A/N: Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are awesome and I'm gracious of all your understanding on the change in updates. I know, I know, I had promised at one point an attempt at finishing this thing before the month was out but...best laid plans, right?

And, of course, a huge thank you to Greg who is incredibly bummed he won't be getting a new chapter today because of the change in updates...so, yes, pity for Greg everyone! Except he's read a few chapters of my other Falling Skies fanfic, currently being worked on, which he will be getting a new chapter of today to fill that Fire Light void, so...envy him, also.

And...read.

XXXII.

When Jimmy woke, he was alone in Ben's tent. He checked the watch on his wrist and frowned. He'd slept a few hours, he still wasn't sure how he'd let Ben talk him into sleeping at all. He lifted himself to sitting, rubbed the grog from his eyes. He had a clouded feeling swarming his head, as though he were walking through a dream. He stretched, cracked the kinks from his bones, and laid back on the sleeping bag again, staring through foggy eyes up at the tent roof overhead. The entire place smelled of Ben, citrus and pine blanketed Jimmy entirely. It wasn't a bad thing to wake up to, not bad at all.

Jimmy smiled distantly. For the first time in days, he felt as though he and Ben were back on steady ground. He now knew why Ben needed to go hunting, Ben now knew why he was training the unharnessed kids, and later they would go out together and kill some Skitters. It might be a good day.

Ben's confession rushed to mind and Jimmy closed his eyes, a grayness swarming through him. Ben had said he'd been losing control, and he didn't know if the aliens were still controlling him. With a sickness, Jimmy recalled those moments when he glimpsed the depth of Ben's rage, those feelings that overwhelmed Jimmy in those moments, old scars being struck open anew. He had been quick to say Ben was wrong, the aliens weren't in control, but he didn't know if he was right and what was worse, he didn't know if he wanted to be right. If the aliens weren't controlling Ben in those moments, then what did that leave as explanation for Ben's behavior? Only Ben.

Jimmy pulled himself up to his feet. He made an effort to straighten the sleeping bag, not that Ben would notice or care. He restacked the books he'd knocked over earlier – made a face at the book before hiding it on the bottom of the stack again, cleaned up Ben's first aid kit that Ben apparently left lying open with its insides spilled out, and then he tucked the kit neatly back where it had come from inside Ben's duffle bag.

Oddly satisfied that the tent was tidied, Jimmy debated on what to do next. He could go find Ben, but then again, Ben had mentioned wanting to search out Matt to spend time with the youngest Mason, and Jimmy didn't really want to interfere with the brothers' bonding time. He already took up more than enough of Ben's time as it was. Not to mention, Jimmy wasn't exactly in a huge hurry to see Ben again, not after everything that had come out that morning. Telling a guy you were prepared to take a bullet for him tended to leave behind an awkward aftertaste in the mouth.

Then there was the shopping complex incident.

Jimmy slipped from the tent, careful of any nosy onlookers. Douglas's words rang scathing in his ears: …half the 2nd Mass knows what's going on between you two…

It was bad enough so many people knew about Jimmy and Ben, the last thing Jimmy wanted was for people to see him leaving Ben's tent and incite rumors spreading like wildfire through the 2nd Mass. He shuddered to think what rumors were already going around about them. Depending on what those rumors were saying, it was no wonder Hal was always fussing so much about where Ben was and what he was doing there.

Some of the younger kids had a game of soccer going in the nearby field. Jimmy paused a moment to watch them play. It had been awhile since he'd joined in on recreational activities around camp. It had been awhile since he'd acted anything like a kid period. Not since Weaver had finally put him in fighter rotations. Before the warehouse, there had been protests by fighters and civilians alike about someone as young as Jimmy fighting the war. Having sixteen year olds on the battlefield was bad enough, but a thirteen year old? At what point did they draw the line? At what point did they attempt to preserve some semblance of innocence in the children who'd otherwise and so unceremoniously had childhood ripped out from under them? But then Jimmy pushed that button and people stopped questioning if he should be on the battlefield or not.

