A/N: Up until midnight playing a stupid (fantastic) game called Don't Starve. Figured I'd post before I went to bed and that way not have to worry about it for tomorrow. Ugh, I start school up again on Tuesday, and I will interning in the Zooarchaeology lab curating bones and data-entering stuff, so I'm not sure how much time I'll have to focus on this. I may be dropping updates down to once a week...we'll see how much I write tomorrow.
Thank you to the reviewers, awesome as ever! And the return of an old reviewer, woohoo!
Also, as always, thank you to Greg for beta-ing...even though right now I think he wants to hunt me down and throttle me...hopefully he hasn't put together the few clues I've dropped about my location, last thing I need is an angry beta on my doorstep...
Right. Read.
XXX.
The sun splintered the horizon in a citrus explosion, tangerine, lemon, grapefruit colors, by the time Ben staggered back into camp. He slipped easily into the showers, by-passing the fighters coming in or going out on patrol and the civilians waking to start their chores for the day, thankful to find the locker room empty. He drenched himself in cold water, leaning against the shower's tile wall as icy droplets bit into his flesh and cascaded down his clothed backside. He couldn't recall the night.
Skitters, somewhere, were dead. Of that, he was certain. He was covered in their entrails after all. How many were dead and where he'd killed them were all minor details anyhow. The only thing that really mattered was that he'd spent the entire night killing them instead of where he should have been, in camp beside Jimmy.
And where had Jimmy spent the night? Maybe he'd hidden himself in a store closet somewhere - the way he was wont to do on those rare yet painful occasions when seeing Ben was the greater evil - and sulked alone? Or maybe he'd taken Ben's heated recommendation and sought out comfort in Roman's arms.
Ben ran a hand over his face and head, knocking water back and flinging it across the shower. He twisted the faucet off and stood for a moment, listening to the droplets falling from his body and splattering to the floor. He flashed momentarily on Jimmy in that hall, leaned in against Roman's chest, that bastard's arm draped casually across Jimmy's shoulders as if it belonged there. At the sight, a sinister kind of substance had seeped into Ben's veins and ran him cold. The words that spat like venom from his mouth, his volatile actions, from that point on were outside of his control. He couldn't stop himself, even when the pain and fear contorted in Jimmy's features broke his heart and begged him to let it go.
Jimmy had already been in a dark place and all Ben had managed to do was shove him farther into the darkness.
And then Ben blacked out. He didn't know how much time he'd lost, maybe a few seconds, a few minutes. However much didn't matter, it was long enough for him to pin Jimmy and put a fist through the wall. Long enough for Jimmy to see, to learn, why he really should fear the dreaded 'razorback'. Ben couldn't be certain what hurt more in that moment, the obvious pain he'd caused Jimmy, or the pure fear painted in Jimmy's expression.
Ben stepped out of the shower, drenched. He stalked across camp back to his tent, disregarding the glares shot his direction from civilians and fighters alike. Inside the isolation of his tent, he peeled away his shirt and examined himself. There were fresh injuries; three tears ran parallel across his chest, one puncture just above his right hip, five more lacerations sporadically placed along his back. Dark purple bruises formed around the various wounds, blood pooling to the surface. Distantly, he could sense further bruising across his back, his shoulders, on his forearms, and his legs. It didn't matter. He was numb to the pain, courtesy of the harness.
Squat over his duffel bag looking for the first aid kit and a clean shirt, Ben's mind wandered back to the last time he was in his tent. He'd startled hard back into reality from another blackout to find his knife pressed under Hal's chin and while the eldest Mason sibling handled it with aplomb, and Ben had been able to rationally explain the action away, the thought certainly crossed both brothers' minds, it could've been someone else who didn't handle the situation right. It could've been Matt. Ben shuddered from the memory and then froze at the sounds of shuffling outside his tent's entry flap.
"Ben?"
Ben slumped slightly, let guilt swarm over him, ripping into him anew with a tint of anger at himself and though to a lesser degree also at the boy standing outside. Sometimes that boy could be so stubborn he'd walk right into a pit of vipers rather than admit defeat.
