Saturday, April 6th, 2013 -- afternoon

Jackie was well known for not being a morning person in the slightest, but she was usually much more willing to rise and shine a little earlier than usual if it meant she got to bother Ben awake. With a little nudging, whispers, and even playful bites she got him to reluctantly stir before she went bounding off into the kitchen with the promise of breakfast being called out behind her. Though, that task always took longer than she intended because Ben had a habit of following after her and doing his best to distract her. It was after they finally managed to eat their pancakes and bacon follow by a little more content lounging that the pair decided to put themselves together to face the day. Jackie had a mid to work at the bar and Ben decided he would get some work done at the office as well rather than sticking around an empty house since Adam was still at his friend's house. It had been such a good morning and Jackie was sad to see it go when she climbed into her truck and made way for the Busted Knuckle.

It was once she reached the bar that Jackie's longing for the morning dissolved because all of her attention landed on the fact that the bar was slow and overstaffed. Looks like Bossman had one of those days of throwing darts to see who worked because girls were practically stepping on one another behind the bar, not that there was anyone to go rushing off too. This lasted for a couple short hours before Jackie opted to graciously take one for the team and duck out early. They didn't need her there and more importantly? She didn't much feel like being there. It was after she slammed the door of her truck shut that she shot off a text to Ben trying to get a feel for what she should do with the rest of her day.

Text to Detective Ben: hey, sweetheart. u pick up adam yet or still at the office?

Text to Jackie: No, he's staying at his friend's until after dinner, so I'm here. How's work going?

Text to Detective Ben: it's slow as hell. so u plannin to stick around the office until my shift ends? u work too hard.

Text to Jackie: Yeah, that's the plan. It's too quiet at home alone. May as well get stuff done. Let me know when you get home and I'll meet you? I'll make dinner for us before I need to pick Adam up.

Text to Detective Ben: understandable about it bein too quiet. we're spoiled by a full house. i'll drop u a line when i'm home, can't wait for dinner. that calls for candles. gonna get back to it. love u.

Text to Jackie: Candles, and I'll even grab a bottle of wine on the way home for you. Love you too. Hope the rest of your shift goes well.

Text to Detective Ben: the promise of candles, wine, and u will help me through. don't work too hard.

It was with an ear to ear grin that Jackie's phone was shoved into her jacket pocket. Her original plan had been to pick Adam up for Ben, make some dinner, figure out something for the three of them to do together. Now with Adam staying longer at his friend's house it brought those oh-so-good memories of this morning back to Jackie and then some. She was serious when she told Ben he worked too hard and she felt he was in need of a surprise.

It didn't take long for Jackie to get from the Busted Knuckle to Ben's office. No sign of his car in the parking lot, but maybe he had parked it somewhere in the back or to the side of the building since it was the weekend? She wasn't sure but she didn't put a lot of thought into it. She hopped out of the truck and went inside, excitedly thumping her way up the stairs to Ben's office door which had Sullivan & Associates etched into the glass.

Jackie was surprised to find the office looked dark and her heart sank when she turned the door handle to discover it was locked. Did he seriously manage to change his mind about staying in the fifteen minutes it took her to get here? Her phone was pulled out and she shot off another text.

Text to Detective Ben: did u already leave your office?

Text to Jackie: No, why? It's not going to take me THAT long to decide on a bottle of wine.

Jackie's gaze slowly lifted from the phone, to the locked door, then back again. There had to be a logical explanation for this. Maybe he had followed her advice?

Text to Detective Ben: are you takin a nap?

Text to Jackie: How could I be if I'm texting you?

Text to Detective Ben: i meant maybe i woke u up from one, smartass, because i'm standin outside ur office and a nap is one good reason why ur door is locked and it's dark inside. u got another reason?

Text to Jackie: Okay, so, it must be obvious now, but I'm not there. So why don't we meet up at home now, since you're out of work?

Text to Detective Ben: what the ever loving hell!? where are u? did you seriously just lie to me!?

Text to Jackie: Look, I'm sorry for telling you I was there when I wasn't. It doesn't matter where I am. I'm on my way home now.

Text to Detective Ben: i don't care if ur sorry. ur more sorry u got caught than ur sorry u lied to me. i'm not sayin it again, where are u? if u don't tell me i'm gonna think the worse and THEN i'm gonna hunt u down myself.

