Topic: August 16th - 24th: Homesick

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-10-15 22:52 EST
Friday, August 16th, 2013 -- evening

To put it mildly, the past few days had been horrible -- of course, Ben's given up on keeping track of things like 'days' and 'time' in general at this point. It was easy to do, after all, since he'd been stuck in a loop of waking up at home, checking on Jackie's cat since he was there anyway, and then stubbornly returning to Lucie's house and the attic above, hiding there for an hour or two -- and then the cycle repeats. Too many times to count.

One of those times, he wakes up in the kitchen at home, and after getting up from the floor (where he'd been sprawled, and the reason why, he doesn't even think about), he catches sight of the red light on the answering machine on the counter blinking on-off-on. One new message. His cell has been dead for a while now, and he hasn't thought to charge it or or even check if it needs to be charged; he's silently thanking some higher power he doesn't believe in that he'd refused to get rid of a land line.

It's after he listens to the message -- Jackie calling him from Georgia just before leaving -- that it all starts to sink in for him. He needs to get it together, pretend like he's not losing it. Pretend like he's actually sane. Some part of him actually thinks he'll be able to pull it off and convince Jackie that he's been fine while she's been gone.

He takes a shower, changes his clothes. Actually heats up some leftover takeout he'd found in the fridge, actually eats. It's difficult to fake it, even on his own, so he decides that the less he tries to do, the better -- that's what leads him to camp out on the couch with a sports channel on, Shadow curled up on the floor in front of the couch.

It had been early on in her trip that Jackie had an unintentional run in with a watering hole with her cellphone still in her pocket thanks to one of her well intentioned, but not quite forward thinking friends. She had called Ben from her Mother's house to tell him and she worried about them not being able to stay in contact through calls and text messaging like they had planned but he told her to not worry about it, to enjoy herself and being with her parents. It was hard to accept at first but she slowly eased into it, the idea of Ben not being only a few key punches away. He was right that it wasn't something for them to panic over. They could deal with it, couldn't they?

Her planned week long vacation somehow spanned into two since her Mother kept insisting she stay longer. How could Jackie say no to a little extra time of being spoiled by her parents? But eventually she missed Ben and home far too much and it was time to make the trek back to RhyDin.

It had been early in the morning when she tried calling Ben's cellphone. No answer. Considering Jackie was constantly finding his phone and putting it on the charger for him it didn't really raise any red flags. More than likely he left it somewhere around the house and let the battery run out. No answer at the office either. Her last effort was to call the house. No one answered but at least she could leave a voicemail. Was Ben going to say 'I told you so' about keeping that stupid landline?

Belle and Jackie piled into the truck and they were on the road back to RhyDin. The trip moved along quick enough with a soundtrack of Dolly Parton easing them along the open road and as fun as it was to sing along with while Belle watched Jackie in utter confusion there was an immense feeling of relief when Jackie finally pulled up into the driveway of their little white house.

The bags could wait and Jackie only scooped Belle into her arms before making a quick beeline to the door. With an excited jumble of keys she let herself in and called out. "Honey, I'm home!" A hip bumping the door shut behind her so she could venture further into the house to find Ben.

Ben hated it, that hearing Jackie's keys in the door made his stomach flip -- and not in the good way, not in the way he would've liked, that he'd be excited to see her. Not that he wasn't happy that she was home, because part of him was -- it'd get better now, wouldn't it? Maybe things would be fine? But maybe they wouldn't. And avoiding telling her how bad things had gotten wasn't going to be easy. If he was honest with himself, he'd know it wouldn't be possible for very long at all.

"Hey, you made it home in one piece!" Sounds okay, but he's sort of slow to get to his feet. Once standing, though, he's not hesitating to meet her, Shadow trailing him the entire way. The grin seems genuine enough, wide, crooked, but god, did he look worn down, tired -- haggard, days worth of stubble, dark circles under his eyes. Still, after an absent tug to one sleeve of his hoodie, he opens up his arms to her for a hug. "C'mere, beautiful. How was the drive?"

"We did! It was fine, a lil' bumpy the first few miles but Belle got the hang of drivin' old red out there mighty quick and I napped the entire way home." A little bounce of practically passed out puppy in her arms before setting her down on the floor so she was free to properly greet Ben. Sure, Jackie would say he looked handsome as ever but it wasn't hard to miss the signs of fatigue that he wore. "Ben Sullivan, what in the hell have you been doin'? Have you been sleepin' at all?" Jackie steps forward into the hug but she's cupping his jaw with her palms, turning his head left and right so she can look him over. "Sweetheart, you look exhausted. I was really hopin' you wouldn't be tossin' yourself into work like this while I was gone." Brows knitting in a small frown of worry.

He even laughs a little, quiet, a wry thing, for her joke about Belle driving. Maybe he could do this after all. --of course, then she asks if he's been sleeping, and he shouldn't lie, right? Honesty. His hands find the small of her back, curl into the fabric there briefly before he clasps his hands loosely there to keep her in close. "I..." Dropping eye contact for a few seconds, but he lifts it again before she's even finished looking him over. "I've been gone a lot. So I don't know, maybe I'm not getting as much sleep as I need." A little tick of a smile, half-there, but apologetic.

