Rook woke to the sound of his alarm going off, the same song that he heard every day bursting him unpleasantly from his exhausted haze.

Öyleyse iki mezar kaz, çünkü öldüğünde,
yemin ederim yanından ayrılma—

He reached over and shut it off with a grumble, rolling over in bed and pressing his face into the mattress. Habit was gnawing at Rook to get up and get showered and do his exercises, but he couldn't be bothered. He didn't get those few, blissful seconds of unawareness when he first woke up.

Ben was dead. It was Rook's fault.

He was going to have questions to answer. How was he supposed to answer the questions on some standard Plumber report when he could barely stand to think about it?

Twisting around again, Rook looked at his alarm clock with a frown on his face. Weird. He couldn't remember setting it the night before, but it still had woken him up at five in the morning like it was a normal day. He scowled at the thought — "normal" used to be wherever Ben was not, but Rook didn't see how anything could be normal again with Ben gone.

Come to think of it, it was weird that Rook had his pillow, too. He clearly remembered tearing it apart the night before. The memory made him twinge with embarrassment, glad that no one had been around to watch him react like that. But still, where had he gotten a second pillow from?

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, finally taking notice of his surroundings. Rook knew that he had fallen asleep still in his body suit, armor discarded on the ground, yet he was in his boxers the way that he normally slept and his floor was clear. The mess he had made the night before was gone. His closet was standing tall, his fake plant was at the foot of his bed, and all of his textbooks were organized in alphabetical order by author the same way that he always left them.

The pillow, Rook might have been able to accept as Gwendolyn stopping by to see him and Max letting her into his room, but everything else? No one could have cleaned his room that silently. It seemed so bizarre that anyone would bother. Not to mention the implications of undressing him and tucking him in properly.

He thought about it longer, but there was no other conclusion that Rook could reach for what had happened. He considered getting up and finding out, but he also couldn't fathom what there was to find out. So his room had been cleaned and someone had put him to bed. There were worse crimes to commit, Rook supposed. He didn't know where any sort of "investigation" would start and he really didn't want to waste his time on something so comparatively trivial.

The strange occurrence was pushed from his mind and Rook collapsed back down onto the bed. He didn't want to think, so he forced himself to focus on absolutely nothing at all. And nothing was better than thoughts of Ben. Rook clung to the haziness in his head and angled his head to blankly watch the time tick by.

Five in the morning faded into six, then seven, all in what felt like seconds. With every missed occurance on his schedule, Rook's mind filled in the blanks. He should be showered and dressed, having disassembled and reassembled the Proto-Tool. Then he would grab the standard morning rations from the cafeteria and do his Friday workout. After that, it was down to the garage, so that he would be on time for patrol with Ben.

But Ben wasn't going to be there. Not ever again. So what was the point of it all?

His communicator went of shrilly at exactly seven thirty-two. The noise made Rook wince. Hadn't had turned that off the day before? He fumbled for it, flicking the power-switch off without looking before dropping it back to his nightstand with a clatter. He was certain that it was either Gwendolyn calling to check up on him or Magister Tennyson there to demand Rook turn in his report on what happened, but as guilty as he felt for ignoring them, he couldn't handle it.

The clock continued to track the seconds ticking by. Rook told himself that, at the very least, he would get showered and dressed at eight. He knew that he wouldn't, but what was a little white lie? He had told Ben that they were partners, that they would always have each other's back, and clearly Rook had lied. It made his chest tight with frustration and despair.

It was seven forty-four exactly when there was a sharp, banging knock on Rook's door. That was the only warning that he got before it was swung open.

Rook shot up in bed, caught between shock and anger. He was sure that the door was supposed to be locked, not to mention the audacity that someone would have to possess in order to interrupt him after what happened the day before.

He started to shout, demand that the intruder leave, but the words never got past his open mouth. Rook felt his jaw go slack. No. No, it wasn't possible. Was he still asleep?

Ben stood in his doorway, silhouetted against the glare of the hallway, and reached over to flip on the light in the room, as if he wasn't supposed to be dead. "Rook!" There was a scowl on his face. "What the hell are you doing? First of all, you were late to patrol, and you're never late. To anything. I tried calling you, but it cut off after the third ring. I thought that you were being attacked or something! I asked Grandpa and he said that—" He suddenly seemed to take notice of Rook's appearance, upset giving way to concern. "Dude. Did something happen?"

How was Rook supposed to answer that? He felt caught between laughing and crying and punching the wall again. He snapped his jaw shut and, after a moment, managed to wheeze out, "I'm not entirely sure anymore."

Eyes widening, Ben looked at Rook with uncertainty before stepping further into the room. He had never been in Rook's room before, but Ben didn't let that stop him. He plopped himself on the bed right next to where Rook was sitting, as if he had been there a hundred times, and only hesitated a split-second before he set a hand on Rook's bare shoulder.

His hand was warm.