Text to Jackie: Don't put words in my mouth like that. I'm sorry I wasn't truthful.
Text to Jackie: My apartment.

Text to Detective Ben: wait, wait. what do u mean ur apartment? what apartment?

Text to Jackie: I mean my apartment, my old apartment here.

Text to Detective Ben: i am... so confused. and pissed. don't step foot outside that door. i'm comin over there now. seriously, don't move.

Text to Jackie: Fine. I'll be here. Door's unlocked.

And it is. There's no furniture in the apartment anymore; the living room is bare other than a small stack of books in one corner, a couple of notebooks nearby. Ben had been sitting on the floor there, back against the wall, head in his hands, awaiting his fate, but when he hears the door, his adrenaline gets the better of him -- he knows this is going to be a confrontation -- and he's on his feet, though he doesn't go to meet her. He's pulling off his tie, though, shoving it into his suit jacket pocket.

He shouldn't've been a smartass, and he doesn't protest it when she chastises him. His pose mirrors hers, once she crouches down too, and he nudges her foot with his own, focus there instead of on her face. "I just didn't want you to know, I guess. Didn't want you to see it." The almost-memories, the do-not-forgets. The evidence of how shattered he is. Her comparison, at least, gets a hint of a smile from him, amused. That's one of the things he loves most about her, the way she always tries to find that silver lining. The smile vanishes when she goes on, though, and he scrubs one hand over his face before answering. "Yeah. It's been getting a lot worse. I knew that you could tell, I just..." He finally looks up at her, and there's that little smile again, sort of a grimace, though this one is sort of sheepish, too. "Wanted to pretend that you didn't."

The nudge to her foot manages to distract her long enough to get her glancing that way, but it doesn't last and when he continues she's looking at his face. "To know... what? That you're broken? Sweetheart, I'm already fully aware. We've already faced down a lot of challenges comin' from all this and that's not goin' to stop. I enjoy the times when you feel good because I like you bein' happy, but the bad times don't mean I'll get surprised, upset, or worried I'm in over my head an' go. Those're the times when y'need me around the most. Even if y'tend to want me around the least."

She sinks from her crouch to plant her bottom on the floor, legs folding beneath her indian style and hands clasping in her lap. Lips pursed at his confession and she had to look away, off and down at some stray fibers of carpet. "I can usually tell, but lately I don't know where to draw the line. How much I'm supposed to push or let you go. I've been worried, but you never said anythin' to me so I figured I would give you time until you were ready."

Part of him wonders, briefly, if he should be upset that she'd said it so bluntly, that he's broken -- but why should he be? He is, in a very real sense. But from that point on, at least, he can look her in the face, at least for a little while. "Well, at least you know how it works -- that when I really need you, that's when I want to keep you away from it. For your sake." Except it's not entirely for her sake -- it's for his, too, that little nagging fear that shouldn't linger any longer, that someday it'll be too much, someday they'll reach a breaking point again. The only saving grace is that, by now, he at least knows he shouldn't be feeling that way. And besides, if that was going to happen? This conversation might very well be it.

He looks away when she does, not really looking at anything in particular, off in the direction of the living room and kitchen. The last thing she says gets a little huff of laughter out of him, barely, but it's wry. "So what if I'm still not ready?" He knows that's not going to work, though, so he takes a deep breath, sighs. It's only because she's just reassured him that she's not going anywhere that he's able to do this at all. "I've been seeing my stepfather. In my office, and at home." He pauses -- he's not sure if he's already told her? -- but then, "He's been dead more than four years, Jackie. That's not normal. --I mean, I'm not normal, but even for me, that's not normal. Hallucinating is... I mean, that's extra crazy. Even for me." He's trying to put some humor into it, even if it falls flat, and the anxiety in him is obvious, how tired he looks, but somehow, there's still too much poorly repressed frantic energy.

"I know how it works, but it sure as hell doesn't mean I like it." She was tossing a parade for honesty over here so she might as well practice what she's preaching. When he asks what they were to do if he wasn't ready she looked his way, her expression flat and she can't find it in herself to laugh like he is no matter how much edge is in it. "Sort of lost the option to make a choice when I had to track you down today." Sure, she might have a much better understanding of why he did it, but the sting of it all was still too fresh to let go.

