Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: Thanks as always to Mandi who is super-dee-duper. More notes at that bottom.

Chapter 10

"Damnit," Ben muttered, kicking the wall because it was in his way. "Damnit."

"I know how to take care of him Ben," Alexander assured him. "He'll be fine."

Ben glared. "That's not comforting, you know."

"I know, but it's all I've got," Alexander said, smiling grimly.

"He shouldn't have had another one this soon, it hasn't even been a week yet," Ben muttered.

"He's tired and he's sick and he's stressed," Alexander said with a calmness he didn't feel but thought Ben needed to. "It will be alright."

Ben heaved a sigh. "Fine. Fine. It's not like I have a choice, is it? Leave's over. I can't take more time off right now."

He paused. "You know, when Fin first came home I thought of quitting and asking my uncle for money so I could take care of him. Do it properly. Maybe I should have done it right then when he came home. Maybe things... I don't know. Never mind. Fuck."

Alexander didn't say anything, didn't know what he could say. He knew how much it embarrassed Finley, not having money, had guessed how proud Ben was. He understood why Ben hadn't asked.

Ben grinned without joy. His eyes were very sad as he looked at Alexander. "You'll call if anything happens."

"Of course," Alexander replied to the non-question.

Ben sighed again, nodded and reluctantly went off, closing the front door behind him. Alexander shook his head somewhat sadly and went downstairs, back to Finley.

Finley was curled up on his side making a very low pitched moaning noise. He could be medicated again in about an hour but until then he was stuck with the pain.

He moved, just slightly, when Alexander touched him. A flicker of muscles, a shift of his head as the cold cloth over his eyes was replaced. He didn't open his eyes.

"Shh, Fin," Alexander murmured. "Just me. Keep still."

Finley made a snuffling noise and reached a few inches to curl his fingers in Alexander's jeans. Alexander moved closer so Finley's head rested against his leg and he could touch him without much of a stretch.

Finley moaned. Alexander hesitated then began gently stroking his hair. At that point, Alexander thought, Finley just wanted to know he wasn't alone.

Finley never opened his eyes, not even when Alexander helped him sit enough to swallow the pill that gave him some relief. His fingers remained curled in the cuff of Alexander's jeans until they went limp as he sank into unconsciousness.

Alexander stayed with him until Finley was well and truly out before untangling himself and quietly staggering away to stamp his leg awake again. He paced, away from Finley, making as little noise as possible despite the fact Finley wouldn't awaken for hours.

Yesterday he had spent half a day there, sitting with Finley, not touching him, watching him shy away as they tried to figure things out. They were getting there, neither of them wanted to let this, their relationship, go, but they weren't there yet.

Then Ben had called him early that morning, before dawn, even. Finley was down for the count, felled by one of the headaches that liked to blindside him, and Ben had to go back to the base. Leaving Finley alone wasn't an option either of them considered.

Holding him, trying to comfort him when he was largely insensible was trying because when the headache passed Finley would very likely push him away again. They were trying to get comfortable with each other again but with Finley it was never easy. Alexander hadn't realized how much damage had been done until the first time Finley flinched at his touch, like he did with anyone he was uneasy with.

So he paced and wandered upstairs and stared without comprehension as the television blared and Finley drifted in a drug induced slumber. Alexander's thoughts trailed slowly into multiple directions and day time television wasn't actually something that could hold his attention.

He browsed Ben's video collection. The latest selection from Blockbuster... well, he had no real desire to see any of the drivel that most of it appeared to be. The movies they owned, what he hadn't seen already, didn't really interest...

Fin's b-day.

Ben's neat printing. Finley had chicken scratch scrawl, Ben was neat and concise. Alexander hesitated but Ben had mentioned he had been trying to find video of them at their uncle's when they were kids. Finley had asked about it and Alexander suddenly found he really wanted to see what Finley had been like as a child so...

Finley leaned heavily on Ben's supporting arms as he shuffled into the room, dressed in black sweat pants and a loose fitting sweater. Ben led him, walking backwards and supporting him under the armpits, a grin splitting his face, eyes on his brother. Finley flushed dully as the occupants of the little room, mostly army guys, clapped and whistled. The flush was the only hint of colour on his gaunt face.

Ben helped ease him into the upright recliner, extra pillows cushioning his too thin body. He winced as Ben settled him there. The broad soldier leaned forward, speaking something that wasn't picked up, hiding Finley from view for a moment. Finley was nodding when Ben backed away and he smiled just slightly.

The lights were not turned off as the cake was brought in. It was ice cream and it was melting under the candles.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

Finley's white face was briefly illuminated in a red orange glow from the candles. There was a flicker of something in his eyes...