"Look, um, you know whatever's wrong, I'm here for you, Rook," Ben said awkwardly. "I… Okay, I'm awful at comforting people, but whatever this is seems pretty bad. Was it… something from home?" He paused. "Did someone die?"

He was going to have an aneurysm if the conversation was allowed to continue. Rook reached up to brush Ben's hand away, out of habit, and caught himself. He swallowed thickly and, shaking, wrapped his fingers around his partner's wrist. He didn't tighten his hold, afraid that to do so would make Ben disappear, but terrified that letting go would mean that he was never there at all.

"Ben," he breathed, "what day is it?"

There was a flicker of genuine worry on Ben's face, like he thought that Rook was going crazy. And, frankly, that was what it felt like. One eyebrow arched, caught between pulling away or staying, Ben nonetheless answered. "Uh, it's Thursday? Remember? The— mpf!"

The rest of what Ben was about to say was cut off when Rook suddenly jerked him forward, wrapping his arms around Ben and holding him tightly. He could feel coarse human hair tickling his chin, slender hands impulsively grabbing fistfuls of his fur, warmth pressed against him without armor in the way, and it felt incredible.

"Woah, hey, Rook!" Ben didn't pull away — thank Brallada — but he lifted his head enough to speak without Rook's fur muffling him and brought his arms up like he was fighting not to instinctively push back. "I'm not opposed to hugs, but seriously, what the hell? Are you alright? I-Is something wrong?"

Rook shook his head, tucking his face down against the top of Ben's head. It was the first time they had ever hugged and the realization made Rook feel like crying all over again. "No. Nothing is wrong, Ben. I am sorry for worrying you."

It all made sense. The day before had been nothing but a dream. A vivid and painful one, no doubt, but Rook couldn't find the words to properly express how relieved he was. Ben was alive. He was warm and solid, chest rising and falling with his breathing, pulse pounding to a steady beat, eyes bright and aware. He almost felt like he could kiss Ben, he was that glad to know that he'd experienced nothing but a nightmare.

There was a long moment where neither of them moved. Rook knew that he was behaving unusually, getting so worked up over a dream, but it had felt real. Startlingly real. He tried to remember the socially acceptable threshold for human hugs, but he was pretty sure that they had passed that about a minute ago. Even though he knew that he ought to, Rook wasn't all that eager to let Ben go. He wanted to remember the warmth of the skin against his fur. Just to remind himself — to prove to himself — that the dream was just that. A bad dream.

But eventually, Ben shifted in a mix of impatience and discomfort and Rook had to concede defeat and let go. He pulled back and let his partner get to his feet, watching blankly as Ben brushed his clothes off seemingly out of habit. A part of him still expected ash to sprinkle off, but there was nothing.

His staring didn't go unnoticed, though. Ben paused mid-motion and raised an eyebrow. "Okay, Rook. Dude. Seriously. You can sleep in if you want, I don't care, but this?" He gestured between them. "This is really starting to worry me. You keep looking at me like…" A pause, Ben's expression creasing in thought as he searched for the right words. "...like you're not convinced that I'm really here. I don't know what's wrong and I can't help if you aren't going to tell me." He offered Rook his hand anyway, looking endearingly confused. "Would holding my hand help? I don't really want to be hugged all day, if this is going to be a thing."

Yes, Rook thought, but shoved the thought away with a scowl. Any other day, he would scoff at the suggestion that he would need to hold someone's hand for comfort. But Rook let the question hang between them, frozen in indecision by the way that Ben was looking at him.

"No," he said finally. But he took Ben's hand anyway, letting himself be pulled to his feet before letting go of his partner as though burned. Rook shook his head. "I apologize for my current state. I will shower and dress. You can wait, uh…" He looked around his small, mostly empty room. "Wherever you like, I suppose. I can always call you." He couldn't call a dead man. Surely, that had to prove something?

Ben still looked far from reassured, but he nodded anyway and affixed a smile to his face. "Uh, yeah! Sure thing, dude. I'll go wait in the garage and then we can get on patrol whenever you're ready, okay?" For a moment, Rook almost thought that Ben was going to set a hand on his shoulder again. But then he shook his head, dismissing the notion, and left.

In the silence of his absence, Rook had to squash down the urge to go after him. Just to make sure that Ben would still be there when looked again. Rook wasn't going crazy, was he?

He shook his head and did his best to put it out of mind — which was all but impossible, but Rook tried. On autopilot, he gathered his body suit and armor before going to shower. Maybe the water and steam would make him feel warm again.

He wanted to stand in the shower for hours, not thinking about anything in particular, but Rook instead get himself cleaned and dressed in record time. He didn't even bother brushing his fur out. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Rook knew the reason for his behavior: Ben, of course. There was the irrational fear that, if he wasn't fast enough, Ben would be gone by the time Rook got to the hanger.

