Author's Note: A Ben Stone/Saanvi Bahl and "after the finale" fic smashed into one. Considering the small size of the fandom, I felt obligated to splurge my feelings and maybe some would stick. Here is the product.

I currently have no update schedule. I am in nursing school and my time to work is sporadic. I do hope for this to be a slow-burn, though. Please do not expect any hardcore romance in the first two chapters, as I do want to give the characters justice and develop things realistically. This fic includes multiple romances, but Ben/Saanvi will be the main.

Chapter 1

It wasn't the first time that Ben had woken up from his sleep so suddenly that he forgot where he was. In the last five and half years–or… really, the last month–it had been such a common occurrence that he had developed a strategy to overcoming the terror that struck him in that moment before waking.

Sit on the edge of the bed, hands on each side of him, and let out the deepest breath he could with his eyes shut tight. Somehow, the lack of air in his lungs seemed to ground him. Made him aware of reality. After, he took a much less desperate breath in and opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the darkness around him. It was the same room he had slept in for so many years, yet in the last two had become foreign to him. He looked to the side, only letting his eyes settle when he spotted Grace's curly hair poking out from beneath the blankets that covered her.

The next breath he let out was a shuddered one, and similarly, a rumble of thunder just barely registered in his mind. He couldn't see any rain outside of the window, and it could have easily been the approaching storm that had woken him. Grace, bless her, had never questioned Ben when he would wake up in the mornings and casually ask if she had been woken by the rain the previous night. She would, without fail, say that she had woken up briefly and fallen asleep quickly.

Clearly his wife thought little about his questioning. She probably passed it off as early morning small talk–not a reassurance that the rumbling coming from outside did not originate only in his head.

He lifted a shaking hand before placing it back on the bed. He didn't know whether it was the thunder or dreams that woke him, but God, if it had been a dream, he remembered none of it. It had been that way for the last month–since their return. Ben had never truly had vivid dreams, but after 828 touched back down in 2013, the space in his head seemed awfully dark.

Looking at his clock in the middle of the night always came with a feeling of dread–because God forbid he wake up only 15 minutes before his alarm. But tomorrow–or, technically today, if the 3:14 AM on his clock was to be believed–was Saturday, and not something he had to work himself up about. His job didn't need him on the weekend, and with that, he could actually sleep.

It was a conversation he had with himself too many times now. Still, there was a feeling this time that he couldn't shake, and there was no Calling to at least tell him that what he was feeling was real. He could wait until morning to ask Grace. He could.

"You hear that storm last night?"

Too often and she would think something was wrong, but by the way she gazed at him sometimes, he had an inkling she knew more than she was letting on. But that could just be the paranoia.

A soft buzz on the nightstand beside his bed nearly made him jump, but thankfully it wasn't nearly loud enough to wake Grace. It was definitely his phone though, and he wasn't eager to let a secondary notification go off without interfering.

He almost just leaned across the bed to grab it, but second-guessing himself, he walked around and picked it up instead. Before he could read the message itself, he glanced at the name: Mick. It made his heart thud for a moment, knowing that late night texts like this were not her style. When she wasn't off "chasing bad guys" (her words), she very much enjoyed her sleep.

Looking back to ensure Grace hadn't been disturbed, he silently left the room and closed the door before lifting his phone once more. Usually a pretty detailed texter, Mick was not known for short or "casual" texts, which was why he was surprised to see just one word:

Mick:
Storm?

Ben moved down the hall, looking out towards another window as though to "confirm" what he had seen previously, and with that, he covered his face with his hand, sliding it down before moving to respond to the text.

Yeah.

Ben Stone was an overthinker at his best, and even after pressing send he knew that the message was lackluster at best. Pushing down his tired and shaky thoughts, he followed up:

Following a lead?

A lead for what? He had no idea. Mick had been so busy as of late that he barely knew what case she was following. Even she admitted that it wasn't her ideal position, but her "attempt at a new normal."

It made him laugh, honestly. A second chance, maybe, but was what any of what they experienced "normal" in any way?

