A/N: Happy Easter to everyone who celebrates today! Has anyone noticed the past three big holidays have all fallen on a Sunday?
So, remember when I said this would be a long story? I broke 200,000 words this week, and I'm coming up on chapter 50, the story I've got in my head isn't even a third of the way on paper yet...so...yeah...long story. I apologize to those who don't like long stories.
Thank you to the reviewers, you guys rock.
And thank you to Greg for beta-ing. He had little to say besides he, surprisingly, liked it.
XLI.
It took them longer than anyone felt comfortable to get to the structure, and with each minute ticking by, well aware that it was another minute the 2nd Mass was under attack by swarms of Skitters, they all became increasingly more anxious. The last ten minutes of their trek they were tensely draped in silence. Jimmy climbed up a platform and peeked up through a drainage grate to determine their location, the other six teenagers waiting on the ledge down below until Jimmy rejoined them, coming to stand beside Ben and Rick.
"We're right under it," Jimmy announced, "From what I could see it looks like the structure stretches across the entire block. There are a lot of bugs up there…and Mechs. I don't know how we're going to pull this off."
"Can you figure out where we need to place the explosives from here or do we need to move elsewhere?" Ben asked.
"No, I got it figure out," Jimmy answered easily.
"Already got it figured out? Wait, don't we have to do calculations and math type stuff first?" Douglas wondered.
"It's fine. It's done," Jimmy grumbled.
"Done? As in, you already did the math or you don't know how to do the math so you're just winging it?" Roman cut in.
"This doesn't seem like something you should just wing," Gia commented, "I think you ought to write out the problems…I might have brought something you can write with in this pack…"
"Yeah, I think we should get it written out so that we all know…" Ben murmured, helping Gia dig through her pack.
"Will you all just shut up and listen?" Jimmy cried, and everyone faltered, looking at him in stun. He ran his hands over his face, pushed his hair out of his eyes, and hissed, "I have a pretty good feel for the layout of these sewers, the manholes seem pretty evenly placed, so two of them are going to come up right next to where the explosives need to be laid and the other two are going to take some maneuvering to get to, they're going to come up about a street away from where the explosives need to be. I will lead everyone to the manholes they need to climb out of to lay the explosives. The two that take a little walking to get to, Ben and Rick, you guys are going to them, Rick, I'll take you to your manhole first, that way you can figure out the route you need to go, Ben…you'll be third, that way…that way if anything happens and I don't…then you'll know where to pick up the others."
Ben and Jimmy met one another's gaze, but before the protest obvious in Ben's features could begin, Jimmy cut him off with the rest of his explanations.
"Doug, Rome, Gee, and Kelsey are staying together, elect one of your group to go topside to lay the explosive, lead the fuse down the manhole and then you will light it from inside the sewers. Afterwards, I will come and round you guys up, wait at your manholes until I or Ben arrives, then we'll take the sewers out of the downtown district," Jimmy finished.
"How are we going to synchronize the explosions?" Rick questioned, "We only have three watches."
"Here…Rick…you take mine," Jimmy mumbled, undoing the watch at his wrist and handing it over to the other boy.
"What about you?" Rick asked, strapping the watch to his wrist.
"I'll figure it out," Jimmy muttered, "Let's move. We don't have a whole hell of a lot of time. Time is five forty-seven now, I want to blow that sucker sky-high by six fifteen."
Begrudgingly, the six teenagers fell in line behind Jimmy. Although they obviously had more protests and questions, Jimmy gave them little choice but to follow when he spun on heel and started rushing through the corridors. They reached the first manhole and Jimmy gestured Rick up the ladder, repeating the time, 'six fifteen', before hurrying to their next location. Jimmy had increased his pace tenfold, maneuvering with an expert's grace, and the five remaining super soldiers found themselves struggling to keep up.