Skipping breakfast and his usual morning work out entirely, Rook's fur was still damp when he all but sprinted into the garage. He knew that he had to look unkempt and unprofessional, but all he cared about was spotting a head of brown hair between the uniform rows of Plumber cruisers. His heart was pounding in his throat, somehow convinced of both that Ben would be in the next place he looked and that he wouldn't be there at all. Rook wasn't sure which one scared him more, but he knew which one he wanted.

He jogged to the front of the garage, where he parked the Proto-TRUK, and visibly relaxed when he spotted Ben's car next to it. And a second after that, he found Ben, leaning against the DX Mark 10 and scrolling through something on his phone as though all was right with the world. As if he hadn't died in front of Rook less than a day before.

But, no. He hadn't. Rook had to take a deep breath to remind himself that it was just a dream. If he kept acting so weirdly, Ben was going to keep asking, and Rook knew that he would give in and tell Ben what he had seen eventually. It seemed so childish, to be terrified for his best friend's life over a dream, but Rook didn't have the words to express how real it felt.

Attempting to fake an appearance of calm, he smoothed his clumping fur back, cursing himself for not brushing it, and approached Ben. Once his footsteps sounded closer, his partner glanced up. There was still worry on his face, but his smile was genuine when he straightened up and put his phone in his pocket. From the other, Ben pulled an object that had Rook freezing in mid-step.

Not noticing, Ben chucked the apple Rook's way and set his hands on his hips. "Catch," he said playfully. "It took you, like, seven minutes to get here so I'm guessing that you didn't stop to eat. Well, you're in luck. Mom's on a fruit juice cleanse this week so we have plenty of fruit to go around. You have no idea what I had to go through to wrestle that away from her without having to send it through the blender first."

Rook said nothing. He turned the apple over in his hands as though looking at a rare jewel. Even what Ben said, it had been so similar to Rook's dream. The apple, the juice cleanse… How could he have known those things before they happened?

"Uh, Rook? You okay, buddy?" Ben's voice startled him from his thoughts. His smile was gone. "It's just an apple. I'm pretty sure that's an Earth fruit you like, right?"

Brallada, and Ben thought that the fruit was the problem. As if Rook wouldn't eat whatever he wanted them to try.

"I am fine," he lied, taking a bite of the apple as if that proved anything. It tasted wrong. "It simply reminded me of Revonnah for a moment and I got lost in thought. I apologize. Now, we have delayed patrol long enough. We should go." Rook said it because he knew that they had to, and yet, he couldn't help the queasy feeling in his stomach. If they went out on patrol and they got a call about a block of old buildings going up in flames… What was he going to do? Demand that Ben not go and help? As if he would ever do that.

Ben shrugged with one shoulder, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked from his car to the Proto-TRUK. "Sure. You know me, Rook. All about patrols," he drawled.

He got into the driver's side but, suddenly, Rook wanted to be anywhere else. He stared blankly at the wheel for a long moment before the reminder of Ben's presence next to him pushed Rook to uncomfortably start the TRUK. Why did he feel like he was making a mistake?

The clock on the dashboard said that it was eight in the morning. Okay. So they were late for their patrol, but they could still get a smoothie so Ben got something to eat. And then…

His grip on the wheel tightened as Rook guided the TRUK out of the garage and through the tunnel system that let out onto one of the less-busy streets of Bellwood. He was still stuck on his dream. There was supposed to be that attempted robbing of a research facility, then the call about the houses on fire, then…

It took all of his willpower to keep from reach over and grabbing Ben's hand. Just to feel the pulse at his wrist. Just to have that solid warmth as a reminder.

He wasn't dreaming. It all felt real. But then, the other day couldn't be a dream either.

Running on auto-pilot, Rook parked the TRUK outside of Mr. Smoothie's. The way that he always did. An action that was so routine, so familiar, that it shouldn't have filled him with such dread as it did. Ben, either not sensing his unease or not wanting to bring it up, hopped smoothly out of the TRUK without hesitation. Rook had barely finished parking and he bit back the age-old urge to chastise Ben for his impatience. Jumping out of a moving car could hurt him but, really, what was a twisted ankle compared to that broken and bloodied corpse he had dug out of the rubble?

"What do you want?" Ben asked once Rook got out of the TRUK. He already had his wallet out and was rifling through his bills to have the money on hand. "They've got new winter flavors, you know. I'll miss the pumpkin spice, but maybe you can get something fruity." He looked up at Rook and the smile on his face was strained.

He was trying to hard to force any degree of normalcy back into their relationship after what Rook had done that morning. Mentally, he berated himself for acting in such a way around Ben. The thought of eating something made his stomach roll but Rook forced a smile and said. "I will have a small strawberry one, Ben. I do not feel like flavor mixing today." Or any day. Rook doubted that he would feel normal ever again.

But he did hang back while Ben ordered and paid for the smoothies, as usual, and selected the same table that they always did. He selected the seat that gave him the best view of Ben and told himself that the Mr. Smoothie building was not about to collapse on him.

It didn't help. Even as Ben came back with two cups, Rook refused to relax, somehow convinced that rubble was going to fall out of the sky and it would be like his dream again.