"Ben…can I come in?"
Ben rose up from the ground and answered in an unintentionally harsh tone, "Yeah, fine."
Tentatively, Jimmy entered, hands in his pockets, eyes downcast. Ben stood uncertainly near the back of the tent, carefully studying the other boy. Jimmy didn't look any better than he had in that grocery store standing paralyzed with his still smoking gun poised to shoot. Blue, haunted and shivering, lifted to meet Ben's imploring expression and then widened at the sight.
"Jesus Christ, Ben," Jimmy gasped, starting forward as if forgetting for a moment their fight the night before. He faltered, remembered himself, reeled back and dropped his gaze again, demanding shakily, "What happened?"
"I don't know," Ben murmured honestly, whispering, "I guess I went hunting."
"You guess?" Jimmy challenged, quirking a brow and gaping at the other boy, "You're not sure?"
"I'm not sure of a lot of things lately," Ben confessed.
Jimmy flinched at the comment, believing Ben was referring to him and Roman, and maybe were circumstances different he would be right, if not for the obvious distance he maintained between himself and Ben, the way he hovered with his arms cinched tight – protective – around himself, the way he refused to meet Ben's eyes as if Ben couldn't see the fear laden there regardless.
"Did I hurt you?" Ben wondered. He grimaced at the break in his own voice.
Jimmy shook his head, but lowered his face to obscure whatever emotion might be evident in his features. He didn't have to because Ben already knew the real answer. He'd seen the effects of his actions etched in Jimmy's pained expression the night before. The question shouldn't have been 'did he', but instead 'how severely'.
"It was my fault," Jimmy murmured.
Ben remained silent, glaring at the ground. He could hear the shuffle of Jimmy's feet, a rustling of clothes, a soft relenting sigh.
"What I said before…I think I might have been wrong. It turns out…Roman might like me a little more than you, after all," Jimmy said. He tried to keep his tone light but it came out too painstakingly strained. He paused, sniffled, and whispered, "It doesn't mean anything to me, Ben; you have to believe that. Please believe that."
"Jimmy…" Ben began.
"Where's your first aid kit?" Jimmy cut in.
Ben furrowed his brow and peeked up curiously at the other boy.
"What? I can't just stand here having a conversation, staring at you in this condition, pretending like you don't look as though you went five hundred rounds at an ultimate fighter championship," Jimmy snapped, flustered, "Where's your kit?"
"Duffle…" Ben answered, distantly gesturing the bag at his feet with his hand.
Jimmy strode across the tent and knelt, unzipping the bag and rifling through its contents. He tugged out a bloody, tattered shirt, and tossed it aside, and then pulled out another one. He darted a harsh, accusatory glare up at Ben standing frozen overhead, watching blank and dazed at the other boy's inexplicable actions.
"You're an idiot, you know that, right? Go sit down," Jimmy grumbled.
Ben hesitated, taken aback at the heated instruction, then meandered to his rumpled sleeping bag and carefully sat down on it. He glared at his hands and tried to straighten out the jumbled thoughts and memory gaps in his head. Meanwhile, Jimmy dug through the duffle, muttering disgustedly under his breath about the sorry state of Ben's belongings and, "…as if he's got any fucking room to criticize how well I take care of myself…"
Eventually Jimmy found the kit and crossed the tent; dropping to the ground beside Ben, sitting with his legs folded Indian-style. He plopped the ragged red bag filled with emergency medical supplies in his lap and opened it, tugging out the gauze and iodine. He had brought one of the tattered shirts with him and now dumped alcohol on it from a brown bottle, giving Ben an expectant look. Ben straightened, allowing Jimmy access to the injuries across his chest.
