25 Reconnect

Ben raced through the woods on four legs, forgoing the speed of XLR8 for the more nimble, beastly form of Wildmutt.

According to the info Gluto had sent him, the pod that had been dropped half a state away- so far away that Ben hadn't considered it a threat when he'd first seen the info, even assumed it had been knocked off course by Gluto- contained a Kineceleran. Suddenly, 'half a state away' seemed far too close.

What he'd initially assumed would be an easy, sequential clean up for grandpa and Tetrax with Ben waiting in the wings had now turned into them fighting off a Tetramand on the complete other side of the Bellwood while Ben raced to intercept something that moved faster than sound.

Luckily, Ben knew a thing or two about Kincelerans. XLR8 was one of his favorite aliens, after all. He knew that XLR8 much preferred flat surfaces to move across. He knew XLR8 preferred a clean line of running, with no zigzagging. A dense, hilly forest like the ones surrounding Bellwood where it would have to slog through winter frost and snow slowed it down tremendously. Wildmutt, on the other hand, could easily distinguish the distant smell of the approaching alien from the scents of the forest. He could also move easily where his enemy could not.

And he made no effort to hide his approach. He bumped into trees hard enough to shake them, roared and panted, and he found that the Kineceleran's scent moved away from him as he did, trying to angle around him, attempting to avoid the confrontation with Ben but still moving toward Bellwood.

Ben grit his teeth. If it wasn't interested in him, that meant it was another one sent for his family. The thought came with a cold spike of rage.

Fortunately, he knew these woods. He'd grown up here, and navigating them, even via scent, was easy. He knew the exact moment the Kineceleran found the straight, dirt path that hikers used. Knew the exact moment when the creature tensed to go at greater speed on it, fast but careless.

Knew the exact crossing, where the path was flanked by two bare but enormous trees, where there would be no diverting its course. Ben leaped onto the path, took one fortifying breath, and braced himself. Not a second later a heat that smelled of dried blood and burned rubber crashed into him hard.

It sent them both sprawling onto the frozen forest floor, but Ben, ironically, recovered faster. Wildmutt was tougher and far better adapted to the cold weather than the reptilian Kineceleran.

But Wildmutt was not that good at close quarter combat with a fast opponent. It's nose was great for tracking but not for anticipating, and its swipes and lunges were sluggish compared to his adversary, Ben knew. He shifted, heat spreading through him as his entire form reconstituted itself, coming back together as Diamondhead. He wasted no time in slamming his hands into the dirt and blocking all the pathways around them with crystal- too much to blow through.

Then he shifted into XLR8 himself and faced his foe properly. The Kineceleran was larger than Ben now, easily twice his size. An adult, and then some. It had scars over its torso, but Ben had no idea what would cause them to look that… odd. Like someone took a flaming, spinning brand and set it to their skin-

He was not going to think about that. He only took stock of the damage, trying to figure out how he was going to fight it.

Equally important was that it was shivering from the cold. If Ben could stall for time… "Bellwood's closed for the winter." He rasped. "Come back in the summer. You'll like it much more." Ben sneered. "Bet Vilgax's ship is warm. Maybe call him to come pick you up. I got a few choice words for him too."

The larger alien snarled, visor raising to reveal two sickly yellow eyes- and more scars. "I will take freezing here over the heat of that mechanical monstrosity." It hissed.

"Chilly." Ben deadpanned. "Hey, you know what else is warmer than here? The Null Void. How about we send you away to it-"

"You will not distract me, fake kin. I am not here for you." It snapped, the rumble feeling distinctly masculine to Ben's alien ears.

Ben grit his teeth, heart sinking just a little even as his resolve hardened. "Yeah. I figured."

The smaller alien launched forward and punched the elder square in the stomach, zipping back just before he himself could be caught by claws coming down from above. Ben realized that the cold was getting to it more than he'd thought.

"Kinda not surprised that Vilgax managed to snag the slowest of us he could find." Ben taunted, going in for another jab, but he'd celebrated too soon. In a sudden burst of speed that was blinding even by their insane standard, his arm was intercepted, pinned between the larger Kinecelerean's chest and arm, pulled straight, before he brought his tail up and slammed it into Ben's elbow.

The resulting crack was almost as sickening to hear as it was to feel. Ben yowled from the sharp pain before he was cut off by several quick jabs to the face, unable to pull free, every attempt shooting pain up his nerves and making his arm go limp as a noodle. He finally grit through the pain and extracted himself, only to be kicked in the chest so hard he was sent flying into one of the crystal barriers he'd created, shattering it in a shower of shards and fresh cuts.

But the pain didn't even register to Ben because the shattered barrier meant that the alien now had a way out-

And even if Ben followed in hot pursuit, the single second it would have on him was enough to literally run through someone-

And that someone might be-

Ben pushed himself to his feet and rushed forward at full speed, hammering into the larger alien with enough force to knock them both to the ground in a tangled heap. Ben landed on the bottom, but it didn't matter.

Not when in a flash of green and a groan of expanding muscles he was red and giant and even with one of his smaller arms held awkwardly broken, he had more than enough limbs to go around.