Ben sat down across from him, saying something that Rook wasn't listening to. He didn't touch the smoothie in front of him, hands folded on the table and eyes fixated on Ben. Some small but very vocal part of Rook's subconscious was convinced that, if he looked away, Ben would disappear. So he focused on the rising and falling of his partner's chest, the animated way Ben gestured with his hands while he prattled on, and the slurping from his smoothie cup because dead things did not eat.

And therefore, Ben couldn't be dead. He wouldn't be dead. Rook couldn't take it again.

Their one-sided conversation about Christmas and Ben's upcoming birthday ended without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment from Rook. He said nothing while they left either, just stayed two steps behind his partner and tossed his untouched smoothie into the trash when he passed. Rook knew that Ben had noticed how he was acting, but he was grateful that questions weren't being asked. Yet. As concerned as Ben was, Rook didn't think that he could tell the truth. He didn't know how.

For whatever reason, Ben had decided that he wasn't going to ask, probably guessing that Rook didn't want to talk about it.

Still, it was hard to ignore the silence between them once they started on their patrol again and there was nothing to do but stare at the road. Rook spared glances at Ben along the way, watching him alternate between texting and staring out the window. He hated the quiet of the TRUK. It hadn't been so awkward between them since their first few days as partners, where Ben didn't bother trying to hide his distaste for having a partner.

Maybe Rook was overthinking things. It was possible that he was the only one feeling the awkwardness and Ben was perfectly content giving him space. He didn't know and he couldn't ask. Asking would mean opening up the door to talk about it and every second that passed made Rook more and more unsure that he was even capable of getting the words out. It sounded ridiculous. He was so off because of a bad dream? Ben wouldn't take that seriously, but… there were no words for Rook to describe how real it was, how certain he'd been that Ben was gone, how angry and miserable and guilty that realization made him.

That was the crux of it, Rook thought: he had never had to evaluate the extent of his friendship with Ben. It was more than partnership, more than working friends, more than family.

The sound of his alert going off was such a relief in the suffocating cabin of the TRUK that Rook almost cried. He snapped his hand out for it immediately, glancing at the time, and his stomach dropped into his feet. It was almost noon and the report was exactly what he was dreading it would be: an explosion had been set off at a research facility and a theft was currently in progress.

He barely heard the caller, hanging up as soon as he got the information. Rook couldn't breathe. It was happening again.

No. Anything but that.

Suddenly, Ben reached over, yanking the wheel toward him hard. The TRUK jostled as it was jerked onto the road's shoulder, narrowly avoiding slamming into a car stopped at a red light. Reflexively, Rook hit the brakes, snapping forward in his seat. His ears were ringing, but he didn't think that it was due to an injury. How long had Ben been yelling at him for?

Shaking his head, awareness came back to Rook. He felt his white-knuckled grip on the wheel, so tight that it was making his wrists ache. Horns were honking, set off by upset drivers. And Ben was only half in his seat, leaning over Rook and gripping him by the shoulders. There were equal amounts of upset and concern and fear in his eyes. His eyes. Rook wished that Ben wouldn't look at him. He wished that those eyes weren't so bright, so passionate, so green.

It was a good thing that he hadn't drank that smoothie, else Rook would be sick.

"What happened?" Ben asked, at a normal volume, but the loudness of it in what had been such a quiet cabin made Rook wince. "Rook. Seriously, I… what happened? I don't mean now, I mean earlier. What's got you acting like this?" When Rook didn't answer, he hesitated, then continued. "If you want, you can go back to base for today and, like, rest. I can handle this call alone, and—"

"No!" Rook shouted completely against his will, grabbing Ben's wrists before he had even thought to move his hands. He choked on his words. There was no way that he was going to let Ben out of his sight. After the failed robbery, there was going to be that fire, and then… But he couldn't tell Ben that he had seen it in a dream. That would never work. "No, I… I am fine, Ben. I do not know what came over me and I apologize for not paying proper attention to the road. It will not happen again," he promised in as even a voice as he could manage.

Ben's eyes were so green that it hurt. And they hardened, lips pressing into a displeased line. "No, you're obviously not. Rook, nothing you've done today has been normal. Not a single thing! Look at yourself!" He gestured at Rook with an incline of his head. "You realize that your armor pockets aren't even on, right? You didn't even get dressed the way you always do!"

With a surprised blink, Rook glanced down to discover that Ben was right. His utility pockets were detachable and he had forgotten to connect them when getting dressed for the day. How had he forgotten that?

Rather than answer Ben, Rook met his partner's glare with a challenging stare of his own and said nothing.

That only made Ben's scowl deepen. "Look, you don't have to tell me. But if you're not going to talk about whatever's got you like this, you should at least go back to base. You aren't in a state for fighting, Rook."

He still hadn't let go of Ben's wrists. "I will," he said after a moment of consideration. Before Ben could think that he had won, Rook added, "I will go back to base if you go with me. And I will go to the attempted robbery if you go. I am still your partner, Ben. You are not getting rid of me today."