Across the camp, Jimmy spotted Anthony speaking to a few of the older fighters. It looked like Anthony was doling out assignments, as soon as he was finished telling those fighters whatever it was he was telling them, they left him. Anthony wandered towards the munitions truck, sorting through a few bullet boxes in the back, and Jimmy tentatively approached him.

"Hey, Jimmy, how's it going?" Anthony greeted, when he noticed the younger boy.

"Okay, I guess," Jimmy answered, leaning nonchalant against the truck, "Did you have anything that needed to be done? I got nothing to do and I'm…really bored."

Anthony glanced at Jimmy askance, studying him a moment. Jimmy squirmed under the scrutinizing stare, shoving his hands in his pockets and tipping his head to the side. He tried to look like an appealing subordinate. Anthony went back to the munitions.

"I heard about what happened on your run yesterday," he commented.

Jimmy fell back a step, air knocked from his chest. Of course Anthony had heard about that, everyone around camp would've heard the news already. Jimmy screwed the pooch on his first and probably last mission as lead. People had probably already forgotten the warehouse and were now demanding to know why someone so foolish, so young, and so irrevocably incapable was leading units into the battlefield.

"I also heard Weaver gave you the day off," Anthony went on, "Take my word for it, Jimmy, and just take the day off. Play ball with the other kids, or a board game in the rec room. Uncle Scott is doing some reading thing…poetry I think it was, with the smaller kids. They might write some later, it sounds fun. You should check it out."

"You have a strange definition of fun," Jimmy muttered.

"Poetry is good for the soul, and some of those kids write some pretty interesting things," Anthony commented.

"Yeah, right," Jimmy scoffed, then challenged smartly, "And what do you know about poetry?"

Anthony paused again; examining Jimmy with a light smirk on his lips then shook his head, returned to the munitions.

"He gives his harness bells a shake, to ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep. Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep," Anthony carefully recited, "It's a line from a poem by Robert Frost. I took a classic lit course in college, the teacher covered poetry for almost half the semester. Made us memorize dozens of them; we had to present them at the front of class from memory. Trust me, Jimmy, it's good for the soul."

"Classic lit," Jimmy murmured, flashing momentarily back on his false future with Ben, and then, gaping, and before realizing how rude it would sound, blurted out in surprise, "You went to college? I thought you were a cop before the aliens."

"Yes, I went to college. They didn't just hand a badge to any shmuck off the street," Anthony returned, chuckling lightly. His mirth died after a few shakes of his head and distantly he explained, "I had an Associate's in Criminal Justice. I was working on a Bachelor's, taking night classes before all of this happened. I was gunning for detective, you know?"

"Oh," Jimmy replied, flustering somewhat, sheepish, "Sorry."

"That's the past," Anthony said, returning his attention to the munitions.

Jimmy watched Anthony, finding himself oddly curious about the future Anthony would've had if not for the aliens, maybe even more curious about the young man's past that should've built up to that future. In not wanting to talk about himself, Jimmy had avoided discussions about others, and he realized in that moment that he didn't really know all that much about the fighters he'd fought beside all of those months, those fighters that he idolized and who tolerated his constant tagging along. He knew how annoying it had to be for them, his following them around: Hal, Anthony, Dai, Click before he died, Karen before she was harnessed, and Maggie now. The little brother they never wanted.

"You okay, Jimmy," Anthony questioned, and Jimmy startled out of his ruminations.

"Yeah, fine," Jimmy answered quickly. He shrunk back from Anthony's hard gaze. Anthony was studying him again.

"I feel like I'm supposed to say something encouraging," Anthony sighed. Jimmy perked.

"Why?"

"Out at the shopping complex, I know you shot a man," Anthony said, far more casually than seemed right for the statement.

Jimmy dropped his eyes and tensed his shoulders.

"You were protecting your unit," Anthony continued, "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, but…wasn't he protecting his unit too?" Jimmy pointed out.

Anthony paused, he was silent a long moment. Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, his own words reverberating through his mind. Sure, in that complex, they were trying to protect themselves and ensure their safety and survival, but wasn't it the same for those other people? Weren't they responding to a sudden attack the only way they knew how, to protect themselves?

