AN: Thanks for the reviews everyone! You guys are awesome as ever.
LXII.
Friday nights, from seven to eleven, the basement was reserved for Ben and his friends, which Hal very well knew, because it had been the house rule for the past two years. Hal could have whatever other room in the house he wanted, he could even go over to his own friends' houses – he had the keys to their dad's car, he could go out to the movies or the mall or any other location with pre-parental-approval but the basement was off limits.
Yet, regardless, that Friday night at fifteen minutes past seven Hal was in the basement with his latest girlfriend. Ben stood at the top of the basement stairs contemplating marching down there and kicking his brother out, if only he had the height and muscle and who was he kidding, Hal would drag him back up the stairs and toss him on his ass. He wished his parents were home; it was date-night and they had left an hour ago to a gala for the local history museum.
Hatchet and Marty stood at Ben's shoulder, peering curiously down the stairs into the damp, murky darkness below. Every now and then, a noise like rustling fabric or low whispers or even the odd high-pitched giggle could be heard but otherwise things were silent.
"Hal, come on," Ben called down, his voice little more than a mild squeak, "It's seven…you know the rules."
They waited, strained their ears, but their only response was a squeal of delight from the girl and Hal's laughter.
"This is lame," Marty complained, "Can't you do something about your brother?"
Ben gave her a beleaguered look and stalked into the kitchen, where Lindsey was rifling through the fridge and Arnie was comparing dungeon master guides with Crumb at the table. Marty and Hatchet trudged into the kitchen behind Ben, Hatchet joining the boys at the table and Marty moving to lean against the island in the middle of the room.
"We could play up here," Ben suggested, shrugging at the tiny breakfast table and wincing at the surround-sound blast of cheery cartoon voices streaming from the living room where Matt was watching some Disney movie.
"Yeah, except the map is downstairs," Arnie pointed out, "As are the game pieces."
Lindsey returned from the fridge with a couple cans of cola, offering one to Marty and cracking open the other for herself. She fixed Ben with a reproving glare, her cold eyes trailing over him, up and down, taking stock. He shuddered involuntarily and quirked an inquisitive brow at her. He was willing to bet she could turn a man to stone with that look.
"Why can't we just play without them tonight?" Ben carefully asked.
"Why don't you just tell your brother it's time to take the ho-bag home?" Lindsey shot back.
Ben opened his mouth, no sound came out. He closed it and folded his arms over his chest, sighing and moving towards the fridge, removing a menu held there by magnet. He held it up to his friends.
"My mom left me money for pizza," he said, "Why don't we place the order and…" he took a deep breath, "Then I'll go downstairs and talk to Hal."
Lindsey sauntered over and snatched the menu from Ben's hand, sneering at him, "Better idea, why don't you grow some balls and be a man? Go downstairs and talk to your prick brother now."
Ben took a step back from her, simmering with rage, flustered by the challenge. The boys at the table exchanged pitying looks but said nothing to his defense. He couldn't really blame them; he was hardly willing to rush to their rescue when Lindsey had any one of them lined up in her sights. Marty grinned around the lip of her soda pop as she took a long gulp then belched loudly.
"Well said, kitten," she praised. Figured.
Ben simply rolled his eyes and scowled at Marty a sarcastic 'thanks'.
"My apologies, Benjamin, but I fear I must second Lindsey's motion," Hatchet spoke up, in a fake, sort-of-British accent, "Muster the courage to descend into the den of despair and expel that great evil that has taken refuge therein, only then will I have the peace of mind to feast on pizza."
"Hatchet…" Ben began protest, but his friend held up a silencing hand.
"I know not this Hatchet of which you speak. I am a level twenty-nine half-elf rogue warrior by the name of Sir Bob," Hatchet interjected matter-of-factly, "And you will address me as such."
Ben buried his face in a palm; he honestly couldn't keep up with which character his friend was role-playing at any given moment. Lindsey sipped her soda and eyed Ben expectantly.
"Looks like Lindsey and Sir Bob have you outnumbered, Ben," Arnie said from the table, as he thumbed through one of his colorful dungeon master books, each page decorated with pictures of six-legged beasts and bipedal mechanical monstrosities.
"Hal is going to get tired of being down there eventually," Ben argued reasonably.
"From the sounds of things, no, he's not," Marty replied, then waggled a suggestive brow at Lindsey and noted, "I wouldn't if I were him."