Ben used the alien's daze to clamp three of his four arms around the alien in a stranglehold so tight Ben was sure he heard something pop. The elder hissed, bringing up his legs to kick Ben in the abdomen at supersonic speeds, enough that Ben eventually had to let go, but the Tetramand was quick to snap his hand out before the Kineceleran got away, slapping it with a backhand strong enough to bring down a house. It sent the alien flying into another one of his crystal walls, shattering it as it fell to the ground.

Ben was on his feet a split second later, mind cycling through all the possible alien's he could use to either contain or stop his foe- but said foe did not get up with him. he just, laid there. Unmoving. Completely still in a way that was creepily weird because even at rest this species of alien breathed fast and the motion of the chest alone should have been visible but there was no breathing and that meant-

The boy felt his blood run cold.

Had he just-

Had he-

No- no he couldn't have he was supposed to be a hero and this one clearly hadn't been a sadist like the other one it was just a victim-

"Ben?" The red giant's gaze snapped to meet his grandfather's gaze. Grandpa Max was favoring his left side, looking tired and sweaty and oh so alive. So unlike the alien lying on the forest floor who might well be-

"I-I didn't mean to- I didn't-" The world shifted again, everything seeming larger, limbs fewer. A familiar body. At least it should be. But looking at the two hands shaking in front of his eyes, he hardly recognized himself at all. His vision blurred. "I didn't want to- I was just trying to protect-"

"Ben-"

Ben shifted back into XLR8 and ran.

Natalie looked to the sky, eyes narrowed. A patchwork of dark gray and lighter tones that promised rain soon. Sighing softly, she lowered her gaze to take in the rest of the clearing in front of her. Grass, with some winter bloomers. Some hellebores and aconites were clinging on particularly well despite the frostbite staining their leaves and the ground- stop stalling.

She sighed again, louder this time, and turned her gaze forward, to the reason she'd come. To an old RV- an empty one at that.

Max had been kind enough to give them all a general sense of where he was at- if only to make keeping track of the kids if they disappeared again that much easier for them all. But she supposed he was out getting fish bait for dinner, or something. Natalie loved her family dearly but she would never understand Max and Sandra's… unconventional cooking preferences.

She heard the tap of a raindrop and winced. She should wait in her car. Or just walk into the RV. Max hadn't locked it, the door was hanging open, like he'd left in a hurry. She would love to think it was carelessness, but it was much more likely that he'd left it open in case Ben or Gwen needed to get in when he wasn't there, assuming no one would bother to rob him all the way out here.

What it said about them as a family that they all had more or less accepted the reality that sometimes their children needed to flee from them was something Natalie didn't want to contemplate. It almost felt like some horror story you'd see on those reality TV shows that Sandra loved so much- stories of homes that were, frankly, abusive. Natalie desperately needed to believe that they were doing the best they could, but even she could tell that any outsider looking in would be liable to get the CPS involved just to be safe. It's what she would have done.

Her grip on the folder under her arm tightened. The folder Carl had made, charting the route the kids had taken through summer, with all its damning possibilities. Possibilities that made her want to get right back into her car and forget this was a conversation they needed to have. When her phone had rung and Sandra had asked her to come to their house as quickly as she could- "Get your ass over here now!"- and that they needed to start pushing Max for real, she had thought that the man had already been there. Barring that she'd thought, at the very least, that the three of them would go meet him together.

But she'd found her in laws to be in no state for any hard conversation- or willing to have any. Carl, as long winded as he usually was, had summarized it with a rueful smile when he'd handed her the folder.

"You're the only one of us that he's afraid of. And you need to know this as their therapist. We… don't." Much as that had obviously galled them both, though it was just as likely that any confirmation of the truth would destroy them. Another day, they could take that hit on the chin. Today was not that day. Today, it was on Natalie.

And it was why she couldn't run off. Couldn't hesitate. This was, if anything, their one chance to push and she needed to get this right.

A dull footstep in the dirt reached her ear. She closed her eyes, sighing one final time, before she turned to look behind her and saw Max lumbering from the treeline, dressed in a protective hazmat suit and carrying a rifle of odd design. And he was favoring his left side. Natalie momentarily forgot what she'd even come for and rushed up to him, concerned despite herself as she reached out to support him and help him to the RV.

"What the hell did you do now?" She snapped with fervor, helping him up the steps.

Max chuckled weakly. "Good to see you too, Nat."

"Don't give me that." Natalie hissed, helping him sit down in the booth space. Max didn't seem to be so injured that he couldn't have done it without her, but he was clearly weak. She almost wanted to give him space, let him recover, come back another day, or see him to the hospital. Though, knowing Max, he was playing it up to get that exact result. Natalie hated that she had to consider that as a legitimate option.

She sighed, slamming the folder on the table and sitting down opposite of him in the booth, pinching the bridge of her nose.

God.

Everything about this family was a mess.

Natalie breathed into the silence, compartmentalizing the new development as best she could so she could bypass it and focus on what she was here for- the kids- but with the way things had been going, it seemed obvious to her that Ben rushing out and Max coming back limping to his RV after they'd had a summer like that-

Natalie had more than enough pieces to assume that things were, astonishingly, even more of a mess than she'd assumed.