It's at his inhale that she knows he's readying himself and she leans her head back against the wall. He's finally explaining and her features shift again to that surprised expression she wore when she first saw his bedroom. It took a while, but she finally managed to choke out a small rasp of questions. "How long has this been goin' on for, Ben? What does he... do when you see him?"

He doesn't expect her to let it go. He knows, deep down, that he should have just told her all this from the beginning. Honesty was so essential to making this work -- to making any relationship work, but theirs, especially -- and he'd promised it to her, months ago, when she'd decided to give this another chance. But hiding, ignoring, deflecting, all of it is so engrained in his person, in his defense mechanisms, that he was only feeling guilty about it now. For weeks of living secretively, he hasn't even felt a twinge of it.

He still isn't looking at her, and he actually draws his knees in a little closer, folds his arms across them, lays his head down on his forearms, still looking off down the hallway. "Weeks. The first time was the same day you got Harry wasted." Another piece of the puzzle for her. This time, the sigh is a little sharper, and he picks his head up, looks over at her. "He wants me to forgive him. Which-- He's dead. You can't forgive a dead person." He laughs a little, but it's not really amused, at all. Maybe it's a little bitter. "The last time, he said maybe I need to be forgiven." His expression, his tone, all the outward signs say he can hardly believe it. Inside, though -- he wonders.

He's drawing himself in further, tucking himself away almost as if he's bracing himself or at least looking for some protection. Jackie on the other hand is leaning forward, reaching out to brush her middle and forefinger against his shin. An odd spot, but she needed some sort of contact, anything she could get. Maybe they both did. There's a heavy sigh when he says the first time was on the day Harry was around. That explains that even if he had claimed he didn't remember what pushed him so far over the edge. She wasn't even going to waste her breath pointing out another lie, they were both fully aware. Besides, his claim that you can't forgive a dead person had her full attention.

"You can forgive anyone if it's what you want to do. I'm not sayin' that you need to forgive him for anythin', but I want you t'understand that y'can forgive someone even if their time has come an' gone." That all seemed to be so easy for her to recite, like it were something common sense. It's his final statement though that really has her looking lost and now she manages a scoff which, with a little more energy that she was far too worn to muster, could be a dry laugh. "Why in the hell would you need to be forgiven for anythin'? You're the innocent in all of this. You never did anythin' wrong to him."

The words are ready to spill out so freely, nothing can scare me away, but Jackie refrains. She really didn't feel there was anything he could say after everything they had been through that could make her want to turn her back on him, but maybe saying that before she actually heard the whole story would make it feel like she was simply saying that as a shoot from the hip reaction no matter how sincere. That it was so easy when she was, unbeknownst to her until now, in the dark. After everything else he had told her so freely or with some poking and prodding since they first met, she wondered what could make him think it would be too much. His head is tipped against her hair and he continues on, her hand on his arm kneading fingers lightly into his skin in an attempt to keep him there with her. How would that work? She had no idea, but she had to do something while she listened.

She didn't interrupt him and only gave small sounds that she understood here and there. The burden of the confession instantly felt like it was weighing on her chest and it was hard for her to imagine what it must have felt like for him to carry it with him all these years. It's when he cuts himself off that she moves, turning herself towards him so she can more easily wrap her arms around him and nudge his head to her shoulder. Even after all that, she wasn't making a move to leave, the thought didn't even cross her mind.

She urges him closer, holds him, and whispers against the cusp of his ear. "Ben, your step-father was a bad man with the way he treated you. I know I've talked to you before about forgiven him, but that's not because I think he deserves it, not for a second. I've never met the man and I hate him so much for what he did to you." Her hand stroked through his hair, still keeping her voice soft even if it cracked with emotion. "I never wanted you to forgive him for him. I wanted it for you. I still believe you're a good man, a good father, and I'm so proud of who you are. And I hate that he still haunts y'everyday, sweetheart. Not just now, whatever it is you're seein', but I think he's in your thoughts far more than he deserves. It wasn't your fault that he died and it wasn't fair to you for him t'say he loved y'when nothin' he ever did reflected that 'til he was an old man scared of dyin' with a heavy heart. But the worst part of it all is that he left that last bit of hurt to linger even after he was gone. I know y'got scars from him that will never heal, I've accepted that and we'll find a way through all that. But I think if I could have anythin' I would wish that he could stay in the past so instead y'could really focus on what you have these days. How far y'came an' how many people love you an' cherish you."