"Is that how you want to live your life, then?" Lindsey demanded, "Avoiding the inevitable, ordering pizza instead? It's about time you rose up and fought for what's rightfully yours; otherwise, you'll just spend the rest of your life eating pizza after pizza, nothing more than a sad, pathetic, fat, lonely, old man."
"It's just a basement," Ben muttered.
"The basement is a metaphor," Arnie provided unhelpfully.
Ben sighed, edging back a few steps. All of his friends' eyes were on him now, their pressure building inside the pit of his stomach. He'd really like to see any one of them confront Hal were their roles switched, and he decided to grasp that straw.
"Seriously, Arnie, and what if this was your house and that was Nate downstairs?" Ben pointed out.
"We don't have a basement at my house," Arnie easily replied.
"Fine," Ben growled low in his throat, shooting Lindsey a hard glare, "I'll go downstairs and talk to him."
Lindsey's lip twitched a triumphant smirk. The boys gave Ben pitying looks, and Marty made a face, brows scrunched in concern. Ben drew in his breath, filled his lungs to capacity and let it flitter out. He turned and marched into the darkness, down the stairs toward noises like crying and pain filled screams. The world twisted, smeared, and a blonde woman stood before him.
"Go back now," she commanded, but her face wasn't soft and pretty anymore, her arms and legs stretched too long for her body. An ocean of white collapsed down on Ben, and sent him spiraling into oblivion.
Ben startled, pushing himself up off the warm, pliable body beneath him, and causing a sudden moan of pain.
"Watch it," Jimmy complained, his features a grimace, fingers massaging his lower abdomen, bristling against Ben's stomach.
Ben screwed his expression into one of confusion, sweat slick across his brow and salty on his lips. He gasped for breath, darting his eyes around them. Where was he? Where had he been? His heart beat rampant in his chest. This wasn't right. None of this was right.
A gentle touch ghosted his cheek and down along his jaw and he jolted back, dropped his eyes to Jimmy and was drowned instantly in crisp blue shimmering concern. A calm almost instantly overcame him, Jimmy's touch rippling through him. No, this was right. This was where he belonged. Right here, in this place, with this boy.
"You okay?" Jimmy asked; his voice little more than a delicate breath.
Ben collapsed down on Jimmy, arms wrapping round Jimmy's mid-section, face buried in his chest, lapping up his scent and warmth. Ben's shoulders trembled, though he wasn't aware, until Jimmy placed his hands on them, and the stillness of his touch contrasted with the tremor. Ben tightened his grasp on Jimmy, nestled himself more deeply against the other boy.
"Yes," Ben answered Jimmy's inquiry, and then as afterthought, he murmured hot into the fabric of Jimmy's shirt front, "No. I don't know. Where are we?"
"Where are we," Jimmy echoed, a noticeable quiver in his words, "Where do you last remember being?"
They lay in the bed of a truck, sounds of camp nearby, pitch black all around, and a spread of stars overhead. Ben squeezed his eyes closed, tried to recall. Jimmy ran his fingers through Ben's hair, slipped his hand down to curl across the back of Ben's neck, twining through the rods jutting there. His other hand slipped down the back of Ben's shirt, caressing the muscle stretched across Ben's shoulder blades. There was an ache in them, soreness in Ben's sides and chest, his arm was bandaged and he realized he could taste blood in his mouth. His head throbbed, though the feeling, in fact, all of those feelings were distant, as though sympathy pains for someone else.
"I went hunting."
"That's what I figured," Jimmy returned.
"I don't remember it," Ben said, propping himself up a bit to look down at Jimmy, "Last I can remember…I remember…we were playing chess. Were we...? We did play chess, right?"
"Yeah? You mean when your dad came and talked to you? That was about five, Ben, it's after midnight, now. That's the last thing you can remember? Jesus Christ, that's like what? eight…nine hours completely blank?" Jimmy whispered in reply, pressing his lips into a thin line, as if trying to hold his fears inside, though they sprawled readily across his face.
"I guess. I don't know. How did we get here?"
"You dragged me here," Jimmy explained.
"I did?"
"Yeah," Jimmy insisted, "I went on patrol about an hour or two after I left you talking to your dad. You didn't come looking for me, so I had nothing else to do. I was on the north side of camp when you came out of nowhere, you grabbed me, dragged me here, raving like a lunatic the whole way. I didn't understand half the things you were saying, and the things I did understand…I…I didn't know what to do. You were covered in blood, cut and bruised up, I knew you'd probably been out hunting, tried to get you to let me bandage you, but you wouldn't even let me touch you."