The sound of paper being dragged across the table prompted her to glance up, warily. Max flipped through the folder, not paying the news articles much attention but staring at the map Carl had drawn for a long time, tracking routes and dates with the air of her old high school math teacher- like someone who already knew the answers, and was just verifying.

Max closed the folder and sat back, keeping his eyes on the damning object before he slowly, painstakingly, dragged his gaze up to meet hers.

"I see you spoke to Carl." He spoke up, equal parts amused and resigned. "I recognize his handiwork."

Natalie exhaled slowly, settling into her seat more comfortably. "Yes, I did. Just this afternoon, prior to coming here. After his own son flipped him like a page before said son rushed out of the house in a panic."

For a brief moment, Max's face crumpled, the entire weight of their predicament apparent in that wrenching moment. A blink later his face was schooled into regular worry. Natalie sighed, bringing up a hand to massage her temple. Today was going to give her a migraine from sheer tension.

"I know you don't want to talk about this with me." She told him, bluntly. "If I'm being honest, I didn't either. I know the kids gave us two permission to keep no secrets if we needed to, and they haven't changed that stipulation. But I wanted them to come forward on their own, trusting us instead of… this." She opened her eyes, feeling the weight Max had just hidden so quickly tug at the corners of her own mind. "But Gwen is relapsing hard." She said. "And Ben is getting worse too. And… they're not talking, Max. Not to each other." She bit off another sigh, averting her gaze to follow his towards the rain.

After a moment, Max quietly said "I know."

Which, really, just made her feel more powerless. It made Max sound as helpless as she felt, and that made this so, so much harder. She persevered, clinging to the scraps of good news she had. "Gwen is still coming to sessions, though." She informed him. "She's still trying to get better. I don't know if Ben will. I don't know how to..." She cut herself off. Enough explaining, Nat. Say it. If Gwen is brave enough to try being around plants, you should be brave enough to have one uncomfortable conversation. "Max, I need to know. Ben and Gwen have torn up their best support network. It's up to us now, and I can't do it if I don't know what I'm dealing with."

Max was silent, watching the rain patter against the window, breathing slow and deliberate. He turned to face her again, giving her a rueful smile. "The damage a lover's quarrel can do, huh?"

...well. Not quite the subject Natalie wanted to dive in on, but a pretty clear expression of openness that from Max, she knew, meant a lot. She'd build up to it. Natalie groaned, slumping gracelessly in her seat and earning a chuckle from Max at the dramatics. "Don't get me started." She grumbled. "They told you, then?"

"Picked it up through circumstance." Max admitted. "Gwen did confess to it when pressed." He shrugged, giving her a genuine grin. "I think they make a cute couple."

Natalie rolled her eyes. "You insist that Frank got his romantic streak from Rose and Vera, but now I'm not so sure after all..."

"You don't approve?" Max asked, lightly, pleasantly, but she could see the veiled steel in his eyes. Weak as he was, there was no doubt in her mind that Max could and would throw down for the sake of the kids with her. She might not appreciate a lot of his choices, but she never had to doubt that he loved them dearly. Given how much depended on that love now, she was happy for it.

"It's… complicated." Natalie replied, searching for a way to even phrase the mess that was their youngest generation- and all the good there was in that mess, at that. "Looking at this as a therapist, it's clear that this relationship of theirs is a part of their very strong co-dependency. Their attraction to each other seems to be rooted in them being the only other person that understands. In theory, if we solve the underlying trauma, that dependency would fade and with it and their relationship might… change."

Max's expression turned into a frown. The steel was still prominent. "You say that like their bond is just a quirk of their trauma."

She shook her head, slashing through the air in an agitated motion. "No." She replied, clearly, and immediately the steel vanished from him. "No, I would have to be completely oblivious to not notice that they absolutely adore each other, to everyone's surprise."

"Including their own." Max muttered. Natalie ignored it, even if she did feel a smile tug at her lips.

"Their bond is real, that's for sure." She reiterated.

"Then why question it?" Max countered, curious, without that steel but still guarded. Natalie considered the question, cracking her neck and getting up to pull two glasses from the cupboard- and something strong from the fridge. She poured them a drink, collecting her thoughts.

"Sometimes, it feels like they're… trying extra hard to go through the motions." She explained, steadily, finding her way through it, returning the bottle to the fridge. A downside to patient confidentiality was that it was hard to bounce ideas around with someone. For that reason alone this openness with Max was a gift- even if speaking to the man could be more taxing than any psychological conundrum she could struggle with. "They go on 'dates', they say they're 'together in a relationship', they want to convince us all that they can 'work…' if I'm being frank, my running theory is that the reason they try so hard to make it formal is because it's something they can control. Which, considering..." She turned around to hand him a glass. He took it and solemnly raised it to her in toast.

"Which, considering their circumstances, is a natural response." Max conceded with a sigh, taking gulp. "I still think it's selling them short. Have you told them any of these things?"

Natalie couldn't help it. She snorted. Hard. And collapsed back into her seat, uncaring to be composed or delicate about it. "Of course! Wouldn't you tell two traumatized ten year olds that their one point of stability and a great source of happiness is really just their co-dependency messing with them and as soon as we fix the trauma, they'll not want to be together anymore?"

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Nat."

