Summary: In which Ben learns he's got excellent swimmers.

Content Warnings for this chapter:

Mentions of child abuse

Discussions of abortion

CHAPTER TWO: Creature Fear

At home, Rey tried to work.

It didn't go very well.

Everything felt different now. She walked around with the feeling that she didn't even belong in her own body — that it was so altered as to be unrecognizable. She was too aware of her own pulse, and her mind fixated with singular focus on that one dark place deep within her where something that was not her nestled. Small though it was, the awareness of it loomed huge in her mind, taking up all the room.

At home, her mind spun unwillingly into the memories that created this mess. The memory of Ben, here, among her things, leaving the finest trace of his cologne mixed into her world, leaving something a lot more significant than cologne behind mixed into her.

She wasn't at home in her own skin, and she wasn't at home in her own home.

Rey felt lost. She didn't know where she belonged now.

But none of that would pay her bills, so she sat at her computer and stared at the creative briefs whose deadlines were upon her. She read them again and again, and read the ideas she'd jotted down, but the words slipped right through her mind like water. Focus eluded her, and it was maddening.

She tried to force out some copy, writing up one social media post for a feminist clothing line company. When she read it back to herself, though, she knew it was terrible and immediately deleted it.

No use.

Her gaze strayed to the couch, once more tucked back into itself to actually be a couch instead of a pullout. There she'd let her best friend play her like a fine instrument. No attachments, they'd told themselves. It didn't mean anything. A bit of harmless fun, a way to make each other feel transcendently satisfied for a few hours, nothing more. Like it always was in the past.

It would never be like that again, she knew, and her stomach clenched anxiously.

Because one of the half dozen times they'd messed around, he'd planted a bit of himself in a place where she was waiting for it. A place where she would nurture it and make it grow.

Dammit. This was too much to handle right now.

She needed a nap.

So Rey abandoned her task temporarily and went to bed. She pressed her face into her pillow and let the stuffing swallow her extended groan of despair.

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep. And mercifully, she dreamt nothing. Her body welcomed the rest like an old friend, and not even her stress could make her restless. She woke a full two hours later, feeling rested and numb.

She made herself a cinnamon-and-anise herbal tea and tried to focus on work again.

This time she did better.

She was able to write out a whole calendar of posts for the clothing company, and then focused on some print ad copy for a trendy new Colombian restaurant opening downtown. When she was finished, she made herself go for a short jog to quicken the blood and sharpen her mind, then showered and got ready to meet Ben.

Rey felt queasy again. The soothing flavor of the tea had gone bad in her mouth, and even a quick brush with her mintiest toothpaste didn't quite rid of it.

She had to tell him. She had to. There was an argument to be made against telling him, of course. She could make this decision on her own — could take care of it quickly and quietly and he'd never have to know. Then the only one who'd be aware of the shift in their dynamic would be her. And maybe that would be bearable. But it felt like a massive violation of trust, and she couldn't do that to him. He needed to know.

Would he be angry? The whole reason they got into the habit of fooling around without latex was because she at least had this one important protection. But now it had turned out that not only had she not been protected, she'd been at peak fertility.

Her stomach churned uneasily the whole walk over.

Three options, Holdo had said. Keep. Adopt. Terminate.

Each of them roiled in her guts, and tasted bitter on her tongue.

Rey was an abandoned child. It was one of her biggest secrets. Nobody except Ben knew it. Not Rose, or Finn, or any of their other friends. When they'd asked about her childhood, she said it was an unhappy one, and left it at that. They were kind enough not to press. Knowing that her parents hadn't wanted her — had dumped her on the doorsteps of a church as a toddler and then disappeared — had formed an indelible part of her identity. The foster home she ended up in was run by a brute and his subservient wife. They had too many foster children and not enough interest in anything to do with them beyond the money they got for housing them all. Food was scarce and withheld as punishment, doled out in meager rations only as reward. It was a miserable existence in every sense of the word.