"And you just stuck around?" Ben baulked, stammering, "I could've…God dammit, Jimmy, I could've hurt you…or worse. Shit, you knew it was happening again, that I couldn't control myself, you had to of known. You should've left, gotten away. If anything…if I had done anything…"
"Calm down, you weren't going to hurt me, and I couldn't leave you like that," Jimmy interjected, shook his head and dropped his voice low, "Besides, I was more worried about what you'd do if I tried to leave than if I stayed. Eventually I got you to quiet down…"
"How did you manage that?" Ben wondered, furrowing his brow. If Jimmy had found a way to reach him in the midst of his madness then maybe it would provide a clue as to what was happening to him.
"How do you think?" Jimmy grumbled, gesturing their position with his hands and a suggestive quirk of his brow.
"You used sex?" Ben gaped, which didn't help with explanations about what was happening to him, but certainly piqued his interests; Jimmy hardly ever instigated a sexual romp.
"No," Jimmy groaned, rolled his eyes, relented, "Okay, maybe a little. You said two things helped with the restlessness, right? Hunting and fooling around. So I figured…you know…a quick hand job might shut you up. Back fired a little when you passed out on top of me after. Fuck, you've no idea how heavy you are. I tried to clean you up a bit while you were out, but I could only do so much pinned down like this."
"That worked? You said I wouldn't let you touch me, how'd you get me to let you…you know?" Ben asked.
"You didn't. Forget it," Jimmy murmured, absently smoothing the wrinkles from Ben's forehead with a stroke of his thumb.
"I need to know what happened," Ben pressed.
"Nothing really happened. It's exactly like I said. I offered you sex and you went for it," Jimmy explained, closing his eyes and turning his face away. A sigh shuddered through him and reluctantly he admitted, "You were a little rougher than usual, is all."
"I did hurt you," Ben realized, taken aback and awash with his grief at that revelation. Hurting Jimmy was one thing in and of itself, a terrible, unforgiveable act, but hurting Jimmy in that way, in a moment of intimacy, knowing what it took for Jimmy to be that vulnerable with him in the first place, the thought of his uncontrollable side taking advantage of such a situation, it was too much to bear, he'd rather die.
"No," Jimmy reiterated, eyes snapping back on Ben, burning with a feverish resolve, "Absolutely not. I'm fine, I promise. You didn't do anything bad to me," he smirked, soothed, "I'm a little tender in places, but only because of what we did and not because of anything you did to me, and that's it. That's the truth."
Not entirely convinced, but pacified with the answer nonetheless, Ben dropped back down, shifted his position a little higher up so that he tucked his face into Jimmy's collar, nuzzling, and resting his mouth against the skin.
"How long have we been here?" he asked.
"Few hours," Jimmy said nonchalantly.
"A few hours," Ben gasped, demanding, "And you've just been lying here, with me unconscious on top of you, that whole time?"
"It wasn't as bad as you make it sound," Jimmy answered carefully, smiling, and admitting, "I never get to sleep with you. I mean really sleep. You watch me sleep for a bit, or we don't have time, but you never sleep. I never see you sleep. So it's never us sleeping. I guess what I mean is, it was nice."
"Yeah?" Ben prompted, lifting himself up to examine Jimmy's features, teasing, "You liked sleeping with me, huh?"
Jimmy flinched, frowned, and grumbled, "Forget it."
There was a growing ruckus back at camp and the sound of approaching footfalls. The boys froze, a voice calling out through the night, "Ben? Ben, are you out here?"
"My dad's been back about a week and he's already become the biggest cock block of my life," Ben complained, flattening himself best he could on Jimmy and whispered, "Maybe if we ignore him, he'll go away."
"I think you need to see what he wants, it might be important. Hal, Maggie and the others returned a couple hours ago. I think something happened out there. They brought another kid back with them and they seemed…weird. They hadn't unloaded any of the supplies, and they went straight to Weaver's tent," Jimmy quietly responded.
"Why didn't you tell me that before?" Ben demanded, furrowing his brow and straining to hear things back at camp.
"Forgive me if I was little distracted by the nine hours of time you still can't remember, three of which were with me," Jimmy muttered, hissing, "You realize that's about seven hours that neither of us know what you did during?"
