a very long and drawn-out kiss to her lips without a care in the world for PDA.

"Oh, Annie, baby," she whispers, reaching around to cup the back of Ann's neck, smoothing her hair. "You look like a mess, I was calling you, where were you? I thought you were just at your house with Wyatt?"

"I was," Ann chokes. "But my mom came home, and we got some news."

"So it's true?" Tom jumps in, clapping Ben on the back. His knees buckle. "I read something about dropping Leslie's case, but I didn't wanna believe it."

"It's true," Ben confirms, just loud enough, and everyone stops in their tracks to stare and listen. "Ann and I went right to the police station. Leslie's case is totally dropped."

The entire group erupts with outrage, shouting obscenities and throwing fists in the air. There's shouts to storm the station again from April, with Andy offering to join in as Burt Macklin, Jean-Ralphio and Tom insisting they'll knock some heads around. Donna shouts that the police are out of her mind and she'll be looking up their names right away, pulling out her phone to start searching. Jen just holds Ann as she cries into her shoulder, whispering to each other, keeping each other held together, even if only by a thread.

And Ben stares. He watches this group of people that have so far been his support system, people that he didn't even necessarily get along with or care about for years, suddenly the most important people to him. Without them, without his team, and especially people like Ann and even Tom and Andy, he's not sure where he would be. Very lonely, curled up in his bed at home, taken captive by nightmares of blonde hair and bloodstains.

He starts to tear up a little just thinking about his sudden love for these people, and the tiny flame of hope held close to heart that only exists in the first place because of them.

It's the first time he allows himself to think, looking over at them as they shout, that it might actually end up okay in the end. This might not be the tragic ending he's been expecting all along. He can do this.

Ben can get Leslie back.

And so suddenly, from nowhere at all, something shifts, and everyone quiets. There's tears coming that aren't from Ann, who has stilled in Jen's arms, slowly coming up to find the new source as well.

It could've been anyone, really, but the real answer is the least expected. The truth is that they find Donna weeping into her hands, her phone screen on and trembling in her fist. It could've been anyone, but something about Donna's tears sends chills down their spines, a fearful feeling so intense that Ben knows, before anything is confirmed at all, that something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.

"Donna?" Ben whispers, having difficulty finding his voice. "Donna, what's wrong?"

Her phone is open up on a breaking news article, something just released, with bright red headlines and words in all caps. There's a picture there, too fuzzy to make out from across the way, but there's a flash of yellow and he knows, he knows.

And it's funny, really, that when you light a candle flame, it can burn for so long. It can light up a room for hours on end, slowly chipping away at the wax, carefully warming Ben's heart. He guards his little candle flame of hope, hidden as if to protect it, allowing it to quietly burn with unwavering perseverance.

But it's also funny that just the slightest wind, the blink of an eye, one wrong move can wink that flame right out of existence, leaving nothing but the smell of smoke to linger and the pitch black emptiness he can't claw himself out of this time.

"Breaking news," April reads, grabbing Donna's phone as she collapses, "Eighteen-year-old missing person Leslie Knope has been pronounced dead."

The flames are gone. That was Ben's very last candle.