"I can't tell you that you did the right thing," Anthony admitted in a low, softened voice, a voice deepened only by his own personal reflection swirling through his unfocused gaze, "It's never the right thing when a life is lost."

"On the force…" Jimmy started, faltered, dropped his eyes and pushed forward, "Did you ever have to…have to kill someone?"

"I discharged my weapon twice in the line of duty," Anthony answered, clearing his throat, "The first time, it was an older woman…figured she was dying I guess, went on a robbing and killing spree, came out of a grocery mart, pointed her Uzi at our barricade we set up outside and…well, I couldn't tell you if it was my bullet killed her that day or if it was someone else's. Other one stays in my mind though…" he creased his brow, slipped one of the bullets out the box, watched distantly as he rolled it in his fingers, "Seventeen year old boy, I never got the whole story, never felt I needed to…didn't really want to, didn't want to give him anymore of a face. All I know is what happened when I came on the scene…little girl was on the ground bleeding out from stab wounds and he went at his mother with a knife. I had the shot and I took it."

Anthony placed the bullet back in the box and closed it again. Jimmy studied him with a newfound respect as a pressure swelled in his chest, he flashed momentarily on an image months back, a boy's dead eyes wide and rolled skyward as though in prayer. Anthony had probably seen far worse, far more disturbing things on the force, and Jimmy could only imagine the horrors. In a way, maybe the invasion was something of a reprieve, fighting the scum of the universe as opposed to the scum of Earth. Or maybe it was more depressing, confirmation for the former cop that humanity had always been doomed from the beginning.

"You know, Jimmy, it turns out I do have something for you to do," Anthony declared.

Jimmy perked, "Sure. What is it?"

"I was about to hit the shooting range," Anthony smirked at Jimmy, reaching a hand forward to ruffle his hair, "You been asking to see those Blaser rifles we picked up awhile back. Come out there with me, I'll give you a rundown."

"Okay," Jimmy grinned, absently smoothing his hair out.

Anthony picked out the munitions they would need, and they picked up the guns from the artillery truck.

"Jimmy," Anthony started, handing off a Blaser R93 to the boy waiting expectantly outside of the truck. He climbed down to stand level with Jimmy, slid a rifle over his own shoulder and clipped a handgun to his belt, "I don't want what happened out there to rattle you, make you question yourself."

"It won't," Jimmy promised.

"Hey look at me," Anthony said firmly, and Jimmy rolled his eyes up from the ground, met the older man's firm gaze, "Whether it's alien or human, if it boils down to you or him, you pull that trigger. If you question it later well…at least you have a later to question it. Understand?"

"I guess," Jimmy murmured. Anthony smiled, clapped a hand round the back of Jimmy's neck and led him to the shooting range.

"I just don't want anything to happen to you, kid," Anthony admitted.

"Thanks," Jimmy replied softly, adding uncertainly, "I don't want anything to happen to you either."

Anthony smirked and they continued their trek to the shooting range in silence. Along the way, Jimmy caught a glimpse of Ben sitting on the fringe of camp with Matt, and briefly they met one another's eyes, a question in Ben's lingering gaze.

As Jimmy moved out of sight, Ben kept a steady gaze on the corner he'd disappeared round, as though still captivated by the hastily fading after image. While it stung that Jimmy hadn't sought Ben out when he woke, at least he was spending time with some of the older fighters again, instead of the other unharnessed kids, Ben decided, returning to his younger brother. Matt had wanted to play soccer earlier when Ben found him, and while they joined the other 2nd Mass children for a while in a game, the pointed glares and dwindling number of children interested in playing had become painstakingly obvious, so Ben had subtly suggested he and Matt leave to do something just the two of them, which Matt had eagerly agreed.

Though Matt had originally asked to go to the shooting range, mildly disturbed, Ben suggested he just show Matt how to clean a handgun instead. Matt talked a lot about wanting to learn to shoot, and Jimmy mentioned it on occasion, but Hal put his foot down soon after their father was 'abducted' on Matt learning to shoot or any active fighting responsibilities, declaring vehemently, "He's not going to be a fighter."