When they reached the second manhole, they had seventeen minutes on the clock before Rick would detonate. Jimmy quickly reiterated his instructions, elect one to surface, and feed the fuse down the hole. He told them to stand away from the opening, they would have about a minute to get as far away from the explosion as possible, and the sewers would, for the most part, protect them from the blast.
Then Jimmy and Ben were left alone to rush through the sewer systems towards the next location. They broke into a sprint through the corridors, and when they reached the ladder, Jimmy, breathless from their run, pressed a haste and clumsy kiss to Ben's lips.
"That comment you made about wanting me to know where to pick up the others just in case…that was crap, right?" Ben whispered, lacing their fingers and giving Jimmy's hand an insistent squeeze, eyes searching Jimmy's own.
"Wait for me five minutes after the explosion…if I don't come back, leave without me," Jimmy solemnly instructed.
"But your placement…where you're going to lay the bomb…it's just up and out of the hole; I thought you said it was just…" Ben protested.
"Right; it is," Jimmy said.
"You're lying to me right now," Ben realized.
Jimmy checked the watch on Ben's wrist and made a face.
"I got six minutes to run about a mile and a half, and I've never been a great runner," Jimmy grumbled, smiling slightly, reassuringly, and kissing Ben again, "I'll see you in a bit."
"You bastard, you did this on purpose, and now it's too late to stop this, to come up with something else…" Ben cried, as Jimmy wheeled round and darted off into the sewers, "Jimmy, shit, wait!"
Ben growled low in the back of his throat, bit back the emotions churning like molten lava in his veins, and climbed the ladder. He still had to figure out how he was going to get the one street over and lay the explosive in his hand. He slid open the sewer cover and peeked out. The sun had set nearly two hours prior, and the entire street was cloaked in darkness. There were countless Skitters in all directions, and at least seven Mechs within a twenty foot radius of that hole. Ben drew his breath in hard and ragged into his lungs, pushed it out with a furious force, and climbed out onto the street.
The signal pierced through Ben's skull, cleaving his head into tiny, fragmented pieces. He stumbled and staggered across the street, gripping his head in one hand. He could hear Skitters converging on him, though he wasn't sure if it was because they'd heard him, one of his comrades, or they simply decided to move that direction. Then he faltered and scoured the darkness, hand twitching to his blade. A Skitter stood not ten paces away, staring dead straight at him, a single red dot cutting through the black, and that blasted signal was ripping, white hot through his veins, a pain so violent it nearly brought him to his knees.
Ben fought down the bile rising in his throat, forced his thoughts to his brothers, to Jimmy racing off into danger, all of them were fighting for their lives at that moment, he needed to stay focused. The thought was enough to continue dragging his feet subconsciously forward. He kicked adrenaline into his bloodstream, let it smolder and sizzle beneath his skin, raising his senses to their farthest heights. The Skitter didn't make a move for him, more had gathered round, they watched his progress with interest, but didn't approach. He kept placing his feet, one in front of the other. The signal was getting stronger and stronger. He couldn't breathe; it was hammering into his chest. He couldn't think or see straight; it was drilling through his brain.
Then the world washed white.
Ben stumbled out onto the back porch of his family home, and blinked in the scene. It was night time. Fireworks whizzed into the sky and exploded into a wide array of bright, brilliant colors that scattered, spiraling out in an array of directions. Marty sat out there, her face buried in her knees, her shoulders shuddered.
It was the Fourth of July.
Fourth of July had always been the Mason family's 'holiday'. They would host a huge barbeque with hamburgers, hotdogs, spare ribs, five kinds of potato salads, grilled corn on the cob, and a large seven layer chocolate cake, and then invite all their friends, extended family, nearly the entire neighborhood, people spilling out of the house into the front and backyard. As soon as dusk settled, light low enough on the horizon, they would set off fireworks in the streets, people lined up to watch on the front lawn in chairs or sprawled out on blankets.
