tolaywaste | 10. » private/video

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for ben

[His posture says it all: concerned, tense, but not afraid for his own safety. Not afraid at all. He's leaning towards the camera, though, like he can express worry just by being closer.]

Hey, Ben? I'm worried about you. Can you check in with me?

filter: bruce + rorschach + barbara

I'd like to help with Ben. I'm not as good at this as you all are, but point me where you need me and I'm there.

just bruce

Which means you're helping. He's my friend.

for oliver

I need your help with something, if you're willing to give it.

for charles

Check in. Did you hear about Ben?

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[Truthfully, Alex doesn't know if this story is about him. It feels like it is, but it also feels like a story about Zack; it also feels like a story about everyone.]

[He struggles against unanswered questions, lack of specificity, for a while, once Ben has finished talking. Then he looks up and catches the smile and, somehow, is able to let it all go.]

[Whether or not the story is about him, it helps him. That's why Ben told it. And he feels awash in gratitude for having been helped in this way. Ben is - above all else - a storyteller. And he is kind.]

[He doesn't hold his hands out, but he spreads them palms-up in front of himself: a gesture that he can't define the meaning of, but one that seems right. Instinct leads him well, most days.]

[It will have to be enough. For the time being.]

Thank you.

[Ben sees the moment when Alex lets it go, and in turn lets out a breath he hadn't exactly been consciously holding. If he can't help in this way, he's worse than useless, but as long as he can maybe he can still contribute something.

And he, in turn, is calmer now too; he looks down at Alex's hands and a flicker of frustration passes through his expression because the physical is still a complete mystery to him if it's not combat. His own hands are folded in the lap formed by his crossed legs, and he doesn't move them, but he does lean forward slightly. Alex is trying to help him. Ben wants to help, too, and not just by easing the concern he helped, somehow, put there.

His voice is still low, still steady like it is when he's telling stories, when he asks:] What happened to you, Alex? [He wants to hear. He's seen the signs of it for weeks now, maybe always, and he recognizes the shape of it easily; but he wants to know, if Alex will tell him.]

[Glancing up, Alex gives Ben a confused look. What happened to him? It's such a broad question that he can't respond for a second, and when he does, it comes out more self-pitying than he means.]

Which time?

[His own words give him pause, and then he laughs, shocked, just baffled that that came out of his mouth. He sits up straight and clears his throat.]

I mean - sorry, that came out weird. I just don't know what you mean.

[He'd tell, if he knew.]

[Ben isn't surprised by the question, but he is a bit by the laugh, startling mildly and then his head tilting curiously. There's no judgment in his voice or in his face when he replies, just the intent earnestness that characterizes him behind the military lines.]

You are very concerned with justice, with being understood, and with the safety of those around you. With others not being afraid. There are those who exhibit these concerns naturally, but not to the level you do.

You give them the degree of importance that someone who has experienced the absence of all, personally, generally seems to infer. I should know, only... I don't know what to do about it.

[He should shrug here, he thinks, others would in order to dismiss the importance of his last point at this particular moment; he doesn't, but he does circle back and ask again:]

So. What happened to you? Not that it is necessary to tell me if you would not like to do so.

[Oh. That.]

[The things that make him how he is - the things that have made Alex concerned with justice and the safety and security of others, those are complicated. And it's strange, but he sort of feels instinctively like Ben knows. Because Ben knows him very well.]

[But maybe it's easiest to lay it all out, like a timeline. Of course, there's no question if he doesn't want to. It's hard to talk about, but it also helps, sometimes.]

I don't even remember how much I've told you, [he says truthfully and lifts his eyes to meet Ben's.] I'm gonna try to tell you everything in a way that makes sense. It doesn't make much sense to me sometimes, but - I'll try.

The family I lived with had a little girl, and she was like my sister and my best friend, and someone kidnapped both of us one day. I thought he was going to kill her. That's when my mutation first - happened. [Charles would have used a word like manifested, but that doesn't seem right. It just happened, like a freak accident.]

And I killed him.

They put me in prison for a long time, and then Charles and Erik found me. I guess my time in there is why I want justice, but maybe I wanted that before. I was a lot younger when I went in, and I was alone for a long time in there, so I don't really remember what I thought about right and wrong before.

After prison, after they got me out, I was afraid for a long time. Of myself, you know? Especially after Darwin, after I killed my friend. By accident. Not that that made much of a difference; he was dead anyway. But then I learned how to control it.