There's a small wince when he admits he's been missing, sympathetic and just a hint of irritation at herself. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I figured not hearing from you meant things were okay. A no news is good news sort of deal. I shouldn't have, I should have checked in more." His gaze might have dropped but she was still doing her best to look him over, to take inventory now compared to how she left him two weeks ago. "Tonight we'll get some good rest, okay? I'm gonna fix you somethin' nice and heavy for dinner, we'll watch a lil' hockey on the couch, then we'll go to bed and I'll hug on you all night long to make sure you don't do anything else aside from cuddlin' up with me." Could it be that simple? Could she help erase whatever it was the boys had been up to the last two weeks with a home cooked meal and some domestic bliss? She had little more to offer than that. Her hands dropped from his jaw to slide around his torso, hands pressing into his back in a firm hug. "I got you now, sweetheart. It's alright."

Right away, he's shaking his head. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. I wanted you to enjoy your time there, not worry about how I was doing." He'd seemed normal enough besides the exhaustion at first, but close up, and under prolonged study, something about him really isn't right. Delayed, like he's having to actually think about his responses and reactions. It's only an extra second, but it's enough that they don't seem entirely natural. "That sounds really good, sweets. I just want a quiet night with you." But as much as he says he wants it, when she finally returns the hug and presses her hands into his back, his muscles tense under her hands, and he flinches away from her touch -- barely, but enough. Doesn't pull away from her, though, holding her just as tight now, cheek to cheek with her. "I hope it is." Quiet, but he still isn't completely able to keep the strain out of his voice.

"I'm supposed to worry. If the tables were turned you would be worryin' about me instead of kickin' back without a care in the world. That's what we do." The longer the conversation went on, the more she was able to pick up on that delay but was it something to really fret over? Did she want to come home and instantly go worrisome wife on him? The options were still up for debate when he tenses and flinches away from her. That little bit was enough to make her release him entirely even if he still had a hold on her. "Ben, sweetheart, I feel like you're not tellin' me somethin'. Did I just hurt you?" Her head tipped back, trying to look at him without pulling out of his grasp. "Baby, what happened while I was gone?"

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-10-15 22:54 EST
For a second, he actually holds on tighter, but then he lets go too. He meets her eyes, but it's hard to place his expression. Mostly blank, but forced that way, like he's trying to stay neutral. There's a strange energy about him, though -- beyond anxiety, beyond being nervous or being avoidant. It could be fear, an emotion that, at least around Jackie, is something he always hides. Instinctive, without even looking, he reaches out a hand for the back of Shadow's neck; the dog nudges him in the palm right after. "Let's just go to bed? I don't..." Trailing off, because 'don't want to talk about it' just isn't going to cut it, and he knows it -- so instead, he laughs a little, nervous, overwhelmed, and drops his head into one hand, scrubs his face with his hand before he tucks his hands into his hoodie's pockets, looks Jackie in the eye again. "I'm just losing it. I don't..." Another slow trail off, and then he sighs, and unzipping his hoodie, turns to face away from her while he pulls it off.

The combination of dark bruising and scabbed-red friction burns around his wrists is hard to miss, and so are the spots of red starting to bleed through the white cotton of his shirt where her hands had been. "I don't know what happened." It's not quite a lie, but it's not quite the truth either, so it's easier not to look at her when he says it. He strips his shirt off next, the movement stiff, full of effort, and he bites back some quiet little pained noise -- and underneath it's ugly, a haphazard crisscross of black and blue raised welts across the expanse of his back, some starting to heal over, just barely, some wounds opened up again, maybe from the pressure of her hands, maybe from the stretch of pulling his shirt off, maybe from the shower earlier. "So there's nothing to talk about." That he was trying that, that he actually thought that was a possibility -- that might have been the hardest thing to believe out of all of this.

They had that in common because fear was lacing her expression as well. Fear of the unknown, confusion over what had come to pass while she was away, anger at herself that she had been relaxing in Georgia while Ben was going through God knows what here in RhyDin. Is he really going to attempt saying he doesn't want to talk about it? Her chest expands, taking a deep breath and readying herself for a fight to tell him that isn't going to fly but he seems to catch it himself and he laughs. The laugh is more unsettling than his worn expression. "Losin' it?" An attempt to urge on his explanation but instead he's removing his hoodie. Her attention jumps to his arms, hands, anything she can see and it settles on his wrists. "Ben..." She can't even form any complete thoughts about it because the blood stains on the back of his shirt gather her gaze next. When he peels off his shirt and she can see the extent of the damage her hand leaps to her mouth failing to muffle a gasp.

It's unsettling how lost she feels in that moment. She had told him so many times she would take care of him and protect him and in the year they had known each other it took her two weeks to fail horribly. It was only when he said there's nothing to talk about that the lost feeling gets a little direction. "There's plenty to talk about, Ben. You just aren't the one I gotta talk to." Could she actually put him and the boys through that tonight? She knew the triggers, the ways to call them. But the last time she tried it with Sam, the one she figures will have the most information, he was angered by the idea that she called on him like a dog. Similar to his gesture earlier she scrubbed a hand across her face trying to pinpoint her next line of action. "I need to clean those, Ben. I need to put something on them and bandage 'em. You can't just leave 'em as is. Will you at least let me do that before anything else?" Reaching a hand out to him and if he accepted she was going to lead him upstairs to the bathroom.

