Öyleyse iki mezar kaz, çünkü—

Rook knocked his alarm clock off of the nightstand as he sat up with a jolt. It clattered to the ground and broke with a crash, but he didn't care. Again, he had been woken by an alarm that he hadn't set and, again, Rook was wearing pajamas that he hadn't put on.

So, did that mean…?

In a hopeful panic, Rook sprung out of bed. He grabbed his Proto-Armor and struggled into his body suit before pulling it on. He thought about showering, but couldn't be bothered. There was something far more important on his mind.

Barely three minutes after getting out of bed, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Rook was sprinting down the hall. He barely passed anyone and didn't stop the entire way to the garage. Once there, he noticed that Ben's car was gone which, again, only reinforced what he already suspected. He jumped into the Proto-TRUK and jammed the keys in, turning the ignition and peeling out of the Plumber base at speeds that definitely would have gotten him in trouble if anyone had been around to see.

It was five in the morning, so the streets of Bellwood were clear. Which was good, because Rook didn't stop at any of the red lights and the last thing that he wanted was to cause a car wreck. He told himself it was because he didn't want to hurt civilians, which was true, but that was only his second thought. His first priority was getting to Ben as quickly as possible.

Arriving outside of the Tennyson home, Rook parked the TRUK haphazardly, half on the sidewalk, and only just remembered to turn the engine off and put it in park before getting out. He ran up to the front door and knocked. Although, "knocking" was far more polite than what Rook was actually doing, which was banging on the wood as hard as he could with his fist and barely resisting the urge to scream.

A light inside flicked on and Rook dropped his hand, heart in his throat. If he was wrong, he wasn't sure if he would be able to handle it…

The door swung open to reveal Carl Tennyson, squinting at Rook through his tiredness and wearing a fluffy blue bathrobe with matching slippers. "Rook?" He asked, confused. "What are you doing here? It's five in the morning. Ben's shift with you doesn't start for another couple of hours."

He caught on a breath. That confirmed it — if Ben was dead, Carl wouldn't have implied that they had a shift together soon. Normally, Rook had the highest respect for Ben's parents, but he really didn't have the patience for it at the moment. He was already0 contemplating shoving the man out of the way to get to Ben's room. "Apologies, sir," he responded reflexively. "I need to see Ben immediately. It is an emergency. Is he—?"

"Dad?" Ben's voice interrupted him and Rook froze. His partner wandered out of the hallway that led to his room, wearing a loose t-shirt and shorts with his hair mussed from sleep and muffling a yawn. "What's going on? Someone at the door?"

"Um, yes." Carl nodded. "Rook, he was—"

The man chose that moment to step back from the door, probably to give Ben a clear view of his partner, but Rook took the opportunity. He rushed forward, nearly knocking Carl over in the process. Ben had just long enough to look surprised before Rook wrapped his arms around him, embracing Ben tightly. He tucked his partner's head under his chin, taking in the feeling of soft, human hair tickling his fur. It was an even split between crying or sinking to the ground with Ben still in his arms, but Rook managed to resist both of them.

"Oh, Brallada…" He breathed, and Rook felt all of the tension drain from his body. "You're alive. Ben. You're alive. I thought… I was so sure that you…"

Rook cut himself off there, unable and unwilling to finish. He suddenly bent over, breaking the hug only to press his ear against Ben's chest. Sure enough, Rook heard the steady thumping of a heart. And he couldn't be sure without an x-ray machine, but it didn't feel like Ben had any broken ribs. He was alive.

Again.

The moment was broken when Ben shifted in Rook's hold, obviously uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah, I'm alive. Last I checked, anyway. Do you think you could let go? Or, like, loosen your grip at all there, dude?"

With a start, Rook finally noticed that the grip he had on Ben's forearms was bruisingly tight. He quickly dropped his hands, taking a step back. "Yes. Of course. I apologize, Ben, I…" Rook trailed off again.

He stared at Ben instead, taking in everything that proved his partner was alive. Standing up and talking to him was a good indicator, but Rook was enthralled with the rise and fall of Ben's chest as he breathed, the slight part of his lips on every exhale, the nervous habits that kept him from standing completely still.

A full minute passed in complete silence before, awkwardly clearing his throat, Carl shut the front door and walked over to Ben. He still looked unsure and confused but clapped a hand on his son's shoulder with a smile that was genuine. "Do you have everything under control here?" He asked quietly.