The minutes passed by with Ben standing with his phone held in front of him, looking like a parent waiting for their child to call back ensuring they were safe. It was unnecessary, he knew, but Mick wasn't the type to just chat.

He was getting ready to text again when his phone lit up once more.

Mick:
Nothing right now. Checking in on you.

Ben was about ready to laugh, and he couldn't really prevent the snort that left him when he thought about his sister. She had gone through everything he had, and he found it funny that she thought to check in on him. He almost thought to say something but stopped himself. Normally, he would have replied something as cheeky as "You?" seeing as their banter was one of the only things that remained normal, even through time. But strangely, it felt like more of an insult than a normality at this point.

The storm rumbled again and Ben looked upward, the light illuminating his face momentarily before going dark. With slight hesitation, he reached back for his phone.

I'm fine. Don't worry about me.

He was moving again, his steps automatically moving in the direction of Olive's room. The door was slightly ajar and the room silent, and even without pushing it open fully he knew she was dead to the world and nothing would wake her. She was in bed, asleep on her stomach, with no idea how much seeing her like this truly meant. He smiled before pulling the door close to him once more, leaving it open just a crack as she liked.

Next was Cal's room, but his phone buzzed again before he could reach it.

Mick:
You sound like Saanvi.

Ben stopped, replaying what he said before in his head, and he had to admit that she was right. Two sides of the same coin, they were, but Ben wasn't nearly as stubborn. He didn't go putting himself in direct harm or injecting who-knows-what into his veins to beat a hypothetical death date. Even had they known more at that time, most of what she had done at that point was a risk. It was dedication, and Ben admired her for it–but he also worried. A lot.

Another buzz.

Mick:
Have you heard from her?

It wasn't the question he wanted to hear, and he was not ready to answer. He closed the distance between himself and Cal's room, clasping the door nob to open it just a crack. Unlike his sister, Cal kept his room closed off, with the fan turned on high and blocking out any of the low rumbles that came from the storm. He needed the distraction to sleep, Ben knew. The thoughts of storms previous made him shudder.

Mick wasn't the type to be left on read, no matter how "casual" the conversation might be, and so as Ben closed the door behind him, he knew sleep was a faraway idea that he wouldn't be revisiting any time soon. Instead, he silently descended the stairs as he pulled his phone out again.

Not for the last week. Why?

After a moment of hesitation, he added:

Any news?

What he meant by it, he couldn't be sure. Since they had departed the plane–and apparently an entirely other existence–828 passengers had been discussed back and forth. It wasn't the same scrutiny as they faced the first time when they had apparently come back to life five and a half years later, but even Ben–a man in the habit of sneaking around to get information–couldn't determine just what people might do to figure out this new mystery about 828.

Eleven passengers gone without a trace, with no answers and even less evidence as to the cause.

Buzz.

Mick:
I saw Vance.

That definitely caught his attention. He almost didn't notice her avoidance of his question, but she quickly messaged him again before he could say as such.

Mick:
I'm coming by tomorrow at 12. We need to talk.

What kind of conversation they would have, only God knew. But he knew the plane hovered over their heads like a cloud even when they had passed their own trials. No one got a second chance without repercussions, and he had a feeling they were flying into a new storm that would test them even more. And this time, there were no Callings to guide them.

"Ben! Ben!"

Ben jolted awake, his hands trembling as he swung outward in an attempt to… he didn't know. It took only a few moments for him to come to with his arms flailing, and when the sunlight of morning hit him, the confusion came just as quickly. What was he doing?

"Ben, love," Grace said from beside him, holding her hand to his cheek. "Breathe. You must have been having a dream."

He blinked and then turned to her, taking in her appearance with wide eyes. She returned his gaze, although cocked a brow when he couldn't bring himself to look away. His heart was still racing. If he looked away, would it all disappear.

"Ben," she said again, more concerned but also more stern. "Take a deep breath." This was a command, no doubt, and Ben finally sucked in a breath that he let out only a moment later. He heard Grace let out a similar sight. "Thank God. Were you trying to give me a heart attack? I thought your lips were about to turn blue."

