"I'm fine, Jack. I just haven't been sleeping. It all just caught up on me. I'll be fine."

She sat on the edge of her cot as Jack fussed over her. He handed her an aspirin and a cup of water, which she took thankfully.

"Why did you go in alone?" he asked quickly, still standing above her.

"I thought he might talk to me."

"So did he?" Jack began to move away from the bed, not looking at her. "Come on, Amy, tell me how your private little pajama picnic went." He sounded… angry, yes, but jealous, too.

"Jack. He was telling me about his wife," she invented, knowing innately that there was no such woman. "I think he's harmless." That, at least, was mostly truth. Jack said nothing. "Look, I'm sorry, Jack. I thought he would talk to me. Just me, maybe if he thought I was doing it against your wishes. And maybe it was stupid, so I'm sorry." She let out a deep breath.

Jack returned to her and took the empty cup from her hands. "Okay, Amy. Sorry. You should really get some sleep."

She smiled slightly. "I think I'll just have a shower. There's no point in trying to sleep now."

"Fair enough," he replied lightly. "I'm going to start breakfast."

After her shower, Amy ate with Jack. John's shift was over and she could hear him snoring from the kitchen. The conversation was slow, but Jack did not ask any more questions about Henry. He asked her about her home life and she tried to answer as honestly as she could, drying her hair with a towel as she spoke. She had changed into a clean shirt and khakis, to start the morning feeling refreshed. Finishing up, she stood and shook out another bowl of muesli.

"I should give this to Henry."

Jack frowned. "John normally gives him his meals."

"It's not John's shift. And anyway," she added with a smile, "If we're up early, he might as well be too."

He smiled at that, and went to open the armory door as she retrieved another spoon from a drawer. She walked back to where Jack with standing, one hand on the door handle, and shook the spoon at him, signaling him to open the door.

Their prisoner obviously hadn't slept. He was sitting up, having heard the combination turn. Amy was pleased to see he had changed into the clean clothes she had provided. He looked comfortable dressed in the lightly striped shirt and the plain t-shirt underneath.

"Good morning," he said as she entered the armory. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you." She answered, handing him the bowl of cereal. He took it gratefully and picked up the spoon.

"How's your shoulder?" asked Jack from the open doorway. "Better?"

He shrugged, spoon in hand, and then winced. "Ow. Obviously not well enough to do that, but not as bad as it was, at least. Mainly stiff." He began eating, eyes darting between Jack and Amy. He nodded to Amy. "Are you staying to chat?" He asked around a mouthful of cereal.

"I'm… uh…" Amy turned to Jack, the question in her eyes. Jack motioned her to come closer.

"We said you wouldn't come in alone." He said quietly.

"He wants to speak. That's a good sign, isn't it?" Amy pressed quietly. Before Jack could open his mouth again, the alarm went off, and the insistent beeping startled them both. Amy knew she would need to act quickly. "Jack, let me try. If I don't get anything useful speaking to him just now… I won't go in again. Please?"

Jack seemed to weigh up his options, glancing over at the computer. "Yeah, okay," he finally said, "But if you get nothing, we're abandoning your tactic."

"Thanks Jack." She smiled, turning back to the prisoner as Jack closed the door behind her.

"Benjamin." She said quietly, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed in front of her. "Your name is Benjamin."

He looked up at her, quietly shocked. He quickly swallowed his remaining cereal and set the bowl aside. "Benjamin Linus," he said, his eyes wide. "Ben. I'd shake your hand, but… well."

"Thank you, Ben." She whispered, "Sincerely."

"What happened last night, Amy?" He seemed worried. "Were you okay? What was that?" His smile was a little self-aware as he realized he was asking too many questions.

"I told you, Ben." She said, sighing. "I'm…" She gestured with a hand. "It's hard to explain… It's like…."

"A power?" There was interest in his eyes.

"It's not a power, Ben!" Her voice was louder than she had intended, and she pressed a hand to her temple. "Sorry. I just… don't… I don't feel powerful. I feel weak. I don't control it, it controls me. I—" Her voice cracked, and she could feel tears in her eyes. Stupid, stupid.

"Amy," Ben's voice was gentle, and she looked up. He patted the cot beside him. "Sit with me." Wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand, she obeyed. Sitting close to him, she could feel the warmth of him, smell the jungle in his skin. He put his arm around her, hesitant at first, but then with more confidence as she moved into his body. There was a touch of something she could not quite place, as well as the familiar scent of copper and smoke as she rested her head against his chest.

"It hurts me, Ben."

"I know," he said softly, "I know." He seemed to struggle with himself, before speaking next. "You—you scared me last night, Amy." The words seemed to tumble out without his permission. She felt him hold his breath after this, but when she pressed closer into his shirt, he breathed a small sigh of relief. They remained like that for a few moments, comfortable in the silence.

Ben turned his head to the side, regarding her interestedly. "So that's how you know things? Like a sort of… mental vision?"

"I call them flashes." She muttered, not looking at him.

"And do you normally black out?"

"No." she shook her head, frowning. "No, that was new. It's… it's stronger with you, Ben." Her voice was soft. She looked up, looked at the man she knew so intimately, more intimately than anyone else, and yet not at all. She removed herself from his half-embrace and regarded him thoughtfully. "You make it different."

