When Ben stepped out of the shower, Hope was absent from her home. He had the large antique log cabin to himself yet again. The man didn't know where the older witch had disappeared to; there was no note, not that he expected one. Ben knew Hope was more than capable of taking care of herself and others. She has proved that to him in the past. But yet still he worried for her wellbeing. He didn't know the answer as to why. Was it L-. He couldn't even say it because he, himself, didn't know what it meant. So he'll call it something else: romantic interest. Yeah, that's it.

Tennyson had his fair share of relationships, some long lasting and others seemingly flings. Julie, being his longest, definitely gave the ex-hero a glimpse into romance. When he compares his previous relationships to the awkward standing he has with Hope, his brain gets all fuzzy. One second they were enemies and the next they were comrades. But it was more than that. Right? Ben was more open with Hope than he was with most of his other girlfriends.

Ben thought back to battles they fought together against powerful foes. At first, it was a simple bout of quid pro quo; Hope would cooperate for a crack at her uncle. She made it clear that was all she was after. As the fights became more vicious and deadly, Hope's idea of collaboration became more than just her presence. She participated in team meetings and showed compassion for the team and their objectives. Even when it didn't directly benefit hers.

Trust was unwillingly hammered into both of them. They had to trust each other, not doing so would only corrupt the synergy of the team. Soon that confidence sprouted into belief and faith in each other. Before long, Ben developed feelings for the sorceress and he knows exactly when. Back on Azmuth's homeworld before everything went to total shit. They both stood on the balcony talking about the state of the planet. The witch had just admitted to conspiracy of his murder. He didn't blink an eye. She showed consideration for human life. For his life. The Charmcaster that he knew was already gone. Hope had chosen somebody else over herself. A feat that he thought impossible until that moment.

She didn't pull the trigger, she didn't draw her sword. When confronted with such loyalty, he could only fall head over heels. Much like Galvin Prime, Hope had only seen destruction, and now she was growing with benevolence and tolerance. Now what concerned him was the possibility of his tenderness towards her being only because of the situation at hand. Now that the worst of the storm has blown over. The question was: did he hold the same feelings as before? Hope stole his heart two years ago and ran with it. The fight against the Plumbers only gave her a burst of speed. Things have relatively settled and now he was left wondering if he caught up.

Ben dramatically sighs as he sinks into the witch's comfy couch. All this thinking was making his brain hurt. Every time he wanted to bring it up, she disappeared. Tennyson peers at the clock; it was a little after three in the morning. He couldn't sleep, as usual, and figures he'll spend his waking hours waiting. Even if she was to walk through the front door right now, what would he even say? Hey, I may be madly in love with you or it could just be butterflies from being around you during times of struggle. That sounded just as crazy in his head as it would out of his mouth.

Did he ever mention his hatred of waiting. Whether it be for a person, event, or thing, standing still made him feel helpless. Maybe it was time for him to admit that he, indeed, was helpless. Helpless to his own destiny. And trying to run from it cursed him with misfortune. Well fuck waiting around for fate. Ben sprung from the couch with newfound energy; since coming to town he had been wanting to do something.

**PAGE BREAK**

Ben stares up at the iron-clad sign towering over him. Hero's Garden. So that's what they're calling it. The entrance was beautiful, he must admit. Brick walls stood to his left and right coming together to hold the iron archway, where the title rested, in the middle. There was a cobblestone walkway leading to the golden gateway. Ben immediately takes notice of the lockless gate. A plague with gold lettering catches his eye: This place shall remain unlocked for when you can not make it during the day and you must use the cover of night to hide your tears. He slips through the gate without noise, his jaw dropping at the scene before him.

A sea of red from the countless Rose bushes captured his attention. Not only Roses, but Carnations, Tulips, Orchids, and Daffodils. Each grave was lined with a multitude of flowers. The cobblestone walkways had flower petals littered over them. There were three lanes, each filled with a row of headstones facing the entrance. Ben glances to his right to see a large wall of bronze erected in the corner. The Hero's Garden he reads slowly. A passage underneath read: We can never repay the debt we owe the people who lie here. It would be insulting to call their sacrifice anything short of priceless. When our way of life was threatened, these brave souls showed valourous efforts in the face of catastrophe . The only thing we can do is to make sure they are not forgotten. Below that were the many names of the resistance fighters who died and where their headstone was located. Ben's eyes gloss over Julie Yamamoto and he heads in the direction of her grave; it was amongst the first few headstones.

