A/N: Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are great.
And thank you to Greg for beta-ing!
Read.
XIV.
Jimmy procured a few AK-47s from the armory, cleared them before handing them off to his students, one each, and then grabbed a couple boxes of M43 cartridges. As Weaver had promised, the make-shift shooting range – an abandoned lot about a block from the community center – was emptied. Most of the 2nd Mass fighters would be loafing around the mess at that time of day anyhow, smells of lunch wafting in the air.
Jimmy set up a line of paper targets on the back wall and lined up his students about twenty yards away from them. He showed the group how to load their clips, pointing out the safety and demonstrating how to toggle it on and off. Then he showed them a proper stance, slightly angled but otherwise square to the target, butt of the gun tucked securely against his shoulder, one hand on the grip – finger off the trigger, the other gently wrapped under the barrel. He lined a target in his sight, drew in his breath, and released it slow as he gently fingered the trigger and fired off four or five rounds in a matter of seconds.
The four observing teenagers flinched at the resounding report, and Jimmy's bullets ripped through one of the targets. Jimmy lowered his gun and clicked his tongue reprovingly. He'd been off-mark a few inches the first couple shots, and though he was able to readjust for the last rounds, he knew those initial bullets meant the difference between a dead Skitter and a dead him or a dead any-other-fighter whose back he was meant to be watching.
"Alright," Jimmy announced, peering cagily down the line at his students, "Check that your safety is off, and load five rounds in your weapons."
Douglas had the most trouble getting his bullets in the chamber, and Gia paused, slinging her rifle over her shoulder to help him. Kelsey struggled as well, but persevered on her own, shying away from Jimmy when he stepped forward to help her. Roman was the first to finish, already holding the gun against his shoulder and curiously examining his sight.
"Uh…keep your finger off the trigger until I give the okay," Jimmy instructed Roman, as he edged precariously around the older boy to inspect the others and their guns.
Once they were all finished loading their weapons, Jimmy gave them the go ahead to lift their rifles and went to check their stances, readjusting them as he moved along the line. Then he told them to take their safeties off and declared, "Fire!"
Their shots were lousy. Kelsey got off one round before she dropped the weapon and stumbled back several paces, clapping hands over her ears and grimacing. Douglas flinched every time he pulled the trigger, jerking the barrel slightly up and off to the right and skewing his bullet trajectories all over the range, he managed to hit Roman's target a couple times, but never his own. Gia only let off three rounds before slinging the rifle back over her shoulder in disgust and deciding firmly, "I can't do this". Roman looked every bit the part of a marksman, firing off each round with a perfect stance and a glint of determination lit in his eyes, but he was all show. He never managed to get anywhere near his target.
Jimmy buried his face in his hand and sighed. He wandered to Kelsey first, told her to raise her weapon. She refused.
"I know the noise can take getting used to," Jimmy said in earnest, "Fire a few rounds by yourself, it won't be so loud if it's just you. Take your time, get a feel for it.
Kelsey frowned, shook her head fervently. Jimmy looked helpless to the others.
"Come on, sis," Roman encouraged gently, and she glanced at him uncertainly, her eyes shimmering like ice over a pond in the cool winter sun, "You can do it. I'll be standing right here."
After a moment to consider, Kelsey nodded, then reluctantly lifted her gun once more, resumed her shooting stance, tensing when Jimmy placed a hand on her shoulder to readjust, then she looked down the length of the barrel and was already beginning to jump back before she'd pressed the trigger. Jimmy stopped her.
"Take a deep breath," he advised, "You're too jittery. You need to calm down. Remember to breathe when you pull the trigger. Just breathe."
Kelsey darted a furtive glance at Jimmy, something hot in her features, then she lowered her eyes and brought air in through her noise, released it slow, steady, between her lips. She lifted the gun again and, taking another steadying breath, she pulled the trigger. Her shoulders shuddered at the shot, but she stood her ground, took another few breaths, and then pulled it again, another hesitation and then again she pulled the trigger, until her chamber was empty. She lowered her weapon sheepishly and her friends offered up praise.