There were a lot of things that Ben could argue with Hal on, but Matt being a fighter certainly wasn't one of them. Neither brother wanted to see the youngest member of their family out on the battlefield, not when considering the members of their family they'd already lost. Of course, there was no compelling argument against teaching Matt to clean a gun, it would give him something to do around camp that might help the troops, something he was always yammering about, wanting to be a bigger help.

"I heard that Jimmy killed someone," Matt commented, he'd evidently caught a glimpse of the other boy too. Ben clenched his jaw, and rolled his eyes at the comment.

"Who told you that?" Ben demanded, trying to keep the anger from his voice, Hal flashing momentarily into mind. It didn't seem a stretch of the imagination that the elder brother had run his mouth off about something like that unwittingly in front of the youngest, the one more likely to run and tell the entire camp.

"I don't know. Everyone is just talking about it," Matt shrugged, gently removing the pieces of the gun the way Ben had shown him.

Ben relaxed somewhat, leaning against the side of the truck bed and glancing back at the community center, at the people moving around the building, lazing about and bustling with some task or other. If everyone already knew without his brothers' help, that was certainly a different story, though the question still remained: who told.

"Is it hard…you think?" Matt wondered. Ben furrowed his brow and peeked at the other boy.

"Killing someone?" he carefully questioned, feeling a bit pained at the idea being in his younger brother's head.

"No. Being killed," Matt said plainly.

Ben winced. That answer definitely didn't make the question any easier.

"Why would you ask something like that?" he quietly wondered.

Matt shrugged again. He reached for the cleaning solution and rag.

"Mom was killed. I just wondered if it was hard," he candidly explained.

Ben scowled. He turned his head to glare in the distance, the houses lining the streets across from their camp.

"I think dying in general is probably hard," he muttered, then forced a light smile and gently told his brother, "But I bet it's harder on the people that don't die, like you and me, that have to remember those people. When it's over, it's over; they don't have to be in pain anymore."

"Probably," Matt replied, frowning, "But it's harder not knowing, like dad."

Ben sighed. This was really one of the major reasons he hated spending any time with his brothers. There were only so many topics to talk about, and nine times out of ten, it was a depressing topic that made Ben feel all at once restless to do something and helpless because he couldn't. At least when he was with Jimmy, parents rarely came into conversation, and when they did, Jimmy's were dead which led to comforting and then, of course, kissing and Jimmy generally steered clear of the subject of Ben's missing father, it was nice in the sense that Ben didn't have to think about it, but a little disconcerting in what that absence of question might mean.

"Yeah. I guess," Ben murmured.

"If he is dead, we'll never know," Matt pointed out, "And if we don't know, we'll never do anything for him…like a funeral or something."

"Could we talk about something else, Matt?" Ben interjected, shifting uncomfortably.

Matt fell silent, working on cleaning the gun. Ben glanced him, his eyes were lowered, his expression soft and melancholy.

"You know, it doesn't have to be hard," Ben started quietly, and Matt peeked up, "Not knowing means we can make things up, and because we'll never know, it could mean the things we come up with might be true."

"I guess," Matt mumbled, "What kind of things could we make up?"

"I don't know," Ben smiled, "Like…maybe dad broke out of whatever holding cell they had him in or whatever and took over the space ship."

"But if he did that, he would come back," Matt noted, frowning slightly.

"Not exactly," Ben returned, grinning, "Not if he doesn't know how to work the space ship. Or if he got sucked into some wormhole during the fighting and thrown out, lost, into the darkest depths of space. Or maybe even both. And right now he's trying to figure out how to work the ship and get back home."

"Is he alone out there? What if he starves…or…or he never figures out how to run the ship?" Matt pressed, straightening, and watching his older brother with interest.

"Well…no…he wouldn't be alone out there. I bet the ship shot him out somewhere that's already like…preprogrammed in its navigational system, right? So it would shoot him out somewhere it's already been," Ben continued, "Somewhere…inhabited. Maybe even inhabited by all sorts of aliens."