"...dear Finley, happy birthday to you!"

Ben helped him to blow out the candles. Finley smiled up at his big brother as Ben started passing the cake around.

Finley's piece looked like a mouse had nibbled it when it was set aside.

Ben had to help as Finley started to unwrap the presents. His hands were shaking so badly he had too much trouble with the paper. The present's were small, mostly, from people on base. Ben and Irving's were set aside for later, they were trying to spoil Finley a bit and his father's were noticeably absent because they didn't exist.

Finley's face was slowly becoming more and more strained until finally his thin fingers caught Ben's wrist. Ben bent close and there was the hushed murmur of words.

Ben bent to gather Finley up...

A hand came in front of the lens. Someone muttered, "How do you turn the fucking camera off?" There was a jostle...

Static.

Alexander was with Finley when Ben got home. The morning's medication had worn off and the pain hadn't lessened.

Finley had his head in Alexander's lap and Alexander was rubbing his temples in a slow rhythm. Finley's eyes were closed and his body twitched in discomfort every few moments, jarring his otherwise disconcerting stillness.

Ben made no noise as he edged to Finley's side and took his hands, rubbing them gently. Finley opened bleary eyes for a moment or two, tried to focus, and gave him a moan of greeting. Together they managed to get him through the pain until he could swallow the pill that brought him relief and slid him into a welcome stupor.

Ben sat back with a sigh. He was unused to dealing with this constantly now, had forgotten how it wore you down. He looked at his brother's lover. Alexander was stroking the tiny wisps of hair back from Finley's temples.

"I'm taking him to the doctor if it's still like this tomorrow," Ben told him. How the hell had he ever dealt with the three day headaches Finley had frequently then, still occasionally had?

"I'm not disagreeing," Alexander said. He leaned back and looked carefully at Ben. "I need you to tell me what Finley's injuries were when he came back."

"Need me to?" Ben questioned, a dangerous edge in his voice.

"Yeah, need," Alexander replied. "We've talked a little before about what it did to him psychologically, he's told me bits of what was done, but never what his injuries were. It never came up and now I think it's important."

Ben sat back and looked carefully at Alexander, who straightened under his gaze. "Let's go upstairs."

Ben scrubbed a face over his hand and suddenly looked very weary. "I need a beer for this."

"So do I, I think," Alexander agreed.

Ben looked sharply at him but shrugged as Alexander went to grab them both a brew. His eyes fell on the video sitting on top of the television. He picked it up as Alexander rejoined him.

"This why you want to know?" Ben asked, holding the tape up.

"Partly," Alexander answered, passing Ben the open beer as he put the tape down. "But I need to know anyway. I thought that tape was the one you were going to leave out for Fin."

"Couldn't find that one," Ben shrugged. "So what do you want to know?"

"Injuries to start. How he was wounded, what was wrong with him," Alexander replied, his voice taking on a clinical edge.

"The whole list?" Ben clarified.

"The whole list," Alexander answered.

Ben sighed, "Where to start."

He sat there for a moment in silence, his eyes distant as he began. "They broke his toes. All of them and two bones in his right foot. His shoulder was dislocated and his hands had been caned, or something similar, several times. He didn't have all his finger nails. There were deep cuts, mostly on his back but in other areas as well, I'm sure you've noticed the scars. They were badly infected when he was found. His ribs were severely bruised. He was bruised everywhere, bruised and scraped and burned. He was malnourished to the point where we thought there was a good chance..."

"...that we will still lose him. So you should be prepared," the doctor said. "I'm sorry."

Ben nodded numbly. He felt cold and his hands felt heavy. He had been expecting this since before he got on the plane to Germany, to his little brother. They couldn't risk flying him to the States yet, it was too far to go. "Can I see him?"

"Yes, but he isn't awake and I don't expect him to be for a few more days," the doctor told him, omitting the ominously cliched words of if he wakes at all.

"I was told he had been awake and talking," Ben commented numbly.

The doctor hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "He was... continuously reciting his name and registration number when a question or comment was directed at him when he was found. He did not seem to understand what was being said and that repetition was all he would say."

Ben rubbed a hand over his forehead, feeling nauseous. "Is there brain damage?"

"We don't know. We won't until he wake up," again there was a hesitation. "But since we sedated him he hasn't been responsive to anything and with the evidence of head trauma there it is, unfortunately, very likely he will not be the same when he wakes up."