Ben gave a nod. "Yeah, Dad, I'm fine. You can go back to bed if you want."

Nothing more was said between them. Carl ruffled Ben's hair before disappearing down the hall, back to bed with his wife.

Alone with Ben, Rook wasn't sure what to say. He knew that he ought to explain himself after showing up so early in the morning and waking Ben, but with the confirmation that his partner was alive, Rook suddenly felt ridiculous. It was just a dream. There was no reason to panic. But it was odd that he had had the same dream twice in a row and not a day had passed in between them.

It was quiet for a moment. Rook could hear Ben's parents settling back into bed through the thin walls. Once things were quiet from their room, Ben sighed. "Are you okay, Rook?" He asked, tired but still honestly concerned. "You used a contraction. Twice. And you hugged me," he pointed out.

The fact that hugging Ben was as rare as a contraction for him made Rook wince. Were they really that distant in their friendship? Was he really that distant?

"Yes," Rook agreed absently. "I did." He said nothing else.

He was grateful for the silence, however tense it was, though it didn't last long. Ben frowned, looked Rook up and down, and arched an eyebrow. "Are you going to tell me why?" He pressed. "It's five in the morning, Rook. I figured you would have an explanation."

An explanation was an awful lot to ask for. Mostly because Rook still didn't really know how he was going to deliver one. Ben deserved one, eventually, but for the moment… Rook tried to move his lips but nothing came out. The words had dried up. What was he going to say? That a nightmare had driven him to his best friend's house at five in the morning like the world was ending? That he had been about ready to break down in tears at the sight of Ben alive and well? That Rook was memorizing the sight of him — bedhead and old pajamas in all their glory — because a part of him was still convinced that Ben would disappear if he looked away?

Instead, all he could do was shake his head. Rook looked down at his feet, ashamed. "I am not ready to talk about it," he muttered. "I apologize for waking you and your parents, Ben. I will see myself out and leave you to sleep." Not that he would go far. It sounded a little obsessive, even to him, but Rook wasn't sure if he could bare pulling the Proto-TRUK away from the curve if Ben wasn't in the passenger seat.

He didn't get the chance to turn away. Ben closed the few feet of distance between them to set a hand on Rook's arm. The touch brought upon the sudden, ridiculous thought that Rook would have liked to be wearing something other than his armor so that he could feel it properly.

"You don't have to talk about it, dude." Ben muffled a yawn with his free hand, brushing his bangs back and staring at Rook with still-bleary eyes. He scrutinized his partner for a moment, then said, "Look, if you're upset or whatever… That's fine. You can hang out a little if you don't want to be alone or something. I know you don't have a lot of options for hangouts on Earth." He smiled and dropped his hand, letting his hair hang in front of his eyes again. "Wanna watch TV? It's a Thursday morning so there's probably nothing good on, but you can probably find something bearable if you click through channels long enough."

Watching Earth TV sounded about as enjoyable as watching paint dry, which was an apt comparison because Rook had done both of those things. But Ben was practically handing him an excuse to stay and Rook would have to be brain dead to refuse. His answer barely required even a moment of thought.

"Yes. Please." Rook paused. "I… thank you for the offer, is what I meant. That would be much better, Ben." Internally, he winced at his response.

Blessedly, Ben didn't call him out on it. He smiled, a little forced and a little tired, but mostly earnest. And that was the important part. Ben dropped the hand that had been on Rook's arm and walked over to the couch. He swiped the remote off of the coffee table and plopped down on one side while Rook sat down more gently on the other end. The remote was tossed in his general direction and Rook caught it without having to think about it.

"Alright, dude. The TV's all yours." Ben gestured at the screen in front of them with a sweep of his arm. He had already scrunched up into the corner of the couch, reclining enough to put one foot up on Rook's knee while the other stayed on the ground. It looked like he was seconds from falling asleep again. "Go crazy. Seriously, I won't judge. Just don't try to watch anything that asks for a credit card payment."

Looking away from Ben suddenly felt like it was asking for too much. He had his arms crossed over his chest, head propped up against the arm of the couch. Ben just looked so relaxed. Rook kept trying to line up the current image of his best friend with the corpse he had held, touched, as real as anything in his arms. He couldn't do it. Were they the same person? It made no sense — it wasn't plausible — that Ben Tennyson could ever be dead. That he ever had been, that Rook had seen it, continued to baffle him to no end.