For several minutes, they were silent. Jimmy mopped up much of the blood with his make-shift rag; hands shaking as he clumsily dumped more alcohol on the injuries and used the rag to soak up excess. Ben leaned back on his palms, head tilted back to study the tent roof. He barely registered the sting of alcohol in his wounds, only feeling the delicate, tingling touch of Jimmy's finger tips. He couldn't explain how important this moment was to him. Not to himself, not to his brother, certainly not to Jimmy, to sit there in quiet reprieve with this one other person, perhaps the only person in the world who somehow managed to forgive him his every mistake, who beyond all sense of reason seemed to still care deeply enough about him to nurse his injuries despite disapproving of the decisions and actions he took to get them.
"I don't remember," Ben admitted.
"Remember what?" Jimmy muttered.
"Hunting," Ben expanded. He sighed, smirked darkly and continued, "I don't remember anything from last night. It's all a blank."
Jimmy paused in his tending and breathed out a shocked, "What do you mean?"
"I remember leaving you in the community center…and then…coming back into camp this morning. The hours between that…nothing."
"What are you saying? What does that mean?" Jimmy stammered, raising his eyes to search Ben's features. But it was obvious in his expression that he knew where Ben was headed.
"Remember at the gun range, when I…?" Ben faltered, straightening and meeting Jimmy's gaze.
A strange tint of sadness touched the other boy's eyes and Ben smiled faintly. Yeah, of course Jimmy remembered. How could either of them ever forget? How could they ever forget that moment or the one in the center? Those moments which were slowly corrupting the one beautiful thing Ben had ever been able to grasp in his life.
"I told you I lost control. That lately I've been…"
"Yeah."
"Well, it's been getting worse. I feel like I have way too much energy all the time and I get agitated and angry really easy," Ben continued, Jimmy's brow wrinkled.
"I've noticed."
"It's why I've been hunting…it helps…sort of," Ben explained and Jimmy straightened at that. Ben cleared his throat, "I told you before, that even I don't know if I'm still under their control…"
"You're not," Jimmy insisted, but there wasn't any conviction in his words.
"I don't remember what I did to you," Ben confessed. He started a hand forward to brush the stray hair from Jimmy's eyes, but stopped himself just short, "Last night, when we got in that fight, I don't know how you ended up against the wall and…and before that, I don't know how I ended up with your arm in my hand outside the gun range and…and…and…and I don't know how I got back to my tent after I left Weaver's last night, or how I ended up pulling a knife on Hal…"
"What? Knife on…" Jimmy cried, pulling back, surprised, "When did you…?"
"I don't know," Ben repeated. He grimaced, a sudden realization coming to him, "You need to stay away from me."
"No," Jimmy protested.
"I don't know what's happening to me and I don't know what I'm capable of right now," Ben said, "I don't know if…if next time I'll hit the wall or if I'll…if I'll hit you or worse…what if next time I put the knife to your throat, or what if I don't stop there, what if I just slice your throat open?"
"Don't say that! You won't. I know you won't."
"You can't know. I don't even know. Jimmy…you have to stay away from me."
"I can't do that," Jimmy insisted, shaking his head and reaffirming, "I won't do that. I'm not afraid of you, Ben."
"Yes, you are," Ben choked out, "I've seen it in your eyes. You're scared of me right now. And even if you weren't, I'm scared of me enough for the both of us."
"That's not true…"
"I can't lose you again," Jimmy flinched back, falling silent at the words, and Ben took a deep breath, continued, "And I can't be the reason I lose you."
"That's stupid. If you don't want to lose me, then don't do this," Jimmy argued. He dropped his gaze to the bloodied rag in his hands, and in a small but firm voice told Ben, "Back at the bookstore, you said you knew what you were getting into with me. Well, it works both ways. I knew what I was getting into with you too. I'm not afraid of the harness and I'll be damned if it's the reason I lose you."
"Jimmy," Ben protested.
"Knock it off," Jimmy snapped, "I told you that I would be the one to decide when I wanted to stop hanging around you and I haven't decided that yet, and that's final…end of discussion…so…shut up."
They fell silent. Jimmy returned his attention to Ben's injuries and Ben relented, tipping his head back to stare at the tent roof.