It doesn't feel better, right after he tells her. So often he's gotten people to confess that way, to crimes, to murder, by telling them they'll feel better to let it out, to tell someone. It doesn't work. But when Jackie pulls him in close, guides his head to her shoulder, he doesn't resist at all -- the opposite, really. He's holding on as tightly as she holds him, face hidden against her shoulder, hands buried in her hair, quiet while she speaks, though there's a little tremor in his shoulders, and sometimes his breath catches, sharply.

As difficult as it had been to get out, as shaken as he was, he's still here. He can hear her, quiet in his ear. She's still proud of him. He's still a good man, to her. It's only then that any of that relief seeps in, though it's slow to, just a trickle under the rest of the overwhelming emotion.

He's quiet for a long time after she finishes, but his fingers still adjust their curl into her blonde waves from time to time. Hasn't gone anywhere. "I don't want him here either, Jackie. I don't." His voice is raw, from exhaustion, from emotion. "I want to focus on now. On Adam, on you." He turns his head, just to rest his cheek on her shoulder, unmuffle his voice. "I don't know if he's real or not, Jackie. If it's really a ghost or if I'm just... coming apart, I don't know," there's even a hint of laughter in his voice, but it's helpless, overwhelmed, and gone when he continues. "But I want it to stop. And it's so goddamn selfish of me, but..." He pulls one hand from her hair, lays it gently against her cheek, lifts his head and presses his forehead to hers, though his gaze remains dropped. "I need your help. I need you." For a second, he remembers his last ditch attempt to stop her from breaking up with him, months ago. "I know it's not fair, it's so much pressure, and I am sorry," there's more weight on those words, and he pulls back enough to make eye contact with her. As emotional as he's been, his eyes were dry, always had been, but the look in them is wrecked. Not the put together, take charge, brave Ben she's used to. "But I don't think I can get through it alone." It hasn't been working these past few weeks -- Jackie knows it.

Jackie is actually relieved to hear him say he doesn't want his step-father here either. It's not all that surprising, who would want the ghost of a past you escaped to emerge into the present? But she had been convinced that he would tell her it wasn't possible, that she didn't understand, that he couldn't forget him. The strained laughter only manages to hurt her, showing how on edge he was and lost yet it was only now that she pushed and stood her ground about him not handling it alone like he seemed to want to do so often. He was trying to protect her, but that wasn't a luxury they could afford. She couldn't be kept in the dark and only made aware of all the happy times or the good things he would rather she focus on. That's not how it works. And it's when he asks for her help that she knows he finally understands that.

She loosens her hold enough for him to draw back and make eye contact, but no part of her seemed ready to let go entirely. "Sweetheart, there are gonna be a lot of times when we ask each other for things that aren't fair or easy." Her hand came forward to brush the backs of curled fingers against the hollow of his cheek. It was so hard to look at him with that expression, for him to be so lost when he was often so set on constantly putting on a brave face for her. Even through the difficulty she kept her eyes on his, still speaking low but just as sincere as ever. "I don't know what it is you're seein', Ben, but I do know y'don't have to handle it alone. Not now, not ever if y'let me an' don't try keepin' it all to yourself. Okay, sweetheart?" She tried her hand at offering a smile and only managed the shadow of one. "Y'got me, sweetheart. Remember? From day one I told you that y'got me. Nothin' has changed about that. Y'got me."

He tilts his head a little, into her touch, when her fingers brush against his cheek. He doesn't drop his gaze through her sincere promise, not even when she attempts a smile and he gives her the ghost of one back. "Of course I remember. Got you." So much meaning in such simple words -- in something that, all the way back then, had been flirting, joking. But all this time later, it meant so, so much more. "I'll try not to keep hiding it from you, sweetheart. I'll try to let you do this with me." It was so vague, but how could he even put it into words? That he's going to really let her face these things with him, instead of just leaving her with the aftermath? "But you promise me," it's reminiscent of usual-Ben now, the sort of stern look he gives her, the steady eye contact, both hands on her cheeks now, "if it ever gets to be too much, tell me. I'm already broken, right? I don't want you breaking too." Still trying to look out for her, even in desperate times like these.