A/N: Thanks for the reviews!
And a thank you to Greg for beta-ing.
L.
"…our best chance would be to make a stand and cut off the pack trailing us…"
Jimmy paused a couple yards from where Weaver sat in council with Dai, Anthony, Pope and a few other older fighters. After the community center, Anthony and Pope had somehow become the co-commanders of their very own specialized battle unit, the Berserkers, comprised of Tector, Lyle, Boon, and Crazy Lee. Jimmy didn't know how to feel about it, a squad of people who, quite possibly, each individually hated Ben more than the rest of the 2nd Mass combined; yet, they got the job done when it came to heading off Skitters and Mechs alike.
"We've plenty of cover in this city," Anthony pointed out, "A few well placed strikes and we might be able to stop running long enough to lick our wounds, maybe get a few hours sleep in."
"Meanwhile, we need to finally figure out where we're running to and get these civilians somewhere to take refuge," Weaver remarked, sending a glance Jimmy's direction but giving no other form of acknowledgement, "Anthony, Pope, take your Berserkers out and find a good place to set up ambush. Dai, get yourself together a scout group, we're running out of road, we need to pick a destination. Lincoln, Tammy, Maris, coordinate with the civilians, they need to be able to move and defend themselves without fighters for the next few days."
The officers broke to carry out the captain's commands, and Jimmy stepped forward when they were a respectful distance away.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Jimmy spoke up.
Weaver gaze Jimmy a short once-over, then indicated he follow. Together in silence they walked to the mess wagon and the civilian in charge of rations, a balding man named Paul, handed over a few pieces of beef jerky, a small cup of canned peas, and water at Weaver's request. Jimmy declined any food; he hadn't felt up to eating since he'd thrown up while Roman held him steady three days prior. He tried on occasion but little of it stayed down. He hadn't spoken to Ben in those three days, either, and he wondered how much of his lack of appetite could be attributed to that. Weaver led the way to a few chairs and they sat.
"We haven't had a chance to talk since the community center. How're you feeling, son?" Weaver started, nibbling at a bit of his jerky.
"Good, sir," Jimmy answered.
"Thought you were dead back there," Weaver commented.
"I understand that everyone did."
"You're getting real good at giving false scares like that, keep it up, you'll be like the boy who cried 'wolf', no one'll bat a lash at your funeral," Weaver joked, though he sounded somber, "I'd prefer if you took less risks, it's a dangerous world, but that's no reason to put yourself in greater danger."
"I'd prefer if the aliens went home and I didn't have to take risks, sir," Jimmy replied, "World doesn't get less dangerous if I don't put myself out there, at least when I do, if I die it'll have been for something, I'll have done something, instead of cowering on some invisible sideline."
Weaver smirked and Jimmy lowered his head, sheepish.
"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to…"
"No, no, you're fine," Weaver interjected, "You're right. At least with a gun in your hand, you've a better chance of surviving. I can't help noticing, though, that you left your post in that community center. Back when I served we called that desertion. Not sure if the same rules quite apply to our situation…"
"I understand, sir. I know I need to be disciplined," Jimmy mumbled, frowning as he choked on the words, "I left knowing full well that I was disobeying orders and that my actions were in direct violation..."
"Your actions may have saved us all," Weaver said firmly, "But you're damn straight that you need to be disciplined. Going against orders is a serious offense. I can't have everyone thinking they should be running off playing hero in the battlefield. You know what a group of heroes gets you, son?"
"No, sir."
"Dead," Weaver grunted, "It's bad enough I got Ben Mason thinking he can take on the entire alien armada by himself, gets it from his father, the whole lot of those Mason boys, I'll die of stress before the Skitters get me because of that family, you wait and see, but I don't need one of my best fighters following in the Masons' lead. I give you an order, son, you follow it. You understand?"
"Yes, sir," Jimmy murmured, slumping slightly in his chair, head pounding hatefully with silent reprimand. He'd let Weaver down once again, he wondered how many more strikes it would take before Weaver threw him out.
Weaver shook a few peas into his mouth then took a sip of his water. He cleared his throat loudly, shifted slightly in his chair.