That year, Hal had decided to spend the weekend on a friend's lake boat, and, although his father was extremely disappointed to be down one son during his favorite holidays, Ben was allowed to invite friends to stay for the weekend in Hal's stead. Artie and Hatchet were the obvious choices, but a bit of smooth talking and several hours petulant begging got Marty an invite as well. They spent the first day and all through the night in marathon mode, watching old Sci-fi flicks from the sixties, seventies, eighties: Logan's Run, 2001: A Space Odyssey, the first three Star Wars movies, Planet of the Apes, and Blade Runner; only pausing for intermittent pen and paper style role playing. They slept in the next day and helped set up for the barbeque that night.
"Marty…?" Ben called, glancing around and attempting to get his bearings straight. His head was pounding and he didn't know why. He felt disoriented, he could barely see straight. A strange, horrible feeling was ripping through his chest. He couldn't remember why he'd come into the backyard. He knew he'd been doing something important before, he just didn't know what, but he felt if he didn't finish it then something terrible would happen.
Marty seized upon hearing her name.
"If you know what's good for you, Mason, you'll turn around and walk away," she growled warning, her voice hoarse from sobbing.
"I don't…know…where…?" Ben stammered, focusing on the girl bawling in his backyard. He knew the pain ripping through her as though it ripped through himself, "I'm sorry. Marty, please…"
"Nothing you can say will ever excuse what you did," Marty roared, spinning round and clambering to her feet, her eyes red and puffed, fixing on him in a dangerous glower. He took a small step back, swallowed down his emotions, sorrow and regret, the guilt that weighed down on his shoulders.
"I know that…I do," Ben stammered, "I wish I could take it back. I know that I made a mistake…I know I did, but you have to believe me, I didn't mean for it to happen! It wasn't me…"
"You were my friend. My best friend, you realize that? You know, I never had a best friend before," Marty whispered harshly, stepping towards Ben, menace in her expression contorted by pain, "I would've had your back until the end and now…now I don't ever want to speak to you or even see your face again."
"Marty," Ben pleaded, "Please, listen to me! I'm sorry, I am, but it wasn't me…I wouldn't have…"
"How the fuck could I ever believe anything you ever say again?" Marty hissed, hastening for the door. Ben moved to block her, placing his hands on her shoulders to hold her back, "I trusted you, asshole!"
"Marty, wait, please, you don't understand," Ben cried. He caught the glint of rage in her eye, but didn't realize until her fist connected with his jaw and he plummeted to the ground the danger he'd put himself in. She was gone into the house by the time he recovered and struggled to his feet, wincing at the pain surging through him from all angles. He rushed into the house after her, but she disappeared through the crowd of partiers.
Ben pushed his way into the sea of bodies, instantly hit with a wave of their heat and stench. He thought he caught sight of Marty slipping out the door and hurried to give chase, but the mass of people felt like it was getting thicker and his head kept throbbing with pain, he couldn't see straight, he felt ready to pass out. He asked, begged, pleaded with people to move out of the way, but they kept jostling him around and pushing him back out to where he started once again. Finally, he gave in and staggered up the stairs towards his bedroom. He collapsed on his bed and buried his face in the pillow, willed sleep to take over.
The bedroom door opened and Ben pushed himself up, glaring at his brother standing in the doorframe, sunlight streaming through his window, a pale milky color.
"Dammit Ben, why the hell are you still in bed? I told you we were going shopping an hour ago," Hal griped, crossing the room to rip the blankets off Ben's body, clad in a t-shirt and boxers, the chill January air attacked his slender frame, he instantly curled up in an attempt to trap warmth into himself, "Get up, we have to go."
"Go away, Hal," Ben groaned, "It's Saturday, and I have a raid in an hour."
"Mom and dad's anniversary is on Tuesday, dipwad, and they get back from Gram's tonight," Hal said, "We have to get their present now. Matt is waiting downstairs…"
"Why do I need to come? Can't you two find a present yourselves?" Ben returned heatedly.
"I think they'd like something that came from all of us," Hal stated calmly.