When Rook still hadn't made a move to turn the TV on, Ben glanced over at him and arched an eyebrow. There was a smile on his face but only put there in an attempt to hide his confusion and worry. "Do you need me to show you how to work a TV remote?" He joked. When that didn't garner a reaction, Ben frowned. "Why are you staring at me?"

Rook hurriedly looked away. "It was nothing. I thought that I saw a spider on the wall behind you, but it was simply a shadow." The lie slipped out smoothly, much more easily than it should have. Ben didn't even twist around to check. He just nodded, accepting Rook's words as truthful and trusting them. The mere idea of "trust" stung like bile, all the way down his throat. Wasn't Rook a hypocrite to speak of trust, as if he had any idea what it meant.

He said nothing else and Ben seemed content with the silence. Rook turned the TV on and, before he could convince himself not to, set his other hand on Ben's ankle. It seemed fair to him, he thought. If Ben could put his foot up on Rook's knee, then he could rest his hand there. It was a simple touch that shouldn't have been as nerve-wracking as it was. Rook was wearing his armor and Ben had socks on, so there wasn't even the possibility of bare-skin contact. It didn't matter, though. Just having that weight, the little shifts every time Ben adjusted his position, helped Rook to relax. He kept his eyes firmly glued on the TV but didn't take any of it in. He wasn't even sure what he was watching.

Dead bodies didn't move. Ben was alive. They were both fine.

Dimly, somewhere in the back of his mind, Rook was aware of time passing. The sun was rising, though the living room windows were only on one wall and angled in such a way that Rook couldn't see the eastern horizon. Light filtered into the room and birds called. Rook muted the TV without really thinking about it, head tilted to listen. Funny. He hadn't seen a sunrise since he left Revonnah. Every morning and every night was steel walls, standard living quarters, and pitch blackness.

Something possessed him to stand. Rook glanced over at Ben, but he had fallen asleep some time ago. Considering how tired he had been, Rook wasn't surprised. He lifted Ben's foot up and gently set it on the ground next to his other one before getting up. The couch shifted without his weight but Ben didn't so much as stir.

He crossed the room to the large windows, pushing the lacy curtains out of the way to glance outside. The view shouldn't have been anything special. It was a typical suburban neighborhood, with cookie-cutter houses all in a row and white-picket fences that stretched as far as the eye could see. Rook had seen it dozens of times before, picking Ben up in the morning. He watched a squirrel run up a tree and saw the top of the sun breaking the horizon. Humans always likened the sunrise to new beginnings and unimaginable possibilities. To Rook, such a thing sounded ridiculous. He turned away from the window and paused.

The TV was still on, playing a muted infomercial for some sort of cleaning product. Ben had sunk further into the couch, arms slackened at his sides and his legs stretched out on the ground in front of him. His head was lolling back, mouth parted. There was a bit of drool down his chin and he wasn't snoring, exactly, but made soft huffing sounds with every breath. The way that the rising sun hit him, Rook had the curious idea that he understood. It was a new day. There were limitless chances.

The dreams were a very clear sign. No matter what, Ben was going to live through the day. He was going to see tomorrow's sunrise. And maybe he'd groan and complain about Rook driving over to his house and hauling him out of bed to watch the sky for a few minutes, but it would be worth it. At least Ben would be there. Anything was better than his silence.

It took Rook a long time to convince himself to look away from Ben. He pulled his communicator out of his pocket (ones that he had remembered to attach, unlike in his second dream) and checked the time. It was barely seven in the morning. Resolutely, Rook turned it off and put his communicator away. He could blow off patrol for one day, he reasoned. It would be worth Magister Tennyson's upset if Ben never even heard about that fire.

The thought of all of those people in the fires made Rook's insides twist into knots. He couldn't find a way to justify that to himself, so he didn't try. He did his best to put it out of mind. Later, the guilt would eat Rook alive, but he would take it over the crushing emptiness of having to face Ben's death for the third time.

He sat back down on the couch, careful not to jostle Ben. It didn't seem necessary to be overly careful, though. Ben was fast asleep. It felt like something that he really needed.