He'd expected her to be near-speechless and first, and he could hear the way she said his name in his head before it even came out of her mouth, the inflection of it. Expected the gasp from her when she saw how bad it all looked. But past that? He had no idea. He certainly wouldn't've guessed what she actually went on to say, and the surprise throws him off enough that he doesn't do a very good job of hiding how distraught he is at the idea of more time gone. "No, Jackie. No. Why? You don't need to talk to anyone about it. It doesn't matter what happened." And past that, past wanting to bury the ghost and keep pretending that what had happened hadn't happened at all, something bothers him about the idea -- that she'd want to talk to one of the boys and not to him. It shouldn't -- it made sense -- but it does.

He can see her hand out of the corner of his eye, but he pauses a long time without moving before finally taking it. "You don't need to play nurse. Really. I'm okay. But fine." Relenting, easily, after the halfhearted, withdrawn protest, he follows along behind her, and Shadow follows along behind the pair.

She obviously hears all of the protests but she doesn't reply to them until he's successfully following her upstairs to the bathroom. Of course he was going to tell her no, but at least he could be telling her no while she did some sort of good for him. She owed him that much at least. Once they were in the bathroom she led him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet with his back to her and facing the wall. Her first aid kit was easy enough to grab from the cabinet, something she kept on hand and fully stocked in case of situations like this. He smelled clean, freshly showered, so she wasn't going to torture him by cleaning the wounds further. Instead she picked out a tube of antibiotic ointment and after washing her hands she set to dragging thin beads of it along the welts. A look was given to Shadow as he settles himself right next to Ben, even facing the wall like his master was. "I have never in my life seen a more accurately named dog." That off her chest she continued to tend to Ben's back. "You know it matters what happened, right? This isn't just some sorta bar fight, Ben. This isn't someone actin' stupid and gettin' hit in a strip club. This is someone who had it out for you. Look at your wrists, someone took time to do all of this. It's frightenin' as hell to not know who, why, how, if you just managed to get away somehow and especially if you gotta worry about it happening again. How can you say this doesn't matter, Ben? And you don't remember a thing about it all? Do you know what day it happened at least?"

He sits like she tells him to, leans forward enough to put his elbows on his knees, hold his head in his hands. Shadow rests his chin on Ben's thigh, just watching him silently. Ben flinches a little at the first contact of the ointment to one of the wounds, but he's over the sensation quick enough, and then he has to laugh a little when Jackie mentions how well the name fit, even if it's tired sounding, flat. "He's been with me this whole time." A little pause, "Most of the time. If he could follow, he did." It was just when Ben went up ladders to hide in attics that Shadow didn't follow along.

He listens quietly to everything Jackie says, and he doesn't respond right away. "Tuesday night. I woke up Wednesday morning -- I think it was Wednesday." A little pause, and then more hesitantly, "What day is it now, anyway?" He's scratching at the back of his head when he asks, as if it's a fairly casual question, and he's sort of sheepish in asking it. The act doesn't last, though, and he slips back into anxious brooding before long. "It won't happen again. It won't." But he doesn't explain why, and he doesn't sound very assured of it, either.

"Is that right?" In response to Shadow, well, shadowing Ben. "I told you we were meant to find that dog." They might have previously sounded like the words of a desperate woman wanting to add a new animal to the ever growing Sullivan zoo but she did sound convinced that Shadow was meant to be part of the family.

She listens to his explanation, or guesses rather, of what happened. His question makes her lips thin with worry. "It's Friday, sweetheart." Her hands stop working long enough to brush her clean fingers through his hair, from the front of his temple and back, maybe to soothe herself as much as him. "You don't know what happened, Ben, so you can't say that for certain. I want to believe it just as much as you, but we can't go on hopes and wishes when it comes to somethin' like this. What if it does happen again? What if it's worse next time? I just wanna talk to someone and see what happened. Isn't that some sorta step in the right direction, wantin' all of us to work together?"

"Mhm." Agreeing that they'd been meant to find the dog, and idly, he starts to scratch Shadow behind the ears. It's a distraction, but it keeps him in the moment, too. His focus stays there, downward -- at least until her fingers are in his hair, then he shuts his eyes, leans slightly into her touch. She's probably right, that talking to somebody else about what happened is a step in the right direction, wanting to work together, but he doesn't want to admit that. Ben wouldn't even be able to say what influences him more, that he doesn't want to go away now that Jackie's here, or that he doesn't want to put her through that, or that he just doesn't want that to be necessary in the first place, but out of nowhere, he sighs sharply, lets go of the dog, puts his hands over his face briefly before dropping them, twisting where he sits so he can see her. "It was the f*cking ghost, Jackie. The goddamn ghost is real, and he wanted me to know it." He actually kind of snaps at her, but the intensity is shortlived, and right after, he just seems drained, uneasy, anxious and frantic without the energy to sustain it anymore. "Okay? So you don't need to talk to anybody."