"And thoughtlessness doesn't suit you." She countered, undaunted. "Telling them any of these suspicions would, to them, just be an attempt to sabotage their relationship on my part. And if they catch so much as a whiff of that, their trust in me, in us, will be gone." She took another sip, savoring the burn. "I may have my doubts about how healthy their bond is, but it keeps them going."

"So you're indulging them?"

"I'm not fighting them on it. There's a difference."

"And what if you're wrong? What if it's all real and they just figured it out early like you and Frank?" Max asked, cocking his head. "What will you do when we do get them through this and help them get over their trauma- and they still want to be together after that?"

Natalie took a deep breath, sloshing the contents of her glass around. Upon her exhale, she looked out the window. It was easier than meeting his eyes. "...the two aren't mutually exclusive." She decided, quietly. "This attraction of theirs… is probably co-dependency. Their formalization of it is probably an attempt to regain control. But that doesn't mean there isn't something… genuine at the heart of it."

"And what will you do if there is?" Max pressed, sternly. Natalie could only swallow and turn her gaze back to meet his fierce look, pleading with him to understand how she... just...

"I don't know." She said, honestly. "I want to help Gwen. I want to help Ben, too. And this helps them now. But I don't know it if always will… I don't know, Max."

Max smiled sadly. "You know there will come a time when you can't put that question off anymore, right?"

Natalie hummed, considering that carefully for what felt like the hundredth time just this week. It was a hard subject to shake. "...when that time comes, I don't know what I'll do. But I do know," she clenched her fist, a determined feeling coursing through her, "that I'll not lose Gwen like my parents lost me."

Max took her in for several long seconds before he nodded. "That's… good enough." He sighed, rolling his shoulders with a wince. "Good thing you broke out the spirits. I think I'll need them." He took another sip before putting his glass down, demeanor shifting into an odd mix of deadly serious and rueful. "Alright. The truth. Can you believe things went to hell on the first day of the trip?"

Sandra hadn't known what to anticipate when Ben returned home. Maybe another confrontation, maybe a quiet talk. Maybe Ben wouldn't come home at all and run off to Max, or preferably, to Gwen. Instead, she got a tearful boy staggering back into the house, a tearful boy that promptly rushed to her and buried his face in her belly, small shoulders shaking and sobs barely muffled.

A part of her wanted to be mad at him still, because when Carl moved to his feet from the couch he still did so with a wince, but a much larger part of her wanted to join in on the tears. She shoved both to the side, lifting Ben into her arms so she could hug him properly. She hadn't held her boy like this in years, his tears often petulant and uninterested in comfort, and he had been getting too large for her to easily carry anyway.

To hell with ease. One hand cradled him under his rump, holding him aloft while the other rubbed soothing circles on his back. "Shhh it's okay, it's okay." She said, knowing damn well it wasn't and knowing that Ben was more than clever enough to know that too. He hiccuped and buried his face further into her collar. She gave Carl a look, but he seemed as confused as she felt. That didn't stop him from reaching out to place a comforting hand on Ben's shoulder and another tangling in his brown hair.

Ben cringed, curling up to make himself seem even smaller. It was entirely unbecoming of a boy was usually so unapologetically huge.

"What's wrong, little man?" Carl asked gently, but all it did was tear a sob from Ben, renewed sniffles causing them to exchange another worried look but before they could ask, they caught the faintest whisper.

"I-I'm sorry." The boy whispered, miserable in a way that only children could be miserable. Miserable in a way that no child should be miserable. Sandra frowned. She had a feeling this wasn't just about the fight earlier. She loosened her hold, letting Ben slide back down to stand again, Carl's hands moving to anchor the boy at the shoulders, standing behind him. Ben's hands moved to cover his eyes, shoulders still shaking and breaths still coming short. Looking down on him somehow broke her heart further. He was so small.

She resolved that problem by kneeling, raising her hands to gently engulf Ben's, pulling only with the smallest pressure. "What are you sorry for, Ben?" She asked, kindly as she could, tugging until his hands moved away on their own accord. The tear streaked face and red eyes it revealed made her feel no better, but this wasn't about her. She gave him what she hoped was a calming smile. His breath hitched and he pulled his hands back again, hiding his face.

"I-I keep messing things up!" He exclaimed, voice only slightly muffled and entirely heart wrenching. "No matter what I do!" He said, frustration mixing with the hurt. Sandra looked to Carl, but he was looking down at the crown of Ben's head, thoughtful. Then his eyes met hers and he mouthed 'Gwen?' at her, tilting his head in question.

Sandra bit her lip. That seemed… likely. She tugged his hands away again, cradling them in hers completely. He still seemed to shy away from her gaze, shoulders up to his ears, looking away. She let him. She wasn't gonna take away all his barriers.

"You're having a bad day." She said softly, understanding, "But I'm sure it'll be alright later. Just hang in there for a bit, it'll get better. Trust me." She finished, infusing the platitude with as much confidence as she could. To her dismay, Ben just scrunched his eyes shut and shook his head hard. Opening them again, he whispered.

"It won't be." He sniffled. "I messed up really bad this time."

Going with her husbands gut, she reached up to cradle his face. "Did you go visit Gwen?" She guessed, part of her hopeful to simply get an answer, but even more of her just wanting for them to talk again at all. And for her boy to be talking to Gwen again.

