The Rust Bucket rumbled steadily down the road, its aged engine thrumming beneath them like the heartbeat of a creature too stubborn to die.
The summer had worn down its tires, battered its suspension, and filled its interior with the lingering scent of old takeout, sweaty socks, and something unidentifiable that no one dared question. It had been home for three months. A moving fortress of adventure, chaos, and—at times—outright insanity. But now, the journey was ending.
Ben Tennyson sat slouched in his seat, one leg kicked up on the edge of the table despite knowing full well it would earn him a sharp glance from Grandpa Max… and Gwen. He had long since given up trying to keep himself entertained and had instead resorted to sifting through his self-proclaimed treasure trove—a battered cardboard box filled with assorted junk from their summer escapades.
A rusted gear from the wreckage of a robot battle. A bottle cap he swore was from another dimension (Gwen insisted it was just from some gas station in Colorado). A singed circuit board from the Null Void portal incident. A cracked energy cell that still hummed softly when he touched it—probably dangerous, but that just made it cooler.
And, nestled beneath the mess, a small, hastily wrapped box.
Ben scowled at it like it had personally insulted him.
A dumb gift. That's all it was. No big deal. Nothing to overthink.
And yet, every time he thought about handing it over, his brain did this annoying thing where it made him feel stuff. Not the normal, easy stuff like excitement or irritation. No, this was complicated, messy, and deeply uncomfortable.
It was annoying.
He grumbled under his breath, stuffing the gift deeper into the box and pretending he wasn't going to give it to her at all.
Across from him, Gwen sat with her back straight, fingers curled around the edges of a thick notebook. She hadn't turned a page in over thirty minutes. Not because she was lost in thought—at least, not entirely—but because her mind was tangled in a problem she wasn't ready to acknowledge.
Summer break was over.
Her backpack, usually filled with neatly organized school supplies and emergency study guides, now carried something else. A book, bound in deep violet, its pages whispering secrets in a language she was only beginning to understand.
The magic book. It would be the only thing that would remind her of the unbelievably crazy and wild adventure she had been through with Grandpa Max and her cousin.
Her fingers tensed slightly at the thought, tracing invisible patterns along the cover of her notebook. She had spent most of her life relying on logic, structure, and careful planning. Magic was… none of those things. It was wild. It was unpredictable. And yet, it called to her.
She told herself that the new routine she had built—the quiet moments of focus, the deep breaths, the careful study—was just meditation. A way to keep her mind sharp. But she knew the truth.
She was obsessed with it.
And it scared her. Her life would never be the same again even after leaving it behind.
She glanced up briefly at Ben, catching sight of him scowling into his box of junk like it had personally offended him.
She smirked. "Lose something, doofus?"
Ben jolted slightly, his hand immediately flying to the lid of the box as if shielding it from view. "No."
Her smirk widened. She hadn't even been trying to get a reaction, and yet here he was, acting like she had caught him committing a crime.
Before she could pry further, a voice broke through the hum of the engine.
"You two okay back there?"
Max's voice was calm, steady. A grounding presence even in the most chaotic of situations. But there was something beneath it now—something he was trying to keep hidden.
Guilt.
He had told them to keep it all a secret. The aliens. The battles. The near-death experiences. He had looked his grandkids in the eye and made them promise. No mention of aliens or fighting bad guys. No running off on their own. Not without him.
No going Hero
And they had to agree.
But Max had seen the way Ben's fingers still twitched like they were searching for the Omnitrix dial. He had seen the way Gwen's eyes lingered on things that weren't there, calculating, planning.
They weren't normal kids anymore.
And it felt like his fault… It was his fault.
He didn't regret taking them on this trip though. He didn't regret training them, teaching them, letting them see the world for what it truly was.
But he did regret forcing them to carry the weight of that world on their shoulders. It was an intoxicating feeling to some people, and a traumatic one for others.
He had spent his life protecting them, his family. First as a Plumber, then as a grandfather. And now? Now he was sending them back into lives that would never quite fit the same way again.
"We're fine," Gwen answered automatically, voice smooth and practiced. A lie of omission.
Ben just grunted.
Max exhaled slowly through his nose and turned his attention back to the road.
The neighborhood was coming into view. The streets were clean, the houses neatly arranged in quiet perfection. A stark contrast to the chaotic, unpredictable world they had just left behind.
Gwen's house was first.
Ben felt his stomach twist.
Dumb. It's just a dumb gift.
The Rust Bucket came to a slow stop at the curb, the familiar outline of Gwen's home standing against the darkening sky.
