This chapter is sponsored by: An obsession with glass bananas, crying giraffes, the inability to count, and several point deductions.

Chapter 3: Ben

Late December 1984

Mark sat next to Sarah on the couch, his arm around her shoulders. She was snuggled in next to him, her head resting comfortably on his chest. Ruining the romance of the moment, as ever, was Iggy, who was sprawled across both of their laps. However, Mark had to admit, the dog was keeping his legs warm quite well.

Mark and Sarah had hardly spent a minute away from each other since they met. They had never spent the night together, but Mark already had clothes at her place and she, likewise. They would spend the evenings after running together, and they preferred it if neither smelled like sweat. However, their relationship was only that of the best of friends, and nothing further. He knew that she was scared of crossing the barrier, and he was likewise. None of his other relationships had worked out, and he was having such fun with Sarah, he didn't want to ruin it by pushing things any further before she was ready.

Sarah poked Iggy with her finger. "You need to move, dog. My legs have fallen asleep."

The dog didn't move, except to look at Sarah with woeful eyes.

"We haven't gotten to 'move' yet," Mark said laughingly. "He's having too much trouble with sit and stay."

"I told you he was stupid."

"Stubborn," he said.

"Stupid."

"Stubborn!"

"I think we know who's stubborn in the room. Iggy, who do you think?"

Iggy immediately sat up and licked Mark on the face, before lying back down across their laps.

"He agrees with me!" Sarah said gleefully, looking up at Mark's face.

Suddenly, Mark became aware of just how close their faces were. Mere inches separated their faces, their mouths. He stared into her eyes, unable to look away, wanting to draw closer, but too afraid to.

"Arthur..."

"Yes?"

She didn't say anything, staring at him, her eyes suddenly flicking down to his lips and back up to his eyes. Their faces drew closer, if that was possible, still not touching. He didn't hear the television that was still flickering in front of them.

Sarah put her hand on his face, her fingers lacing through it to the back of his head. Her hand started pushing his face forward, closing the mere centimetres in between them.

Suddenly the door slammed open. "Mum! I'm home!" a young male's voice called out.

Sarah pulled away from him instantly, as Iggy barked and jumped off the sofa, conveniently using Mark's groin to lunge off of.

"In here, honey!" Sarah called as Mark double over, unable to catch his breath.

"Down Iggy!" the man's voice commanded.

"Shit, are you okay?" Sarah asked, looking at him in concern.

Mark couldn't respond, finally able to gasp for some air, tears welling in his eyes.

"Hey, Mum," the man's voice said happily, still approaching the room. "I've missed you!"

"Ben! Honey! I thought you were coming tomorrow. I was supposed to meet you at the coach station!"

"I thought I'd surprise... Who the hell is this?"

"This is Arthur Newton. I've told you about him, Ben."

"I thought you were just running partners," Ben said, eyeing Mark untrustingly. "Down, Iggy," he said as the dog jumped up on him again. "Sit." Iggy immediately sat down, looking at Ben balefully, which just added insult to injury.

"What's happened to him?"

"Iggy used me as a springboard," Mark gasped, thankful that his voice wasn't three octaves too high.

"Really?" Ben asked, smiling. "Good dog." Iggy barked and wagged his tail.

"I should go," Mark said, trying to ignore the waves of nausea that were radiating from his stomach.

"Nonsense," Sarah said. "Ben, sit down. I'll get us all some tea."

"Think you're going to be able to run in the morning?" Ben asked as soon as his mother had left the room.

"I'll let Iggy do the same to you and we'll see what you think," Mark said through gritted teeth, aware that he wasn't making the best first impression. He had recovered enough to be able to sit up somewhat normally, and started his normal assessment on Ben.

The boy was just reaching manhood, and still had all the cockiness of youth hanging about him. His hair was straw-coloured and his blue eyes matched his mum's. The rings around his eyes told of late nights spent drinking and early mornings of classes and hangovers. He was lanky, but Mark could tell that he was muscular underneath the giant jumper he was wearing. Ben had fixed Mark with a stare that told him that he wasn't going to allow Mark anywhere near his mother, one that he had been only too used to getting in the past year.

Another Gene, he thought to himself.

"So Arthur," the boy said, as if he was bored. "You're a bit more than my Mum's running partner, eh? Wedding ring's barely off her finger and you're weaselling your way in."

Mark shook his head. "It's not like that. "We're friends. That's it."

"Then what are you doing over here?"

"I moved here from London earlier this year. You went to Uni. We keep each other company."

"She has other friends," Ben said sneeringly.

"So she does," Mark said calmly.

"Well, then why doesn't she ring one of them up?"

"Because they all have children and families of their own."

"Don't you?"

Mark shook his head. "That field never worked out for me."

"Probably because you're such a tosser."

"Oi," Sarah said as she walked into the room, precariously holding three mugs of tea. "You may be eighteen but I still don't want that language in my house. Really, Ben. If I didn't have the tea, I'd slap you. I taught you better than that."

Ben glared at Mark. "I don't understand why he's here. He's just your running partner."

"Let's discuss this outside," Sarah said sharply, motioning for Ben to get up. Ben sighed, picking up his tea and following his mum out of the room. Mark and Iggy stared at each other for a moment before Iggy hid his face underneath his paw.