Had he been holding his breath? He hadn't even noticed. It took a few more moments before he felt the blanket under his hands and saw the sunlight streaming through the window. He was in his room, and Grace was beside him. Apparently he had managed to fall asleep again during the night, although he couldn't remember when that had been.

"Ben, you still with me?" Grace asked, tapping his cheek lightly with her palm. Ben immediately straightened and coughed, trying to shake the last jittery feelings away.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, pulling a hand down his face.

"This is the first time you've woken up," she said suddenly, and Ben froze. First time he'd woken up? The statement was odd enough to make him stop and question just where he was again. Grace seemed to have recognized his returning panic, and rubbed his arm roughly.

"You've had bad dreams before–I think. They only last a few minutes and then you're quiet the rest of the night. This time you woke up… almost immediately."

This was the first time he was hearing about this, although try as he might, no memory of this supposed "dream" would come to him. It was bizarre, especially for a person like him who was so detail-oriented.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," he said, pulling her close with one hand and kissing her on the cheek. "Probably stress-related."

"You've been off since we got back from Jamaica. Did I do something? Did…"

"No," Ben responded immediately, although he realized that his quick response didn't sound as reassuring as he'd hoped. "No, nothing like that."

"Is it Cal?" Grace started, pulling away. "I know you said this doctor can help him, but you know how many times we've thought…"

"This time is different." It was the worst thing to say, really, because she had heard it a million times before. This time, he was right–he was right, and he couldn't even tell her why he was right.

He wanted Grace to reply–to say something, anything to insinuate that she believed him. But she merely leaned back and tilted her head forward, turning to give him a quick look before she turned her body and lifted off from the bed, her movements the same as every other day she had done so. It was a bizarre feeling, the sense of deja vu. Could he even call it that?

"You do look kind of pale," she said, seeming to disregard his statement as she walked around the the dresser and started rummaging through. "I heard you get up last night. Did you stay up for a while?"

Ben blinked at her and then gave a small shrug. He had hoped to not wake her, but luck was rarely on his side. "The storm kept me up, I guess." It was better that the reality–that he was worrying about Mick, worrying about Saanvi, worrying about Cal. Everything had changed, and also nothing at all.

The silence dragged on and Ben was momentarily confused. He looked up just as Grace turned around to him, her brow cocked and her expression confused. Ben knew a question was on the end of her tongue, yet he wasn't prepared for just what she would ask.

"What storm?"

A loud crash against the wall should have jolted anyone to life within the vicinity, if not alerted them to a possible dangerous accident that required evacuation. But she was alone, it was the middle of the night, and any noise would have been drowned out by the thunder outside. The thunder she could feel in her head as it rattled on.

As a doctor, she knew the sound of crackles in the lungs. The sound was inhuman and always presented a problem to the patient suffering from them. Now, she could hear those crackles like they were coming from her own body. But it wasn't from her lungs–it was from her head, and it crackled in time with the thunder.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The light thumps followed in her head and her hand tightened around the glass. One more thump, and it was flying out of her hand and into the wall.

Saanvi Bahl was a doctor. She knew enough to save so many kids from suffering based on research she was at one time so certain she had lost. What else could she hope to do other than cure cancer and save lives? The mere thought made her hold the sides of her head and laugh.

She slumped down into the chair farthest from the door, letting her full weight sink into it. Despite its age, it still held up well, mostly because she almost always sat upright and incredibly still when she used it. Clean and well organized, that was her to a tee.

Now, with her arm slung over the side and her back nearly touching where her back end was supposed to reside, Saanvi looked to the side, taking the momentarily bliss of silence she had been given to reach for the bottle beside her. She wasn't a drinker, but then again, before six years ago she wasn't a time-traveler or resurrected either. There was a first time for everything.

She pulled the bottle to her lips and drank, barely aware of the bitter taste. Only one more chug and she was setting it back down, resisting the urge to throw that, too.

The buzz of her phone to her side was another distraction, yet one she didn't want now. Michaela would understand, and Saanvi would apologize to her later for it. But right now, she just wanted to sit and exist. To be here and not think.

To ignore the storm outside she knew wasn't real, and the pounding in her head that told her nothing good was to come.