Ben thought of his serious, quiet little brother. Brought to mind his laugh and pictured his easy way with his men and his smile and the focus in his brimming grey eyes as he studied something. Thought of his quiet confidence and the way it clashed so pleasantly with his own loud manners and his often gently teasing eloquence and of all his little brother was.

He thought of all of that gone and shivered from the cold welling up inside him.

When he finally got to see his little brother, it hurt to look at him. Somewhere inside the mass of monitors and casts and bandages was his Finley, so slight he seemed hardly there at all.

Ben found a spot of skin that seemed to be the one unmarked inch of his body. Just a scrap of skin on his forearm, four fingers long. He touched there, gently.

Finley's skin was cold and its shade against Ben's tanned fingers painted a bleak picture of how very pale he was. Ben felt tears prick at his eyes. He wanted badly to hug Finley close but couldn't. He was so scared to even touch the scant stretch of unmarred flesh.

He could feel the lump rising from his stomach as he looked at his brother's face. Corpse like, blue tinged against stark white bandages with little black stitches sticking up prickling from his skin.

Ben swallowed, unable to look away. The dark hair was lank, matted and greasy where it could be seen from under the long white strips of bandages and there were clumps missing. Whether they had fallen out because Finley had been starved or because he had been pumped with hallucinogenics or because it had been torn out Ben didn't know.

But there were clumps of Finley's hair missing.

Ben didn't know how he got from Finley's side to the bathroom down his hall, just knew he puked and puked until he felt like he had thrown up everything he had even thought about eating since Finley had gone MIA.

"The doctors were good. They were great. If anything of a dozen little things had been done differently, if anything had been done slightly wrong we would have lost him," Ben told Alexander. "We came so fucking close to losing him..."

Ben trailed off and scrubbed a hand over his face. He didn't examine those memories too closely, too often. It still hurt too much and the wound had been given years to heal without much improvement.

Alexander grabbed his hand suddenly, held it, and said nothing. Ben was startled, thought about pulling away but... didn't.

"He did wake up, obviously," Ben continued. "And there was mild brain damage, but we were lucky in that way. The drugs they had him doped up on when he was missing fucked with his brain chemistry enough."

"I know, he told me about that," Alexander interjected quietly. Finley took medication to correct the damage but there were still side effects from it.

Ben nodded. "He's healed physically better than anyone expected but the scars are still there and there are still effects from the damage done to his brain."

"The headaches might be because of that or it might be psychological or both or something else entirely. He was not effected by them before he was captured. There were... seizures too, at first, but the medication controls them. He hasn't had one in a couple years now," Ben sighed. "We were scared they would find a brain tumour or something for awhile. They haven't figured out what causes them, exactly, but it probably isn't going to kill him. They do tests every year for stuff like that. They do a whole case review on him every year. He just loves that."

"And he goes to the psychiatrist once a month," Alexander added. He frowned suddenly. "Psychologist or psychiatrist?"

Ben blinked. "There's a difference?"

"Yeah," Alexander told him, feeling like an ass for not knowing. "Fin always says his shrink. I should've found out before."

"Our uncle always did the investigating when it came to that stuff," Ben said. "I can't imagine he wouldn't investigate every possibility. Fin's probably been to both."

"Why was your uncle the one to check that stuff out?" Alexander asked.

"He knew what he was doing," Ben said. "I didn't. Fin was in no condition to."

"What about your father?" Alexander asked. "Finley doesn't speak about him. He told me how he died, that he wasn't supportive, but I got the impression that Finley was living with him then."

"He did and I should never have let him. I should have taken him to live with my uncle instead of having him back with our father," Ben said, his expression dark with anger. "I imagine at one point he must've been an okay guy, my mother always said he had changed by the time he left the army, wasn't the man she had first fallen in love with, but we never saw that man."

"I was living in a one bedroom apartment. It was very small and I wasn't there all day. Father was normally home but for all the attention he gave Fin he may as well not have been." Ben shrugged. "He gave Finley his medication on time, remembered to feed him. That was about it."

Ben shook his head. "And he couldn't always be counted on even for that."

He got the phone call on the base. He was supposed to be staying overnight, running drills, whipping recruits into shape. Everyone at the base knew about Finley, had since before he first came home a few months ago. No one talked about it but everyone knew.

As such, leeway was available.

So when Ben heard his brother's voice, smaller now somehow and always haunted and distant, he knew it was not an option to stay even before he knew what was wrong.

"What happened?" Ben asked.

"He's gone," Finley told him. "Since this morning, before I woke up."

"Who? Father?" Ben questioned.

"Yeah," Finley replied in what Ben thought was far too quiet a voice.