Jimmy stepped back, watching solemnly as they touched Kelsey's shoulders and patted her head. He felt a strange twang of guilt at the exchanges, thought of Weaver's intentions for them, thought of Ben, thought of the reception Ben generally received from the 2nd Mass whenever returning from saving the day and grimaced.
"Reload your weapons," Jimmy said tersely and the four followed the command. He gave a few pointers: keep both eyes open, aim a little higher than the target, don't forget to account for wind. Then he told them to 'Fire' and they did so. He studied them each a moment, then when they finished that round, he asked curiously, "Gia, which one is your dominant eye?"
"My what?" Gia returned sharply, quirking a brow.
Jimmy ran a hand over his forehead, frustrated. It didn't help that he was feeling a little haggard and light headed. Probably from the heat, and he hadn't eaten anything all day. He hadn't really slept much the night before either.
"Are you right or left handed?" he re-phrased.
"Uh…left. Why?" Gia answered.
"Switch shoulders," he told her, "See if that's any easier. Reload, you guys."
Once more they lined up and rattled off shots at the line of targets. Jimmy watched them, arms folded across his chest, offering tips when he saw fit. Sometimes they beckoned him over, but for the most part, he let them fire off rounds to their hearts' content.
Roman was the first to falter, lowering his weapon with at least a dozen more rounds left to fire. The others soon after lowered their own weapons and Jimmy furrowed his brow at the action, opening his mouth to ask as to the problem when one by one they all turned round. He followed their harsh, narrowed glazes and his breath hitched in his throat. His heart skipped a few beats. Oddly enough, he felt like a child, his hand crammed in cookie jar.
"Ben," Jimmy called acknowledgment, after a moment to recollect himself from the initial surprise. He slung his rifle up high on his shoulder by its strap and slipped a hand deep into his pocket to hide its nervous tremble, "Hey. When did you get back?"
"Hour or so ago," Ben answered distantly. He stopped a couple meters short of the group, his eyes trailing over the four teenagers lined up along the shooting range, rifles held tentatively in their hands.
Ben's features were rigid, his mouth a thin line, his shoulders squared, his eyes shadowed. Jimmy furrowed a brow and blinked a glance to the four teenagers; they wore mirrored expressions of Ben's own. The air between them all was thick and heavy, it felt so clouded Jimmy could barely see through it, and there he stood smack dab in the middle. He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat.
"Why so early?" he piped question, wincing at the squeak in his own voice. He was sure he'd hear about it later from his students. Douglas would most likely have a neat little 'Mickey Mouse' quip at the ready the moment he saw opportunity.
Ben shrugged response, finally peeling his eyes from the four teenagers, each boring their own eyes into him like red hot laser sights on a team of sniper rifles, only long enough to glance at Jimmy sidelong.
"Can we talk?" he questioned, there was something strange in his tone, a hardness that Jimmy didn't recognize which didn't sit well in his stomach. He tipped his head back towards his students.
The four teenagers had suddenly shifted their attentions to Jimmy and he didn't much appreciate the scrutinizing expressions they wore, ranging from mildly amused – like Gia's arched brow and curled sneer – to outright disgusted – Roman's wrinkled nose ridge and downturned mouth, as though he'd suddenly smelled something rancid.
"We're talking right now," Jimmy pointed out more harshly than he intended. He was feeling too agitated to deal with Ben at the moment, he just wanted to get the day of shooting practice over with so he could get the hell away from those smarmy bastards, standing there, watching him, assessing his every word, his every movement.
Ben dropped his gaze to the ground, shoved his hands in his pockets, and took a small step back, and Jimmy felt a tug on his heart. He knew he shouldn't be taking out his anger towards those other teens on Ben and that Ben would misunderstand but there was nothing he could do about it at that very moment, so he silently vowed to make it up to the other boy later.
"You guys, reload and practice some more. Doug, call off when to fire," Jimmy instructed, then crossed over towards Ben. He brushed a few fingertips across Ben's forearm, a signal to follow, and Ben fell in step beside him as he led the way a few paces down the street and round a corner, out of sight of the range. They didn't say anything until the sound of gunfire tore into the air.
"Weaver scrubbed my assignment," Ben spoke first.
Jimmy had to fight to hide his elation, it was evident Ben wasn't happy about the decision, so he stitched his brow together into a darkly confused expression and demanded, "Why?"