Ben approaches the grave like a mother does her babies, carefully and gently.

"Oh Julie…" he woefully whimpers.

After the war he ran away with no time to grieve or think about the consequences of the bloody conflict. He knew people had suffered losses on both sides, including friends close to Ben. But he wasn't concerned about any of it; he simply wanted to leave that life, and everything in it, behind. Seeing the gravestone solidified any doubt of such severe outcomes.

The last time Ben saw Julie, she had put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger. To think the young woman was struggling with so much. He never asked what happened prior to this sequence of events. Tennyson had read a dossier on Julie that the resistance had cooked up. Nothing in it was put in stone; only a bunch of theories and hypotheses about the possibility of Julia giving information to the enemy. At first, Ben knew it to be a lie. Julie? A traitor? Impossible.

Then he looked at the facts. Julie was a normal human with normal weaknesses and vulnerabilities; friends and family, ambitions, precious sentimentals. She wasn't the only one without those valuable contributions, but she was the only one without the means to protect them. They could have threatened anything and she would have broken. Poor girl. Then he's reminded of who introduced her to this cruel life, so Ben couldn't blame her for her actions. He might as well have pulled the trigger.

"Julie, I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve this. You should have been in college playing tennis and enjoying a normal life," Ben apologizes.

"Then you really didn't know her," a cold voice says.

Ben's hand instinctively moves toward his watch as he peers to his right. A tall figure wrapped in a dark brown leather cloak makes their presence known. Tennyson was impressed that such a big guy was able to sneak up on him. That piece of clothing did nothing to hide the person's height or bulging muscles. Or the weapon buttstock poking out from the back.

Ben lowers his hand and turns back to the grave, "Do you usually sneak up on people?" he asks with a sarcastic tone.

The stranger didn't speak up. Ben glances over at the set of headstones they're staring at. He recognizes them as the junior Plumbers; the sight tugs at his heartstrings, knowing that Grandpa Max was the one to train them. Alan, Helen, and Manny were good people, the best. They were the next generation as Max put it. He'd be lying if he did not respect their dedication to his grandfather, along with the Plumbers. Three life forces that were snuffed out way too early.

"Friends of yours?"

"Something like that," they commented. "What about her?"

"Something like that," Ben responds carefully.

At that moment Ben realized he wasn't wearing anything to disguise his identity and this person could easily recognize him. In the same moment, his shoulders shrugged because he didn't care if he was spotted. What was he hiding for, other than his own misery. Plus, something told him that this stranger didn't care about who he was.

"Even if they weren't, it doesn't matter. Everyone living should pay their respects."

"And what about those who don't care if they're living or not?" Ben questions, playing Devil's advocate.

"Irrelevant," they snap. "Because they got a second chance to make that choice." The stranger points at the gravestones, "Because they do not," he finishes.

"We shouldn't put heroes on a pedestal. It forces them to reach an unachievable standard that they must maintain for the rest of their lives."

"And? We're not worshiping some invisible god, these people deserve praise because they save our skin daily. They have powers and abilities so they should be helping those without. How is this world ever going to function if we can't even agree on that claim? If you can make a difference, you should actively be attempting to do so."

"So they save your ass once, now you expect them to do it the next time. And you also expect them to save your buddy, and your mother. You say they're not gods, I agree, and yet you bank on them to be everywhere at all times."

"The things I've seen some of these heroes do, it's no wonder why we put them to a higher standard. They are perfectly capable of achieving that level of expectation."

"You're going to burn out your heroes. Believe it or not, these are normal people born of normal means with normal goals in life. Do you think someone like Alan wanted to be sucked into the hellscape he was faced with? Simply because he had powers? You don't think he wanted to go to college, get a career, get married?" Ben argues.

The stranger's eye widened at the mention of Alan, but he quickly relaxed.

"Then another takes their place," they reply, ignoring the second half of Ben's statement.

"So we're just disposable to you!" Ben's voice echoes through the graveyard.

"OF COURSE I KNOW ALAN DIDN'T WANT THIS!" the mystery person shouted. "But that is the difference between you and him; he knew he could have it better and yet still he fought! He didn't have that watch attached to his wrist, but he was willing to make a difference. The things you could be doing right now, but you'd rather wallow in self-pity. It is a DISGRACE to everything that the people of this place stood for."