"You and Ben have gotten close lately," Weaver noted, as if it weren't something he and everyone else in the 2nd Mass didn't know and hadn't made remarks about constantly over the past month or so. Jimmy flushed slightly, wondering what rumors might have come across Weaver about how close he and Ben had really gotten lately.
"Yes, sir," Jimmy quietly confirmed.
"I need to ask you something, it might upset you, you might think there's a line I'm crossing, but I need you to put aside those feelings and give me an honest answer, because it's important I have a good handle on where my fighters' heads are at. Can you do that; can you be honest with me?"
Jimmy frowned, tentatively nodded.
"You going out there, leaving the center like you did, was that because of Ben?"
Jimmy clasped his hands together to keep them from trembling, eying the ground as he rewound every moment of that last battle in his mind, all the way back to that split-second when he stood on the road, stuck between the choice of forward to Ben or back to duty and honor.
"Yes, sir," he confessed, closing his eyes, and drawing his breath in shakily, "Sorry. I know it was wrong…"
"It's alright, son, you don't have to explain," Weaver said gently, placing a hand on Jimmy's shoulder, "Do you know why we call ourselves fighters…not soldiers, but fighters?"
"Because…we're not soldiers, sir."
"No, we're not. Soldiers have sworn an oath to stand together for abstract ideas like loyalty, honor, and those sorts of things. But we aren't fighting for loyalty or honor out here, we haven't sworn any oaths, what we are fighting for are our lives, and for the lives of those we love," Weaver explained, "We aren't a group of men and women that have chosen to forsake all else for our duty to some greater cause; we are mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, husbands and wives, friends and lovers, that are scrambling to hold on to one another, these few precious things we have left in the world."
"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me, sir," Jimmy whispered. He expected more of a berating for the admission of his crime, maybe even threat to be permanently separated from Ben on the battlefield. Maybe it was still coming, but the preface was throwing him off a bit, it almost sounded as though Weaver weren't angry with him, almost as though he was agreeing with Jimmy's choice.
"After the warehouse, when we searched for you and our window of opportunity for finding you was quickly closing, and it looked like we would have to run for it before you could be found, Ben pitched a bit of a fit, I don't know if he mentioned it to you," Weaver said.
"No, sir. He didn't."
"Claimed he wouldn't leave until you were found, vowed to stay behind whether we left him there alone or not, he would not leave without you, and I knew that he fully intended to carry out that vow until the radio call came in that they were bringing you home," Weaver continued, and Jimmy flinched slightly, a strange pang in his chest at that new knowledge, "Now Anthony tells me you pitched a similar fit out near where that alien structure was, threatening to stay behind until you found Ben."
"I thought that…that you would leave without him if he wasn't with the rest of the 2nd Mass," Jimmy confessed.
"It was a fair assumption, circumstances being what they were, if Ben's whereabouts hadn't been known then you would've been right," Weaver conceded, "The only loyalties we have in this world are to ourselves and the people we care about. You don't fight for the 2nd Mass, son, you fight for him and the other people that are precious to you, whoever they may be. They're the ones you owe an oath of loyalty to, not me, not this group, but them. Now I have to discipline you for disobeying orders, it needs to be done or I'll have dissention in the ranks, you understand that."
"I do, sir."
"But I want you to also understand that even though I have to punish you for what you did, I need you to realize that the choice you made was the right choice," Weaver said, "If not for the people we love then what are fighting for?"
"Revenge, sir?" Jimmy suggested.
Weaver laughed, "No one wins in a war for revenge, son."
"So…Ben and me, we can still work together?" Jimmy carefully asked.
"So far you two have proven a good team. Seems like it would be poor reasoning to bet against you now," Weaver answered, "Go on, then, get back to patrol. I'll think of a proper punishment for you when we find a place to set up camp and I get some sleep."
"Yes, sir. Thank you," Jimmy murmured, hurrying to his feet. He paused in his retreat, turning back and meekly commenting, "You were wrong about one thing, sir."
"Oh? And what was that?" Weaver wondered, straightening in his chair and looking at Jimmy with a glint of amusement in his eye.
"I am loyal to you," Jimmy answered.
Weaver snorted softly, smiling despite himself, he said in a light-hearted tone, "Go on. Get out of here. Get back to work."