"Dai and Hal thought it was too dangerous," Ben griped, pacing a few times out of his frustration, "its bullshit! This is a war, for crying out loud, everything is fucking dangerous!"
"Well what was their reasoning?" Jimmy prodded, folding his arms over his chest and following Ben's movements with his eyes, soft and concerned. He didn't like the restlessness he saw in that other boy, the way those brown orbs of his kept darting along the pavement and out across the horizon as though seeking a pale illusion in its distance. He'd been seeing that expression more and more in Ben lately and it was troubling, it turned his stomach something awful, with a grave foreboding.
"That we didn't know enough about the building," Ben seethed, "What the hell were we doing there in the first place? Huh? We weren't going to learn everything there was to learn about it in two days. I don't know what they expected!"
"I don't know, Ben…if Dai was against a mission…" Jimmy started.
"Why do you always do that?" Ben snapped suddenly, locking his eyes, burning furious and fiery, on Jimmy's own and Jimmy took a subconscious step back, heart hammering away in his chest.
"Do…what?"
"Just, for once, could you be on my side," Ben cried.
"Ben, I'm not on anyone's…"
"You are always choosing everyone else's side but mine. You're always sticking up for Hal when he's being an asshole," Ben ranted, the foreign hardness in his tone growing heavy and dark. Jimmy tensed his shoulders, an odd, sick feeling stirring in his gut, something he hadn't felt in a long time, something he'd never felt around Ben before – Ben, who made him feel safe, secure, "And now you're taking Dai's side against me too. It would be nice…if would be really fantastic, actually, if you acted like you were my boyfriend and could support me for five fucking seconds!"
Jimmy flustered, dropping his eyes to the ground and shaking his head furiously, as he took another step back.
"I can't deal with this right now," he whispered, voice quivering noticeably, "I got to go."
"That is so typical. Walk away the minute things start to get hard," Ben seethed, and as Jimmy turned to leave he reached out to grab hold of his arm, "Will you hold on one fucking-"
The sudden grip on Jimmy's forearm felt like an iron clamp, it crushed in his skin almost to the bone and jerked him to a harsh and sudden halt, sending a white fire up his arm and forcing a mangled cry from his throat. Ben immediately let go at the pained sound, and Jimmy nearly stumbled, spinning around in surprise, holding his injured arm at his side and away from the other boy, his eyes wide and mouth agape, staring at an equally stunned speechless Ben.
"I'm sorry," Ben quickly rattled off, his words shaking with a terrible, desperate sorrow, "I'm so sorry…"
He started forward, as if to investigate the damage, but Jimmy pulled away.
"It's okay," Jimmy hastily said, he attempted to straighten and relax his arm, despite the searing pain shooting up his shoulder, "I'm fine…I just…was startled," he narrowed his eyes on Ben and demanded, "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Ben shrugged, head hanging low, pacing back a few steps and running a hand over his neck, and sheepishly explaining, "I don't know. I was just upset…I lost control for a second…I just…" He turned back around and met Jimmy's gaze, his eyes piercing, pleading, he took a few steps towards Jimmy, reached out as though to touch him, but faltered, hands falling lost at his side, as he quietly insisted, "I'm so sorry. I would never hurt you. You know that."
"Yeah, I know," Jimmy murmured. He didn't even sound convincing to his own ears.
It was hard to think about, that fear that shot through him in just that small fraction of a moment, an age-old fear so familiar yet foreign at the same time, in this life so removed from his old one. He didn't know he could feel that way ever again, and it broke his heart all the more, to know the feeling had stemmed from this boy he cared for so deeply. He didn't want to associate Ben with anything like that, and he didn't want Ben – aware of so little, but enough of his past that a semblance of understanding could be gleamed as to what it meant – to know that he had if only for a moment, a split of a second. He studied the other boy, as he tried to slow his thrumming heartbeat, catching the darkness in Ben's eyes and easily surmising the terrible thought roiling within those cast shadows, the same thought roiling through his own: harness.
Jimmy hesitated, and then brought his hand, trembling fiercely, out to curl in Ben's shirt front, dragging the other boy forward a step, "I'm fine. I promise."