Ben seems so calm and relaxed with the way his head is dipping in towards her hand that she's even more taken aback by his sudden actions than she normally would be. When the first words leave his mouth in that sharp tone both of her hands recoil and pull in towards her stomach, a few steps taken backwards. Even if the heat of the moment dies out quickly enough she keeps her distance. "The ghost did this to you?" There wasn't anything mocking in her tone, not even an ounce of disbelief. Being with Ben, especially in RhyDin, had opened Jackie's mind to a whole new world of wonders as well as a laundry list of new creatures and entities around solely to screw with her family. "That ghost is still around and it did this to you. And I'm supposed to be okay with that and just forget it? Were you around when the ghost did this or was someone else? You're actin' like that's the end of it and I'm feelin' like this is just beginnin', Ben. So can you do me a favor an' work with me on this?"

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-10-15 22:58 EST
Part of Ben wanted Jackie to tell him he was being ridiculous, that there were no such thing as ghosts. Of course she couldn't, though, and she doesn't -- not with evidence like this. Especially not where they were, where things like this were known to happen from time to time, where the unthinkable and unbelievable were believable. "I am working with you on it, Jackie. I am," it would be a strange word to emphasize, maybe, if it wasn't coming from Ben. "But there's nothing to work with. No, I wasn't there -- I mean, I was, but then I wasn't-- does it matter? What are you going to do, perform an exorcism? Just need to figure out who to do it to first?" There's a little laughter in his tone, but he's incredulous, overwhelmed, maybe a little exasperated. "I'm done talking about this." Done sitting still, too, getting to his feet and pulling his shirt back on, patches of blood and all. "I'll figure something out, but I'm not talking about this anymore. So stop digging, Jackie. Don't push." Edging around her to get to the doorway and through it, headed for the stairs, down them, Shadow, as always these days, trailing along silently behind Ben, at his heels.

"Y'don't know if there is or isn't anythin' to work with because you weren't there." Her eyes go wide at his gall to make a joke at a time like this, the laughter in his tone only managing to make her that much angrier. "What're you going to figure out? We talked about the ghost ages ago and I didn't push then. Now it's physically harmed you, Ben. I can't be around to watch you all the time to make sure this thing doesn't hurt you again or somethin' worse." Yet he's brushing right past her along with Shadow. She's turning on her heels but only follows him to the top of the stairs before she stops and continues on directing her words at his back. "So when do I get to push, Ben? When is it okay in your head? How far does somethin' have to go before I'm allowed to step in and do my duty as a wife to protect you from your own stupid a**?"

"I don't need a babysitter, Jackie! You don't need to watch me. I told you, I'll take care of it!" He'd stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turned to look up them at her. It's not often that he really gets angry like this, not toward her, but he is now. There's no threat in it; it's not that kind of anger -- desperate, if anything. "You don't get to. It's not okay." Making his way back up the stairs then, though again, he's just aiming to get past her, and if he can, he turns the corner to go down the hall -- not toward their bedroom, but toward his absent son's room. "It's not your f*cking job to protect me-- and from my own stupid a**? I didn't even f*cking do anything! Jesus Christ, Jackie, just let it go! I'm not doing this with you, and I'm especially not doing it now."

"How, Ben? How are you goin' to take care of it when your top move is the ol' side step? You love sayin' you'll handle these things and then you just ignore them. I'm not supposed to ask about 'em and just have to sort of assume no news is good news. Next thing I know? I'm comin' home to a husband that got beat by a ghost and he won't let me help what lil' I can! Which, I don't even know where to begin on handlin' somethin' like this but I've figured out other things that haven't come with a goddamn manual." She's surprised when he's coming her way again and she's stepping out of his path to let him go wherever he's planning to. When he goes for Adam's room she's stalking into their bedroom while still keeping the fight going by yelling back at him. "That's the problem, Ben! You didn't even f*ckin' do anything! This ghost has been an issue and you swept it under the rug! Now you're tryin' to do it again!" There is an opening and closing of a drawer from a bedroom, she's not even trying to be quiet about it. "How do you really expect me to let it go, Ben? In what world do you think it's even possible for me to kick back an' relax when you got all this goin' on and you want me to just toss up my hands an' let you deal with it alone?" The sounds of her angry footsteps can be heard leaving their bedroom.

"What, so you're saying I can't do it? Can't handle it? That's what you're saying? That I do need a f*cking babysitter? A goddamn nanny?" He doesn't follow after her, and he really doesn't wonder about what she's up to, either, too caught up in the argument. He pauses in the doorway to Adam's room, turns to face the hallway again, her direction. "Yeah, I didn't do anything before, because I thought I was f*cking crazy! I thought I was seeing sh*t, I thought it was in my f*cking head!" There's something ironic about this line of reasoning, but darkly so, and he's dropping his head, rubbing his hands over his face, laughing, exasperated again, before he drops his hands; he curls his fingers into his palms, uncurls them, a couple of times. "You know what? I was gonna try to work on this now that you're home, but f*ck it. It's worked for a lot of f*cking years, so yeah -- I'm just gonna sweep it under the rug. And if that's what I want to do, that's what I'm gonna goddamn do, Jackie. This is my decision. Not yours. Not anybody's but mine." He sounds sort of calmer, though there's still an edge in his voice, a tightness, something that threatens to overcome him -- and that calm is an act, anyway, and the way he slams the door after stepping back into the bedroom gives it away.