Jimmy turned, biting back a smile, and hurrying away.
…
Weaver settled on a few ambushes to slow down and start picking off the enemy units off their tail, so handfuls of fighters were chosen to stake out certain points, open fire for as long as they could safely hold the ground, and then fall back to the next ambush point, like tagging in another team of fighters, then carry on back to the 2nd Mass.
Dai picked westward for travel, there was an abandoned aircraft hangar that one of the other fighters recalled from scouts before the community center attack. Whether it still stood, Weaver supposed they would find out when they got there.
Much to his chagrin, Ben was shafted into Hal's ambush group, alongside a couple green fighters, Valerie, Maggie, and, he wanted think thankfully, Jimmy but the two hadn't spoken since their brief argument. They were the last ambush along the route, and other fighters passing through gave optimistic status reports. They could gain the upper hand on the aliens that day, and possibly see opportunity to rest for a whole night.
For a few hours, their group sat cramped inside of a desolate building, the windows knocked out, barricade built up below, and them poised, ready to open fire at first sign of the enemy. Ben glared across the hall at Jimmy, the other boy hovered by Maggie as though a security blanket, keeping her expertly positioned between the two of them. Ben didn't know if it was infuriating or plain depressing that his so-called boyfriend seemed so desperate to not be near him.
"Wake up, Ben," Hal hissed, walking along the ranks and gently slapping Ben's shoulder in passing.
"Shut up," Ben growled under his breath, readjusting his attention out the window. He could hear the enemy approaching, five more minutes away at least, but decided he'd wait to let the others figure it out on their own. People who knew his abilities second-hand were freaked out about it enough without him indoctrinating the newbie fighters into his world of weird on their first fully-trained foray with the enemy. He shifted when Valerie slipped into a seat next to him and hesitantly returned her small smile.
"I heard what you did during the attacks," Valerie whispered.
"I didn't do anything that everyone else wasn't doing," Ben sheepishly returned.
"That's not true. No one else fought the aliens off with nothing but a knife," Valerie insisted, "No one else stood on the front lines with you during the final showdown. And no one else volunteered to blow up that alien building…"
"A lot of people volunteered to do that, actually," Ben amended, because he couldn't really argue with her other comments.
"You were brave," Valerie said.
"I guess," Ben muttered, darting a look Jimmy's direction, and feeling a strange sense of triumph when he caught the other boy rapidly yank his gaze away from Ben.
"Have you had anymore…anymore dreams?" Valerie asked. Ben furrowed his brow.
"Dreams?" he questioned, confused.
"Yeah, remember, the ones you told me about," Valerie pressed, "Of the strange alien world and the pretty blonde girl?"
Ben glanced at Jimmy again, his heart thumping panic in his chest. Jimmy seemed to have his attention out the window though, as did the other fighters.
"Get ready, people," Hal recommended, dropping to position beside Ben.
The status updates hadn't been wrong, there weren't many Skitters shuffling into view. They opened fire on Hal's command, and their bullets ripped easy through the enemy. When the final Skitter in view dropped, body in bloody shreds, they waited a few minutes to ensure the area clear. Hal gave the signal for the group to return to the 2nd Mass. Jimmy hesitated long enough to meet Ben's eyes; they'd be setting up camp for the night, clearly he was wondering if Ben saw this as that moment of rest Jimmy promised they'd take advantage of and carry on their earlier conversation.
Ben snorted softly and looked away, glaring out the window and glimpsing from the corner of his eye Jimmy turning to leave with Maggie. Ben clenched his jaw and tightened his clasp on his rifle, reflecting back on his and Jimmy's last conversation. They were supposed to be happy that the other survived the assault at the community center, supposed to be falling in one another's arms, covering each other in kisses, instead they'd argued and Jimmy fell into Roman's arms.
Okay, maybe it didn't happen exactly like that or even in that order, but it may as well have for all Ben cared.
I can't do this…
The finality in Jimmy's words, the defeated tone, shook through Ben once more. For a second, a split of a second, his heart had stopped. Jimmy could be difficult to understand at the best of times, his sentimental statements ran on a frequency Ben couldn't quite pick up, but it was those vague laments that carried a multiplicity of interpretations, each more harrowing than the last, which made Ben anxious for his own sanity. He didn't need much sleep, but what little he did need he lost pondering what exactly Jimmy had meant by those words.
