As soon as the words had escaped his lips, he was already wondering what he had done. Maybe it was the more-than-satisfactory levels of painkillers Dr. Shepard had administered in the hopes of keeping him pliable and susceptible to suggestion (impossible). Or maybe it was just the nagging feeling in the pit of his gut (in fact, the only thing he could feel below his ribcage, at the moment) that told him that her loyalty might be useful to him.
As she scrambled awkwardly over the bedrail, he found himself wincing (Oh. There was the rest of him…). It seemed to Ben that, as soon as she had made it over the railing, she was asleep, clinging to the metal tubing with an especially desperate fierceness. She was exhausted beyond measure, and he was restless, a hellish combination.
He found that he wasn't nearly as frustrated as he had expected to be by her direct disobedience of his request to patiently remain at the beach camp until he could figure out how to best use her. But perhaps that had more to do with his sudden awareness that, yes, he had been thinking persistently about a way to use her, and thus bring her to the Barracks, since they had met in the jungle. He was distantly aware that this thought should make him uncomfortable, but it hadn't, at least not yet. He was too busy being puzzled at how she even managed to find the Barracks on her own, given the fact that he had walked her in an obvious and giant circle when taking her back to her own camp, and she had never noticed.
But, where he might have been forced to muse her existence and potential usefulness to him, distracting him from more pressing issues, Dr. Shepard had done him a marvelous favor in chaining her to his bedside. Jack and his impulsive emotionality had cemented in Tristan's mind her suspicions that he wasn't acting in the best interests of all inhabitants of the Island.
He watched her shoulders, rising and falling gently. Her sleep, though virtually instantaneous, was still restless and pained. At least she was silent, and he was growing clear-headed enough to put his mind to more pressing issues. Much had happened in the last few days that he would need to take care of, not least of which was figuring out how to keep Juliet and Jack on the Island, now that he had stupidly promised to let them leave.
Almost as if summoned by his thoughts, he heard the door quietly creak open, and he shifted slightly to peer over Tristan's unruly auburn hair. Juliet had crept in.
"…Ben..?"
"Hello Juliet."
She softly jingled the set of keys in her hand.
"I thought I'd let her go home."
"Jealous?" he asked innocuously, though he knew the answer too well. He was, predictably, greeted by silence.
"Let her sleep, Juliet."
"Let me at least take these off." She murmured, already ratcheting off the handcuffs. Tristan woke with a start.
"It's ok. It's just me." Juliet carefully withdrew, and Tristan silently pulled her hands away, tucking them closer to her chest. After a moment's distrustful stare, she was once again claimed by sleep.
"Ben…" Juliet began.
"I have a plan, Juliet."
"I can see that." She retorted, without malice.
"Jack won't be happy, once he finds out it was you that let her go."
"Jack won't be happy until he's on the sub, Ben, so it doesn't really matter what I do." It was Juliet's turn to be greeted with protracted silence.
"Goodbye, Ben." She retreated once more, the door closing with a soft snap in her wake.
Now that she wasn't physically restrained, Tristan fell into a much deeper sleep. She was quite still for a long time, and Ben was lost in his own thoughts, having largely forgotten about her. But, of course, now that she wasn't physically restrained, she also wasn't resigned to clutching at the bedrail any longer, and finally, much to his chagrin, she sleepily snuggled closer to his warmth.
He recoiled slightly, suddenly and violently regretting his singular moment of compassion. She could have slept just as well in her own bed, and he might have gotten some work done. He was also distantly relieved, for the first time in his life, of Alex's determined indifference of him, given the near impossibility of talking himself out of the awkwardness that was rapidly developing.
It was then (of course it was) that the door opened once again.
"Hello Benjamin."
Dear god, it was Richard.
"Hello Richard." His tone was even, neutral, though he was certain Richard could hear nothing but failed nonchalance.
"I've come to rescue you, it seems." Had Tristan been awake, she would have discovered that the glint of condescending amusement in Richard's eye was not reserved only for her.
"I have a plan, Richard." Ben replied through gritted teeth.
"…Do you?"
"As it happens, yes."
"Would you rather I leave you to it then?" Ben sometimes had the feeling that Richard just couldn't help himself. At least he had enough respect to reserve those moments for times like this, with no witnesses.
"Richard."
The room was silent for a short moment, before Richard approached, stooping to retrieve Tristan. Before he could, however, Ben's eyes flitted upward, freezing him with his glance.
"What I would like to know, Richard, is how she got here." He intoned casually. Richard straightened.
"Well, Ben, I went out and I got her."
"Did I ask you to do that?"
"…No."
"Did Jacob?" Ben wasn't one for compulsive questions, but the twinge of dread that burrowed in his chest at the implication of this sudden thought was too much. Richard remained silent, but the look in his eyes was something Ben had not seen since he was a much younger man.
"Did he?"
More silence. Ben dropped his intent gaze from Richard's maddeningly neutral face and twisted to peer at Tristan, her face burrowed practically beneath his chin now.
"You should take her, Richard." He murmured.
"She's going to have a lot of questions for you when she wakes up, Ben."
"Well," He paused, still drinking in her sleeping face, "She's going to have to wait."