Rey always wondered why her parents didn't want her. It tormented her throughout her childhood and adolescence. As an adult, she became jaded and ambivalent.

But she could never do that to any child ever, least of all her own. Even if she could be assured that the baby would go to the right family, someone who would love it as their own, she couldn't live knowing that one day it would ask why it wasn't wanted.

For Rey, the second option wasn't an option at all.

When she opened the door to the Thai restaurant and walked in, she crashed right into Ben's enormous body just inside the doorway.

He caught her before she could stumble back, chuckling in surprise. "Whoa, sorry. Great timing, I guess. I just walked in."

Rey reeled, laughing a little. She'd been so absorbed in her own thought she hadn't even noticed the giant man going in the door before her.

"Hi," she said breathlessly.

He grinned. "Hey."

A quick hug of greeting and then he turned to the hostess to ask for a table for two.

Rey fidgeted. Her mouth felt dry, her heart beat too hard. Looking at Ben now was different too. Like being in her own apartment. Like being in her own body.

"Right this way," said the hostess, snapping her out of these nervous thoughts.

The two of them followed her over to a quiet corner near the window. It was still early for the dinner rush, so the restaurant was quiet and almost empty. This was old people hour. But Ben didn't seem to mind. He ordered their usual appetizer and entrees with efficiency — two massaman curries, his mild, hers spicy.

Was it okay to eat really spicy food?

It must be. Women around the globe ate spicy food all the time and had healthy pregnancies. But here Rey had to check herself. Why did she care? She hadn't even decided what she wanted to do yet. It might not matter at all.

Still, this fleeting reminder of her inexperience heightened her already frazzled nerves. There was a lot she didn't know. Including how to even begin this difficult conversation.

Ben propped his elbows on the table, obscuring the lower half of his face with his contemplatively clasped hands. He scrutinized her in that intense way she recognized — the look he wore when he was trying to figure her out. His dark eyes studied her face as if he were trying to unriddle her mood.

She looked away.

"So who talks first?" he asked after a minute.

"You do."

"You said you were going to tell me about your bad morning."

She wasn't ready. "I want to hear about yours first. What happened?"

He sighed. "You know, it's not really that big of a deal when I say it out loud. My uncle was riding my ass about a presentation we're getting ready for some big new clients — potential clients. He's just got a talent for getting on my nerves. It's bad enough I have to deal with him at my mom's dinners, but getting it at work too is slowly driving me insane."

Rey had met this particular uncle once. She'd met all of Ben's family once, actually, at the same wedding. Ben asked her to pretend to be his girlfriend for one night and come with him to the wedding of a family friend so his mother would stop pestering him about settling down. It was a fun evening, and getting to know Ben's family was quite the adventure. His father didn't seem to take anything seriously, his mother watched them with way too much interest — Rey was certain she'd call them out on their ruse before the night was over. She didn't. This particular uncle, Luke, was a little bit curmudgeonly and a little bit funny, and Rey kind of liked him in the end, even if he was surly and sour. His wife Mara was wonderful, and Rey understood immediately why Ben got along with her way better than he did his mother's brother. She knew their relationship was difficult at best, tumultuous and explosive at worst.

Rey let him vent about Luke for as long as he needed, feeling undeniably comforted by the normalcy of this conversation.

When their food came, it tasted just as comforting. Familiar and homey. The smells of the spices coming from the kitchen had been making her dizzy, but once she started to eat and the flavors were burning on her tongue instead of in her nose, her head stopped spinning.

"What about you, though?" Ben asked when he'd finally exhausted every irritated thing he needed to get out of his chest. "It's your turn. Tell me about your day."

Rey was only halfway through her food by then. Instantly her stomach churned in response and she had to choke down the next bite. She put her fork down and guzzled some water in an attempt to cool her suddenly thrashing digestive system.

"Rey?" Ben asked, surprised by whatever it was he saw.