"You can handle it, you've handled it on your own for years. What I'm saying is that you don't have to handle it alone. We're supposed to be in this together so could y'act like it!?" She comes to steps in the doorway of their bedroom across from him, one hand on the doorframe and the other cocked behind her back with her elbow jutting out. "Seein' the ghost of your dead step-father, whether it's real or not, deserves some f*ckin' attention!" Brows rise at his plan to give up, more to spite her it seems than anything else. The door slams and she's still fine shouting at it while moving across the hallway. "This doesn't just affect you anymore, Ben. It ain't just you! Now you got Adam, and you got me, and you got Baby Sullivan to think about when it comes to this sh*t and how you're gonna handle it or ignore it." The door to Adam's room is opened without hesitation and she moves right inside. She was not in the mood to be brushed aside this evening.

He's already sitting on the edge of Adam's bed, head in his hands; he doesn't look up when Jackie opens the door or when she steps into the room. Shadow can be seen, just barely, under the bed, peering out at Jackie from between Ben's feet. "It got my attention. And I'm handling it." He finds the energy to bristle there, maybe from the insinuation that he doesn't have his family in mind when he 'handles' things like this -- but maybe he knows that he doesn't always, and maybe he's more angry at himself about it than anything. Either way, the irritation is gone when he goes on, just leaving him sounding tired, but still attempting to be firm about his decision, to be decisive. "Just not tonight, Jackie. I can't even keep track of what f*cking day it is. It's been f*cking awful, and I'm done for tonight."

Part of her wants to just leave him there and allow him his peace, what little of it he's going to find for the rest of the night. Another part, the much more assertive part of her, at least wants to be heard. "Y'said you were handlin' it all that time ago in the apartment. I keep hearin' things are gonna be handled, but when? When it's too late?" The words were harsh but her tone was much softer, the obvious worry she had about it all finding its way into her voice. "It's been so awful and you didn't call me once. My Mama has a phone, you could have called me and I would have been home in a second. But it's okay, Ben. You're done for the night, I know it. You don't gotta do another thing tonight, okay? I'll talk to someone else 'bout it." The words weren't trying to cut him down. They were actually an attempt to assure him when she pulled the belt out from behind her back, one ended folded over the other end to create a loop that she grabbed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I love you." A sharp pull and the snap of the belt echoed in the quiet of the dark room.

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-10-15 23:03 EST
He's shaking his head a little, slowly, when she asks those couple of questions, through when she says he should've called, that she would've come home. Doesn't have it in him anymore to fight, though -- especially once she says it's okay, he's done. He even figures she means she'll try talking to one of his other personalities about it some other day, and he can have that argument with her then, later, when they're calmer, when he's more put together. It's not until she apologizes that he realizes what she's about to do; he sits up straight, sudden, gaze snapping right to her -- and to the belt. Eyes wide, his mouth even opens to protest, but it's too late.

It only takes the one sharp crack of the belt to trigger it, and it's a quicker switch than usual, though there's still that brief imbalance in his posture, a fade to his eyes, a little flutter to his eyelids, all telltale signs Jackie's seen plenty of times before. When he comes out of it, the hard set of his jaw, the line of his shoulders -- and the utterly pissed off look he's giving her -- have to be enough to tell her she's succeeded. "You have to be f*cking kidding me. Are you really this f*cking stupid?" Doesn't raise his voice the way Ben had; in fact, it's all growl, but maybe it's more dangerous for it. "You're lucky," and he gets to his feet, takes a couple of steps her way, "Really f*cking lucky I won't hurt it." His focus drops to her midsection, just for a split second, before he's back to the predatory look aimed at Jackie. "Though I am thinking of ways I can still hurt you. After what we've been through," we've been through, so maybe Jackie at least had the right person, "you think that was a good idea?" Reaching to tear the belt from her hands then, if there was any doubt what he'd been referring to.

Maybe it would have been a better idea to wait until another day, a couple nights later to attempt something like this. She was tired after driving all day, distraught about what she came home to, unsure what she was going to do about it all. She had no real game plan and then she had Sam sitting in front of her, the set of his jaw said it all but the words only drove it home. "I sure as hell never claimed Ben married me for my brains." She wasn't going to fight someone over calling her stupid, he could get in line with all the others. He rises to his feet and she's taking a few steps back but all it manages to do is bump her backside into Adam's dresser. She ignores what he says about Baby Sullivan, not wanting to feed into that line of thought which is only going to make her even angrier with him than she usually is. "You get pissed as hell ages ago when I was rootin' to get rid of your a** and now you're madder than hell when I want to talk to you-" The belt is wrenched from her hands and she's instantly shaking them to soothe the sting. "You think I'm happy 'bout this? You think I like talkin' to you or havin' to acknowledge you're around? But yeah, you went through somethin' and I would like some answers about what in the hell happened to my husband while I was gone. Unfortunately, that means I need you. You think I find a single ounce of joy in that? Maybe it would be better if you just gave me some details so I know what the hell is goin' on then you can get back to whatever the hell it is you do when you're not drivin'."