Deeper in the house, from the direction that the bedrooms were in, Rook heard an alarm go off. He smiled faintly to himself. Seven o'clock exactly. It was just like Ben to set an alarm that only left himself with fifteen minutes to get showered and dressed. No wonder he was always leaving the house without breakfast.

He was considering getting up to turn it off himself, but then there was the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by the alarm shutting off. Soft, padding steps were muffled by the hallway carpet and Sandra Tennyson stepped into the living room wearing a sleep robe over fluffy pajamas, feet tucked into bunny slippers. She arched an eyebrow at Rook and Ben on the couch, but broke off to yawn and continued to the kitchen without breaking stride.

"Good morning, Rook," she said warmly. "You were here early. Did something happen?"

Thankfully, she had her back to the couch, so she didn't have to see Rook wince. Just the other day, he had been contemplating how to tell her that her son was dead. And she wanted to ask if "something happened."

He pulled himself back together and shook his head. "No, Mrs. Tennyson. Nothing is the matter." Rook paused and, tentatively, forced out the closest thing to the truth that he could stomach saying, "I merely wanted to see Ben." Wanted to see him alive and breathing, with his own eyes, just to verify.

The floor plan of the Tennyson household left them with an open kitchen and dining room, so Rook didn't need to strain to hear Sandra at all. Even as he spoke to her, his gaze was lingering on Ben. It had suddenly occurred to Rook that, so long as he was asleep, he could stare at Ben for as long as he wanted without anyone around to call him creepy for it. Not that it was any less creepy, but at least no one else had to see.

"That's sweet of you," Sandra replied distantly, like she hadn't really heard. "Shouldn't you wake him up? His alarm just went off and you have patrol together, don't you?"

Something in her tone made Rook's throat close up. He wondered if he ever could have had that with his parents — the casualness that came with true acceptance. When he had first met Sandra and Carl, Rook hadn't been able to believe that they really, genuinely supported their son risking his life, day in and day out. But they did. They were so proud of Ben, so happy just to see that he was happy, so unwavering and unconditional, and…

Rook blinked away the stinging sensation in his eyes and sighed. "I suppose that I should." A pause, from both of them. There was no sound from the kitchen. "But things have been quiet recently. There are plenty of Plumbers stationed here already. Permitting Ben a few more hours of sleep doesn't seem unreasonable to me." If Ben could sleep the whole day away, that would be just perfect for Rook.

It was just a chuckle but, somehow, the noise that Sandra made was both amused and approving at the same time. "In that case, you might want to take him back to his room and lay him down. I'm going to start the blender soon and I think that thing could wake the dead."

Ah, right. Her juice cleanse. For some reason, the thought didn't alarm Rook. He was more concerned with the idea that he had had the same dream twice, without having any time awake in-between. It didn't feel like a dream but, then, what could it be? It felt like Rook was missing something just out of reach.

"I can carry him," Rook responded with a sigh. He stood up and hesitated, looking down at Ben. The last time he had held his partner, in that position, it hadn't been because Ben was sleeping. The memory — blood and plaster matting his hair, the unnatural angle of his bent leg, the gentle sound of air leaving his lungs for the last time — made Rook wince.

From the kitchen, Sandra said something in response but Rook was no longer listening. He bent over, slid one arm under Ben's knees and curled the other behind his back. Before he could change his mind, Rook hefted him up. He was surprised at the solidness of Ben in his arms. In the back of his mind, Rook had imagined that Ben wouldn't weigh very much. And he didn't, technically. But that wasn't really what had caught Rook off-guard. It was the sturdiness of holding another person, the intimacy of Ben shifting and tucking his face against Rook's neck.

It felt dirty. After what he had witnessed just the day before (two days before?), Rook didn't feel right holding Ben as though he was something precious. As though Rook might actually be able to protect him. He grimaced. At least the movement hadn't woken Ben up.

Turning toward the hall, Rook took care not to hit Ben against the walls as he turned corners. He knew where his partner's room was, but not because he had ever been there. The first time he had visited, Ben had half-heartedly gestured down the hall and, sure enough, the door at the very end was his disaster of a bedroom.

There were shelves and cubbies with collectibles stacked on top of and inside of them, spilling out into the mess of trash on the floor. Books and discarded papers and empty Mr. Smoothie cups dotted the carpet. Posters clung crookedly to the walls and blankets were hung up along the ceiling.