She could do this.

Dabbing at her mouth with her napkin, she drew a deep breath. "My day was…different. Really different."

He didn't say anything, just waited.

Her voice shook more than she wanted it to. "I um…I got some unexpected news."

His eyes widened. "Is it about your parents?"

She flinched. "What? No! Why would it be about my parents?"

"I've just never seen you this nervous," he said, his voice falling to something apologetic. His gaze dropped to the table, to her hands. They were shaking. He reached out and took one. "Looks like it was bad news, though. What is it?"

These small gestures came so naturally to him. He was always gentle with her like this. Other people thought he was kind of rude, but Rey couldn't see it. She saw someone who was aloof and removed from the usual crush of social pressure, but was innately kind and good. Right now, this tender little gesture drew a lump to her throat and a pricking pressure behind her eyes.

Well, there was that emotional crying she was wondering about earlier.

At least she didn't actually get teary, just felt the burning threat of them. Ben's hand on hers got tighter.

"Are you afraid to tell me?" he murmured so softly.

She nodded.

"Why?"

"I don't know what you'll say," she whispered.

"Neither do I." A fleeting, reassuring smile flitted over his lips. "But you know you can trust me with anything."

Yes…she thought that once. Before this morning. Had so much really changed since then? She trusted him with her whole tragic story. With her body, with her vulnerability. But this was asking for so much more trust than she'd ever been prepared to give.

He has to know, she reminded herself, and drew a long, steadying breath.

"I haven't — been with anyone. Since the quarantine."

It didn't surprise to her see how his face instantly closed off. Trepidation fell over his features like a curtain. His dark eyes hardened just a little and regarded her warily, his mouth pulling down into the faintest frown. He was guarded. This admission of hers treaded dangerously close to the line they didn't cross. They did not reference their physical relationship with each other. They didn't talk about their physical relationships with others.

"I just needed you to know that. For the part that comes next."

Now he was the one who looked tense. She could see it in every one of his muscles, his body coiled like prey about to spring for safety. Did he think she was about to breech their boundaries and confess some kind of romantic love for him?

Whatever he was braced for, she knew the truth would blow it all out of the water.

"Ben, I — I'm pregnant." She choked on the words as they came out, stumbling over them like a coward.

She couldn't look up to see his reaction, couldn't bear to see the anger and betrayal, the cold rejection. So she just kept her gaze on their hands, on the way his fingers were still and unmoving, curled into hers. She looked small in his grip. She felt small under his stare.

Several seconds of silence stretched between them before she heard his ragged whisper. "What?"

Still unable to look up, she impatiently brushed away the rogue tear that slipped down her cheek. "I went to the doctor this morning. I told you how tired I've been lately. I thought it was something to do with the virus lingering in my system. She made me take a test. It was positive."

He'd teased her about becoming an old lady who needed to be in bed before 9pm. Neither of them ever thought it had anything to do with their activities during the last few days of isolation.

"And I'm…?"

Now she did have to look up, because he sounded so shaken. His voice so soft and small. When she did, his expression held none of the things she feared. No betrayal, no outrage. No rejection. Only bewilderment and shock.

"It's you, Ben. It's yours."

He swallowed hard. Slowly he took hold of her hand with his other one too, hanging on with both like she was some kind of lifeline and he was out at sea. "How? I thought you were..."

"I was." At least his tone wasn't accusatory, like she'd imagined that question would sound. He just seemed confused. As confused as she felt. "My doctor said the meds for the virus neutralized them. It was in the drug facts, I guess, but I didn't read them. I didn't know it was a risk. I'm sorry."

His jaw worked hard over something, and he shook his head. "Why are you sorry?"

"This is my fault."

"No?" He gave her an odd look. "Of course it isn't."

"If I'd just read the—"

"Rey," he said, his voice frustrated and firm. "Please, just give me a minute. I'm…this is so much to take in. Just let me catch my footing before you run off and start blaming yourself. I need to understand this. So the virus drugs made your contraceptives not work?"

