AN: Thank you to the reviewers. You guys rock!
LXXI.
The image seemed surreal, and at first, Ben couldn't quite grasp what he was seeing. He approached in small, meek steps; body quaking and his breath coming in short and quick. Jimmy raised his eyes to meet Ben's momentarily, though they were clouded, his mouth moved a bit and then he lightly bit his bottom lip, closed his eyes. He absently trailed his fingertips along the branch.
"No, no, no," Ben chanted under breath, blinking away tears swarming his vision, as realization slowly seeped in. He swallowed several gulps of air, ran a hand over his head, "Okay, it's okay," he steadied himself, set his gaze on Jimmy, and determined, "I'm going to get you down from there. Okay? I'm gonna get you down…"
Getting the leverage wasn't easy, but Ben managed to pull himself up and position his body in such a way he could grip Jimmy and, he hoped, dislodge the boy from the branch. However, the moment Ben started to pull, jimmy cried out in shock and agony.
Ben froze, drew back and hastily said, "I'm sorry. I won't do that. I'm sorry."
Jimmy settled back against the tree, strained to lift his hand and trace the contour of Ben's face, eyes softened, as if pleading. Ben took a few deep breaths, caught the hand and slipped it over his shoulder. He pushed away Jimmy's hair, fallen loose and wild in the boy's face, and buried his face in Jimmy's shoulder, nuzzled his neck, drenched in a thin line of sweat.
"I'm sorry," Ben whispered, speaking more for his own reassurances than Jimmy's, "It's going to be okay. I'm going to get you home, and it's going to be okay. I'll get you home and you'll be okay."
Ben dropped several kisses along Jimmy's jawline and cheek. Jimmy gasped, struggling to keep his eyes open; he attempted to say something, but choked on his pain and blood. He shook his head instead, curled his fingers against Ben's neck. Ben tugged out his knife, unable to think about what to do if the blade couldn't manage. He started sawing at the branch, and jostled Jimmy with the effort, the other boy crying and whimpering in response.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Ben whispered, hugging the boy to him as he worked, "I'm trying not…it won't be long. I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry."
When Jimmy eventually fell silent, it was all Ben could do to keep sane, and steady his pace, focusing on the other boy's nearly inaudible breath as assurance that Jimmy had only passed out, and there was still time. There had to be time. The blade went dull halfway through, and Ben struggled to retrieve Jimmy's knife, using it to work enough of the branch away that Ben could break the rest with ease. He half-dragged, half-carried Jimmy back to camp, the branch poking out of the other boy's body made movement awkward and slow. For that reason, and many others, the hike felt eternal.
Ben barely reached the fringe of camp before he began shouting for help. He was hoarse by the time others had gathered round. He barely registered that someone, he didn't even know who, helped him carry Jimmy the rest of the way to Dr. Glass. He stubbornly refused to let anyone fully take over the burden. His burden.
They laid Jimmy on his side across the table. Dr. Glass wasn't at the medic van, Lourdes went to retrieve her, while Ben waited alone, in a quiet state of shock, unwilling to pull his eyes from his unconscious lover, as much as he couldn't stand the sight. Outside, a small crowd of 2nd Mass civilians had gathered, mostly those who'd witnessed Ben's return to camp. He could hear them whispering, trading information and speculations, and while the words reached him and he understood their meaning, they were little more than melancholic background music to his tragic tale.
Jimmy was injured, no word how or why, but obviously the 'razorback' had something to do with it.
The hunt played out on repeat in Ben's mind. No matter how he strained his memory, he couldn't fill the gigantic blank that explained the final sickening scene and Jimmy's horrifying injury. For all Ben knew, those civilians were right to be suspicious. Heat flushed Ben's cheeks, and his head suddenly felt light. He could sense the blood drying on his hands, and knew he was about to be sick. He couldn't have been strong and selfless for at least one night, for this one boy.
A rattle at the van door knocked Ben hard out of his dark thoughts. Lourdes had returned with Dr. Glass and Tom. They climbed onto the bus. Tom took up position beside Ben, placed a hand on Ben's shoulder that was meant to be comforting, but it only reminded Ben of their fight the night before and Tom's quick dismissal of Ben's relationship with Jimmy. What kind of sympathy could a man like that possibly have for his son or his son's lover in such a moment?