Something in his eyes must have shown how serious Rook was about that. Ben was going nowhere without Rook for the rest of the day. Possibly the next few weeks, or anytime a fire was involved. His message, remarkably, got through. Rook saw Ben hesitate and that was the moment that he knew he had won.

With a groan of frustration, Ben pulled away and slid back down into his seat with a huff. "Fine," he muttered unhappily. "Just get us to the research building or whatever. But don't think I'm done with this."

Absently, Rook nodded as he returned his hands to the wheel. That was fine. They could have the same conversation over and over and over again if Ben wanted to, but Rook's position on the issue wasn't about to change. It was as though, to him, Ben was only still alive for as long as Rook was around to verify.

When they got back onto the road, the silence in the TRUK returned full-force. That time, Rook was certain that Ben felt the awkwardness too. Neither of them said a word, both stiff as a board. Even though Rook was speeding, it was the single longest drive of his life.

They stopped outside of the research facility in question and, just like in Rook's dream, one of Fistrick's lackeys had already been stopped and the experimental performance enhancers he had tried to steal were successfully recovered. Ben didn't say anything to Rook, merely staring at him hard for a long second before turning back to the half-destroyed building. Even though it wasn't surprising for him to choose Upgrade, it still left Rook rooted in his spot.

The minutes were ticking by. He didn't help with any of the repairs, unable to take his eyes off of Ben as the call he was dreading approached. Half-formed plans ran through his mind. Rook wanted so desperately to keep Ben away from that fire — he could ignore the call, distract Ben until the alerts stopped, concede to going back to base and turn his communicator off — but there were real people caught in that fire. How could Rook knowingly and willingly leave innocents to die just because of a realistic dream he'd had?

He couldn't. And some tiny, dark part of Rook hated it.

As he expected, the barrier holding back the press and bystanders was tipped over and Ben found himself cocooned by cameras and microphones. There was the same excitable fan from before, the same over-eager news anchor, the same Plumber who came to shoo them all away. It was all exactly what Rook didn't want to see.

He tensed when Ben finally came back over to the TRUK. No matter what he chose, the guilt was crushing. To let innocent people possibly die in a fire, or knowingly send Ben into a situation that he couldn't get out of?

Before he could stop himself, Rook put a hand on Ben's shoulder to stop him and blurted out, "You seem upset. What happened over there, with your fans?"

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to ask about. Ben's face twisted into a grimace and he shrunk away from Rook's touch with discomfort. "Nothing," he said dismissively. "I mean— They're fans. I like my fans. I'm not upset or anything, Rook. I can handle talking to a few cameras." Just as suddenly as it started, Ben's defensiveness was gone and he deflated. "Can we just go?" He muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "We can stop and get chilli fries for lunch. Or you can pick something out, I don't really care."

The offer surprised Rook. Usually, they didn't get lunch together because they both had very different preferences. Ben didn't like alien cuisine, much as Rook tried to get him more accustomed to it. He hesitated. It was tempting to say yes, of course. They could get something to eat, stay far away from any Plumber radios, and yet…

The decision was made for him. Inside the TRUK, Rook heard his radio chime with an incoming emergency call and he winced. Dread made him stiffen, wanting to take hold of Ben and keep him there until someone else could handle it, but his partner was already moving.

There was a protest on Rook's lips as he swung around to the driver's side of the TRUK. Ben already had the passenger door open and was seated, listening intently to the Plumber call. Even before Rook opened the door, he knew what he would hear. It felt like he couldn't breathe. He caught the end of the brief call.

"...police can handle the fire," the Plumber over the radio was telling Ben, "but they can't get everyone out. Do you two—?"

As if everything was fine, as if he hadn't died answering that call just the other day, Ben smirked confidently at the speaker. "Consider us already there. Just send the address." He hung up without waiting for an answer and gave Rook an impatient look. "Hurry up!" He waved his partner into the TRUK and it took up until then for Rook to realize that he hadn't moved. When he came back to himself, he was quick to slide into the driver's seat. "We got a call about a fire in the older part of the city. It sounds like it's getting really out of hand."

He should have said nothing and gone along with it — really, what were the chances of some dream Rook had predicting the future? — but he couldn't help but protest, "Is this really a job for us? It is not Plumber related. Surely the local authorities are already on it."

Ben shot him a glare, disgust interwoven with his surprise. "We save people," he said in such a voice that let Rook know there would be no arguing. "We save people even if they have nothing to do with space or aliens or the Plumbers, no matter who it is. I can't believe you would even—" He shook his head, moving for his seatbelt. "Whatever, Rook. I'll use XLR8 and get there faster, anyway."

With an uncontrollable surge of panic, Rook reached over and clamped down hard on Ben's wrist. "No!" He shouted. He knew that his hand was shaking but he wasn't about to let go. "No, I… you are right, Ben. Of course, I… I am not sure what came over me. We will go help. As partners," he said firmly, only slightly calmer than he had been a minute ago.