Rook stood in the doorway for a moment, taking it in. The bedroom was exactly what he had expected and, yet, it made him uneasy. It felt as though he was trespassing somehow.

He shook the thought away and crossed the room to Ben's bed. As gently as he could, Rook laid his partner down and stretched him out. The blanket was hanging sideways off the bed away, so Rook threw one end over Ben and called it good. Sunlight scattered threw his open blinds, dangerously close to the bed, so Rook walked over and shut them as quietly as possible. After a moment's thought, he went ahead and shut Ben's bedroom door, too. There would be no light or sounds waking Ben up until he was ready.

Despite himself, Rook's eyes caught on something. He didn't want to snoop or pry, but Ben was asleep and an increasingly vocal part of Rook felt intruding to be staring at him while he was sleeping. Hanging above the foot of Ben's bed on a hook was a worn letterman jacket, an obnoxious shade of green with the number "10" printed boldly over the heart.

Obviously, Rook knew what it was. He had seen pictures of Ben wearing it plenty of times before, both from Gwen or Kevin and in his history textbooks at the Plumber Academy. He approached it before he could change his mind, running his fingers lightly along the stitching. Seeing the jacket, Rook felt his chest tighten painfully. The entire room was hard to look at. It was Ben's room. And it was so full of life. Pictures of him with friends and family, years of collecting for the franchises he loved, dirty and scuffed and lived in, in a way that Rook's bare room at the Plumber base would never be.

Ben had so much going for him. He always had. And yet, he had died. Twice. And Rook had watched, useless right to the very end.

He dropped his hand away from the jacket and sank down into Ben's desk chair. Propping his elbow on the desk and his chin in his hand, Rook faced the bed and closed his eyes. He could dimly hear Sandra moving around the kitchen and Carl getting into the shower, but mostly, he could hear Ben's breathing. And weird dreams or not, that would have to be enough for Rook.

It would hopefully be a few hours until Ben woke up. Rook was hoping that he would sleep through the fire entirely. And, sure, it would be a little boring to have to wait for him but Rook found that he didn't really care. He could handle being bored for a short time if it meant that Ben would be alright. Besides, Rook didn't want to be anywhere else. He slumped back in the chair and waited for time to slowly pass.

At some point, Rook must have dozed off. One second he was sitting with his head propped up, eyes partly closed, and the next he was shooting up in the desk chair, startled awake by the sound of a loud thump.

There was groaning but, even so, it took Rook several seconds to reorient himself and shake the sleep off. When he did, he immediately found that Ben's bed was empty. His heart skipped a beat, panic flooding Rook's thoughts, before he turned his head slightly and found the source of the groaning. Ben had landed hard on the carpet, on his side, with his legs tangled in his blankets. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

Without thinking about it, Rook was on his feet. He knelt next to Ben, propping him up into a sitting position and pushing the blankets away without care for the mess it would make. "Ben," he muttered, "are you alright?"

The reverence in his voice must have gone unnoticed. Ben snapped out a curse under his breath and sighed heavily, pulling away from Rook into an unsupported slouch. He took a moment, collecting himself, and said, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just woke up really suddenly and saw what time it was and freaked out." He gestured at his alarm clock, which read a clear and unmistakable twelve-ten. Dragging a hand through his hair, Ben grabbed hold of his bed and used it to climb to his feet. "Sorry, Rook. I don't even remember falling asleep. I usually don't sleep this late, either." He paused, considering something, then glanced back at Rook and frowned. "Did you put me in bed?"

Put on the spot, Rook tensed, prepared to deny it. The word "no" was on the tip of his tongue but, then, Rook wasn't sure why he was so adamant against the idea. Would Ben find it weird? Did it really matter? Was it even worth refusing? Rook was tired of lying. Of hiding.

"Yes," he said finally. "You fell asleep during a commercial. I thought that you would like to be in bed."

A pause. Rook almost asked if that was alright with Ben (Did he care that Rook was in his room? Was being carried something that bothered him? If he was upset, was it because of the vulnerability or the fact that it was Rook?) but held himself back. He didn't need to ask permission to take care of Ben. Much as he wanted to. Much as he probably should.

Since when had he wanted to "take care" of his partner?