"We'll figure something out," Jimmy said, attempting to sound reassuring, "Maybe Dr. Glass…"
"I already talked to her," Ben mumbled, "She can't help me. Her advice was to just keep hunting – well, I told her running – and messing around with you. She was actually very supportive of me messing around with you as an outlet for my excess energy. I wonder if I could get her to write me a prescription for sex."
Jimmy paused. He fixed his eyes on one of the bruises on Ben's chest.
"You really are worried about this," he noted with a touch of surprise. He smirked suddenly and met Ben's eyes, "Hey, a prescription might get Hal off your back about us spending time together."
Jimmy placed a bit of gauze over the scars on Ben's chest and used the medical tape to pin it down. He crawled around to Ben's backside, and Ben straightened so that he could begin cleaning the scars there.
"Is this is the real reason why you've been lying to me?" Jimmy questioned, "Because of the harness…?"
"Yeah. I guess so," Ben replied.
Jimmy absently traced his fingers along the spikes as he dabbed the alcohol soaked rag along Ben's injuries and Ben shuddered at the feel, smiling distantly. Jimmy was silent a long time and Ben wondered with a pang of dismay if the other boy was angry, and then mentally berated himself, of course Jimmy was angry, he had every reason to be, lying about hunting was one thing, lying about possibly still being under alien control was another thing entirely.
"Well…" Jimmy finally spoke again, "I guess you are one of the only people in the world that can get away with the excuse 'aliens made me act like a jerk'."
"So what's your excuse?" Ben teased, suddenly elated by the comment, and then winced when Jimmy flicked his ear.
They were quiet again. Jimmy shuffled around to grab the first aid kit, digging inside for a roll of bandages.
"I'm surprised you actually believe me," Ben said quietly. He frowned and amended, "Not that I'm lying. It's just…"
"Actually, I don't believe you," Jimmy responded in a hard tone.
Ben lowered his head, glared at the gauze wrinkling across his chest. Jimmy's harsh words from their fight the other night came rushing painfully back to the forefront of his mind: I can't believe I trusted you…
"It's just that…it's so ridiculous a story, I don't even think you could come up with a lie this bad," Jimmy explained, then he muttered under his breath, "That…and it's kind of hard to be mad at you when you look so pathetic and you aren't wearing a shirt."
Ben straightened, quirking a brow at that. An almost cruel smile overtook his features.
"Wait a minute…I'm sorry, did I hear that right? My lack of shirt is making it hard for you to stay mad? Is my manly chest distracting you?" he questioned light-heartedly.
"That is not what I meant," Jimmy stammered, flustering.
"Oh ho, who's lying now? That is exactly what you meant," Ben persisted, suddenly feeling like a five year old that won the candy lottery, "I'm apparently not the only one weakened by my hormones. For future reference, should I be shirtless whenever I have to tell you something you won't like? Will you always take it this well if I do?"
"Ben…" Jimmy groaned.
"And how does that work when we get in fights? Is shirtless good enough, or will I need to strip down to full nudity?"
Jimmy buried his face in his hand and moaned, "Will you shut up!"
"Uh oh, you sound like you might be getting angry. I should probably start removing my pants then, huh?"
Jimmy finally started laughing at that and it took a few seconds for him to quiet again. Then he looked at Ben with a soft smile and Ben grinned proudly at him in return. Jimmy moved forward, sitting on his knees in front of Ben and balancing himself on Ben's shoulders, he touched his lips to Ben's own. Ben responded almost immediately, wrapping his arm around Jimmy's waist, pulling the boy closer and deepening their kiss. They broke apart and rest their foreheads together.
"Let me make sure I got this straight," Ben murmured, "I tried to break up with you and you basically just told me no."
Jimmy shrugged, smirked, "Pretty much."
"Your stubbornness knows no bounds," Ben mused.
"We'll figure something out…with your losing control thing," Jimmy assured Ben.
Ben frowned and nodded stiffly.
"But if it gets worse…" he started.
"We'll figure it out," Jimmy repeated firmly.