"Okay," Ben silently conceded, but clearly didn't believe as he tentatively reached a hand up, brushed the hair from Jimmy's eyes and searched them with his own.
"Since when do you lose control?" Jimmy wondered, concern wavering his tone. Ben could be zealous at times; Jimmy often attributed it to an endearing over-excitability, and in that a bit awkward and clumsy, but he'd adapted impressively well to his new found abilities. It still amazed Jimmy to think about how easily, how quickly, Ben had been able to gain control over his alien strength, agility, and hearing, a feat Jimmy couldn't imagine ever being able to accomplish himself.
Ben shrugged and dropped his hands to his sides, shoving them in his pockets and taking a step back.
"I don't know. Lately…I've been feeling…I don't know," Ben sighed and shrugged again, "It's nothing. I'll figure it out."
"Ben…" Jimmy began warily and Ben glanced back at him, a silent plea in his eyes for Jimmy to let it go.
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
Jimmy sighed, and dropped his gaze to the ground once more. He could hear Ben nearby, pacing again, but almost listlessly now. They were silent a few moments. The sick feeling from before subsided and Jimmy tried to shake it off as a momentary thing, his typical feelings around Ben, of security and warmth, returning in full force. He took a deep breath and decided one of them would have to break the silence eventually, and one glance at Ben told him it wouldn't be that other boy currently drowning in a vapid sea of self-loathing.
"I didn't mean to make it seem like I was against you," Jimmy whispered.
"It's okay," Ben muttered, rubbing his face with his hands and begrudgingly admitting, "And you're right…I guess. Dai doesn't retreat easy. If he thinks it's a bad idea, then maybe it is."
There fell another short, contemplative silence between them, as they weighed the emotions that lingered from their heated argument.
"You've never called me that before," Jimmy quietly noted.
"Called you what?" Ben quirked a curious brow.
"That word…" Jimmy mumbled, eyeing the ground. He scrunched his nose and dropped his voice so low he could barely hear himself, "…boyfriend."
Ben flushed, closing his eyes, "Oh. I…yeah…that…um…"
"Is that what I am then…now…? Your…?" Jimmy murmured, smiling inwardly despite himself.
"Well…I thought that…yes…is that…wrong?" Ben pressed.
"I don't know…no..." Jimmy shook his head and smirked, shrugging, "I think I…I don't know….actually kind of…like it...liked you saying it…"
"Really?" Ben grinned, features suddenly lit and Jimmy rolled his eyes as though exasperated by the eager, puppy dog look and not completely infatuated by it.
"Yeah," he confirmed quietly, then narrowed his eyes and hastily added, "Just don't do it again."
"Cool. Okay. Yeah, fine. So…can I call you babe then?"
"No," Jimmy said flatly and Ben dampened, though only just slightly.
"Then…will you call me babe?" Ben attempted and Jimmy pulled a face.
"No!" he cried, wrinkling his nose, "What is with you and pet names?"
"I don't know," Ben replied, stepping up towards Jimmy so that there was maybe an inch – and that was being generous – between them, "It's kind of like…this special word, that only I can call you…kind of like a tag, a dog tag…that says…" he rest his mouth, hot and sweet against Jimmy's own and murmured, "Mine."
Jimmy leaned into the kiss a moment, letting it warm through him and chase away any lingering concerns streaming from the ache in his arm and shoulder, and then he pulled away and insisted, "I do have to go, though, got to make sure they don't shoot themselves."
"We need to talk about that," Ben said and Jimmy gave him an inquisitive look, "Your new assignment…you know, the one you never told me about?"
Jimmy grimaced, "Oh…yeah…that. Right. Uh…since your mission is cancelled, I can find you tonight around camp later, right?"
"No, I'm on watch tonight," Ben answered.
"Really? With who?"
"Val," Ben replied nonchalant.
Jimmy cringed, a horrible emotion swarming through him. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with Valerie, she was a decent fighter and she was always nice to Ben, but maybe that was the problem. She was a little too nice to Ben.
"Why her?" Jimmy demanded.
Ben rolled his eyes, haggardly explaining, "I didn't choose her. Weaver just stuck me on watch with whoever was available and it happened to be her," he smirked and perked a brow suggestively, "We'll be right on the outskirts of camp, you could always come and visit."