They began to walk away with that final note. They didn't come here for an argument. Nothing anyone says could change their mind. Ben scowls at the leaving titan from the verbal beating he just took. It left a sour taste in his mouth like he had something to prove to this person. To prove that he wasn't just wasting away.

"They're dead because of people like you! Alan, Julie, all of them!" Ben hisses loudly.

The visitor stops in their tracks; their biceps tensing from the accusation just slung at them. Shaking from anger, they glare over their shoulder at the man.

"You're not even worth it," they spit before continuing towards the exit.

"Who are you to say that, huh? WHO ARE YOU?" Tennyson screeches.

The outsider didn't reply to the upset man. They kept moving until they were clear of the gate and Ben's comments. A stranger that sees you for what you are.

**PAGE BREAK**

Ben trudges down the empty streets of Bellwood muttering to himself. He looked like the resident crackhead. The visit to the cemetery was supposed to be peaceful, and now he was only pissed off from that conversation.

"What the fuck do they know about being a hero," he growls as he kicked a rock down the street. "I was one, for damn near all my life!"

Tennyson soon finds himself in a residential area; rows of suburban housing fills his view. Somehow this section of Bellwood was even quieter. There was no occasional car or jogger. The dark sky was starting to lighten up, a sign of the coming morning. He ought to transform and fly out of here before someone spots him. But he was too angry to be concerned about any of that.

Depression sunk in like the cold of the early morning. Ben figured no one understood him or the trials he overcame. He was alone on an island of enlightenment. It was difficult when there was no one to share the knowledge with. He tried to show Gwen but instead she just got angry with him. For most people it was too late for they suffered the most common consequence of this livelihood, death. Others like Gwen were high on the ambition of heroics, too blind to see they were barreling towards a cliffedge.

As he walked the lonely road, his surroundings transformed into a blur; Tennyson's reality became a smudge. A familiar object catches the distracted man's gaze, a black and green sports car. Ben shuffles closer to the slim bodied vehicle. He starts at the curved green spoiler, moving his hand onto the armored roof of the coupe, then forward where it slants down into the bump engine cover on the hood. His eyes glance over the two green stripes that cross into an X at the front. Ben checks the wheels for further confirmation, though he doesn't need it. This was without a doubt, the DX Mark 10- his car.

So they sold his car to make a quick buck? He glares up at the house the car was parked in front of. The house didn't look familiar. Who the fuck did these people think they are driving around in Ben Tennyson's vehicle? That doesn't matter to him, he was going to take his car back. The man tries the car door- locked. Figures. He is not going to break into his own car; windows did not come cheap after all.

An idea popped into his head. A genius one. Ben peers to his left and right- not a soul in view. Perfect. He fiddles with his watch and slams down on the face. A black and white alien with green trim stood in his place. Upgrade touches the DX, activating his technological override ability. He phases into the car; a slick black film travels over the vehicle, and green lines zig-zag across it like hieroglyphics. The suped-up beast roars to life in an instant. Ben revs the 3.5 liter V6 engine like a madman, before blasting off down the street.

Upgrade's power-on symbol appears on the display screen in the DX. He cackles happily as he drifts around a corner. Adrenaline flowed through his body as he continued to accelerate. 60. 65.70. 75. Ben rockets out of the neighborhood onto the highway; he weaves in and out of early morning traffic.

Calls flood into the Bellwood police department complaining of an erratic driver. A cop was walking out of the local convenience store, coffee in hand, when the call came over the radio. At that exact moment, Ben happens to blow past the parking lot. The officer jumps in his car, calling out his location and that he was in pursuit of the vehicle. Sirens blaring, he races after the driver.

Ben chuckles at the emergency vehicle attempting to catch up to him. Oh you wanna play? He jerks the steering wheel to the right, tail whipping into the intersection sideways, tires screeching like a bat out of hell. Engine bellowing as he shifts into gear and flies down the road. The speedometer is tickling 90 MPH; Ben was passing moving cars like they're in reverse.

The cop tries his best to keep up, but the vehicle he was pursuing is in a different league. Other units had joined the chase but none of them were able to safely catch up. The car's description was alien to the officers and there was no visible license plate. It was easily pushing 100 MPH; they were worried that the car would wreck and possibly kill someone. After the shitshow yesterday, no one wanted another tragedy.

Ben, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He blows through traffic lights and stop signs, it was a miracle he didn't crash yet. The police cars were starting to fall behind; the Officer In Charge was seconds from calling off the pursuit. It had gotten too dangerous. Upgrade watches in the rearview as the cops slow down.