For a moment, it felt like Ben wanted to protest. He moved his mouth a few times but no sound came out. Finally, giving Rook an odd look, he tugged his wrist free and made no effort to move. "Fine," Ben said. There was an emotion on his face that Rook couldn't place. "Just hurry."

The relief wasn't enough to make Rook relax, but he nodded and released the grip that he had on Ben. He thought that his partner was about to make a break for it anyway but, after a few seconds where neither of them moved, Rook begrudgingly turned back to the wheel. As much as he didn't want Ben near that fire, surely being there with him would be better than letting him go alone.

He turned the TRUK's engine over and peeled away from the curb, swerving onto the street and in between cars. Ignoring all traffic laws, Rook arrived at their destination in barely a minute. Ben was right — XLR8 could have done it faster. The fire was just as it had been in Rook's dream, raging without pause and climbing high enough to flick the sun. Smoke and ash hung heavy in the air. In the middle of the street was the broken power line that had caused it all, still being whipped like the flames in the unforgiving wind.

Rook started to say something, only to look over and realize that Ben was no longer in the TRUK. With a start, he jumped out, jogging the few yards to where his partner was standing. Ben was taking in the scene, a thoughtful look on his face that had Rook's heart plummeting. Just like before, he knew what was coming before Ben even opened his mouth.

"You see what you can do about getting some of those people out of there, Rook," Ben said without looking at him, turning away to flip through the Omnitrix's options. "I'll handle the fire. The sooner that's gone—"

"Actually," Rook cut him off, startling Ben by setting a hand on his shoulder. At least it got his attention. "I would, um, prefer to be the one to handle the fire. Assuming that anyone in the buildings is pinned beneath rubble or trapped by the flames, you are much better suited to those extremes than I am."

Ben's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. Rook swallowed nervously. He would end up talking to Ben about it all later, he knew, but for the moment his partner said, "Fine. I'll see about rescuing people, you do what you can to stop those fires."

He waited until Ben had jogged off before turning to the still-sparking wire in the middle of the road. Rook grimaced. The fire wasn't his concern at all. Buildings could be replaced. People couldn't. And if Ben died in his dream because he had been electrocuted and caught off guard, then Rook would remove that threat. For his own peace of mind, if nothing else.

He ignored the fires behind him, instead facing the electrical wire in the street and frowning in thought. At the very least, if he could coat the sparking end and stick it to the pavement, there would be no risk of anyone being electrocuted. Rook wasn't sure if the Proto-Tool had a function for that, though. An energy shield would only make the pulses stronger, his laser wouldn't accomplish anything good, drenching it with his little hose was definitely a bad idea…

Maybe Rook had made the wrong call in asking Ben to handle something else. He could have simply made sure that his partner chose an electrical alien and left it at that.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of pounding feet. Alarmed, Rook looked up, and was even more stressed to see Ben running toward him — obviously not in an alien form and obviously not doing anything to rescue civilians.

"What are you doing?" Rook couldn't help the pitch in his volume. His thoughts were a long stream of curses. "Ben, this is not what we agreed upon! You should not be here!"

"Yeah, and neither should you!" Ben snapped back impatiently. "I knew that you didn't know what to do! You've been acting weird all day and I wasn't expecting this to be any different. Rook, for the last time, just go back to base! I can handle this by myself and you're going to end up getting someone killed like this."

Rook was going to retort, but he couldn't. All he saw was the bloodied and battered corpse of his partner on the ground.

Maybe Ben sensed that he had hit a sore spot or maybe he was just going to insist again that Rook leave, but either way, he opened his mouth. Whatever he was about to say never got out. The building next to them groaned and Rook felt his stomach drop into his knees.

Caught off guard, Ben looked up at the four-story building. His eyes widened as he realized that it was beginning to tilt under the force of the fire and the wind both. He went to slap the Omnitrix, but Rook didn't give him the chance,

On autopilot, he grabbed Ben by the wrist and yanked him hard out of the way. Rook didn't turn to look back, running as fast as he possibly could. It was happening again.

"Rook!" Ben grunted out his name and, unable to keep up, his hand slipped free of the iron grip that Rook had on it.

He cursed loudly and swung around, but by that point, it was too late. Ben spared on look at the building, seconds from collapsing, and swiveled around to Rook. That was worse, somehow — being close enough to see all of those emotions pass over Ben's face in only a moment. There was desperation, anger, sadness, and then acceptance. Before Rook to even think to say something, Ben planted both hands on his chest and shoved Rook as far out of the way as he could.

Surprised, Rook stumbled back and tripped over a crack in the road, hitting the ground hard. He winced as fallen rubble spilled out over his feet and legs, shielded from the worst of it by his armor. Even if he hadn't been, Rook doubted that he would have been able to feel the pain through the adrenaline pounding through him. He lurched back up onto his knees. "Ben!"