Ben dashed the latter hope with a shake of his head. "No. I messed up with her too."

Carl gave his shoulder a squeeze, putting on a rueful grin that didn't reach his eyes. "She'll forgive you, kiddo." He chuckled, giving Sandra a warm look. "Trust me. That good old Tennyson charm will get you through anything." He winked at her and she almost smiled at his attempt to lighten their mood. It worked a bit for her.

"Please, Nat and me just indulge you-"

"She shouldn't forgive me." Ben's whisper cut her off, bringing the mood right back down to absolute reality. "I'm a-" he sniffled, "-horrible person." He decided, pulling his hands away from Sandra's limp ones and breaking away from Carl's equally slack grip. "I'll be in my room." He whispered dejectedly.

Neither Sandra nor Carl raised a hand to stop him going up the stairs. After he left they just looked at each other, and Sandra did her utmost to not cry. Instead she gave her husband a watery smile as he helped her to her feet. "Today just keeps getting better, doesn't it?"

He returned her smile, leaning in to kiss her quickly. "You are right, though. We have to hang in there."

Sandra chuckled bitterly. "Glad to hear that you'll believe my bullshit even when I don't."

He returned her chuckle with an equally bitter smile. "Someone has to." Unspoken in that was that both of them knew that it hadn't made a lick of difference to Ben. Sandra pulled him in for a tight hug, letting the embrace ground her and giving the same for him. She inhaled deeply, savoring just that briefest moment of comfort before they had to figure out what to do with Ben. Just a small moment-

The phone rang.

Sandra growled, breaking away and picking it up with a harsh flourish. "If this is more bad news, so help me-"

"I take it Ben returned home then." Natalie cut in, dryly. "Take it easy, you're on speaker." Sandra scoffed.

"If you think that slows me down, better get ready." She put the phone on speaker too for Carl's benefit. "Did you get a hold of Max?"

"Yes." A sigh filled the line with static. "He gave me the summary of their summer. We're still working through the details. First, we're coming your way."

She eyed the receiver oddly, exchanging a look with Carl and glancing at the low late autumn sun setting incrementally outside. "Not that we're not always happy to receive you," she muttered, dryly, "but I think we've reached our capacity for today. We have to go look after Ben-"

"I know why he's upset." Max cut in, startling her. She had assumed he would be driving in his own RV but clearly he'd left in behind in favor of carpooling. "Nat knows too. We can help."

Sandra, hearing this, grit her teeth. Carl's look turned frustrated too. "Let me guess," He breathed, "you can't tell us what happened or how you can help?"

"...I'm sorry, son."

Carl pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping. "Yeah, I know you are."

"We're sorry." Natalie added, sounding genuine at least. "I would explain, and trust me, so would he, but it'd only make sense with the whole story attached and we..."

"Can't do that until the kids tell it themselves." Sandra rattled off, resigned. "Is there anything you can tell us?"

The line was silent for a long moment. "I'll… we'll think on how to word it. We're nearly there. See you soon, okay?"

"See you soon." Sandra hung up without further goodbye, uncaring that she was probably rude for doing so. Her nerves and patience were shot for today.

Carl quirked a sardonic brow. "Well, this is a nice change of pace. At least dad's telling us when he's lying to our face now."

Sandra sighed and flipped the love of her life off.

"You're turning into Gwen, hiding like that." A voice stirred Ben from his dark quiet hole of wallowing self-loathing and self-pity. He groaned into the pillow. So much for staying there till the heat death of the universe. Or the Big Crunch. Gwen had rattled off several ways the universe could end when the watch had been ticking.

"They're like, all way less pleasant than just getting blown up. So… not the worst way to go?"

"Feeling so much better now."

"Not hiding." He bit out, shoeing the memory, and the interloper, away. "And go away."

Judging by the weight that settled on the bed, his guest was not going away. Fantastic. Delicately, the covers were pulled from his head. He squinted against the light brought into his room by the setting sun, but mustered a glare shortly.

Aunt Nat was completely unfazed. He huffed, irritated. "You make house calls now, doc?"

His aunt glanced around the room- a mess of clothing, comic books and other assorted items. A far cry from Gwen's ordered bedroom, he knew. He'd spent enough time there. "Perhaps after you clean up around here."

"Well, I'm not gonna, so you may as well leave." He pulled the blanket back over his head, intent on ignoring her till he was left to simmer in peace, thank you. Instead, the woman shifted to sit against the wall, legs draped over his bed. If he kicked out his foot, he could hit her thigh.

She'd probably not be cool with that. And Gwen would be pissed at him for kicking her mother. So he let the quiet overtake his room again, huddled back under his covers, and could almost pretend to himself that there was no one else with him, no one he could accidentally let down, or hurt. Aunt Nat let the silence drag for a few minutes before speaking up.

"Ben?"

He considered ignoring her… but that wouldn't make her go away. He sighed. "Yeah?"

"The alien lived. Grandpa Max patched him up and sent him to the... Null Void, he called it, I think."