"Meaning you used all of your allowance on your date last night, and Matt only gets five dollars a week, four of which he immediately spends on candy, so you need me to come and pay for everything," Ben spat, "Well, no thank you, you two are on your own. I've decided I'm not getting mom and dad an anniversary gift this year."
"Ben," Hal sighed, gearing up for a good old fashioned older brother beating on the younger relentlessly until he agrees to do everything the older tells him to.
"Marriage is overrated," Ben muttered, wandering to his computer desk and booting up the machine, it whirred to life, blue LED lights spilling from the tower innards, "It's a contemptible institution, I mean look at its history. It was one of the earliest forms of slavery, trading women like livestock, and then it became a mark of elitism that carries on to today, only the rich or the divine or the socially acceptable can wed. Think about it, Hal. Marriage is a crock, and by giving mom and dad a gift commending them on seventeen years in the system is like paying tithe to an oppressive ruler."
"You're kidding, right?" Hal scoffed, massaging the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.
"Absolutely not, look into it, Hal, history is riddled with evidence that marriage is a corrupt, malignant system, an evil enterprise that wreaks havoc on every society that it has been a part of and should be abolished completely," Ben insisted, fingers flying across his keyboard as he logged into his World of Overlords account.
"You're a real piece of work, Ben," Hal clucked reprovingly, "By any chance, would you care to relay that information to mom and dad on Tuesday while their eating their anniversary dinner, reviewing their wedding video, and not opening any gifts from the children that love them and are happy of the union that produced them…or do you just want to chuck holy water at the screen, scream 'be gone demon', and hope that'll cast marriage back to hell, so mom and dad don't have to worry about it anymore?"
"See, that is the problem, right there," Ben said, shaking his head at his brother and smirking sardonic, "Marriage isn't the reason you and I and Matt were born. We could've been born with or without the ceremony and the license and the joint tax returns. It is a corrupt system that self-perpetuates through lies like that, the idea that families are created through some superficial exchanging of 'vows' that no one actually adheres to…'until death do us part', in a world with a fifty percent divorce rate, not including annulments and separations and faked deaths to get away, what the hell does that even mean anyhow?"
"Right; and, of course, none of this has anything to do with what was written about you on the Slam Stall in the second floor boys' restroom at school, does it?" Hal replied in a flat tone.
Ben faltered, heart slamming headfirst into his throat. He narrowed his eyes on the menu screen of his game, studying his avatar, swapping out colors on its vestments.
"You know it's not an actual poll, Ben, just a couple assholes drawing it up like it is and then 'stuffing the ballot box'," Hal began, rolling his eyes and muttering, "Nobody actually believes you're going to die a virgin with your dick in your hand."
"How did you find out about that?" Ben mumbled, suddenly finding it very hard to breath. He could still see the words written across the stall in bleeding red ink: "Most Likely to Die An Old Virgin in the Middle of Jacking Off", the list of candidates named underneath, him at the top, all of those tally marks next to his name, one long black line of condemnation where the other boys only had three or four marks, some had none at all, next to their names. He quietly reached for his inhaler across the desk, held it in his hand as though for security but didn't raise it up to his lips for a puff of the medication.
"Nate's little brother told him and he told me," Hal answered earnestly, shrugging, then said, "Ben, if there are boys at school giving you a hard time…"
"I can handle it," Ben interjected sharply, simmering with feelings of rage and betrayal at the thought of his alleged friend Artie confessing to older brother Nathan all about little, dorky Ben Mason's humiliation scrawled across the wall of a bathroom stall, "I'm fine, Hal, I don't need your help or your pep talk."
"Ben," Hal protested.
"I'm not getting mom and dad an anniversary gift because I don't believe in marriage not because of some stupid thing that a bunch of jerks wrote about me," Ben growled, pulling himself to his feet and striding towards the bedroom door, out into the bathroom, Hal hot on his trail.