And there was his hand. Fingers, caked in soot and ash, twitched from between chunks of brick and plaster. If Rook strained, he could almost hear Ben groaning. He frantically darted forward, shoving rubble out of the way like a man possessed. Rook knew he was hyperventilating, but Ben was alive, and if he was going to stay that way, he needed to get out of the street and into an ambulance.

It seemed like every time Rook moved a piece of the building, another one tumbled down to fill in the gap. He was chucking bricks in every direction, completely uncaring for the audience or any onlookers. Rook almost cried when he finally, finally moved enough of the building out of the way to hook his hands under Ben's arms and pull him free of the rubble.

As soon as he had, Rook winced. It didn't look good. Ben had an ugly, bloody gash on the back of his head where he'd been hit on the way down. One of his legs was mangled, the leg of his pants torn away to reveal a mess of hanging skin and what Rook hoped wasn't bone.

He knelt down, trying to keep Ben comfortable, and cupped the back of his neck to keep pressure off of that head gash. Rook tapped Ben's cheek lightly with his thumb. "Don't do this to me. Not again. Please, please, please…" He muttered like a prayer. Ben's chest was still rising and falling, but only barely. At his wrist, the Omnitrix was sparking and glowing bright enough that it hurt to look at. It didn't look damaged, but Rook was too preoccupied with Ben's physical state to worry about the finicky device. He didn't dare shake his partner when he had a head injury, but Rook couldn't keep from shouting. "Ben! Please, open your eyes!"

And then, miraculously, they did. Ben's eyelids fluttered. He opened his mouth as though to groan, but not a sound came out. Slowly, his eyes opened. They looked at Rook, but didn't see him, out of focus and the color dimmed as though someone had put a film in front of Ben's eyes. They didn't close, but they stopped moving entirely.

Rook felt his heart stop. He anxiously bent down to press his ear against Ben's chest, grabbing his partner's wrist with his other hand. In both cases, he didn't feel or hear any heartbeat. No. No, Rook refused to drag Ben from the rubble just to let him die in his arms.

He set Ben down flat on the ground and pressed both hands over his chest. Breathing heavily with the effort, Rook pushed down as hard as he dared. He knew that humans were fragile, but a broken rib was better than death, wasn't it? His eyes were blurring with tears, but Rook didn't need to see to count out thirty quick compressions. He paused to grab Ben's chin, lifting his head up to press their mouths together and gave two hard rescue breaths. Nothing. He cursed, loudly, and resumed the compressions.

"Ben, please," Rook begged, frantic. "Please breathe. You can't do this, you can't die. I'll never forgive you if you die on me now." Two more breaths. Thirty compressions. Two more breaths. Still nothing.

He was pushing harder, more and more desperate. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen… Then there was a loud crack and a rush of air came out of Ben's mouth that had nothing to do with breathing. Slowly, horrified, Rook removed his hands and looked to Ben. For all of his attempts at CPR, there was no change to his partner. Green eyes remained open and vacant, lips parted, skin already losing its color. Despite it all, Ben didn't look like he was in pain. In his final moments, he was almost serene.

Rook wished that he could say the same about himself.

He turned away from Ben and bent over himself, convulsing as he dry heaved between his legs. Nothing came up, so Rook couldn't call it vomiting. His mouth burned with bile that he choked down, rubbing at his damp eyes until they were dry and stinging. It felt as though he was trying to vomit out his insides. And Rook almost wanted to — maybe if he did, he wouldn't feel like he was the one who had died.

Unlike in his dream, when the Plumber-issued ambulances arrived, Rook didn't stick around. He brushed by all of them without a word, listening as they found Ben and loaded him up, but refusing to watch. A few tried to call out to Rook. He didn't acknowledge them and no one tried to follow him.

He was certain that driving in his current state was a bad idea, but Rook was devoid of the ability to care. When he started the TRUK's engine, he almost hit someone because he had put it into reverse instead of drive. It didn't concern him. He corrected the mistake and slammed on the gas, as though he could somehow travel fast enough that he wouldn't have to think about what he was leaving behind. But it was all that Rook could see or think, all that consumed his thoughts. The Omnitrix wasn't supposed to let Ben die, so why did it?

Why did Rook let him die again?

Arriving at the Plumber base, Rook was only saved from crashing thanks to a year of ingrained habits. He was barely seeing the road. As a matter of fact, when he parked in the garage and sank back in his seat, he couldn't remember any of the drive at all.

The panic never faded, but it was as though Rook had grown numb to it. As though he was feeling it through someone else's body. On shaky legs, Rook left the TRUK. He only barely remembered to grab his keys and lock it. He wished that he had just stayed sitting in the driver's seat, though. Because parked next to the Proto-TRUK, looking like it had come straight off the showroom floor, was Ben's car. Still there. Untouched, almost perversely so.