In the end, Ben shook his head with barely a moment's thought. "Nah, it's fine." He shrugged dismissively and turned to his dresser. "We're really late for patrol, though. Damn. Just give me a few minutes to shower and get dressed, then we can head out. Better late than never, you know?" He tucked a bundle of clothes under his arm and turned back to Rook, nudging his dresser closed with his hip. "You can chill out here if you want. Just don't touch any of my Sumo Slammers collectibles. Trust me, I'll know if you do," he joked. Without further preamble, Ben turned and left the room.

The door was closed behind him and Rook was alone. He had a twitchy urge to go after Ben — in case he slipped in the shower or hit his head on the tiles or was ambushed by one of his many recurring enemies — and had to violently shove the thought away. He was not desperate enough to follow Ben to the shower. He was fine. He was alive. He showered perfectly fine every other day of his life.

Then again, he did his hero work fine every other time. All it took was one mistake. One lapse in Rook's judgment, his capabilities as a partner, and…

A thud from the hall caught Rook's attention. He looked toward the door, worried that Ben had somehow found a way to hurt himself while showering after all, but didn't go any further with his paranoia. The door was shoved open with a bang and Ben stumbled in, tugging his shirt over his head. His hair was bone dry, so he hadn't showered. Rook's stomach sank with dread. No, there was no way…

But before Ben had even opened his mouth, Rook had his answer in the form of the Omnitrix's brighter-than-normal glow. Someone had called Ben. Probably Magister Tennyson or another Plumber, asking for his help. It was time. The fire would be in full swing. And if Ben went and tried to help, like he was clearly planning to, then he would die. It didn't matter if Rook had only seen it in a dream. He knew it to be a fact. There was a clammy feeling racing down his spine that was telling him to tie Ben down to the bed if he had to.

"Rook, Grandpa Max just called," Ben said in a breathless rush. He was in a hurry, continuing without even registering the deathly look on Rook's face. "There's a fire downtown, a pretty bad one. He said that it's getting way out of hand. They need us. And…" There, something made Ben hesitate. His urgency ebbed away, just a little, and he stared at Rook as though looking at someone else. "...he said that he called you several times and went straight to voicemail every try. You never turn your communicator off. Rook… Is something wrong? Really? First this morning and now…" Ben frowned. "What are you hiding from me?"

It would have been so easy to lie. Really, Rook could have. He could have said that it was nothing, that he had accidentally turned it off instead of putting his communicator to sleep. Then they could leave together and go to that fire, and Ben would… A lie would be easier to accept, but it would accomplish nothing. Ben would still leave to go save the day, like he always did. It seemed to Rook that he was incapable of doing anything else.

So he took a deep breath and, steeling himself, closed the distance between them to grab Ben by the shoulders. It had to be uncomfortable, the way that his hands were digging in, but Ben didn't so much as wince. He stared up at Rook with big, confused eyes that were so green that it hurt.

"You can't go to that fire, Ben," Rook said seriously. The contraction startled him badly enough that, even as his mouth opened to protest, Ben froze and remained silent. "I've seen this day before, twice now, in a dream. Twice is too much to be a coincidence, especially for something as significant as this. I can even tell you the location of that fire. I can tell you that it started because an old powerline snapped in the strong winds and the sparks caught on those buildings. And I can tell you that, if you go, Ben, you will die."

The word hung between them, heavy and final. For a moment, Ben honestly seemed at a loss for words. His jaw moved soundlessly, like a fish gasping for air. He stared at Rook uncomprehendingly. Then, finally, he closed his eyes. When they opened again, they had softened. "Rook, I get it," he muttered, almost coaxing. "I get recurring dreams, too. Sometimes people die," Ben admitted. "Kevin or Gwen or… you. But they're just dreams." He smiled convincingly. "I've saved planets, Rook. I've saved the universe. I've gone up against tyrants and won, every time. I'm not going to die in a little house fire. I'll be fine. Let's go." Ben tried to pull away, only to pause when the grip that Rook had on his shoulders didn't loosen. He squirmed, uncomfortable. "Um… Rook. You're starting to hurt a little there, buddy."

God, he sounded scared. Rook was doing that. He was scaring Ben. But, he reasoned with himself, that was better than the alternative. He loosened his grip a little, as much as he dared. At least so that it didn't hurt.

"It's not a simple nightmare," Rook spoke far more evenly than he felt. "That wouldn't explain how I knew about your mother's juice cleanse, or how I know that today a research facility was attacked by one of Fistrick's lackeys despite my communicator having been off, or how I know the exact time and place of that fire. I'm promising you, Ben. We have done this before. I watched you die." His voice cracked on the end, but Rook forced himself to continue. He had to get it out. "You died in my arms. I watched your last breath. Please, don't make me sit through that for the third time."