"Well, where the fuck is he?" Ben demanded.

"Don't know." And Ben swore at the tone of Finley's voice.

"I'm not mad at you, Fin," Ben told him, making sure to keep his voice gentle.

"I know," Finley said but Ben knew he hadn't.

"I'm coming to get you now, okay?" Ben told him.

"Sorry," Finley murmured.

"No, Fin, it's not your fault," Ben told him. "This isn't in your control."

"Right, sorry," Finley whispered.

Ben felt sick. "I'll be there soon, Fin, I'm coming."

"Okay," Finley replied.

Ben hung up without saying goodbye, regretted not saying goodbye. He shook his head, nothing to do about it, just needed to go pick up his brother.

The words, "Fin's in trouble," got him out of nearly anything when said to the right people. He was off the base within half an hour, heading to his father's tiny house.

There were no lights on and Ben understood, suddenly, why Finley had called then, though he had been alone all day. The sun was setting and he wasn't comfortable in the dark yet. He slept, when he slept at all, with all the lights on. Ben was trying to wean him down to a night light but he had to make sure he didn't push too hard too fast. He was terrified of pushing Finley too far and causing some sort of breakdown.

"Fin?" Ben called as he entered the too still house.

"Here," Finley's voice came, hoarsely, and Ben could hear the weariness in it.

Ben all but ran down the hall. Finley was in the bathroom, leaning uncomfortably against the tub, still in the old cut off sweat pants and sweater he always wore to bed now. The pants were on oddly and Ben spotted the small stain on them. He kept the curses he wanted to utter in, it would only embarrass Finley to draw attention to it. He had tried to get to the toilet, despite the pain it would've caused him to get to the bathroom, and he had been mostly successful.

Finley looked away from his brother. His face was flushed an ugly red from frustration and embarrassment. Ben felt like punching someone.

"Ah, shit, Fin," Ben murmured, kneeling beside him immediately.

"Sorry," Finley whispered.

"Not your fault. There's nothing you've got to be sorry for," Ben told him.

"Right, sorry," Finley agreed.

Ben felt like throwing up. It wasn't funny. God, it wasn't funny.

Ben put an arm across Finley's back and under his knees, against the plaster of the casts. Finley couldn't walk yet. Wouldn't be able to for awhile, he still had physiotherapy to face when the casts came off in a couple weeks. They had to rebreak his toes to reset them after he'd been rescued because they had begun healing improperly.

Even with the added weight of those casts Ben carried him easily. He'd gained weight since he had been home but he was still too thin.

Finley gave a low moan and tensed as Ben picked him up, careful of his arm which should have been in a sling and wasn't. He remembered Finley had said their father had been gone since before he woke up, and Finley always woke early. He'd have missed all of the day's medications.

Ben supposed he should be glad there were no bandages to be changed anymore. Putting Finley down on the bed, feeling the shudder that passed through him, Ben couldn't feel thankful for much of anything.

As he went to get the medications, he realized that Finley wouldn't have eaten anything either and swore. Most of the medications needed to be taken with food.

Ben decided to just get him out of there.

He threw Finley's stuff together quickly and went to chuck it into the car, but as soon as he opened the door he heard Finley call, "Ben!"

"Fin, it's okay, I'm only going to put your stuff in the car. I'll be right back to help you downstairs," Ben told him, hearing and seeing the sudden panic.

"Okay," Finley whispered but he was shaking horribly and Ben knew he couldn't leave him alone in that house again.

As he settled Finley into the car he noticed his free hand was clenched tightly and his lips were bloodless. He was in pain then. Ben paused and took the time to stroke the short hair back from Finley's face, frowning because it felt greasy and Finley couldn't stand that. The thought made Ben shudder too.

Ben's face was set in a grim mask as he went back upstairs to grab the bags. So there was a lot he should have noticed and hadn't in the past few weeks. There was nothing for it, he could only try to make it up to him.

They drove in silence. Finley had not stopped shaking. Ben didn't think he could stop.

Ben got Finley settled in his apartment, on the couch first, but knew he was giving his bed to Finley later. He fed him and got him to swallow his medications. The pills made him drowsy, forcing him to relax so that Ben could leave long enough to get a bath ready.

Bathing Finley was difficult. His casts had to be kept dry and it wasn't a good idea to get his sling wet either. Ben could manage that with a few garbage bags and by keeping them elevated on the sides of the tub.

But Finley didn't like being naked, either, or being touched, and could hardly stand the two together. Ben could get away with more than anyone but still had to be very careful when dealing with Finley. He didn't want to be the cause of any more set backs. The medications seemed to have made Finley relaxed enough to be limp and trusting as Ben lowered him into the warm, shallow water. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow, shallower than Ben liked but he couldn't have everything.