He wasn't aware of the desire to move, only that Rook suddenly found himself standing next to Ben's car. His hand hovered over the hood, but he didn't dare touch it. That shade of green was making him sick. The color of Ben's jacket, of the Omnitrix, of his eyes…

Rook's mind was short-circuiting. He couldn't reconcile the terrified, wide-eyed look of Ben being crushed beneath a crumbling building with the acceptance Rook had seen as the light in Ben's eyes slowly dimmed. Two deaths. One person. Exactly as heart-wrenching as it had been the first time.

His thoughts ended there, interrupted as a fist connected with Rook's jaw and sent him to the ground on hands and knees.

"How could you?" Someone shouted, or shrieked, more aptly. Rook recognized the voice, but it still took him looking up to see Kevin looming over him to make the connection between the statement and the bruise forming along his jaw. Distantly, Rook wondered how long he had been standing there, alone in the garage. Kevin looked like he wanted to hit Rook again and was only barely restraining himself. "This is all your goddamn fault! You were supposed to protect him! You're his shitting partner! How could you let this happen?"

Kevin drew his leg back for a kick. Though Rook didn't make any attempt to dodge or stop him, the blow never landed. A magenta mana shield sprung up between them and Kevin's leg bounced off of it with a dull thud. He shouted in frustration and punched the shield, whirling behind him to glare at his girlfriend.

"I told you not to follow me!" Kevin snapped at Gwendolyn. On normal days, the look on her face could immediately shut him up, but Kevin wasn't in a rational mindset. Rook couldn't blame him. "It's his fault that Ben is dead! You know, I know it, he knows it! This is the least that he deserves. Don't try to stop me!"

"Enough, Kevin! We aren't doing this right now!" Gwendolyn shot right back. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her face was puffy. It looked like any moment she might burst into tears, but she faced Kevin firmly anyway. "Punching Rook isn't going to fix anything."

They could have argued for hours, but Kevin's response was cut off by a whimper. Surprised, they both turned to see Rook, still on the ground. He had curled over himself, pressing one hand over his mouth in an attempt to keep quiet as his vision blurred with tears and his throat constricted around involuntary sobs. "I'm sorry," he whispered, because any louder and he knew his voice would crack. "You're right. It's all my fault. Ben is… He's not…"

The mana shield was dropped and Gwendolyn fell to her knees at Rook's side. She threw her arms around his shoulders, clutching him as tightly as she could with his armor in the way. He felt her lips move against his fur as she started to speak, but Kevin beat her to it.

"It should've been you." Spoken with such conviction that Rook didn't think to protest it.

At his side, Gwendolyn went absolutely rigid. She did nothing for several achingly long seconds. Then, finally, she let out a shaky breath against Rook's ear and stood. Grabbing his hands, she tugged him to his feet alongside her, an arm around Rook's back to support him even though he didn't need help to walk.

"Let's get you to your room," she coaxed. "You should rest, Rook. We'll all feel a lot calmer in the morning." Gwendolyn didn't look at Kevin as they passed him. If she had, Rook wasn't sure that even she knew what she might do. Either way, Kevin didn't try to stop them or follow, and they left the garage leaning on each other. Not for physical support, as Rook had first thought, but so that neither of them had to hide their tears alone.

Somehow, Gwendolyn knew where his room was. Rook might have told her, but everything felt fuzzy and other-worldly. He was still crying, but the sobbing had stopped. There was no indignancy or anger — not after what Kevin had said.

He was right. It was Rook's fault. It should have been him.

"I'm sorry," he repeated once Gwendolyn shut his bedroom door behind them. She nudged him over to the bed and Rook sat without protest. "I was right there. I should have… When I gave him CPR… It should have turned out differently. The only reason Ben is..." Rook still couldn't bring himself to say "dead," "...is because I failed him."

Gwendolyn didn't respond at first. She found the clasps for Rook's chest plate and released it, systematically stripping the pieces of his armor down until Rook was left in his sleek, black bodysuit. It didn't make him feel any lighter.

"It's not your fault," she said eventually, through pursed lips. "What Kevin said… It was way over the line. He's hurting right now, Rook. I'm sorry that he took it out on you."

Slowly, Rook shook his head. "Why aren't you angrier?" He breathed. "How can you forgive me for this?"

"I just told you. It's not your fault." Gwendolyn bent over to be at eye-level with him and set a comforting hand on his knee. He had no idea what sort of expression she was making — Rook couldn't bear to make eye-contact with her. "And even if it was, I would still forgive you. It's what Ben would want."

Rook swallowed hard, but there was still a lump in his throat. He twisted around and laid down across his bed, closing his eyes so that he didn't have to see her. "You're wrong," Rook muttered. "It is my fault. It's all because of me. Because I didn't… You shouldn't forgive me."

He heard Gwendolyn sigh, most likely going to continue trying to prove her point, but Rook didn't hear it. By the time she found her words, he was already asleep.

A/N: The ending for this fic is still a long way off. I have two possible conclusions in mind, so tell me what you guys think: they're both depressing as hell, but one of them has a hopeful note and the other is only misery. Comment your thoughts so I can plan accordingly.