She unbuckled her seatbelt, movements quick and efficient. But before she could reach for the door, Ben moved.
Faster than he meant to.
He shoved the box toward her, scowling at the floor.
"Here."
Gwen blinked, thrown off by the suddenness of it. "What?"
He shifted uncomfortably. "It's for—next summer. Or whatever."
Her fingers closed around the box, the wrapping job so atrocious that it was a miracle it had stayed intact. She was almost afraid it was a prank, but his nervousness threw that possibility away. Only genuine things can make Ben this embarrased.
She peeled back the paper, revealing a watch—not just any watch, but one bearing the unmistakable Plumber's symbol.
Her breath hitched.
Ben cleared his throat. "I, uh—took one of the badges from Mount Rushmore. Had to make it smaller, though. And took out all the extra junk you wouldn't need."
She found a folded piece of paper inside. Crude handwriting. Grey Matter's. A list of functions, hastily scribbled.
Her chest tightened. Was the world about to end just now? Her cousin being so thoughtful enough to give a parting gift when she, the responsible and better one didn't think of it first? So much for being a good, smart lady her mother insisted on.
Ben was already looking away. "It's not a big deal."
Gwen smirked, "Wow. You are getting sentimental."
Ben scoffed. "Like I care. And don't even think about hugging me."
She snorted, reaching into her bag.
"Well, since you're being all weird and generous…" She pulled out a medallion, the metal cool against her skin. "Here."
Ben's eyes narrowed. "I gave that to you first, remember?"
She hesitated.
She had forgotten about that incident.
The first charm she had gotten was the charm of luck. The one he had given her without hesitation. And now, here he was, doing it again.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "This isn't the lucky charm. It's the Keystone of Bezel. It can make you ten times better at everything."
Ben smirked. "I'm already ten times better." But he still took it.
Gwen rolled her eyes, stepping off the RV.
Resisting the urge to throw an insult as courtesy for his gift unlike her hastily made attempt at one.
His smirk faded the second she wasn't looking.
He watched as she walked to her house where Grandpa was talking to her parents right before she reached them. Hugging the old man with small arms that barely captured half of him, and the old man hugging her back before they said icky goodbyes.
She had been his comrade and teammate. And despite always being at each others throats, there was no one he could trust more with his back, and he hoped, with some fear, that she thought the same.
Max watched from the driver's seat as Gwen disappeared through the front door of her house, the warm glow of the porch light briefly casting her silhouette against the night. The door shut with a soft click, sealing her away from the whirlwind summer they had shared.
And yet, the Rust Bucket remained still.
Max frowned, turning his attention to his grandson, who sat slumped in his seat, idly picking at the tape on his box of trinkets. The kid hadn't moved an inch.
"Aren't you gonna go say hi to Gwen's parents?" Max asked, keeping his tone light.
Ben scoffed, kicking his legs up on the seat.
"What's the point? They don't like me anyway."
Max sighed, leaning back in his chair. "That's not true."
Ben shot him a look, clearly unconvinced.
"C'mon, Grandpa, they think I'm a bad influence," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "They act all nice when you're around, but I hear them when they think I'm not listening. Always talking about how I'm 'reckless' and 'irresponsible' and 'dragging Gwen into trouble.'"
Max rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had a feeling this was coming.
Truth be told, Frank and Natalie Tennyson had always been a bit wary of Ben. It wasn't that they didn't love him—he was family, after all—but they saw the difference between him and Gwen. She was composed, methodical, a planner. Ben was… Ben. Loud, brash, quick to jump headfirst into danger. He wasn't bad, but to cautious parents, he was chaos incarnate.
Max shook his head. "They worry about Gwen, that's all. You know how protective parents can be."
Ben didn't answer.
Max could tell he wasn't in the mood to argue, so he let the silence settle between them, the only sound the low hum of the RV's engine.
A few moments passed before Max finally spoke again. "You know," he said casually, "now that summer's over, I need to remind you about something important."
Ben groaned immediately. "If this is about my grades—"
"It's about the Omnitrix," Max interrupted, his voice turning serious. "Listen, Ben. You can't mess around with it at school. You can't let people see it, and you definitely can't use it unless you absolutely have to."
Ben's fingers subconsciously brushed over the watch on his wrist, feeling the weight of it. It had become such a part of him that the idea of not using it felt… wrong.
"I know that," he muttered, frowning. "I'm not stupid."
Max's gaze softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. "It's not about being stupid. It's about being careful. The more people who know about the Omnitrix, the more danger you'll be in. And not just you—your parents, Gwen, everyone you care about."