"I think you're right, boy," Mark murmured. He tried not to hear the muffled conversation coming from the hall, but found himself unable to resist.

"Yes he's my running partner," Sarah said angrily. "But he's also one of my best friends!"

"All he wants is to shag you, Mum!"

"Benjamin Robert!"

"What? It's true! Didn't he tell you, he's had no luck with women? He doesn't want to settle down, Mum! He just wants you to give into his charms and then he'll move on!"

"And you know this because you're so world wise," Sarah said sarcastically.

"I know this because I'm right! You'll trust him, and then he'll run off with the little twenty year old bit on the side that he's keeping secret from you!"

"Who are you talking about now, Ben? Arthur, or your father?"

There was a long silence before Ben spoke again. "I don't want to see you like you were when Dad left us."

"Oh sweetheart. Not every man is your father, and Arthur is much different than your dad. Besides, I'm older now. I see things a lot differently than when I married your dad."

"I don't trust him," Ben said darkly.

"Just give him a chance," Sarah said. "And if you're so worried, I've been running with him since August, and he's not tried to make a move."

"Sure he's not a poofter?"

"He really is Gene Hunt," Mark said to Iggy. "A skinnier, younger version." Iggy barked in response, wagging his tail and walking over to put his head on Mark's lap.

"He's coming over for Christmas dinner too," he heard Sarah say. "Don't alienate him, Ben. Otherwise I'll get you up at five tomorrow morning to take Iggy for a walk. Even though it's a weekend."

"Evil," Ben said.

"I know." Mark could hear the smile in Sarah's voice.

"I hope you don't expect me to get a present for him."

"Of course not. Now, can you stop acting like a five-year old?" He couldn't hear Ben's response, but a moment later, they were both walking into the room, Ben wearing a false smile on his face.

"I'm ever so sorry I treated you like that, Arthur," he said in a ridiculously posh voice, which Mark realised was supposed to be a pastiche of his accent. "Will you ever forgive me?"

"Ben," his mother said warningly.

"Was that supposed to be me?" Mark asked, unsmiling.

"Who did you think it'd be? Zippy?"

"I thought you were going more for the Queen than Zippy."

Ben opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes flicked to Sarah and he appeared to think better of it. He pushed his mouth up into a pout for a moment.

Oh god. Gene Hunt's in Bath as well as London.

"So, Arthur, what's your story?" Ben asked. "How did you end up in this glorious paradise? Via a great many private education places, I suspect."

"My dad was an MP," Mark said. "He was assassinated when I was two. His colleagues set up a trust fund for my mum and I so we could have a decent living. One of his mates in Parliament put me through school and Uni. Yes, I was privileged, but at the cost of my father. Right after Uni, I got my job in the government, somewhat with the help of my dad's friend. But because I knew that I owed this man, I was straight A's throughout school. As much as he helped me get my job, I earned it. For that reason I was a bit of a loner throughout school. I spent all my time studying. My mum and I had a row and now we're estranged, have been for years. I moved here to this 'paradise' as you call it, because I screwed up at my job and they wanted me out."

"Jesus," Ben said.

"After my dad died, my Mum took her maiden name again. It was difficult with press always coming around."

This part was a bald faced lie, but if Ben decided to look up the MP that was assassinated in '49, he'd be curious as to why the surname was Evans instead of Newton. Mark had already seen papers of that day, had discussed it with his mother and knew that his name was never revealed to the press. So he knew that if Ben looked it up, the newspaper would only mention the two-year-old son, not Mark Evans, Stephen Evan's son.

"I didn't know that, Arthur," Sarah said softly.

"I don't talk about it much. I don't really my father, just the ramifications of his death."

"What did you and your mum row about?"

"My job, as it were." The fact that he was estranged from her was true. But it wasn't his job that estranged them. He hadn't talked to his mum in years, and hadn't bothered to ring her when he had 'died.' He had told Danny he wanted complete separation from everyone, so his mum had gotten the dreaded knock on the door as well. Mark knew it was cruel, but just couldn't bring himself to see her again. Not after what she'd done.

They sat in tense silence for several minutes. "I think I've killed the mood," Mark said lightly, which made Ben and Sarah laugh.

As the night wore on, Ben seemed to relax more around Mark, glaring less and his responses got less hostile. Finally, after two hours, Mark decided it was time to go home. Sarah walked him to the door, leaving Ben to clean up the mugs of tea.

"I'm sorry about how he treated you, Arthur," she said.

Mark shook his head. "Don't worry about it. He just felt threatened. Something about my dashing good looks and debonair charm seems to threaten men."

Sarah laughed loudly, and he pretended to be hurt. "You don't agree?"

"Oh no. I think you're very debonair. It's just the 'dashing good looks' part that I've got a problem with."

"It's the nose, isn't it?"

Sarah gave a soft smile and shook her head. "No. If anything, I'd put an extremely before it."

He stared at her a moment and she kissed him on the cheek. "Goodnight, Arthur. I'll see you in the morning."

"Night," he managed, walking out the door, dumbfounded. He walked home in silence, his cheek burning the whole way there.