A message that went straight from his ears to his heart and stopped it in its tracks, freezing him in place as the implications slowly cycled through his brain. A distant part of said brain was expecting a panic attack right about now, even braced for it, but the vast majority of it was working overtime. Gwen might have had choice words about his intelligence plenty, but he could work with anything that wasn't a subtle hint.

And this was an anvil to the face. Slowly working his jaw, mouth suddenly dry as a desert- and he knew deserts- his heart restarted and he crawled out from under the covers, not meeting her eyes as he moved over to sit beside her against the wall, dragging his legs up to lay his arms across. He stared at his knees, not prepared to deal with what he'd see if he met her gaze. Not yet.

Ben swallowed, looking for words, but he didn't get a chance before an arm circled around his shoulders and hauled him into a tight sideways hug, cradling his head to her collar and engulfing him with warmth. Ben's eyes widened before he scrunched them shut, feeling much like he had when mom had picked him up earlier. There was something about this sort of affection that made him want to run and hide.

And there was also something about it that he desperately needed. He clung to her.

"He told you?" He croaked, refusing to feel betrayed. Blindsided as he was, Ben knew it had been a long time coming. "E-Everything?" He hiccuped, chest tightening and breath accelerating from shock more than any fright. His aunt just returned the embrace, whispering words to him that he couldn't hear over the roaring of his heart, but they soothed him anyway, gave him something to focus on other than the racing of his heart and the biting feeling that now that she knew she was in danger because it made her more involved and he couldn't keep her safe he couldn't keep anyone safe-

"Ben, look at me." The words stabbed through the haze and he finally opened his eyes, head snapping up on command, one of her hands coming up to cup his face to keep him there. She gave him a small smile, calm where he was not. She inhaled deeply and he unconsciously mirrored the action. "It's okay." Aunt Nat told him. "Take it slow, we'll tackle whatever is wrong later. Now, just focus on the here and now. And right now," her look sharpened, and his back straightened minutely at attention, "right now, you're safe. With me. Gwen is safe at home with Frank and your parents are safe downstairs with grandpa Max. You dealt with the danger, and you're fine. We're all fine."

Ben looked back at her, breath slowing to a pace that wasn't XLR8 fast and as he did he was trying to remember. Trying for the life of him to remember why he had ever hated her, how he ever could have. After all their bickering, after all the fights and after all the times he'd endangered her daughter, and her, just by being there and not leaving like he should have long ago- through all that, here she was.

Comforting the kid that was the biggest threat to her family ever. This year really had a way of taking people he used to hate and turn them into people he loved.

He closed his eyes again and tried to settle into the calm she provided, staying like that for a few minutes more before he felt grounded enough to speak. "I don't know what to do." He admitted, softly. "It feels like no matter what, someone is going to get hurt, and it's going to be my fault." It hurt to admit it. It took a weight off his shoulders to admit it. He didn't know which he needed more. "Grandpa keeps telling me that it's not but- but-"

"It feels like that, so what does it matter?" Natalie responded, her hold tightening for a split second. "But you do know, right? That this, all this, isn't your fault?"

He thought of Gwen's terrified face as she was dragged under. Thought of her crying and shivering in the backroom of the RV. He swallowed. "...some of it is." He whispered. "And now I can't even help her."

Aunt Nat loosened her hold, shifting so she could sit back properly against the wall. Ben, having expended all his energy- who knew being an emotional wreck could be so tiring?- slumped against her side again, both of them staring ahead in something of a tired daze. Ben wasn't used to seeing his mood reflected so aptly in an adult. It was as disheartening as it was comforting.

She sighed, the entire motion deflating her. She somehow managed to look refined doing it. "Can I give you my honest opinion?"

Ben shrugged, weakly. "Lay it on me, shrink."

"This whole things blows massively."

Ben felt that one land like a punch in the gut that startled a laugh out of him. Aunt Nat's smile was rueful. "Pardon my French." She gave him a squeeze, pulling him just that bit closer so he could lay his head against her collar again. "But it's the truth. This whole situation is a giant mess, and I don't blame you for one second for being confused, scared, or frustrated. I think it's safe to say that no one in the history of the world has had to deal with the problem you're having right now." She brought up her hand to tilt Ben's head up, meeting his eyes. "And I think that's a good reason to not be too hard on yourself. So," she shifted away from the wall, sitting up on her knees and turning him to face her, hands on his shoulders, grounding, comforting, her gaze pinning him but also filling him with confidence.

It was the look of someone who knew what they were doing, as impossible as that was in this situation, and Ben relished having that at his back.

"here's my suggestion: Max brought me up to speed on what you have been doing. While I understand that you want to throw yourself into the fray, you're going to need to let your friends and grandpa Max tackle that. You need to focus on getting better." Ben opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "I'm not saying that you can't ever go help them. I'm saying that right now, you're throwing yourself into damage control as a solution- which it's not. Your focus should be on getting better, not on putting out fires."

Ben grit his teeth. "And how exactly is sitting around gonna make me feel better?"

"It won't, but that's not all you're going to be doing." Aunt Nat gestured between them. "We are going to work on that hero complex of yours. You feel that because of that thing," she glared at the watch, "attached to your wrist, you have to carry the weight of the world. That you have to keep us all safe. That you're responsible for Gwen's safety. I understand how that mindset came to be now, and we're going to work on adding some nuance to it."