"All it takes is them seeing signs of one of your aliens in Bellwood on some television or satellite, and they'll be knocking on your doorsteps."
Ben's sulk deepened. He knew his grandpa was right, but he hated hearing it out loud. He wasn't some reckless idiot who would go around flashing the Omnitrix like a toy.
"…I won't run around using it if I don't have to," he mumbled.
Max studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Good." 'Good enough anyway.'
Silence settled over them again. This time, it wasn't uncomfortable. Just a quiet understanding between them.
Ben kicked his foot idly against the base of his seat. "…You really gonna take us on another trip next summer?" he asked, trying—and failing—to sound nonchalant.
Max's face lit up with an easy grin. "I'd give the world for it, kiddo."
Ben tried to fight the small smile tugging at his lips but lost the battle.
Max chuckled. "By the way, what'd you give Gwen as a parting gift?"
Ben stiffened immediately. "What? Nothing. I didn't give her anything."
Max's grin widened.
"Oh?"
Ben hunched his shoulders, scowling. "She probably just made something up to mess with me."
Max laughed.
Ben groaned. "Ugh, whatever, let's just go."
Still chuckling, Max started up the Rust Bucket again, and they pulled away from the curb, heading toward their next stop.
The drive from Gwen's place to Ben's home took about an hour. Long enough for the roads to stretch emptier, the cityscape shifting into the familiar sprawl of Bellwood Ben was familiar with.
By the time they reached the Tennyson household, the sky was completely dark, save for the warm glow of porch lights dotting the quiet neighborhood.
Ben peered out the window as they pulled into the driveway. It looked the same as always—plain, suburban, and just a little too neat. The front lawn was freshly cut, the porch light flickering slightly, and the family car sat parked in the driveway.
Home.
Ben barely had time to leave the RV before the door to his house swung open and his mother descended upon him.
"BENJAMIN KIRBY TENNYSON!"
The next thing he knew, he was being crushed in a hug so tight it felt like she was trying to fuse his bones together.
"Mom—ack—can't—breathe—"
"I missed you so much, baby!" Sandra Tennyson cried, completely ignoring his flailing attempts to escape. "Three whole months! Do you know how long that is?!"
"Too long," his dad, Carl Tennyson, said with a chuckle from the doorway. He was leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed, a warm smile on his face. "Welcome home, sport."
Ben managed to pry himself loose just enough to gasp for air. "M-miss you too, Mom. But—seriously—lungs—not working—"
Sandra finally relented, pulling back just enough to hold his face in her hands. "Look at you! Did you grow? Have you been eating enough? You better have been eating enough. And what did I tell you about calling me 'mom'." Scowling at the last one.
Max finally stepped out of the RV, laughing as he watched the scene unfold.
"He ate just fine, Sandra," he assured. "Mostly burgers, but hey, he's still standing."
Sandra sighed. "I swear, if you come down with scurvy or something—"
Carl shook his head with a grin before turning to Max. "Thanks again, Dad. For everything."
Max waved a hand dismissively. "You don't have to thank me. I had a great time with these two."
Carl nodded, his smile turning a bit more knowing. "Still, why don't you come inside? Have a drink before you head out?"
Max smiled but shook his head. "Ah, I'd better hit the road. Got some things to take care of."
Carl didn't push, just clapped his father on the shoulder. "Alright. But don't be a stranger."
Ben, meanwhile, had taken advantage of the distraction to slip away from his mother's grip. He grabbed his backpack and the taped-up box of war spoils, holding them close.
Sandra's eyes immediately narrowed. "Whats with the weird watch? And what's in the box?"
Ben hugged it tighter. "Nothing."
She looked suspicious but decided to let it slide. For now.
"Well, come on," she said, ruffling his hair (to his great annoyance). "Let's get you inside. We made your favorite for dinner."
Ben's eyes lit up. "Pizza?"
Carl grinned. "Extra cheese."
Ben bolted for the house so fast he nearly tripped over the welcome mat.
Max and Carl shared an amused look.
Sandra sighed, shaking her head with a smile. "That boy."
Max chuckled, watching his grandson disappear inside. "Dont worry about the watch, I bought it for him. He's been inseparable with it since."
Then, with a final nod to Carl, he climbed back into the Rust Bucket, started the engine, and pulled away, the tail lights disappearing into the night.
This summer just proved his job wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.
He needed to make sure his family stayed undisturbed, cover their footprints and all.
And maybe, just maybe, he would be deserving of staying for a meal with either one of his kids and his grandkids.
Just maybe.