"Listen, you little shit," Hal seethed, "Mom and dad put up with a lot of crap from you and Matt, they deserve one day…"
"What about you?" Ben spun around, "What about all the crap they have to put up with from you? Or are we just going to forget that you were brought home by the cops two weeks ago, caught screwing your girlfriend…I'm sorry, ex-girlfriend, in her car up on 'lovers' lane'. Indecent exposure, you know, can get you registered as a sex offender? For the rest of your life you would be a little red dot on a map that soccer mom's freak out over because it popped up down the street from their homes."
"Well at least I'm not dying a virgin," Hal snapped, then immediately clamped his mouth shut, looking slightly abashed, "I didn't mean that."
Ben faltered, dropping his eyes.
"Yes you did," he murmured, then slipped into the bathroom and quietly shut the door, clicking the lock into place.
"Ben," Hal groaned through the door, "You're not going to die a virgin. I'll get you a hooker for your eighteenth birthday, how's that?"
"I'm still not getting mom and dad an anniversary present," Ben growled reply, turning the water on at the sink and glaring into the mirror.
"And what the hell are you going to tell mom and dad on their anniversary then? That their marriage is a crock?" Hal demanded, pounding the door a couple times for good measure.
"Maybe it is," Ben muttered, closing his eyes and splashing water into his face.
The sound of the bathroom door opening startled Ben's eyes open once more, water clinging to his lashes and dripping down his cheeks. He reached for the paper towel dispenser, grabbed a couple of the brown sheets to blot his features dry, slipped his glasses back on and eyed the three boys that had entered warily as he plucked his backpack off the ground and slung it over his shoulder, aiming to slip out of the bathroom and scurry to class before they took any special note of him. One of the boys, Oliver Loomis – he and Ben shared geometry, pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tugged out one of the sticks, resting it between his lips. He was the one that caught sight of Ben, a smirk flitting across the corners of his mouth.
"Hey, Spacin'," he greeted, and the other boys turned interestedly. Ben faltered a few steps from the bathroom door, peeked back and forced a dry smile.
"Hi…uh…Oliver," Ben returned, awkwardly bobbing his head in some acknowledgment to the other two boys present.
"Why're you rushing off? Hang out. Have a smoke," Oliver offered, closing the distance between them, slipping an arm over Ben's shoulder to guide him back into the bathroom and extending the pack his direction.
"I…I can't smoke. Asthma," Ben murmured, wincing.
Of course he had to sound like the world's biggest dork in front of the school's most popular bad boy who seemed, at that very moment, to have decided to give insanity a try because why else would he be talking to Ben in a social setting, with other people watching, no less? Well, the bathroom, maybe, didn't regularly qualify as a "social setting" but there were three friends there socializing, and for some odd reason, they'd decided to bring him in.
Ben immediately flustered at Oliver's touch, and sudden close proximity, and the attention now coming at Ben from all angles, hastily tacking on to his first proclamation an uncertain, "Thank you, though."
"Asthma, huh? That's shit," Oliver complained, releasing Ben to stand uncertainly amongst his circle of friends, as he easily lit the cigarette and blew a thin line of smoke away.
Ben wrinkled his nose and shifted uncomfortably, he couldn't stay in the room with that smoke for too long, but he'd been invited into the circle, was now standing, seemingly wanted, amongst a crowd of "popular" kids, and he couldn't find the will to step out of it again.
"You're in my sixth period English class, right?" one of the other boys question and Ben glanced at him, gave him a once over and shrugged, "Miss Mueller?"
"Um…yeah…I'm sorry, I don't remember ever seeing you," Ben replied sheepishly.
"I guess it's difficult to see the back of the class with your lips pressed so firmly to Miss Mueller's ass," the boy jeered and Ben's face fell, feeling as though he'd been punched in the gut.
"Right," Ben vaguely smirked, starting for the door.
"Where are you going, Space-case? We're still talking," Oliver called, grabbing hold of Ben by the arm then shoving him towards the stalls.