"More aliens," Matt groaned, growing anxious for their father on this imagined odyssey.

"Yeah…but not all of the aliens have to be bad," Ben said, "Maybe he could even meet some that he befriended and they help him fly the ship and he's trying to get back home with them."

"Aliens that could help us against the ones here," Matt eagerly chirped.

Ben frowned; he hadn't meant to give his brother a false hope with the fantasy, at least, not that kind of false hope.

"Maybe…" he murmured distantly, gently clapping Matt on the shoulder, clearing his throat and instructing, "Finish up with this gun, and maybe I'll let you clean my rifle next."

"Really?" Matt perked up, grinning broadly.

"If you do a good job with this," Ben told him.

"I will," Matt said eagerly, dropping his eyes and focusing his attentions back on the handgun.

Ben smiled, watching Matt a moment, before letting his mind wander again. He slipped his eyes closed, let a drop of adrenaline kick into his system, let the world swirl around and into him, catching snippets of conversation, the rustling of wind, the call of birds, the chirp of crickets, the distant rumble of thunder, the babbling of water, the sweet sounds of a deserted town.

"…fuck were you thinking?"

Ben slammed back harshly into himself, opening his eyes and scouring the camp for the owner of that voice, Kelsey, but she was nowhere in sight. The words and tone seemed out of character for the mousy girl, he'd never heard something so harsh jab from her tongue, but it wasn't as though he had a real basis of comparison, she rarely spoke. Ben frowned, took a deep breath and focused on finding her voice again but found Roman's instead.

"…big deal. We had to make a decision…"

"That decision didn't happen to have anything to do with a particular pair of blue eyes, did it?" Kelsey seethed.

"No. I already explained that to you. I swear, I'm just screwing around with him," Roman quietly returned, "It's fun and it gets under the razorback's skin..."

"That better be all it is," Kelsey spat back, "I told you, don't get attached to him. We only need him for now but he'll get in our way later. "

Ben let the anger pour through him, his hands curling into fists by his sides as they talked about Jimmy. Ben wanted to feel relief that Roman's only intentions towards Jimmy were to rile up Ben himself, but he couldn't help flashing on the way Roman had held Jimmy, and he didn't like the ominous tone to Kelsey's words: we only need him for now…

"Should we really be talking about this here?" Gia's voice spoke up, anxious and quaking, "I mean…what if he hears...Mason…"

"We're too far out," Kelsey told her sharply.

They were outside of camp, Ben realized, trying to pinpoint their location, maybe a little over half-a-mile out. Evidently, they wanted to be out of his range of hearing and probably out of range of anyone else's as well. What were they conspiring about, he wondered.

"But how do you know…?" Gia argued.

"Do you hear him?" Kelsey returned, patronizing, as though speaking to a small and stupid child, "Can you hear anything back at camp?"

"Well…no…but…"

"Then he can't hear us," Kelsey reasoned.

"Maybe…it's just…you saw him in that store today. He moves fast…faster than any of us," Gia persisted, "What if his hearing is better than ours?"

"She might be right. That other one, I always get the impression that he knows things," Douglas's voice entered the conversation.

Ben felt his lip twitch, they were talking about Rick.

"He didn't hear those assholes pull up on us yesterday," Roman pointed out.

"That was only because he was busy with his tongue down someone's throat," Douglas's muttered, there was a scuffling sound and then he whined, "Dammit, Rome, what is your problem?"

"My problem is your mouth," Roman replied sharply.

"In all likelihood, he's busy right now with his tongue down that same someone's throat," Kelsey interrupted, "And you're all wasting time, now shut up about it. I need to know exactly what that idiot told Weaver about what happened on the mission."

"Just that we were surprised by another group, we tried to disarm them, and one of them got shot in the commotion," Gia explained.

"He took the blame…or tried to anyway, for the whole thing," Roman spoke up, "Weaver decided it was on both their shoulders. We got off Scott free."

"And the plan?" Kelsey pressed.

"Still on track," Douglas said.

Plan, Ben furrowed his brow. Matt was trying to get his attention now, and he turned to the younger boy slightly, smiled somewhat and nodded, but his focus was set on the four conspirators.