"They're talking about Skitters…a harnessing facility nearby. How did we miss that in our sweep of the area? Fuck, they left a few kids behind when they came here, you said only one came back with them?" Ben said, ignoring Jimmy's worries.
"Yeah," Jimmy confirmed.
"Fuck. That can only mean one thing," Ben groaned, slipping off Jimmy and sliding on his belly down to the end of the truck bed, touching his feet lightly to the ground below and ducking down. Jimmy started to sit up and Ben quickly, silently commanded him to stay put, "I'm going to sneak around the other side, and try to get my dad to come back the other way. If I've been away from camp for all of those seven hours, I'm guessing I'm going to have a lot of questions to answer for without dragging you into it. Hell, I might have more to answer for if I haven't been away all those seven hours. Head into camp, Weaver's tent, I'll meet you there."
Ben didn't wait for a reply, darting off into the night. He crept around the vehicles, keeping his father to his left side peripheral until he'd doubled back around. From there, he calmly walked towards his father, just as his father was coming up on the truck where Jimmy hid, and called out.
"Dad? What's going on?"
Tom stopped, turned round towards Ben, and strode back to meet him.
"Where've you been?" Tom asked, once he was close enough to actually see Ben as more than a shadowy figure in the night.
"Patrol," Ben answered easily, shrugging, "I've been walking the perimeter all day. You know, being useful. Sorry, I know how much that bothers you."
"Now's not the time," Tom growled, "But you can be certain we aren't finished with that conversation. For now, we have far bigger concerns. Hal is back."
"I heard. What's this about a harnessing facility? And where are the rest of those kids?" Ben rattled off question, folding his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes on his father. Sure, Tom made a big deal about not involving Ben with the war when things were calm and easy, but the moment things heated up in battle, and Ben was needed, where were his father's arguments then?
"Same place where Diego and his friends are heading, with Matt riding along," Tom said.
Ben's eyes widened, "What?"
"Come on, we need to continue this conversation with Weaver," Tom declared, catching hold of Ben's elbow and tugging him into motion. Not that it was necessary; Ben was already rushing for the tent. It took them mere seconds to reach it.
Ben spotted Jimmy hovering a few yards away from the tent's opening, obviously he hadn't been invited in, and they exchanged a look, question riddled in Jimmy's features, and Ben shook his head, he'd deal with Jimmy later. They strode into the tent. Weaver, Dai, Anthony, Hal, Maggie, Pope, and several other older fighters were gathered inside, looking over a map of the area. Roman and his lot were also there, and it took more effort than it should have for Ben to shake off the offense of their – his – presence.
"Do we know where the facility is?" Ben questioned, striding to the table and meeting Weaver's grizzled glare.
"Your father fill you in?" Weaver asked.
"That my idiot little brother is about to serve himself up to the Skitters on a silver platter? I've heard. Cut the crap, and answer my question. Do we know where the facility is?" Ben demanded. A few of the fighters rose their brows at Ben's tenacity but Weaver hardly batted a lash.
Tom frowned, disapproval of his son's behavior etched in his expression and tone, "Diego and his people apparently knew about it. They thought they were under its radar…"
"But the Skitters probably always knew they were right there," Ben grumbled knowingly, "Just waiting to strike at the right chance."
"Maybe they saw the two eldest gone as opportunity, or maybe they'd always planned to hit those kids today and it was mere coincidence we stumbled on them first," Weaver spoke up, "Either way, doesn't matter, we need to start talking about recovering those kids. Diego gave us the location of the facility, wanted us to rush in there blind, and when we refused he took off," Weaver shifted uncomfortably and grunted, "With my daughter."
"And our brother," Hal quietly reminded the captain.
"So what's our plan? How are we moving on this?" Ben asked, "Am I distraction? Or infiltration? Do you need me to head out and run quick surveillance?"
"Right now we need a timeline," Weaver said.
"A timeline?" Ben repeated, momentarily baffled.
"We need to know what to expect inside of that facility," Tom clarified, placing a hand lightly on Ben's shoulder, causing him to flinch, dart a startled look to his father, "How long will it be until they're harnessed? What might we expect inside? Where might they keep them? We're going to have to move on this quick and we need as much information as can be provided."
"What did they say?" Ben asked, jerking his chin Roman's direction, shuddering as memories flooded his mind, dark and deeply buried.