He held his breath, not daring to breathe as his final words sunk in. Ben's face had gone emotionless, like he knew that he ought to be feeling something but had no idea what that feeling was or how to describe it. He exhaled slowly and, to Rook's surprise, reached up and gently grasped his wrists with both hands. "Okay."

Rook froze. Had he heard that wrong? "Okay?" He repeated, not daring to be hopeful. Was it that easy? Had he really managed to convince Ben? It couldn't be a trick. Could it?

"Okay," he said again, looking away from Rook. "Look, your dreams… Maybe they're telling you something. So if the fire's that big of a deal to you…" Ben swallowed hard like it pained him to continue. "...I won't go."

His jaw dropped. Rook knew that he had to look ridiculous but his mind was scrambling to understand. Ben had agreed to stay home. He wasn't going to go. He wasn't going to die.

Without thinking about it, Rook surged forward. He wrapped his arms around Ben and squeezed tightly, tucking his head down against Ben's head. He appreciated the tickle of human hair, the warmth against his fur, even the self-conscious way that Ben struggled between hugging Rook back and leaving his arms at his sides to ride it out.

"Thank you," Rook wheezed. He felt Ben stiffen as tears splattered against his head, but he still wasn't trying to pull away. "Thank you. So much. Ben…" There was nothing to add, so Rook didn't finish. He just wanted to say Ben's name without screaming himself hoarse at a corpse that couldn't hear him.

Uncertain, Ben placed one hand on Rook's side and put the other around him to hug him back. It was probably difficult with how Rook was clutching him, but he wasn't pulling away any time soon. "Uh, sure," Ben said awkwardly. "No… problem, dude. It's just a fire. They can handle it without me, right?" It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Rook. The guilt of knowingly not doing anything to help those people had to be eating him up inside.

A part of Rook felt awful about asking Ben to sacrifice his morals, but at the same time, it was just a fire. Obviously, Ben could handle it. That was why the Plumbers always called him for menial things: because there was literally no way that he couldn't handle it. Everyone depended on Ben, everyone wanted his help, everyone took him for granted. And he did it to himself, too.

As much as he didn't want to, Rook pulled back and set his hands on Ben's shoulders, looking at him hard. "It is a fire, Ben," he said resolutely. "They can handle fires. People have handled fires for thousands of years before you. If this city didn't depend on the Plumbers as active law enforcement and if the Plumbers didn't depend on you for everything, we would not even be hearing about this."

Ben winced. "Dude, seriously, please stop with the contractions. It's not like you." He waited for Rook to nod, then sighed and continued. "It's just that… People could be hurt. And then it's my fault for not stepping in." He looked at the ground, then at Rook, expression turning pleading. "You're sure this thing that kills me is unpreventable? What if I promise to be careful?"

That almost — almost — won Rook over. But then his expression tightened and he shook his head. "You will find a way to get yourself hurt," he promised. "It is better that the conflict is avoided entirely.

Though Ben smiled, it didn't reach his eyes. "At least you aren't using contractions."

Rook's expression softened. "I am sorry, Ben. I do not like doing it either," he said gently. But it was the way that things had to be. It was the only way that he could guarantee Ben would be alive at the end of the day. And then his dreams would stop and they could put the whole thing behind them and never speak of it again.

He didn't look convinced, but Ben nodded anyway. "Sure," he agreed without feeling. Then, after a moment's hesitation, "And, um, on a different note… Thanks. I never knew you cared so much," he admitted. "I mean, obviously I knew you didn't want me to die or anything, but I've never seen you so emotional before. About anything. It… really means a lot." Ben looked up at him, expression scrunched into a frown. "Can you let go of me now?"

After what he had just said, Rook was very tempted to not let go, actually. Was he really such a bad friend? Did Ben not think that he would do anything if it meant keeping him alive? Feeling choked up, Rook nonetheless loosened his hold and let his hands fall away. Even after he let go, Ben didn't move. Rook didn't blame him. Frankly, he didn't know what to do. Nothing felt appropriate, given what had just happened between them. Was he supposed to ignore it and let Ben go on thinking that Rook barely cared? Did he think that everyone in his life felt like that? Would Ben have been as surprised if Gwen or Kevin were in Rook's place?