"We'll see," Jimmy grumbled, "I really have to go now."
Jimmy stalked back to the shooting range, barely waving a hand over his shoulder when Ben called a 'good-bye'. He braced himself for the merciless remarks from his students but for the most part, they all remained shooting at their targets, not so much pausing to acknowledge his return. Except, that is, for Roman, who glared reprovingly down his nose at the younger boy.
"You got something to say?" Jimmy challenged, though it didn't sound very impressive the way his voice quaked. Roman shook his head.
"No. Nothing," he leered.
Jimmy took up a stance at the end of the shooting line; folding his arms over his chest and watching the others shoot for a moment, trying to ignore the fact that Roman was still studying him so closely.
"I don't understand how you can trust that razorback so much," Roman commented, and Jimmy flinched involuntarily, hands balling into fists that were tangled in his arms.
"I told you that if you call him that our deal is off," he sneered.
"Apologies," Roman said, in a proud tone, "Razorback Ben. What'd he do to deserve your unwavering trust, brat?"
"Luckily, we're not here for me to explain that," Jimmy muttered, keeping his gaze steadily on the targets, trying to discern where his students were each at as far as grasping the concept of 'aiming', "We're here so you can learn how to shoot a rifle. So shoot."
"Actually, we're here so that one day I can fight alongside razorback Ben, so seeing as how he will one day be my comrade-in-arms, I absolutely think it is relevant that you share with the class what it is, exactly, you see in him," Roman persisted, and one by one, his friends paused in their firing to peer curiously at the two boys.
Jimmy bristled, his cheeks flushed red.
"What exactly is your problem with him?" he returned sharply.
"I don't like the way he looks," Roman answered evenly, "Those big buggy eyes and pouted mouth, he always looks like he's about to cry. And his whiny voice grates my nerves. Your turn."
Jimmy glared away, clenching and unclenching his jaw almost rhythmically. He chewed his inner cheek, his thoughts instinctively defensive: Ben didn't cry and he never looked like he would…and his voice was not whiny, maybe it wasn't Roman's powerful boom, but it was steady, reliable, passionate.
"None of that actually has anything to do with him," Jimmy bit out, "Do you even know anything about Ben? Have you ever had a conversation with him? He's a good guy-"
"What's there to know?" Roman cut in, "He gets special treatment because his dad was the second. He does whatever he wants and no one ever questions it, all he has to do is slap on that confused, lost, little puppy dog expression and he's got everyone patting him on the head telling him everything will be alright. How much of that do you honestly think is the real him?"
Jimmy shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. He'd heard it all before. There was a large number of 2nd Mass members that believed there was a possibility that the unharnessed children were still being controlled by the alien enemy and that at any moment they could be ordered to kill everyone in camp.
The most painful part of those whispered theories was that Ben, himself, sometimes wondered if there might be truth to it. Some days it weighed heavier on Ben's mind than others, some days he didn't want Jimmy to touch or even so much as see those spikes running the length of his spine. It hurt Jimmy more than he could ever explain, for Ben to be so ashamed of such a huge part of his life that he thought he couldn't even share it with Jimmy.
"People might say the same of you," Jimmy muttered.
"And they would be right," Roman returned, and Jimmy startled at that admission, "If I were him, I'd play that game too. Putting on that sad, doe face, playing the part of the hapless victim bumbling back into the real world. Playing dumb, acting like he doesn't remember anything."
Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, glaring at the other boy, his stomach turning circles, as he whispered, "He doesn't remember anything."
"How much do you really know about him? From the look on your face, I'd say not much," Roman remarked, too gleefully for Jimmy's liking, "Hell, I bet you actually believe that lie he always tells, about how he's just going out for a walk every night when he slips out of camp."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jimmy questioned, sounding breathless. He felt suddenly cold, a horrible chill creeping through his limbs and prickling into his heart.
A horrible smile creased Roman's lips, and he leered at Jimmy almost delightedly, "You didn't even know about that, did you?"
Jimmy said nothing, biting hard at his cheek, trying to erase the grim solemnity from his features. He darted looks to all the teenagers looming over him, watching his reaction with interest.