"Too easy."

An arrow flies through the air like a missile, embedding itself in the road 500 feet ahead of the DX. The street erupts in a small explosion. Ben returns his eyes to the road just in time to swerve away from oncoming debris. What the hell? Upgrade pops his head out of the car roof and scans the area. He glances up to see a woman dressed in green, riding some sort of aerial craft. Is that a woman version of Robin Hood riding a damn hoverboard?

"Aye, watch the paint!" Ben shouts to the pursuing woman.

The green clad lady paid his comment no mind, and continued to let arrows fly. Ben had to dodge the tiny explosions, speeding down side streets and less crowded roads. What is this chick's problem? Since when do heroes chase down car thieves? Upgrade moves around the honking civilian cars with ease. A last minute swerve to avoid being blown up forced him onto the major highway, which only allowed the DX to stretch its legs even more. Ben, going 110, was a blur as he crossed the bridge. He saw the cops disappear in his rearview. Slowpokes. The highway fizzled out into a lone road with desert and abandoned warehouses on both sides.

Tennyson could tell Robin Hood was still following; the sunrise casted her shadow on the ground, he could see it moving across the dirt. She was persistent, he'll give her that. Ben found it strange she was no longer trying to blow him off the road. She was just tailing him (at 140 MPH). No biggie. Ben was about to kick it up a notch when he noticed her shadow no longer following him. He pops his head out again and sees her floating in the sky about 2000 feet back. It was a few moments before she turned around and sped off. Ben chuckles at the cleverness of the hero; she was only trying to push him out of town.

The DX slows to a halt. The high he originally felt long gone. A flash fills the car as he reverts back to human. Ben loosely grips the steering wheel, giving it a quick few taps with his fingers. He glances up at the rearview mirror to a pair of dull green eyes staring back at him. The bags around his eyes from the sleepless nights made him look like a junkie. Ben grabs his face with his hands and bangs his forehead against the wheel.

"What the fuck am I doing?" he mumbles to himself.

One second he wanted to show Gwen a hero's "life", and the next he didn't give a rat's ass about it all. Two sides of him were at war with each other. He didn't know who was winning or which side to root for. Every other waking moment he feels like a stranger to himself.

"Sometimes I wish I could just die."

Footsteps could be heard approaching the driver side of the vehicle. Ben groans in annoyance, he was in no mood to talk to cops. The movement came to a halt in front of his window; a sharp knock followed soon after. Ben glances up from his hunched position, expecting to see a person dressed in uniform. A slightly scarred but pretty face met him instead.

"What are you doing here?" he weakly asks.

"Look at you. You're a mess," Hope comments.

Ben sucks his teeth, "How did you even find me?"

"It's not hard to miss a car, being chased by the police, racing through the town." "You're resorting to stealing cars now," she adds.

"It's MY car. Some dick had it parked in front of their house."

"Your head is so far up your ass that you didn't even realize that was your house."

Ben's eyes widened for a moment, " what?" he utters.

"Your mom got the car back from the police impound a couple months back, but you wouldn't know that because you haven't even visited your mom."

Ben scoffs, "You're lying; the house wasn't even the right color."

"Since this shit started have I ever lied to you? She had the house repainted but like I said you wouldn't know that."

"Whatever," Ben mutters.

Charmcaster narrows her eyes at the rude reply. She wasn't having it. Not today.

"Aye dickhead, I have been covering for your ass nonstop and somehow you're still managing to piss me the fuck off. You came back because you wanted to set things right, but all I've seen you do is play the pity game. No one is going to accept you back with this 'woe is me' attitude. You are going to lose EVERYTHING unless you shape the fuck up."

And with that Hope stomps away from the car leaving Ben in total silence. The man peers in the side mirror at the witch. She didn't even glance back once. Not that he deserved one. He watched until she disappeared into a portal. Hope mentioned him losing everything as if he hadn't already lost everything. But the thing she was talking about losing was her. Ben slams his fist on the steering wheel, the vehicle emitting a loud honk.

His actions the last week or so have only made Charmcaster's life harder, having to cover for a shitbag like him. It was clear to Tennyson she was actively trying to get her life together. He was the one dragging her down. He was dead weight. Ben scavenges his head for what may help; he only had one idea, a desperate one. He was going to have to tell her the truth.