"You were harnessed in different facilities. We can use the comparison of details to know what's standard," Anthony said, "And people notice different things. It's better to have all the information we can possibly gather."
"I know this is hard, son, but anything you can remember will be helpful," Tom whispered gently.
"They won't harness them all right away," Ben silently started, closed his eyes and hugged his arms around himself.
The smells wafted back to the forefront of his memory first, then the bitter, stale taste of the air on his tongue, the feel of everything slick and oily to the touch, and the sounds; screaming, crying, pleading. Everyone's emotions in that cramped prison pooled together, so much so that he had felt overdosed on pure, unadulterated fear.
"They kept us in a back room, no windows, just the one door. I don't know how long but it was never the same. Several hours for some, I was there for days. I don't remember a lot of Skitters being there. I heard a lot of Mechs though, didn't really know what they were at the time. They took us to be harnessed in small groups, four at one go. I didn't see many Skitters when they moved us, anyway, just the one that took us to be harnessed, and maybe one or two others. Harnessing happened in a large room, had to be the largest room in the building. There was a lot of equipment."
"It's possible that's all there is, just the one Skitter working the facility," Dai suggested, "The others were just handlers, there to pick up a group of newly harnessed children."
"That would explain the delay in times between harnessing," Tom noted, "Skitters must come in, put in request for a new group, wait for them to be harnessed and then take them for whatever it is they do with those children."
"That leaves a lot of Mech to contend with," one of the other older fighters, a woman whose name Ben didn't know, pointed out; she gave a low whistle, "They'd have to make up for the lack of security in six-legged form somehow, right? We're talking enough Mech to secure the area and keep captives in check."
"At least five," Maggie put in, "Four to patrol each side of the building, and one to keep guard of prisoners while the Skitter works."
"I say we expect at least ten," Anthony said, smirking at the questioning looks, "We work in pairs so that way we always have someone watching our back. It's a simple concept that we've used for centuries. I find it hard to believe a technologically advanced race of aliens wouldn't have come up with the same system."
"Dai, how many Mech piercing bullets we got left in stock?" Weaver asked.
"Not ten."
"Pope, could we cook up anymore?"
"Sure, let me just get out my magic wand," Pope drawled sarcastically, and then grunted, "Thanks to all our fun-times at the community center, I don't have the right equipment or material for that kind of smithy work. You think I shit these bullets out of my ass."
"Set me up with some C4 and I can handle the Mechs," Ben offered.
"You're not coming," Tom said sternly.
"Like hell I'm not," Ben snapped.
"We need him," Weaver declared.
"I don't think Ben needs anymore memories of these kinds of places," Tom protested, "And I've already got one son to rescue out there."
"I understand your concerns as a father, Tom, but Ben's the only fighter we got that's spent any amount of time in one of these facilities. Not to mention, I much prefer to go to battle with Ben at my side than without," Weaver replied, and Ben had to bite back the triumphant look struggling to be thrown his father's direction, "We have to assume Diego and his people have been taken, they didn't have the arms, skills, or knowledge for the assault they planned on making. Dai, we're going to need what we got left of those bullets, and explosives. We're going in quiet and coming out loud. We'll have a small infiltration group go in and secures those kids, take out any Mechs inside with the bullets. We don't have enough left to afford missing, so we only take close range shots; the rest will have to be dealt with using the explosives. Meanwhile, we got assault units primed and ready on every side of that perimeter to rain hell on the enemy outside, cover the escape. I'll lead the infiltration group…"
"I'm not sure that's wise," Dai interjected.
"I didn't ask your opinion on it," Weaver returned sharply.
"He's right, Weaver," Tom spoke up, "2nd Mass needs you here, if anything goes wrong, what happens to them?"
"You take over," Weaver answered readily.
"I can't," Tom argued, "I don't have a commanding rank right now."
"And let's not forget, you can't be trusted," Pope added.
"Shut up, Pope," Weaver growled.
"I hate to agree with Pope," Tom started.
"Then don't."
"I can't be trusted. We don't know what the aliens may have done to me," Tom continued, "But we do know what they're capable of doing. Anything happens to you in there, Weaver, the next likely candidate to take over is Dai."
"I don't want to take over," Dai stated firmly.
"I don't give one god damn about the 2nd Mass at this moment. My daughter is in there," Weaver roared, "If you want me to stay behind, then you're going to have to restrain me, and I don't think a single one of you has the balls for it."