"He goes out some nights. I know that," Jimmy murmured, choking on his words, struggling to get his mouth to work, "He gets restless."
"Not some nights. Every night," Roman corrected, "He goes out every night. And he comes back smelling of blood and Skitters."
Jimmy shuddered, ducking his head to hide his obvious contortion of features at that enlightenment. In recent times, Ben had taken to hunting Skitters when they were out on patrols. After the warehouse incident, though, Ben hadn't brought it up and Jimmy wasn't entirely interested in picking the risky hobby back up. He preferred quiet patrols with Ben, talking in low whispers about a miscellany of topics, far removed from the war. If Roman was being truthful then that meant Ben was still hunting, but alone.
"Now knowing that, you going to tell me you still trust him, brat?" Roman questioned.
"We're done for today," Jimmy whispered distantly, "Bring the rifles back to Dai."
He swept the box of remaining bullets off the ground, and tucked it in his pocket. Wordlessly, he spun away from the group and started trudging back to camp, focusing on breathing despite the heavy pressure sitting on his chest, on moving one foot in front of the other despite his legs feeling weak and ready to give out underneath him.
In the community center, Jimmy slipped into one of the bathrooms and locked himself in a stall. He rubbed his hands over his face, a few tears unbidden streamed down and he quickly swiped them away.
Every night. The words beat into him, into his brain, over and over. He replayed recent nights passed, replayed invitations he'd mustered the courage to make that were easily rejected by Ben with some excuse or another; lies. He thought of the other night, standing in Ben's tent, and Ben's sudden loss of interest in their heated kiss, and Jimmy's own sudden subsequent dismissal by Ben in that almost apologetic tone; too tired. It was a lie. They were all lies.
Jimmy wrapped his arms around himself; he couldn't stop the uncontrollable shaking of his shoulders, the welling pain in his chest. He sniffled hard and swatted away a few more errant tears, then gently peeled away the fabric of his sleeve to reveal his forearm and the already darkly developed bruise that had formed where Ben had gripped him too tight, a perfect purplish-black handprint.
Jimmy closed his eyes, hissing at the pain still emanating from the mark, holding it tenderly to his chest. If Ben could lie so easily about his nightly routines, then what else could Ben lie about? A small, strangled sob escaped Jimmy's throat and he grimaced, hating himself more than he ever thought possible, as he wondered, was Roman right? Was it wrong to trust Ben?
.
.
.
A/N: Yeah, so...I kind of don't really like the way Ben and Jimmy's convo ended, which I'm sure many will disagree because it ended all fluffy and nice, but it was too sudden a shift in mood for me but that's how it came out when I wrote it and I didn't have the time to figure out a new way to write it and...yeah...
Also, Greg was very disappointed that Roman and Ben didn't come to blows in this chapter. Kind of wondering how you guys are going to feel about it? Let me know! Review, please.
As for the reviewers, didn't get many this chapter (kind of disappointing, but those who did review more than made up for it in what they wrote) : SassySavanna190, your reviews have been too awesome lately, I'm glad you're really getting into the story! And I agree, Maggie is a great character and I really hope to use her a bit more in the story, though I don't know if everything I had planned for her will make it in. JDMlvr1, you're right, at least Jimmy did get a ceremony. Though...I kind of hated that too, because it was only done to be like, "Look how sad Weaver is, and listen to him talk, he's such a great leader...and he wants to keep fighting..." And loathe as I am to admit it, a lot of the criticism about his speech commending Jimmy as being this great hero is, unfortunately, well founded. Maybe that one shot of Jimmy helping save Tom from the Berserkers is supposed to make us go, "Oh! He's become a good fighter and comes through in battle now" and thus, make Weaver's speech believable but we needed to see it more in the series. They just do too much telling, not enough showing, if that makes sense...I don't know. Haley, I was kind of excited about your longer than normal review! I'm glad to hear you like Roman, though I'm not sure how you feel about him after this chapter, and yeah...Ben's life is sucking now, but at least now him and Jimmy's relationship is labelled with more concrete terms. IcicleLilly, lol, I'm glad it's got your interest a bit piqued. Hope you weren't disappointed with this installment!
Now, that is that, I have to get ready to go shopping and eat sushi! See you all Thursday!