I'm still afraid. But less all the time. The less afraid I am, the safer everybody else is to be around me, the safer I feel.

I don't know if that makes sense.

[Ben knows the intangibles, the marks the experiences leave, but not the details themselves. He doesn't know what words will make it worse, what to watch out for, and he wants to know.

He wants to know how two sets of experiences can leave them sitting here, staring across at each other from behind two faces so different and so similar at the same time.]

I don't understand why they would imprison you for that. No, wait. Your mutation? [The killing is routine, familiar to him, but so is the fear of others for something different among them.]

I have been told that, as well. It makes sense. It is more difficult to put into action than to understand, though.

Kind of. But mostly, I think they locked me up because they didn't understand me. They didn't know how to control me, and I didn't know how to control myself. I hurt some of the other prisoners, too. I didn't kill 'em, but - it wasn't good. So I asked them to put me in solitary. It was better that way.

[His eyes lower, as they always do when he thinks about that time - and he thinks about it a lot. It's one of those things he thinks it's important to remember, painful as that is.]

[Ben makes him smile, though. A little.]

Everything's like that, I think. Everything that's not instinct is easier to think about than to do.

[That's something Ben both understands and doesn't; the concept, yes. The isolation. But that isn't what happened to uncontrollable subjects where he came from, not by a long shot. There had been fights amongst the units, of course, there was bound to be when children were trained to be soldiers, taught combat abilities far superior to even several of their adult guards, and expected to grow up together in such an environment.

Unit against unit. Never unitmate against unitmate. They were too short on allies to ruin any that they did have and they knew it long before the classes on sound team strategies came into play. But Ben thinks... maybe it was better, for him. At least he knew why. At least he had that answer.

It wasn't something that happened to him and then left him alone to deal with it as best he could, among people who were afraid of him and didn't understand. Later, perhaps, but he still suspects that was more his own doing than anyone else's.]

I'm... sorry that happened to you. I'm sorry they didn't understand. [This in earnest, studying the small smile, Alex's eyes above it.] The family... you were staying with. They did nothing?

[He doesn't ask, yet, why Alex phrased it that way. It feels less like something he should ask about and more like something Alex should offer him if he wants to, when he wants to.]

They -

[Well. He's not sure. He's always assumed that they didn't know. That it was covered up. That, maybe, someone told them that he'd died, been killed by the kidnapper, so that the Blandings could get on with their lives.]

[But maybe that isn't what happened at all. Maybe they were told. Maybe they didn't care. It's certainly plausible. Haley would care, but - Alex doesn't think they'd go out of their way for him.]

[The flicker of doubt is visible, for just a moment. And then he breathes deeply and lets it go. They were never particularly kind to him, but they kept him alive. He'll give them the benefit of the doubt. He'll never know the truth, anyway.]

They didn't know. It was kept from them. That's what I think, anyway.

[Ben doesn't nod, but he does straighten his neck back up, acknowledging the hesitation. He could call Alex on it, make him explain, but Ben already understands. There's no need for it.]

I see. Then I am sorry about that, as well.

Though I am not sorry that it has brought you here.

It's made me stronger.

[He glances at Ben, then away.]

That's not the same as making it worth it. I don't - hurting people isn't worth it. [And maybe being locked up wasn't worth it either, but - ]

I'm glad I'm here, too. Despite everything. I'm glad I'm here.

Yes, it has. And in this you are fortunate: it doesn't always strengthen.

[Ben knows this firsthand. He's at peace with it, now, but he's still aware of it. And he absolutely understands how sometimes, in the end, it's not enough to be worth the cost.

Of course:]

...and thank you for coming. When I asked. [He holds up a hand to forestall any easy dismissals Alex might try. He knows. He does. But.] It's not something I expect. [Deal with it.]

[Alex doesn't argue. He knows, from body language and from past experience, that Ben doesn't want to hear it and that he'll shut it down or just give him a Ben Look if he does. So he just grins crookedly and ducks his head, like, yeah. He knows it's not something Ben expects.]

[If anything, that just makes it more important that he gets it from Alex.]

That's what friends do, right?

[Ben doesn't smile at the reaction or the question, but his expression relaxes slightly like he might in a moment or two. Like he might another time.

His reply is earnest, like it would be in few enough people who aren't him.]

That's what I'm finding out.

[Which means that, at least here and right now, Alex is doing something good. Giving Ben something he hasn't had nearly enough of. He tilts his chin up with something like pride and a good bit of joy.]

Good.

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