It didn't help that Jimmy brought up Ben's momentary loses of control, thrown it out there like he was citing a handicap, made mention of how Ben had hurt him, as though Ben needed the reminder, and then, as if Ben's heart weren't already ripped from his chest and convulsing on the floor, Jimmy had to reveal that not only did Roman know about Ben's control issues and the pain Jimmy had suffered for it, but Roman had also used it to shake Jimmy's trust, and whether Jimmy would admit it or not, his trust had been shaken.
"Come on, Ben, let's go," Hal instructed, giving Ben's shoulder a nudge.
But Ben hesitated, lifted his gun to his shoulder as a whisper of feet scurried in the shadows. Adrenaline kicked hard through Ben's veins, it had been for the past several seconds, minutes, hours even, lava molten in his blood. He needed the kill, he practically salivated for it.
"What is it?" Hal questioned.
Ben frowned, shook his head, deftly stepped out of the window, and barely acknowledging how he did it, slipped to the ground three stories down. He stalked along the street, body moving automatically as his thoughts ran rampant, far and away.
Where the fuck did Jimmy even get off pushing Ben away? Telling Ben when they could talk, make out, what they could do and when they could do it, as though he were the authority in their relationship? Chastising Ben about the lapses in memory, suggesting that it was getting out of hand as though he knew anything about it, as if he had any fucking clue how much control Ben did or did not have at any given moment, and then having the audacity to insinuate that Ben might kill someone.
The fucking hypocrite.
After all, between them, wasn't Jimmy the seasoned killer? Didn't he murder a little girl, his flesh and blood, who he was meant to protect and a man he'd surprised and gunned down? How was that any different, how did that make Jimmy any better, than if Ben, in a second beyond his control, put his hands around Jimmy's own soft, pale neck and simply squeezed until he crushed the windpipe in his fingers like a brittle autumn leaf?
A Skitter stepped out from between two buildings, screeching battle cry and Ben reacted, firing off a couple rounds, until the creature collapsed to the ground, and from behind it, his father's widened eyes reflected Ben's own stun, blood gushing out from where a bullet struck.
In that moment, Ben didn't know what horrified him more, the realization that he'd shot his own father or his own dark swirl of thoughts.
.
.
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A/N: Yay, Tom is back! Let me know what you guys think please!
I'm running late...so late...apologies for short replies...
Reviewers: Dee, wow, you really had a lot to say about the chapter. Your insights were amazing, also. You're right that Jimmy has a lot to lose when it comes to Roman. I'm sorry you dislike him so, though I guess it's a good thing the characters are stirring such emotion in you. As for Jimmy, yes, he does need to look at himself and come to terms with some things, though I think his reluctance when it comes to admitting possible attraction to Roman might also have a bit to do with, well, Roman is an obnoxious asshole that's constantly bashing someone Jimmy cares deeply for. And yes, Ben is often times the smarter of the two, but he's more emotionally stable, so he gets to be that person. There will be more sex eventually, I know it doesn't feel like it, but I promise you people there will be! NOxONE, yeah...I'm right there with you. I love writing argument scenes. Can you tell? Stories thrive on conflict, not happy fun time. Sassysavanna190, it does always boil down to trust. Always, always. LOL, I like your line on Roman, one minuet a doush and the next flirting, yup, he really doesn't know what he wants when it comes to Jimmy. You're right, he does have a point sometimes when it comes to Ben. As for your q: I don't know. I may be splitting this story into two, if I do that, this story will end in roughly ten to twenty chapters, on a cliffhanger because I'm evil, then it will pick up in a third story, and if I get far enough, there may be another story that follows this one, meaning the third story will end on a cliffhanger. Otherwise, this story will end up being 100+ chapters long. Facepalmer123, welcome back! Skipped chapters? Really...hm...no, that's not really horrible of you to want that, I kind of thought about doing it early in the story...them breaking up, I mean, not necessarily Jimmy falling apart after and Ben coming to save the day. You'll see how things actually go if you keep reading. Skip less though, you miss important things.
Frick, I'm running really late. See you guys next Sunday!