Dr. Glass and Lourdes moved around the table. Lourdes stayed back a few steps, worried her bottom lip and folded her arms across her chest. Her brow knit tight together as she examined Jimmy's injury from a distance. Dr. Glass stepped close, an absent hand brushing the hair from Jimmy's forehead, as she lightly prodded the flesh around the protruding branch with her fingertips. Both women were doing their best to maintain a professional composure, but Ben could hear how rapidly the beat of their hearts increased in pace. He could hear the hitch in Dr. Glass's every breath, and the tiny fidget in Lourdes's stance.
"Ben, you alright?" Tom asked concernedly, examining his son for injury. He gave Ben's shoulder a small squeeze.
Ben shrugged off his father's hand, set his jaw and furrowed his brow, glancing anxiously to Dr. Glass, taking his eyes off Jimmy for only a fraction of a second. Her expression was grim, though Lourdes looked somewhat hopeful.
"Is he going to be okay?" Ben questioned, emotion cracking his voice. He knew better than to ask. He knew the moment he saw Jimmy in that wooded clearing that the boy was dead. Everything after was just a futile struggle, an attempt to hold back the coming tide.
Dr. Glass drew her breath in slowly, looked to Tom at a loss.
"It was a good thing that you didn't take it out," Lourdes offered encouragingly, "He would've bled out otherwise. This way there's a chance…"
Ben flinched, started forward a step towards Jimmy and faltered, fell back again, frozen in place.
"Ben, why don't you go get cleaned up," Tom suggested, and Ben trembled, seethed with a rush of rage towards his father.
"I'm not going anywhere," he bit out, softened his tone and expression on Jimmy again and vowed, "I won't leave his side."
"You're a mess, Ben, you can't hang out around camp looking like this," Tom protested, but Dr. Glass butted in, placing a hand gently on Ben's shoulder to attract his attention.
"Sweetie, I'm going to do everything that I can for him, but your father is right. You should really go get cleaned up, and there's nothing you can do here. The best thing you can do for him, the most help you will be, is if you take care of yourself right now," she said gently, "I promise, I will take very good care of him, and I will send someone for you as soon as we're done."
Ben frowned, ran the back of his hand across his eyes and nodded stiffly. Dr. Glass had always been there for them, she took care of Jimmy after every incident, made sure he came out alive and well. Not to mention, she'd given them sanctuary, a place and time to be together. For a moment, Ben couldn't help the bitter thought that she deserved better than his father. The man was too afraid to love her, hell, he was too afraid to let his son love someone else.
Taking one last lingering look at Jimmy, letting the image settle through him, Ben stumbled from the medic van into the cold, open night air. The small crowd that had gathered earlier dispersed when Tom and Anne had arrived; they'd been shooed away by the agitated second. A few remained hovering nearby, however, and they gazed curiously at Ben when he exited the van, watching and scrutinizing his haphazard movements. He sniffled and started aimlessly away, only to pause when he heard the medic van door clack shut and his father call his name.
"Son, you aren't hurt?" Tom questioned, halting a foot or so away, careful to keep a comfortable distance between them, because apparently he'd finally caught on that Ben was pushing him an arm's length away. Ben eyed his father askance, made a face.
"No."
"What happened out there?" Tom asked, folding his arms across his chest. He spotted Weaver approaching them from across the camp, and nodded acknowledgement. From the worry lines creasing his face, word had reached the captain about Jimmy's condition.
Ben shrugged, shook his head, murmured, "There were Skitters. We killed some, the other one…"
Tom straightened, alarmed, and Weaver came to stand somewhat at his shoulder.
"Skitters? Where did you find Skitters at?"
"Outside of camp," Ben muttered, frowned. He knew why his father and the captain were concerned, if there were Skitters near camp, they needed to act on it, so he quietly confessed, "A few miles outside of camp."
"A few miles," Tom baulked, "What were you two doing a few miles outside of camp?"
"Nothing," Ben said, shuddered and scowled, "We were hunting."