Ben staggered back a few steps, nearly losing his backpack, the other boys advancing on him. He attempted to straighten, tried for the door again, but one of the boys moved to block his path.
"Please," he whimpered, "I just want to go to class."
"You can go to class when we're done talking," Oliver insisted, though from their movements it was obvious they didn't intend to actually "talk". Ben pressed himself back against the stall partition, watching them uncertainly.
"What do you guys want from me? I didn't do anything…" Ben pleaded.
"No, no, that's right, you didn't do anything," Oliver sneered in return, standing several inches in front of Ben. He blew the smoke from his cigarette straight into Ben's face and Ben covered a hacking cough, biting back the asthma attack struggling in his chest, "Miss Hargreaves just out-of-the-blue realized how I was passing my tests and decided to fail me for the semester."
Ben's eyes widened. He knew there'd been an arrangement with Lindsey, but never learned the finer details.
"That wasn't me, I swear," Ben gasped, desperately searching for air but only managing to swallow more smoke.
Late bell overhead rung, signaling that all students should be in their next class, and the boys grabbed Ben's arms on either side as he struggled in vain against their tight grasp. They dragged him towards the open stall.
"Please, I didn't do it, you have to believe me! It wasn't me," Ben cried.
The bathroom door opened and in his struggle, Ben caught a flash of blue, staggering to a halt, fighting to get a better look.
"Wait…wait, please…that boy…" he stammered, but he found himself plunging head first into the toilet and falling into a field of red flowers.
Ben lay on his back, staring up at an endless stretch of cloudless blue sky. The mysterious blonde girl lay beside him, their hands clasped, fingers twined.
"It's beautiful here," Ben whispered.
"Yes, it is," the girl replied, turning her face to stare at him, though he kept his eyes locked on the deep sky above. He could almost see passed the thick ozone to the black space and the sea of shimmering stars beyond, the planets, space debris, and clusters of gas and dust, rocketing into galaxies farther and farther away, but growing more familiar the closer he got to that strange alien world that lie across an entire universe.
"This isn't right, though," Ben said, sitting up and gently untangling his hand from the girl's, "I don't belong here."
"If not here, then where?" the girl returned plaintively, drawing herself up to sitting as well, "Why do you keep running from what you are?"
Ben fell hard back into the abandoned streets of a downtown district. Explosions rang all around him, fire leapt to the skies. He watched as the structure crinkled and collapsed, stared blank at his empty hands. Had he laid the bomb, had he done his part? He didn't know. The structure was going down, though, so he staggered back towards the manhole. It wasn't important right then; he needed to wait for Jimmy. A small squeeze on his heart, and he closed his eyes momentarily, please, let him come.
.
.
.
A/N: I didn't actually like this chapter as I think about it. The bullying scene was tame, but hard for me to write...I hate bullying, I really do, which is ironic, I suppose, because on occasion I've been called a bully. Of course, it hurt my feelings, and how is it any less bullying to call a person who simply speaks their mind, without intention of cruelty, a bully just because you don't like what they say? I'm digressing...
Please leave me a little something on what you thought of the chapter.
Reviewers: NoxOne, that was a bit of a chess match, I like the analogy. Thanks for stopping in, I'll do my best! SassySavanna190, yup, Kelsey is something else. She's had a rough life, though, I don't know how much detail I'll go into. Lol, yes, Roman did get burned a bit. I'm glad you see that they're not really bad people, and that you like them in the story more than not. Cookie97, Ben is a fun to write being a smart ass, I give most of those moments to Jimmy, but Ben's tone is different, less cynical and more horny teenage boy. I'm glad to hear you like Gia and Doug! :) I like them all, but I'm a bit bias. Yeah, always good to end with some Ben/Jimmy sweetness. Facepalmer123, welcome back. There's quite a lot of chapters to get caught up on! Happy reading!
See you guys next Sunday.