"I do," Ben said, and all eyes turned on him, he perked a brow and reminded Weaver, "I owe you one, after all. How was that worded again? We don't know what we'll find in there, captain, but you shouldn't be the one to find it."
Tom's brow knit together in confusion, the reference appeared lost on most of the people in the tent, but Weaver understood Ben's meaning, a distant smile on his lip. He tipped his chin forward, a reluctant acceptance, shook his head with a grim humor.
"You should know better than to quote a drunken bastard like me," Weaver murmured, relented, "You win. That line of reasoning, though, Tom, puts you on the sidelines as well."
"Not exactly. We just established that I'm expendable; you're not," Tom returned, "Besides, what better way to confirm which side I'm playing on then to throw me in the thick of a full-on battle against the enemy. Hitting a harnessing facility is a heavy strike; it'll hurt them a great deal. If they're really set up to use me in some way, now might be a good time for them to use me."
"I'll lead the infiltration," Dai took over, "I'll take Ben, Lettie, Tom, Maggie, and Hank. Any complaints, captain?"
"None I haven't already voiced. Sounds good to me," Weaver agreed.
"The rest of us will take perimeter," Anthony decided.
"Berserkers will take lead of outside assault, then," Weaver determined, "I'll organize the civilians, get our things packed up; I got a feeling we'll be needing a quick retreat. Dai, make the arrangements for the weaponry. Anthony, Pope, you're going to need more fighters I take it, start picking out a team. Hal, prep for scout; I want a preliminary surveillance of that facility. Take Ben and Roman, they'll know what to look for. Tom…"
"You and I need to talk," Tom cut in.
"My thoughts exactly," Weaver returned.
Ben scowled at the older boy across the tent. Roman, Gia, and Doug had remained relatively silent the entire meeting; whether from simply having no input or being shell-shocked by the situation, Ben couldn't be certain, but something in the smug expression that lit Roman's face at Weaver's instructions turned disgust and dread in Ben's stomach. Matt was in danger, Ben couldn't account for seven hours out of his day, and he was about to go on his very first mission with his father who seemed dead set on believing Ben the most incapable fighter ever. On top of all that, he had to deal with Roman? Okay, sure, he could manage. So long as Roman didn't speak to him, or speak in general, look at him or be seen by him, walk nearby him, or near enough to be heard period, think or do anything whatsoever, and didn't so much as breathe his direction, or hell, breathe at all, it seemed possible. It also seemed far more possible that the aliens would retreat tomorrow, issue a global apology, and buy the entire human race ice cream cones to make up for all the troubles they caused. Personally, Ben would want a scoop of spumoni.
.
.
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AN: I had originally intended to go back and pull more scenes from the first episodes of Season 2, but in writing realized there were none that would really lend much to the story I'm writing. I kind of wanted to do the river bank scene between Jimmy and Ben, when Jimmy lends Ben the compass, but because I introduced Jeanne early and he gave back the compass prematurely, I couldn't work it. Maybe...no, not yet. Also, you can see from this chapter that there were things I didn't like about the real episode dealing with the harnessing facility, so I've changed a few things. Like, for instance, who goes into the harnessing facility.
I feel I had other things to say, but I'm really tired from first week of school and I have a lot of reading to get to, so...yeah, uh, why don't you guys tell me some things about this chapter instead.