"Apparently it's a known side-effect," she said. "And I was at peak fertility."

A soft, disbelieving breath escaped him. He let go of her and slid his plate out of the way, running a hand through his hair, down his face before leaning his elbows on the table again. His chest heaved in a deep breath. "Okay. So I really messed up."

"You? What are you talking about? I should have read the sheet. Then I would have known and we could have used—"

"Who reads those things beyond the directions for how to take the meds? I definitely didn't. I could've just controlled myself and not slept with you," he said.

"I wanted you to!"

"Stop trying to take responsibility. You definitely didn't get this way on your own."

She shut her mouth and watched him put his face in his hands, emotions she couldn't see shuddering through him. When he came out again, he still didn't look angry. Or even upset. She wondered when that part would come.

"I guess we can both be to blame," she concluded softly.

"Or you can just me take it, because it's what I deserve. You've had enough to deal with. This is what you've been hanging onto all day?"

"It's been a long day," she admitted.

He drowned himself in another deep breath. "Okay. Okay. So we did something here. What happens now?"

"My doctor said we have options. This doesn't have to ruin us."

"Ruin," he repeated softly. She didn't know why. His gaze flicked up from the table to hers. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know." She chewed her lower lip for a minute, searching for the right answer and finding herself adrift. "I needed to tell you about it first. To see what you want."

"I don't think I get a say in this," he said. "It's your body, Rey. Your decision. I'll do whatever you need."

"I get that, but I think you do get a say, because it's your—" she floundered for the word. His what? Zygote? Embryo? What was the right terminology at this point? Because she definitely couldn't say baby. "I think we should make this decision together."

"The choice will have far less impact on me than it will have on you," he protested. There was concern in his face, and Rey realized he was worried for her. "I don't want to influence you. It's your body—"

"You said that already," she snapped, cutting him off. "I don't want to decide this alone, Ben. You said it yourself, I didn't get into this mess by myself, and I don't want to find my way out of it by myself either. But if you're trying to tell me that you want no part in this, I will. I'll do it alone, whatever I decide."

Now he was a whole different kind of shocked. "Rey, wait, that's not what I meant —"

"You asked me to trust you with this. I have. Now please help me, because I really don't want to do this alone." Her lip quivered and her voice shook but she still felt fierce and strong with the force of her frustration.

He quickly took her hand again, a thumb brushing soothingly across her knuckles. "Okay, you're right. I'm here. Of course I'll be part of this. I'm in. Whatever you need from me."

"I need you to tell me what you want," she said slowly, carefully. Her emotions were surging and she didn't want to make this a more hysterical moment than it had to be. "Because if I terminate, and that's not what you want, then you'll resent me for taking this away from you. Maybe you'll think me a murderer. But if I keep it…god, I don't even know. What then? Then everything is changed."

Now the tears came in earnest and she was the one to bury her face in her hands now. "But maybe that doesn't matter, because everything is changed already anyway. I want to go back to how it was."

A hopeless wish, because there could be no going back. Even if she terminated, and they tried again to just be friends, she knew in her heart that it wouldn't be the same. She didn't know how she could ever sleep with him again without thinking about this, right here. This moment. About what they made and didn't want. About how it was him who had done it, which felt incredibly significant. She would never be able to get lost in his touch and his worship and not think about what might have been. Emotions were tied into it now. Strings, where there weren't supposed to be any.

They would have to be friends and only friends, no benefits. Because it was ruined now. Benefits got them into trouble, and she'd never be able to forget that.

And if she didn't terminate…that had even bigger implications.

Ben was silent for a few seconds. Rey couldn't guess what he was thinking. She just kept her head in her hands and let the quiet tears puddle against her skin. Eventually she heard his chair scrape the floor and a board creak to the side of their table. Then he was beside her, tugging her out of hiding and into his chest.