Wide eyes. "Why me?"

She shrugged, looking away now, and both of them were silent for a few moments. He waited patiently, letting her compose herself.

"Do you want to ask your question?" he suggested, after a time.

What should she ask? He was looking at her, waiting for a response. "Who are you?"

"You call us Others, I believe?" She nodded, and he did too, a wry smile on his lips. "Well, we've been called a lot worse. We live on this island, protect it, and we don't want to hurt anyone. We're the good guys, Amy." His eyes were sincere as he said it, and she decided she didn't even want to ask about the bad guys.

"And you're the leader?"

"I am… one of them, yes. I answer to someone else, ultimately," he added quickly, smiling self-consciously, "but yes, I lead the Others as you know them."

"And you have houses?"

"Yes, we have houses. We have a little community, even. That's the Barracks, where we live. Where I live."

"So this Henry business…?" she prompted, frowning.

"There was a man called Henry Gale, and his story is the story I first gave you." Ben clasped his hands together in his lap, and continued. "He was from Minnesota, trying to cross the Pacific and his balloon crashed. He died."

"I don't see why you need to continue to lie to Jack and John."

"Because they need to continue to disbelieve me." He answered quickly. "I think you know yourself why I needed to be him, and not me."

Amy nodded absently, mulling this over. "Wait, so there's a balloon, somewhere on this island?"

"Yes, in a small clearing, not too far from here." He looked at her, and then grinned. "It has a big smiley face on the top of it."

Amy didn't smile. "Ben," she said seriously, turning to fully face him. "Jack won't let me in again, not alone, unless he thinks we're getting somewhere."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't like that." He said, eyes flickering to the door and back to her. "What are you suggesting?"

"A map." She said simply. "Draw a map to the balloon. Let them find it, verify your story." She shrugged. "At the very least, it'll buy us time."

"I will be leaving soon, Amy. Escaping. I think you know that."

"I… I know." She looked at her feet.

"Did you see it?"

"No, Ben. No, I didn't. I know because I'm going to help you." She held up a hand as he opened his mouth to speak. "That's something I've decided. Let me help you."

For a long moment, Ben regarded her, trying to find the insincerity in her face. There was none. By nature, he was not a trusting person, and he had already found himself slipping on his usual policy with this woman. His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because when you were hanging in a net in the middle of a jungle, you trusted me." She said, her voice soft. "You didn't want to, didn't need to, but you did. And you kept that trust when you got shot through the shoulder with an arrow, and beaten up, tortured and interrogated. That's why, Benjamin Linus. Because I'd be a fool not to trust you."

His face cracked into a wide smile, and he pressed his index finger to his lip as it reopened with the rapid movement. "Thank you, Amy. That… that means a lot. Really."

She smiled back at him, and touched him gently on the forearm, careful only to touch the material. For reasons she could not fathom, the flashes were stronger than usual with him, at skin-to-skin contact, and it felt like she was prying.

"So, what's it like there? At the Barracks." There was excitement in her voice, a reflection of his earlier interest in her ability. "Do you have stuff… to do?"

"Oh yes." His pale blue eyes were wide, and a small smile played around his thin lips. "There's moonlight dancing every other week."

She laughed then, softly, and he realized how much he liked to make her laugh. Amy shook her head and turned her head to look at him. He was smiling, looking at her with something… unreadable in his eyes. His eyes dropped and he reached for her hand. He hesitated before touching it, waiting until she nodded before their skin touched again, and she felt only one tiny flash before it was gone.

Hope.

By focusing only on the touch, the actual physical bond between them, she found she could ignore the usual mental impressions she felt. This was new, too. She looked up at him, surprised.

"I can do it." He looked at her quizzically, and she lifted their entwined hands for him to see. "Look, I'm not… seeing anything, getting thoughts. I think I can choose not to." She frowned, then looked at him with a smile spreading across her face. "How do you do it? You make it so different." Ben smiled at her excitement, and shook his head, pulling at her hand lightly.

"Amy," he said carefully, "May I ask a question? Beyond the 'quid pro quo' conditions?"

She frowned. "Of course."

His eyes were wary now, and she sensed a little fear in them, too. He took a deep breath, and held her hand tighter. "Will… Amy, will you come with me, when I leave?"

She looked at him, and realized – the hope, the pure, shining hope she'd felt in her flash could have been from either of them. Hope. And this, this leader, Ben, asking nervously a question there was only one answer to.

"Yes, Ben." She said softly, a smile spreading across her face. "Yes, I think... I think I'd like that."

She watched as Ben's tongue flicked out of his mouth and touched the bead of blood on his broken lip. "Thank you," he replied, squeezing her hand gently, before letting go. He stood up, supporting his shoulder before pulling Amy to her feet too. "Now, if you would be so kind as to give me a pen and paper, I will draw this map for you."

A/N: Two chapters in as many days! I know, I know. Get me.
I know this isn't as fluffy as hoped, but I don't see the relationship progressing as that. Not in the early stages, at least... It's not in Ben's character. He's more hesitant, careful. I think they both are.
But, believe me, there will be fluff soon. Lots of it, tons of it; this fic might just get more fluffy than a bunny with the number 8 on its side! Hope you enjoyed, and reviews inspire me.