"I'm madder than hell because you used this--" He's right up in her face, but there's enough space between them for him to snap the belt between his hands, an echo of what she'd done a moment ago. "--to call me like a damn dog, and you don't even care what that does to him. You don't even think about how f*cked he is in the head right now because of this. Even when it was in the past, he couldn't handle sh*t, had to tell himself the little pieces he remembered were some f*cking nightmare -- but now he knows. Roland just f*cking did it to me, and he's not that f*cking stupid, and now he knows-- and you just rubbed it in his face, you stupid bitch." When Ben's hands had curled into fists before, it was slow, and routine, like it was just another thing he did to keep himself grounded and in the moment. When Sam does it, it's all tension, threat. "You won't get sh*t from me, Jackie. I was right about you -- all you did was f*ck with him, and f*ck with me, and you're stupid, but you're not that stupid. You know I'm the only one that gets to f*ck with him, because at least I know what's good for him." He smiles then, and it's crooked, like Ben's -- but it's cold, and it's cruel -- and then it's gone in another heartbeat of stupor. This one is quick too, and when he comes out of it he's quiet at first. Blinking a couple of times, and then a slow, wide smile spreads across his face, and he lifts his free hand, presses his index fingertip to her cheek. Smile. "I dunno how you can look so pissed when one of us was gettin' undressed," with a little motion of the folded up belt in his hand.

He's far too close and Jackie knows she should be more scared than she is but it's difficult to be. Sam might be full of rage, but he's not an idiot and his job is to protect Ben, all of Ben and that includes the little bit of him that was growing inside her. Even with that in mind the snap of the belt between them makes her turn her head aside and close her eyes waiting for him to back off after proving his point. Her mouth opens to retaliate but he's still going, refusing to give her a chance to interject. He knows if he gives the slightest amount of pause in what he's saying that Jackie will pounce on it and talk his ear off with her why's and what for's. There's the lull she was looking for and she turns her head to face him straight on. "I don't know how else to get your attention. Maybe if you let me know-" Not even enough time to get that out and he's declaring she'll have nothing. The smile fades and she knows that look, the switch, and she's sighing knowing that Ben is going to be livid with her upon his return. But no, that's not Ben's look. That's not the way Ben would touch her. More importantly, that's not what Ben would say to her. Jackie gives a completely dumbfounded expression, blinking slowly before she can get out the word. "Harry?" No, she had to be wrong. This can't be happening. Sam wouldn't do that to her. Wait, what was she thinking? Of course that sorry sonofabitch would.

She doesn't look particularly happy to see him, but she doesn't look annoyed, either (which is how Jackie often looks around Harry), so he takes that as a positive. "Yeah, uh-huh-- holy sh*t, you got a nicer rack than I remember. Did your t*ts get bigger? I can tell if they're fake just by feeeeeling," a little singsong on the last word, and his hand drops from her cheek, obvious what his next target is -- but before he reaches it, his eyes suddenly go wide, and he takes a couple of steps back, drops the belt, puts up his hands in some laughable attempt at innocent. "Whoa. That is not mine. I'm not payin' for it." The way he's staring at the bulge of her belly, slight still, but noticeable, it must be obvious what he means.

The moment he mentions her rack her hands cover her chest to ward off any unwelcome groping that he might suddenly think he's entitled to. She didn't like his hand on her cheek but it was probably the only place she would want Harry to touch her. Jackie inhales sharply when his hand drops, either readying herself to yell at him or bite him, but then he's walking backwards like... he saw a ghost. Jackie tenses until he makes his declaration. What wasn't...? Oh. Jackie looks down at her stomach then back up to Harry. "How in the hell would it be yours? We've never had sex! Do you even know how babies are made?" Hands lift. "You know what? Nevermind that. I don't want Harry 101 on baby makin'." It's with a heavy sigh that her hands sink. "What're you doin' here, Harry?"

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-10-15 23:04 EST
At first he squints, like he's trying to determine if she's telling the truth about them never sleeping together, but then he's snorting back a laugh at her next question. About to answer it, too, and from the smug look on his face, Jackie was not going to like the answer, so it's a good thing she stops that before it starts. Again, he's looking sort of confused, sort of thoughtful, and sort of like it's difficult to try to think about it, when she asks him why he's here, and after a moment, he shrugs, laughs again. "I dunno, that's a good question. There's, like, nothing to do here." So here to Harry must mean in the house, and he's already headed for the bedroom door. "You're gonna be a drag if you come with, so you shouldn't. The whole baby thing... I bet you're not gonna drink or smoke or like.. anything." A very broad anything, probably covered a lot of illicit things. "So you just stay here." Chipper when he makes the suggestion; it's obvious he thinks he's outsmarted her and is going to make it out of the house without a chaperone.