Ben knew what the right choice was, the choice that kept Jimmy safe was to keep Jimmy at a distance, but he couldn't stand behind that decision, not when Jimmy was begging to be allowed to stay. So against all reason he let it drop. He had always heard that love made you do stupid things; maybe this was what that meant. Jimmy helped Ben wrap the bandages around his midsection and tied it off. Then Ben pulled Jimmy into his arms and crushed him in an all-consuming kiss. They broke apart breathless.
"How are you…with the whole…that thing that happened," Ben carefully questioned. It was a coin toss how Jimmy would respond to his bringing it up, and he knew Jimmy would rather it never be mentioned, but Ben had to know.
Jimmy shrugged, crinkling his brow. He sighed, sunk against Ben. He'd started doing that in recent times, letting himself rest entirely against Ben as his support, burying his face pleasantly in the crook of Ben's neck. It spread this warm inexplicably pleasant feeling through Ben. He'd learned quickly not to draw attention to it, Jimmy would pull away so fast it was a wonder he didn't give himself whiplash, so instead Ben comfortably relished in the moment.
"I guess it's not the first person I've killed," Jimmy mumbled distantly. He tried to sound nonchalant about it but there was a more than perceptible quake in his words that shook painfully through Ben.
Ben tried to think of something, anything comforting to say but how exactly did one go about expressing their sympathies to someone for taking another human's life?
"What the hell is that?" Jimmy demanded suddenly, jerking back.
.
.
.
A/N: A lot of people seemed to think I was going to separate the boys for a few chapters, so now I'm a little worried this chapter might come off weird...honestly, I needed a catalyst for Ben to finally confess to Jimmy about his loses in time, and what better vehicle is there than him nearly cramming a fist down the love of his life's throat?
Oh wells. Honestly, though, I am gearing the boys up for some major heartache in later chapters...when things start to look good between them, that's when I plan to strike and strike hard!
Like a ninja.
And this is why I don't typically write A/N in the middle of the night.
Right, let me know what you think please and thank you very, very, very much!
Reviewers: typhoonboom08, ah...yes, cake. I love cake. Um...no, I guess you weren't warm. Though honestly, I did toy with breaking the boys up for several chapters, have this whole dramatic scene where Jimmy gives Ben an ultimatum: me or hunting, and Ben chooses hunting...sort of...but it would have made the whole story unnecessarily longer than it already will be. Um...don't fret, though, there will be plenty of Jimmy/Maggie bonding chapters, because everyone knows I love that relationship, and Ben/Rick bonding time too...somewhere down the line. Also, personal hells...yes, the boys will be writhing in their own personal hells for about a third...two/thirds of this story...augh, tired. You'll see. WhisperMaw, that certainly was longer than usual, and you came back for more. Of course, I know that's because you love angst and drama almost as much, if not more than me. You're right, that moment was different, I never got into it, but in previous physical altercations between Ben and Jimmy, you have to know, Ben holds back a lot. In that moment, no control, full force punch...he could have broken poor Jimmy like a porcelain doll. Glad Weaver's stuff came out good for you, I'll definitely be getting more in Roman and Kelsey's characters, and I'm glad to hear you're eager for more reading! JDMlvr1, yeah, Roman did a bad, bad thing. He's a bit of a complicated character right now...his motivations are a bit foggy at the moment. Not for me, but him, I mean. Glad you dug the scene! WhisperMaw, intentional, not really...though I do recall when writing it thinking that some readers may draw the parallel, and I sort of knew it might be you to note it...both scenes kind of revolve around the same moral: when aliens invade, don't fool around on an op, no matter how "safe and easy" it's supposed to be. Guest, it couldn't possibly be because he's condescending, arrogant, punched Jimmy, and hates Ben, could it? Lol, thanks for stopping by, I hope this chapter was well worth the wait. Haley! I was worried about you! I'm sorry you were sick, glad you're feeling better and back in full "awww"-some force.
Right. You guys rock! See you...Thursday, with either bad or good news about updates. We'll see.