Rey almost resisted. But she couldn't really, not when she felt so frightened and broken and desperate. So she let him pull her in, and was surprised to find him trembling.

"It's okay," he sighed into her hair. "I don't know how, but it's going to be okay. We can deal with this."

To the very few other patrons scattered through the restaurant, they probably looked pitiful. With Ben's chair crowded right up against hers on one side of the table, her buried in his huge chest, the two of them drowning in their own feelings. But Rey didn't care. This, at least, felt safe. Maybe he was right. Maybe they would be okay.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked into his shirt.

"I don't know what I want, Rey," he said honestly, his voice resonating against her head. "I'm just barely hanging on here. What do you want?"

She didn't know either. She knew what she should want. The easiest solution. The one that would be the closest to going backwards as they could.

"I don't think I'm ready…" she said softly. "To have a — a child."

She tried to picture herself in that role. Elbow-deep in diapers and nighttime feedings, letting a tiny mouth rule her schedule, trying to soothe infant squalls. Or shuttling a child to preschool and then primary school, doing the things she saw parents do on TV or in movies or at the park. Soothing wounds, attending noisy band concerts, banishing an impertinent teen to their room. Spending her whole life with this other little person at her side.

Someone who would depend on her.

Someone who was part of her. And part of Ben.

She shivered in his arms.

"Me neither," he admitted. "I don't know if I can."

An answer drifted into place, pulled there by these confessions of inadequacy. She sat up, away from him, wiping herself free of tears and drawing a deep breath. "Then I think I should take care of it…"

Of course she should. A baby should be wanted. Should come well after marriage, to a stable home with parents who were ready.

"Yeah," he said so softly she barely heard him. "Okay."

"Are you alright with that?"

His dark eyes searched hers again, looking for something. She couldn't guess what. His chin bobbed once. "Then it's all over and behind us, right?"

"Right."

He withdrew his arm from the back of her chair and stood. "Then it's the logical choice," he said stiffly before carrying his chair back to his side of the table.

Part of Rey experienced a tiny spark of relief to have some conclusion to this misadventure in mind. But another part of her shrank into a small, anxious ball, dense and uncomfortable in her chest. It probably came from worrying what would happen to them after. She didn't want to lose him.

But that was foolish. Of course she would lose him someday. He couldn't be her best friend and cuddlebuddy forever. One day he'd finally find the girl he wanted to keep forever, and then everything would change much more than a simple early abortion would do now.

And someday you might find a person you want to spend your life with too, she reminded herself. And that would be way better than any of this. So why the sick feeling when she thought of it?

Hormones, probably. Her body was being hijacked by them.

Finding those people would be a lot harder if they had a kid between them. So she could do this now, end it now, and enjoy him for a little while — even if she could never sleep with him again. It was better than nothing, at least.

"Okay then," she said, mostly to herself. "We're decided."

He nodded again.

Ben waved down their server, who seemed to be pointedly avoiding them, and requested carryout boxes. He packaged up their half-eaten meals. Both of them had lost their appetites, apparently.

They got up to leave. Rey struggled to understand what she was feeling. Her insides were tangled into a knot, stress and unhappiness gnawing at her. This didn't feel like a good place to leave things, but she didn't know what to say.

Her heart started to race as they got out to the sidewalk.

"Can I walk you to your apartment?" he asked softly.

"But your car is here."

He shrugged. "Honestly, I could use the walk."

"Okay." She chewed her lip uneasily and turned to head for home, Ben falling into step beside her.

He kept glancing at her, and then away again. She saw it out of the corner over her eye, but she couldn't make herself catch him in the act. She made herself too busy staring at the sidewalk ahead of her instead, trying to understand why was still upset.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked after a quiet minute. "Are you having a lot of nausea?"

"Some. I guess. Mostly I'm just tired. I haven't been throwing up or anything like that."