Ben washed him gently, carefully, trying to be the least threatening he could. Still vivid were the first days after Finley regained coherence, when every touch brought a flinch and Ben had to be so slow and careful with him it made him shake. It was normally, he had been told, but that didn't make him feel any better.

Finley didn't seem to react this time. Ben put it down to the drugs that were kicking in and took the time to wash his hair.

As he moved to get Finley out of the bath tub grey eyes flew open suddenly and Finley's breathing hitched. "Ben..."

"Shit!" Ben hauled him up and out of the bathtub and in front of the toilet just in time for Finley to throw up in it.

Holding Finley up he grabbed at a towel to try and dry him off and warm him up. It was awkward with Finley shaking and crying and dry heaving over the toilet. He managed to get him covered, folding him into a robe, one that their uncle had sent him a few years ago that had always hung on the back of the door but that he had never worn.

It served then, as he held his shaking little brother awkwardly against him, trying to get him to calm again, wondering what exactly had triggered the sudden reaction and knowing it was likely a combination of several things. It happened, he just needed to get Finley calm and settled again when it did.

And he did calm, eventually, trying to hold on to Ben and having trouble because of his hands, because he was still weak. Ben helped him rinse his mouth out and got him dressed and into bed again. He stayed with him until he slept, talking to him, thinking about how he had been alone in the silent house all day and wondering what the hell he would do tomorrow.

When morning came, after too little sleep and too many nightmares, Ben took Finley to the base. There was nothing else for it. He knew Finley was uncomfortable being seen but they didn't have a lot of options.

Finley stayed in the infirmary while Ben worked. The doctors were good to him. He was one of their own, after all.

There was no sign of their father for four days. Ben checked, if nothing else he wanted to yell at him, take the tar out of him for doing this to Finley.

It was on the fifth day after his sudden disappearance that their father's beat up station wagon reappeared in his driveway. Ben spotted it on his way to pick up groceries and turned immediately into the driveway, feeling his face heat with rage.

Fucking bastard, that fucking bastard...

Alexander sat very still and in silence for longer than Ben could stand.

"Say something," he growled.

Alexander looked at him and shrugged. "I can't find adequate words for that."

"Yeah, well." Ben ran a hand through his hair. "Finley never went back to live with him. He stayed with me. Eventually our uncle helped me get a bigger apartment and about two years later Finley moved out. He lived in the same building, for a while. Then a little further away, then where he does now. He needed that independence, after a while. Our uncle helped a lot."

"It was less than three months after that we found him dead. He called one day, asking both of us to come over. We swung by after Fin's physiotherapy appointment and that was the end of that," Ben said humourlessly.

Alexander shifted but didn't comment on that sentiment. "What happened when you confronted him?"

"He was an apathetic ass about it. Starting sprouting off some bullshit about dealing with it like a man. No trace of sympathy. I got really angry and decked him, broke his nose," Ben shuddered. "He laughed. You could tell his nose was broken and he started to laugh. It was... fucking creepy. I left, didn't go back until that day he called and asked. I had better things to worry about. I had Fin to look after."

Someone Stupid: I'm not sure Fin has enough left to do a display like that, not yet, at least. Denethor isn't very involved in this story. Which reminds me, Finley's father is not, strictly speaking, Denethor. and it'll be more explained later but, yeah, I don't do evil!Denethor in the same way but Fin and Ben's father, yeah, he was just fucked.

Hopeless Delirium: Fin's unsure of himself and he won't ever really go against Ben, but he isn't that beaten down, not by more than he thinks!

LadyJanelly: Sorry only makes everything alright when the problem is a small one and Finley is a very wary guy. Alexander, yeah, there will be more on the "mistakes" and why he did what he did soon because there's another big reason that they haven't discussed in detail. Ben IS cool. I want one for myself!

Seadragon: I just want to hug Finley all the time. Alexander will make things right or the author will figure out something horrible to do to him. Actually, Alexander will make things right, but so will Finley, in a way, or at least that's what I'm hoping.

LadyBush: They're together, they're just not entirely sure of themselves yet. Normally I wouldn't be giving away that much of the story BUT I'll make an exception in this case. Ben will die, because we all die, but he won't be doing it in this story. I don't have the heart to do that and if Ben died Finley wouldn't be around anymore. He might just not be able to handle it and even if he could there would be outside intervention by another family member and Finley would no longer be living in the States and thus no story. So no Ben deaths in this story!