Why did he have to think it over so hard if they've slept together or not? Jackie is squinting back at him. When he says there's nothing to do here part of Jackie manages to be a little offended until she snaps out of it. Good! She didn't want anything that Harry thought was fun in their house anyway. He brushes right past her... How many times has Ben's body done that tonight? Too many. "You're not supposed to drink or smoke anything when you're- You know what? It doesn't matter, you don't need to know." She follows along after him, reaching out to snag him by the back of his shirt. "Don't leave." She realizes quickly the demand is too harsh and nothing Harry is going to want to listen to. "Don't leave... me? Pleeease?" Still not even sure if that was going to work but she offered up a pout if she managed to get him to look back at her.

Lucky for Jackie, Harry rarely inquires after half-finished sentences. They just don't stick long enough in his mind for him to follow up on them. This time, too, he's distracted when she grabs his shirt; her fingers don't press hard against him, but even just a brush of them against his back, even just the shift of the fabric, is enough for him to notice he's hurting. "Oww, c'mon," pushing her hand away, though he's gentle about it, very careful not to even come close to being rough with her. "What'd you do?" Baffled, he twists a little, like he'd be able to figure out why he hurt if he could just look behind him -- but then he catches sight of her, and the pout, and hears the pleading, and it seems like he forgets all about it, grinning stupidly, crookedly, sly. "Alright, alright, since you asked so niiiicely. But what are we gonna do? And I can still drink, right? It's not fair if I can't, just because you can't." Lightly, he nudges her in the arm. "I can still have fun even if you're gonna be boring for however long that thing's gotta bake."

The moment he lets out that first sound of pain she regrets grabbing his shirt like that and pulls her hand back sharply. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have grabbed there. I'm sorry." Hands up, like trying to soothe a fussy child. "I didn't mean it. I didn't do it, but you have some... wounds on your back and I shouldn't have touched them. Are you okay?" He's already grinning but it doesn't stop her from feeling horrible. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be careful, okay?" He doesn't care, Harry just wants to know what sort of party is lined up for him tonight. "I don't know. Watch a movie with me? Or we can play some cards. I can deal blackjack if you're any good at that." She winces at his request for booze hoping it wasn't a dealbreaker. "We don't have any in the house, we gave it all away because I can't stand the smell of it. Can you go without a drink tonight? Then I can get you some tomorrow." All they had to do was make it through the night. Any time Harry was around he would go to bed and the next day Ben was back. All she had to deal with was one night. "I'm going to be boring until January." Not that Harry cared and she was fully aware.

When she explains the injury to him, he looks sort of blank, like he's trying to process it and is having trouble, but eventually the grin is back, and it's wicked this time around. "Y'know, I always tell girls not to play so rough. Those scratches can be a bitch. I'm fine, though," and he's shrugging it off, laughing a little. It doesn't seem forced, doesn't seem faked. Just like he really can forget about it that easily. Something makes him scoff, though. "If I'm any good at that?" He grabs her by the wrist then -- doesn't notice the bruising and scrapes around his own -- and pulls her toward the stairs. "And after you start swooning over how great a card shark I am, we can 'watch a movie,'" emphasis on the words, like it's innuendo (and the grin he aims back at her makes that even clearer). Briefly dejected at her informing him there's no booze in the house, but it doesn't last. It never does, with Harry. "You'll just owe me double tomorrow." Shadow follows them at a distance, but he's finally emerging from under the bed now, creeping quietly after the pair.

Somehow she manages to keep her expression flat when he speaks of the other girls. Maybe he was talking about times long ago and didn't even realize it, Harry doesn't piece a lot of things together. Either way, she doesn't want to think about it. He's laughing it all off and part of Jackie wonders if this is good. Maybe it was better for Harry to be around for the night so Ben could get... does he get any sort of peace when he's away? She's unsure but it seems like all of the personalities and blacking out are rather pointless if he doesn't get some sort of breath of fresh air, even if he's unaware of it. Her wrist is captured and she follows him towards the stairs. "Okay, that's sounds perfect. That sounds like a good night." Perfect would be Ben being here and now she regrets the entire evening. Should she have let it go sooner? It would mean Ben would be here with her but in the long run is turning a blind eye helpful? These would be the questions that keep making their presence known to her all throughout the night. "Sure, Harry. I'll give you a double tomorrow. Whatever you want." She would promise him anything to keep him pacified since he won't be here to collect. A glance over her shoulder at the distant sound of paws. "C'mon, Shadow. Come hang out in the dinin' room." Was Shadow aware that Ben was gone? Another question for Jackie to wonder about.

"Whateeeever I want?" Glancing back over his shoulder with a lift of his brows and a sly, full-of-himself smile. "Remember that tomorrow. You promised!" They reach the bottom of the stairs and he lets go of her wrist, heading to the kitchen to find the pack of cigarettes and lighter he'd hid in the back of the junk drawer.