"That's good," he said feebly.

Maybe he didn't really know what to do with all of this either.

They finally got to the door to her building and there stopped, standing on the sidewalk in a sudden fit of awkwardness that was entirely foreign for them. They'd never been this uncomfortable with each other. Not even in the very first meeting. It was horrible, but Rey didn't know how to break it.

Her heart was still racing way too fast, and a sensation similar to nausea was rising up in her now — but instead of throwing up, panicked words rushed through and out her.

"—I want to keep it—"

"—Rey, please don't terminate—"

They'd both blurted their confessions at the same time, so it took a half second for each to register what the other had said. Then they both stared in shock.

He wanted it too?

A slow warmth crept into Rey's cheeks, and she had to look away. "Okay, so…I guess that happened."

Ben set her bag of leftovers on the ground by her building door and took her hand, guiding her down to sit by him on the step.

"Do you really want to keep the baby?" he asked gently.

Oh god. The baby. Every time she thought the word, this all became terrifyingly real. To hear it out loud had the same effect, and more. Warmth and fear burst in fireworks through her dizzied mind.

"I know it doesn't make sense," she said breathlessly. "On any level."

"It doesn't," he agreed. "So why do we both want it?"

"I don't know."

Truly, she didn't. This moment was almost as bewildering as anything else that had happened. Ben was supposed to be upset, but he hadn't been at any time this evening, even when he was clearly overwhelmed. That alone was enough, now he was telling her that he wanted to upend his whole life to accommodate a new person, entirely his responsibility — and hers? Why? Why did he want that? And why did she?

He sighed. "This is insane."

"It is."

But the tight ball of anxiety in her stomach had disappeared. She was still afraid of things to come, but the sorrow had vanished and in its place — a thrill. A spark.

"So how do we do this?" Ben looked at her, a hundred different indecipherable things written across his handsome face. "Do you want me to marry you?"

She recoiled. "What? No!"

He laughed. It felt really good to hear him laugh. Like maybe everything wasn't so heavy and world-ending. "Okay, calm down. I won't drag you down the aisle."

She shook her head, her voice firm and vehement. "I don't want anything to change. Well, I mean more than it obviously has to. But I don't want what we have, between us, to change. We'll just figure out how to co-parent."

His mouth thinned into a tight line, and she had no idea what it meant. It was gone a moment later. "I can do that. What's the very next step?"

"My doctor had me make a follow-up appointment to go back and discuss options with her in a couple days. Will you come with me?"

"Yes," he said immediately. "I'll come with you to every appointment, if you'll let me."

Something inside her almost broke with the force of her relief. She wasn't alone. The road ahead suddenly seemed a little less daunting. Emboldened, she leaned into his shoulder, resting her head against him. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, Rey, I want to be there."

"I meant for everything. For being okay with this. For not freaking out."

"I'm definitely freaking out," he admitted. "Just on the inside."

"Me too," she said, daring to laugh and release some of the pressure in her chest.

After a minute, he said, "But I think we're going to be okay, too."

"I hope so."

A low chuckle moved through him. "I told you it was a bad idea to have me come to your place for quarantine."

"The worst," she agreed, and laughed again.

They sat in their strange new reality for a few quiet minutes, watching a city turn from its afternoon bustle to evening entertainment. Nobody knew the secret that they shared now. Likely nobody would care. For everyone else, life went on as it did before. For them, everything was different now. But Rey felt less sick and nervous about it than she did this morning. If she had to be in this situation with anyone, at least it was Ben. The best friend she'd ever had. The only one she'd trust to help her handle something so monumental. They could figure it out.

He was right. They'd be okay.

Eventually they stood to part. And Ben caught her in a wordless hug. They left each other with the promise that he'd pick her up for the appointment in a couple days, and the reassurance again that everything would be fine.

When Ben turned to leave, Rey caught a fleeting glimpse of him smiling, in a way he had never smiled before.