A nice thought. Only… "That's… not gonna happen." Ben admitted, frustrated. "Look, it sounds great, but it's- like, even before I picked up the watch I've felt like- and, I don't think I can change something that's, you know, always been there."

Aunt Nat cocked her head, considering. "You mean you won't change your mind about it?"

"I'm saying I can't." Ben emphasized. "It's too- err, hold up, Gwen had a word for this… ah! Ingrained. Yeah, too ingrained."

The smile he got- one that screamed 'you walked right into it'- was so painfully like his dweeb's that he felt like smiling and crying at the same time. "You mean, like hating Gwen used to be ingrained in you?"

Ben opened his mouth, gaped, shut it, tried again, for three times, before he settled on a sullen glare. "I really hate it when you do that." He groaned. Aunt Nat had the decency to look somewhat apologetic- somewhat.

"You've changed your mind about big things in the past." She pressed her advantage, side stepping his comment. "About Gwen. I think about me, as well. And we've both changed our minds about you." She traced a thumb across his cheek. "Ben, you're more capable than you think. I believe you can beat this. And I know I'm telling you to take a step back, but that's not because I think you have been doing bad. With this challenge in front of you, I think you're done as well as anyone possibly can." She gave him a smile. "But you need to slow down before you run yourself into the ground."

Ben bit his lip. Fix himself before he started fixing the world. It made sense. He got it. And while he wasn't sure if he could change his mind about Gwen's safety, and that of everyone else, if it was even fair if he tried to, she did have a point. But…

"I'll," Ben hesitated, "I'll give that a shot. The working on my, err, hero complex." Which he probably sorta had. Drat. "But I'm not slowing down." He decided, meeting her gaze with a fierce glare. "I can't risk it. I can't. I can't look away and then you- all of you- she might-" He cut himself off, breathing deeply, glancing at the dial. Green. Not orange. Not red. He was fine. They were fine.

He was fine. "I can't risk that." He repeated. "I… I need to help her somehow."

Natalie gave him a long look, still holding his shoulders, eyes considering, calculating, her fingers drumming on his arm in thought. Ben squared himself up for a fight, because he was not going to budge on this, but it turned out he didn't have to. His aunt nodded, slowly.

"Alright."

Ben's eyebrows shot up. "Alright?" He asked, disbelieving. No way this was that easy.

Aunt Nat smiled, patting his shoulders. "I understand you need to help. So as long as your promise to be careful, because you are not helping Gwen by getting hurt, young man, and if you promise to work with me on getting you to feel better, I won't fight you on this."

Ben let the words sink in and slowly, but surely, he relaxed, lips curling into a smile. "You're the best, aunt Nat."

She gave him a faint grin, one that he'd seen so often on Gwen. He'd always assumed she got her sunny smiles from uncle Frank. Now he realized his cousin was blessed from both sides. "In the meantime- I think I know a way you can help Gwen that doesn't involve throwing yourself headlong into danger."

Ben cocked his head in question.

Gwen blearily glared daggers out her bedroom window, huddling into her blanket and trying to sink into her bed. She'd been there for most of the day but sleep eluded her. It was too dark to see the branches of the trees now, she couldn't hear them rustling over the rain and she was taking full advantage of that fact to rage impotently at the outside world for having the gall to have greenery.

At the very least she'd progressed from panic onto anger. Was that another stage to go through in the process of losing her mind? Probably. She got up from her bed and, grumbling, made her way over to the window so she could turn her ire into the garden below, where several shattered potted plants lay in the dark, launched into that position with varying degrees of force and accompanying window fragments. The taped over hole in her own window stood testament to the latter, even if it made her room colder. She tugged her blanket tighter, sparing a special glance towards the one potted plant that had been all but obliterated by lightning and huffed. For all that, she hadn't slept a wink.

"Stupid plants." She muttered, hating the way her exposure to her victims was unsettling her heart rate so much that she scrunched her eyes shut and turned away. Distantly she heard a car pull into the driveway and knew her mother would be home soon. She doubted mom would try to get more out of her today, though she wouldn't mind an attempt. If nothing else, her mother's undivided attention and hugs- both rarities- were soothing.

Because regardless of panic or anger, she still felt miserable. And tired. Not exactly a win, not at all. And what's worse she was without Ben- without her best support- but no he really wasn't but he also sorta was and now she was without him and she was not getting better at all, just angrier but by tomorrow that would burn out and all she'd be left with was more panic and she was so tired and the floor was coming up-

A knock on her bedroom door startled her back to the present (when had she started to drift?) and out of her downward spiral, righting herself from her near topple, the anxiety in her veins almost summoning lighting out of hand. She took a steadying breath, shaking herself. Alright. So mom had come. That was… predominantly positive. She slowly moved over to the door and opened it for the woman-

Green eyes that were an exact mirror of her own met hers- fatigue included- peering at her with caution over the green leafs of the potted plant he was holding out to her, his hair and the plant damp from the rain and she just froze.

Ben- her doofus- took it in with a gulp and tried for a smile. "H-Hey, dweeb." He greeted, softly, almost shyly. It booted her brain back into gear.