"Hunting? Hunting what? Skitters?" Weaver questioned, taken aback by the statement.
"Yes."
Jimmy's softly, rasped voice making the suggestion hours before flittered heartache through Ben's chest, as he pictured the boy, flush cheeks and lips blistered red, offset by his wide blue eyes and dark, loose hair. Would he ever see that face again? Hear that voice?
"Why on earth would you be out hunting Skitters?" Tom demanded.
Ben gaped momentarily at his father, feeling a bit molested. Tom truly intended to lecture Ben on this right then and there, as the love of his life lay dying not even ten steps away?
"They invaded our planet. Killed everyone I knew. Killed mom. Strapped that thing on my back and controlled my mind for several months. Stole my childhood, stole Matt's childhood. You need a reason? Pick one," Ben spat out.
Tom looked to have been knocked back by the force of Ben's words. He opened his mouth and closed it without making a sound, a strange kind of devastation overwhelming his features. He looked lost and sad and, in many ways, old. Ben had never noticed the graying in his father's hair, never saw how pronounced those lines and bags were becoming around his eyes. Weaver sighed, put his hands on his hips and surveyed the father and son, both too stubborn to see the mirror they were looking in.
"I think we should save this discussion for another time," Weaver commented, somber and far away. He sought Ben's eyes, trying to gauge Ben's mindset, perhaps pass on a bit of sympathy.
After a short time, a few heart beats thundering between the father and son, and a war of wills, Ben glanced away and Tom ducked his head, nodded agreement to Weaver's suggestion.
"Right. Go get yourself cleaned up, Ben, we'll talk more later."
"Whatever," Ben scoffed, spinning on heel and hurrying through camp. He could hear Tom and Weaver fall into conversation, and though he didn't listen in too closely, he could tell their words were growing antagonistic. They were having an argument. Probably about how Ben screwed up, may have gotten Jimmy killed, and who needed to take responsibility for it.
Out at the farthest restroom from camp, Ben found solitude and silence to parse through his thoughts. He ran the water from one faucet, dipped his hands in and watched the blood slowly soften and flow away, turning the water a deep, sultry red. Jimmy. The blood was Jimmy's, every last bit. It was hard to think that only an hour or so earlier each droplet spiraling down the drain had been coursing through Jimmy's veins. What happened to the night? What happened to their plans? What happened to Ben's decision, his resolve, that the only way to keep Jimmy safe was to keep Jimmy at the farthest distance possible? Why hadn't he just insisted, just pleaded and begged and ultimately pushed Jimmy to stay away? Why couldn't he look into that boy's eyes and cut ties with him forever? As much as he claimed to love Jimmy, Ben couldn't love him enough to let him go. Roman's accusations hammered into Ben head. That older boy, for all his posturing and arrogance, had been right. What right did Ben have to claim he cared for Jimmy? He was too selfish, too concerned for his own greedy desires. He really was the monster everyone whispered about.
Tears were already falling freely, streaming steady down his cheeks, and they splattered into the sink, mingling with the blood washing away. Ben feared that blood was rightfully stained across his hands, and he feared that when Jimmy woke up, revealed the truth of what happened in that dark, gaping hole where memory should be, that Jimmy would look at Ben from then on with disgust and loathe, but Ben's fear of his role in what happened and Jimmy's inevitable hatred was nothing compared to his fear that he would never learn the truth, that it would go with Jimmy quietly into the night.
Ben promised Jimmy the future, only to snatch it away at the first moment. Was that all Ben would have left of the other boy, memories of broken promises and Jimmy's blood on his hands?
The water ran clear and Ben watched it dazedly, still seeing the red. For as long as he stood there, as long as he ran his hands under the water, he knew he could never hope to get his hands clean. He would always see the red, thick and black, drying in clumps beneath his fingernails. He would always feel it, a thin film that would become a part of him, a symbol of who and what he was, a monster that destroyed the last beautiful thing left in the world.