"Good," Kelsey decided, "Perfect."

"It's starting to look like we might end up out there with both of them," Roman commented.

Both of who, Ben wondered, was Roman talking about himself and Jimmy? Or maybe himself and Rick? Or maybe even someone else or two someone else's altogether? And more importantly, where were they going?

"We'll figure that out when we get to it," Kelsey muttered, "Let's get back to camp."

Ben could hear the four on the move, heading towards the community center once more, and he dropped his focus back to Matt. It seemed his younger brother had finished cleaning and lubricating the handgun and wanted Ben to watch him put it back together. Distantly, he talked Matt through which pieces went where, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess, trying to sort through everything he'd just heard. He knew now, more than anything, Jimmy needed to stay away from those four but he'd already agreed to tolerate Jimmy training them and though he could tell Jimmy what he'd heard, he wasn't entirely sure Jimmy would believe him.

.

.

.

A/N: Yeah, Kelsey is not at all what she seems. Oh my gosh, what are they planning!? Also, Anthony moment! We see him a bit more in this story than First Patrol, because, well...I love Anthony, I do. Mpho Koaho is awesome! Not just because his name is so kick ass and fun to say. Also, for those of you smart cookies that know Maggie has definitely shot and killed a man (all the way back to the first episodes of season 1), yes, at some point, she will be giving Jimmy a pep talk, sort of...we'll see how that goes.

Um...yup...so, tell me what you think please!

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, lol, the better question is "what would Jimmy do if Ben were really still under the alien's control". I did think Karen being taken by Ben was a bit of a heartwrenching scene, and I do intend to play on it more in later chapters between him and Hal. I do love freaking people out, and teasing with knowing what's going on because I'm a terrible person...ah...but I'm glad you're happy of the chapter and that Jimmy and Ben were able to talk about themselves and...other stuff, more readily. Falling Snow was based a lot on the background stories I built for the boys in this story and First Patrol, but it really was just a fluff piece...most of it has no bearing on things that will be revealed in this story about Ben's background. Haley, hahahahaha, yes, it was a bit fluffy, and very ominous I hope...little bit of foreshadowing in this and upcoming chapters of where I'm taking the story, I think. Things are going to start feeling familiar soon, people. Be afraid, be very afraid, for the poor hapless boys. WhisperMaw, you're so sweet, thank you for your understanding! I will do my best not to disappear into digital oblivion and to finish this story for you guys, I promise! And you can borrow my focus any time, maybe I'll get some sleep...ah, yes, Jimmy's monologue...um...there are two things that you need to remember in order to fully understand what he's saying there: 1) he believes that his path to salvation, redemption for killing his sister, is through killing as many aliens as he can until he's dead, 2) he believes the only reason he's being allowed to fight more on the battlefield and being given increasingly significant roles in the war is because of his willingness to work with Ben. By training others to take his place alongside Ben, he's slowly removing himself off the battlefield and destroying his opportunities to further his path to personal salvation, thereby, ending his (perceived) only reason for continuing to exist, and thus, killing himself. That was his intended meaning anyhow. Does Ben understand the full depth of what he said? No. Ah...sleep...I remember sleep...Cookie97! Ah...it's like a ten-chapter reunion, CrazyXCrossovers is back and now you...the whole gang is almost back together...almost...still missing several people...I fear we always will be missing them. Anyhow, I'm glad you're back and even gladder that you liked the several chapters you had to read to catch up! And further glad to hear that the prolonged periods between updates will give you a chance to stop in more often! JDMlvr1, aww, it's okay. I thought you might've been mad at me for dropping updates to once a week, hehe. Yes, well, I wouldn't have mention the book without planning on one of the boys bringing it home, that would just be a silly waste of story space. Needed the boys to progress their in-bed relationship somehow...

In other news, I did finish writing chapter 43 yesterday and I'm very near the chapter that introduces Tom into the story, so the prognosis looks good for Fire Light!

Anyway, so...there it is...I uh...I'll see you guys in a week then.