It took a moment, but then Ben sighed and walked around Rook. He sat down on his bed, laying back and letting out a hard groan. "Let's do something," he said resolutely. The Omnitrix chimed with another incoming call and Ben steadfastly ignored it. He glared at the ceiling, as though it would tell him the answer to a question that he hadn't asked yet. "I don't want to sit around here playing video games or whatever. Do you want to do something, Rook?"

He knew what Ben was doing, obviously. He was trying to do something so that he didn't feel like he was just lounging around being useless. And Rook understood that but, at the same time, he didn't think that it was a good idea to encourage it.

He hesitated, then sat down on the bed next to Ben. It took more effort than it should have to refrain from touching him. "I do not think that is a good idea," Rook muttered. "Why not do something that you enjoy? You can watch a movie or read a book or we can just… talk." He considered something. "Do you… want to talk about it?"

Ben dragged a hand through his hair and groaned. "Not really, to be honest. I just… this is such a weird situation. Since when are you the one getting prophetic dreams? I would have expected Gwen." He shot Rook a thoughtful look. "I wonder why, though. What's the goal?"

Of course, Rook had some theories, he just hadn't thought about them much. Not when he was far more concerned with keeping Ben alive at any given moment. "I think…" He said slowly, "that whomever or whatever is giving me these dreams wants me to ensure that you do not die in that fire."

With a frown, Ben nodded. "Yeah, maybe," he agreed, unconvinced.

Their conversation lapsed into silence. Rook stared at the clock and watched an hour tick by, neither of them moving. The sun crept across the bedroom and Ben dozed on his bed, arms folded behind his head and expression still twisted in unhappiness. It was a little boring, Rook supposed, but he didn't mind. For him, it was nice to just watch the time pass and compare it to Ben's chest still rising and falling.

Eventually, Ben's phone buzzed. He sat up to grab it from his nightstand, glanced at the text with sleepy eyes, and set it back before falling right back onto the bed. "Grandpa texted," Ben grumbled. "No one died in that fire, but a woman was injured. And he wants to see us immediately to talk about not answering our communicators."

Rook hummed in acknowledgment. "We should go see him then," he said.

Neither of them made a move to leave. Ben rolled over onto his side, looking up at Rook. "You should lay down, dude," he muttered. "You look exhausted. You didn't get a lot of sleep with those dreams, did you?"

Actually, Rook thought that he was getting plenty of sleep. But that didn't change the fact that every second awake was spent with frayed nerves and mounting stress. Sitting on Ben's bed, Rook was the most relaxed he had been in what felt like weeks. Had it really only been two days, or was it that he spent so little time unwinding?

After a moment, and with a lot of hesitation, Rook laid on his back. His legs were hanging off the end of the bed and the Proto-Armor wasn't very comfortable to sleep in, but those things were tolerable. He turned his head to look at Ben. "I do not need to sleep."

That made Ben roll his eyes. "Sure," he drawled. "If it makes you feel any better, I promise not to start any fires while you're napping."

It was a little pathetic that that actually did make Rook feel better. He scoffed anyway, then softened. It was tempting to reach over and lay his hand over Ben's, but Rook held back. He didn't want to make Ben uncomfortable. "If I nap, will you wake me up?" He asked. "I would not want to intrude for the night."

"I don't know, dude." Ben grinned, only a little forced. "If I woke you up, I'd have to tell my mom that you're staying for dinner and then she'd make double of everything. I don't know if I can handle that."

He smiled back, but in the end, Rook chose not to answer. Since Ben had mentioned it, he was pretty tired. It was warm in the sun and… surely sleeping for a few hours couldn't hurt, right? Closing his eyes, Rook muffled a yawn and shifted to a more comfortable position. As he did, his hand brushed Ben's arm. Muddled though his thoughts were, Rook didn't pull away. He waited for Ben to move away, maybe even get out of bed entirely and go finish his shower, but he didn't. He laid right there and Rook fell asleep to the steady reassurance of Ben breathing, his pulse thrumming against Rook's fingertips.

A/N: Ben was supposed to get hurt in this chapter, too, but outlines can't always be trusted. Maybe some other time. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Still trying to get them shorter, but no such luck thus far. Eventually, though.