"What the heck are you doing here?" She blurted, kinda wanting to stuff her blanket in her mouth for being so blunt while a part of her was cheering her on – and yet another part was mad at that part because she had no reason to be cruel to him and kicking Ben had lost a lot of its luster over the summer, even if she was mad at him. In a way.

It was complicated. Ben cringed minutely for a split second and every cell in her body cried out to reach out and cuddle him till they boy felt better. Before she could fall to the impulse, he straightened, soldiering through with a rueful grin.

"I was kinda hoping you could do me a favor." He said, a dumb request to make because she sure as heck owed him none, not right now. "I kinda need someone to look after Kenny. Can you do it?" He asked, raising the plant for her inspection.

She grit her teeth, glaring at the offending Japanese peace lily. "My mother wouldn't have anything to do with this request, right?"

"Perish the thought." Ben returned, flat as the horizon at sea. How dare he almost startle a laugh out of her. He recovered quickly, eyes big and pleading, slowly holding the plant out to her, gauging her reaction, ready to pull it back if she startled at all. She hated that he still cared so much. She loved it more. "Can you? Please?"

Gwen wanted to scream. Typical of her mother. How the heck was she supposed to tell him 'no'? When he asked so earnestly? In fact, she might as well scream. With a yell, she stepped aside so he could come in, launching herself onto her bed and rolling into a burrito of blankets. "Ugh, put it on the desk."

She felt him hesitate on the threshold, the wiring the Omnitrix had put trough all of him standing out like a beacon in her awareness, like a glass on the edge of the table. It didn't help that her mana just reached for him, yearning. She grit her teeth, but eventually he did move into her room. She heard him set the pot down on her desk. Felt him come closer till he was standing over the lump she was.

She could see him so clearly even with her eyes closed. Expression pensive, hand outstretched, wanting, needing, but ultimately caring far more about her comfort than his own needs, because that was the stupid way he was and she was too angry and hurt to give him the permission he needed the permission she wanted to give-

She exhaled a soft breath when she heard him move back toward the door, his slow gait telling her all she needed to know about his dejected slouch. She had to hang on. She couldn't open that door again. It would just be a bad idea. She may have wanted it but she was Gwen Tennyson, the girl who could forgo hanging out with kids her age, could hold off on doing all sorts of fun things she wanted to do, in order to study and be mature because she knew it was better in the end. She could hold out. She couldn't let him in again like that. She couldn't. She couldn't she couldn't she couldn't-

"I'm no good with plants." She said, feeling him freeze and her chest unclench. Idiot. She scolded herself but the words tumbled from her mouth, she couldn't stop herself. "That guy's gonna end up dead before the week is out."

He hesitated again. "...I could, err, check up on you- on Kenny. To make sure you're not… zapping him?"

Despite knowing better, she rolled over, opening her eyes- despite her tired eyelids protesting- so she could meet his for a long, long moment. He swallowed. So did she.

"You promise?" She asked, softly, again so much of her chanting that this was stupid, that she was making the same mistake again, that this was asking for trouble, that he was just going to let her down again.

His response was equally soft, but loud with the amount of conviction and emotion it contained, the words straining with it. "I promise."

She closed her eyes and nodded to herself, once. "...Okay." She opened her eyes, knowing that this was the part where he was going to leave, and she wanted to say so many things. 'It was good to see you'. 'Thank you.' 'I hate you.' 'I didn't mean that.' 'I love you.' 'Don't go.'

Please don't go. "You should go." She rasped, going for decisive but sounding broken and so, so bone tired with everything, even to her own ears. She sounded like it. She probably looked like it too.

Ben hesitated for a moment before a silent conviction crossed his features and he cautiously turned back towards her in full, making his way to her, watchful for any sign of her unease. But she wasn't giving any. She should be. She should be moving away from him, not shifting towards the edge of her bed. She should be telling him to go, toss him out if she had to. This was stupid. This was dangerous.

But Gwen didn't stop him. She just watched him approach with drooping eyes stuck in a constantly whirling skull, watched him kneel beside her bed and watched him reach out to cradle her head in his hands and lean his forehead against hers, the press warm and... so much more. For the first time in days she felt something other than tension. Her exhale was shuddering and she only belatedly realized a tear had slipped free.

One hand had come up to clutch at his wrist and she could feel Ben's furrowed brow against her own eyebrow, the shiver going through her mirrored in him, her mana instinctively racing down the network of wiring in him, overlapping the two of them just so. She could feel his exhaustion as easily as he could feel hers, feel the tangle of emotion that she had no hope deciphering even on her best day.

And it was his exhaustion coursing through her that pulled her towards the first restful sleep she'd had in weeks, her small hand clutching his larger one as she drifted off, unwilling to let him go.

Gwen woke rested and alone, morning light cascading through her uncovered window, the trees faintly visible and rustling in the wind. The twinge of anxiety it sparked was… bearable.

Her eyes trailed across the room until they settled on the plant on her desk- proof that Ben's comfort hadn't just been a dream conjured by wishful thinking.

Gwen hadn't noticed last night that he'd drawn a smiley face on the pot, the dork. She felt her lips quirk, mood instantly lifting. She rolled over and closed her eyes again, content to, for this once, leave a plant at her back without worrying about it, and caught up on some more sleep.