Reviewers: NOxONE, I'm happy to hear you enjoyed Ben and Tom's arguing more than anticipated. You make a good point about Tom from the show, I never could put my finger on what annoyed me about his character, but you're right, he always seems to be too perfect. I heard somewhere that it came out in the show he was supposedly abused in his childhood? I couldn't help laughing at that, for me, it doesn't fit his character at all. Thank you for the well wishes on school! Typhoonboom08, lol, I'm glad of your Tom defense, and I think you're pretty close to his position. Though, personally, I think at this point he realizes he can't keep his sons safe, he has no illusions about his abilities to protect them, but he believes himself their only line of defense, and because he thinks he can't keep them safe than no one can and the only thing he can do is prevent encounters with the enemy as much as possible. I know you love the soft core fluff, which means you will probably enjoy the next several chapters or so. Hopefully. We'll see, I guess. LuckyDreamer91, glad you liked it. Arguments are always fun in that usually no one is fully right or wrong. I'm glad you could see both of their perspectives. I especially like your line 'Ben should act as grown up as he says he is', a lot of accusations are getting tossed at Tom about him living in a fantasy world, but there isn't much recognition about Ben clinging to his own fantasies. I may take you up on questions about Falling Skies, particularly for a description of the character Deni. I won't be using her in this story, but I might want to work her into my future fic. If you think you can give a good character sketch for her, I'd love your assistance on it. FacePalmer123, awesome. Thank you. Ewookiee, hello, I'm excited you got wifi, I love hearing from new reviewers. I'm glad to hear you like the story, and flattered you think the characters are so well written! It does get angsty, I guess I should hang my head in shame on that one. I don't know how I always manage such angst-drenched stories, even when I try not to write them that way. Oh well, sigh. Thanks for dropping in, and I hope to hear from you again! Dee! Got your review in early this week I saw. I'm glad you liked that line, I hoped you would be able to understand Tom's perspective so well, being a parent yourself, and worried if you didn't get it that I may have written him wrong in some way. I'm a bit more than relieved now. As for his lecturing Jimmy, yeah, he probably does get that Ben is going to drink but - and this is going to reveal a bit of my own outsiders take on parenting - I think parents who establish that drinking is wrong to their children but keep in mind that there kids will drink rather than parents who flat out oppose alcohol no exception or those who are too relaxed on it, figuring 'oh well, they're going to drink anyway, why bother caring', come out with better adjusted, more well rounded children. Because the kids will drink, yes, but they'll keep in the back of their mind that their parents disapprove - not a 'no' but leaving the choice still in the kids hands, and those kids are less likely to drink in excess. That's been my observation anyway. Also, and I didn't realize this until reading your review, but Tom didn't really abandon his sons, if you really think about it. He got on that ship knowing full well that Weaver would take care of his sons, and that Anne was back at camp and would look after them, and that he'd made bonds with people who would look out for them like Anthony and Dai. Would Tom have taken the same risk, gotten on that ship believing Ben in danger if he didn't, were those people not in place to take care of his sons in his absence? I doubt it. And Jimmy...hmmm...I would almost think that Lindsay being a girl would make it less painful in a way, if he accepts the supposition that Ben is gay and not bi, though it is going to come up again later, so I won't say much on it. I will point out, however, that in Falling Snow it was kind of mentioned that Jimmy got jealous and heartbroken at the notion that Ben had been with Cole previously too, so I think it is more that Jimmy doesn't like the idea that Ben loved someone before him, especially considering he's not entirely convinced Ben loves him, and that he's never loved anyone before Ben. Also, yeah, Jimmy did worry for a minute about Tom getting physically violent towards Ben, but that was more of a PTSD type response than him truly believing Tom would get violent. You're going to see, and he's already done it in that scene and others, and he's done it with Hal, where his past causes him to side against Ben at times. Like, he sides with Hal in that he remembers what it was to be an older brother, and he sides with Tom because he knows what it is to have a bad father and he hates that Ben takes for granted having a good father that loves him. Oh, no you didn't give the wrong impression, I post when I first wake up, so sometimes I'm foggy and give non-sequiter responses. Sorry. It's possible. I honestly didn't see it, but obviously that doesn't mean it isn't a possibility. Truth be told, I didn't think there was a significant enough amount of interaction between Ben and Jimmy in those few episodes to justify proving they had a friendship worth noting, forget about romantic feelings. I mentioned the writing, because some of it did seem very easy to construe one way or the other. In the first season, the first and kind of only episode where the boys really interact, Ben's interest in Jimmy seemed odd, if all he wanted was a friend. Then, the scene on the river bank, when Jimmy gave Ben the compass, could be seen as a bit intimate, like the old idea of a woman giving a soldier her handkerchief before he marches into battle, and then Compass was littered with lines and scenes that could be too easily skewed to the perspective something romantic was, at least, beginning to develop between the boys. A hard image to shake, especially after Tom parallels Ben losing Jimmy to his own loss of his wife. One of my first presumptions about them killing Jimmy off then eventually giving Ben a new friend that was a girl, might be due to concern on the writers' or directors' or producers' or someone's part that the relationship might end up being viewed as possibly homosexual. Just because the show is filmed in Canada and most of the actors are Canadian, most of the names behind it that carry all the authority to make story choices aren't Canadian, and sadly,a quick check on their body of work, seem to be not as liberal on that front.
That got longer than I intended. Oh well, crap. Back to homework. See you all next Sunday.