Urge jumped to the back of his throat, and Ben didn't realize he'd stumbled into the stall until his gut was long since emptied into the toilet. He fell back, trembling, forehead slick with sweat. His hands were still drenched up to his elbows. He felt suddenly as though his clothes were strangling him, the air was poison in his lungs, the entire world with all its sounds and sights were accosting him violently. Too bright, too loud, too many smells, too many molecules prickling his skin, searing into his flesh. He needed to get out, to get away. He needed Jimmy, but Jimmy was gone, and he was dying. They were both dying together.
When Jimmy left, drew his last breath and faded away, Ben knew it wouldn't be long before he followed.
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AN: It's short. I know. I had a lot of trouble writing this one. Hopefully the next few chapters come out a little easier. I guess I should update Raising Skies too. Didn't want to post the next chapter on that until I had the last few chapters on this finished, but that's taking longer than I anticipated. Stupid me. I didn't have a chance to proof this, also. I only just finished writing it seconds ago. Oi vey. I blame school, and work, and everything else that keeps me from writing.
Let me know what you thought please!
Reviewers: NOxONE, lol, yeah, I know. Everyone was kind of waxing hopeful on that one. Yes, oral was inevitable, but I wanted it to be emotional still! And yeah, Walking Dead, Andrea was kind of one of my favorite characters, and I hated how the show increasingly pushed this misogynistic agenda with her, having her make choices that continually contradict the character they originally presented us with. I got this whole feminist perspective on why I can't watch the show anymore that culminated with Andrea's death, I won't bore you with it. SassySavanna190, wow, that was uncharacteristically short. Did I take you by that much surprise? Aww...I'm sorry for the emotional overload. TyphoonBoom08, sweet. I always got to worry about losing readers. Thank you, I try not to write the expected. And yeah, Jimmy is definitely an actions speak louder than words kind of guy (I've said that before, I think), unfortunately, Ben is a words speak louder than words kind of guy. I know I threw everyone using Compass like that, but I needed to use it. As much as I hated the whole episode, it was the impetus behind writing First Patrol, so I have to pay homage to it. I'm a complicated person like that, which I think helps make my writing difficult to predict at times. LuckyDreamer91, but the BJ certainly helped though, right? Lol, I'm glad you saw the emotion that was missing, because I didn't. This story does mean a lot to me, every story I write does, but I have a special fondness for this pairing that I've never really felt for any other pairing I've written. Weird that. I wouldn't know what direction the show took mid season 2, or season 3, but I'll take your word for it that it got really bad and then started to get better again. And the killing characters thing off, who the heck do the FS writers think they are? George R.R. Martin? Funny you mention writing as a means of making money, I interviewed for a job as a blog writer for a small company the other day, sent them a sample of my writing, mock article I wrote up for them, and waiting to hear back but I'm not too hopeful. The writing I sent wasn't very spectacular. Oh well. We'll see how that goes. Cubelixa1, you made it to the end of Fire Light! Yay! I'm glad you're digging the writing so much. And I saw your review for Falling Snow, also glad to hear you enjoyed that story. It's good to know there are other corny people out there :). Dee, glad you remembered to pop in and write this review. I would've been sad if I hadn't heard from you. Lies. I would've harassed you by Saturday if I hadn't heard from you. I don't know if this one had you in tears, but the next ones might. It's a possibility. Yeah, we see Ben dealing a bit with the falling out of Jimmy's accident in this chapter. I don't know if he really thought Roman could protect Jimmy from him, you saw that fight, but that Roman could make Jimmy happy, that's as paramount to Ben as Jimmy's safety. Jimmy's "shame" is in part from his parents attitudes about sex, and yeah, also about the social stigma that he would've encountered in regards to homosexual relations. He would feel a very different kind of shame, I think, if it were a girl. Yeah, that scene showed a lot of my own perspective on what giving oral is about (your love for your partner). The decision also kind of broke down another barrier for Jimmy, letting him give in to his own sexual desires, and kind of let him come to terms with the reality, that he does want to do these things with Ben. I totally agree that sex should be comfortable between the participants, and the boys will get there, eventually.
It's kind of hard for me to convince people I'm killing Jimmy off, when I've alluded to two follow up stories to this one, and future coming interactions between the boys. Oh well. Just keep reading, people.
See you all next Sunday.