All things considered, it's a quiet night. Harry plays cards with Jackie, tries to convince her to let him smoke a few cigarettes (even if he has to go out on the porch with Shadow playing guard dog to make sure he doesn't wander off), watches a movie with her (and only puts his arm around her shoulders twice). Well-behaved, for him. Chatterbox, though, talking about the times they've gone out together -- poker, cigars, strip clubs. A little bit trying to convince her to do it again soon, but mostly just reliving some fun, it seems.

It's surprisingly not difficult to wrangle him into bed, either (though, of course, he's trying to feel up on her at first, and it takes a threat of physical harm to get him to stay on his side of the bed). All things considered, it's a quiet night. Harry plays cards with Jackie, tries to convince her to let him smoke a few cigarettes (even if he has to go out on the porch with Shadow playing guard dog to make sure he doesn't wander off), watches a movie with her (and only puts his arm around her shoulders twice). Well-behaved, for him. Chatterbox, though, talking about the times they've gone out together -- poker, cigars, strip clubs. A little bit trying to convince her to do it again soon, but mostly just reliving some fun, it seems.

It's surprisingly not difficult to wrangle him into bed, either (though, of course, he's trying to feel up on her at first, and it takes a threat of physical harm to get him to stay on his side of the bed). Maybe it's because he actually isn't hungover in the morning (uncommon after a night with Harry in control), but the man dozing next to Jackie isn't at all shy in getting close to her now, even going so far as to grab her a** while ducking in to trail lazy kisses along one side of her neck.

It wasn't the ideal way that Jackie wanted to spend her first evening back from Georgia, but considering things could always be so much worse with Harry she was thankful it was a low key evening. In actuality, maybe it was even a little too calm. Zoning in and out on Harry's endless chatter only gave her that much more time to dwell on what had happened only a short while ago and how badly she wished she could have done things differently. Would it have helped? She might not have ended up with Harry for the night, but was the night doomed from the moment she walked in the door considering everything that had occurred in her absence?

Sleep was a welcomed thing that gave her a bit of solace even if it wasn't entirely peaceful or complete. Every now and then she would stir and cast a glance over her shoulder at the sleeping form behind her, making sure he was still there and waiting patiently for that silent click. That moment when Harry would be gone and her husband would be back. Would she be able to tell even while he was sleeping? She passed out one last time before finding out.

Finally it was when morning was just barely peeking in through the curtains of their bedroom that she felt the hand on her backside and the sweet kisses on her neck. He had returned to her and more importantly he wasn't angry with her, not entirely anyway. Her head turned, a gentle sigh exhaled while tipping her jaw and cheek into the line of kisses. "Good mornin', sweetheart."

Would she have been able to tell, even while he slept? Did the others dream? Sleep fitfully like Ben sometimes did, wake up out of breath and shaking? This night is absent any of that, though, so maybe the time spent in the darkness while others had the wheel really did do him some good. It was a nice thought, anyway.

He actually has to muffle a little bit of laughter against her shoulder after she greets him with a good morning. "Sweetheart? I knew you'd warm up to me, babycakes. It's a great morning."

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-10-15 23:28 EST
The laughter is difficult to pinpoint, especially when her head is still so foggy with sleep but she doesn't want to press herself too hard to part from this pleasant awakening. "Hm?" The sound was thick and it took far too long for the pieces to come together. Babycakes echoed in her head and finally she gave a shrill sound of surprise. It was a mess, the way she started fitting around in the sheets in an attempt to get away from him as quickly as possible. By the end of her momentary freak out she has her feet planted on the floor, hands planted on the edge of the bed, and blonde locks are an absolute horror hanging in her face. It doesn't much help with her position that she's the responsible one in the room. "What're you doin' in my bed!?"

"Whoa, whoa--" He lets her go almost immediately after her noise of surprise -- and he's laughing. Jackie's a wildcat, and he's just laughing about it, amused. Taking up an easy pose in the bed, on his side, head propped up in one hand -- like he belonged there. Didn't he? His body did, but it didn't, all at the same time. "You said whatever I want? Didja forget already?" Clearly not put off though, or actually trying to guilt her; maybe he'd known it was a longshot anyway. Turning over onto his back (and he winces for it, but doesn't shy away from it), stretching out, yawning widely before folding his hands behind his head. "Where else would I be? C'mon, you're not gonna make me sleep on the couch or somethin', are you? Afraid you're not gonna be able to resist temptation?" Sly (or trying to be), waggling his brows at her.

She was stunned into silence, staring at him through a fallen lock of blonde hair and working through everything that she knew about Ben's switches. None of this added up. "You're never here in the morning." It sort of made Harry sound like a one night stand and, sickeningly enough, something just at the back of Jackie's mind reminded her that Harry usually was. Thanks, brain. "And when I said you could have whatever you wanted I meant alcohol, not me."

There was no way to go about it, no way that she knew of to trigger Ben back into place. That would have made life in general a lot easier, wouldn't it? No, the only triggers she knew were... "That sorry sonofabitch!" Sam did this, or was doing this. This was her punishment for calling him like a dog, which he hated. He was pushing Harry to the forefront, if that's how it even worked, and somewhere deep in Ben's head laughing like an a**hole. Jackie sank her head, blonde hair falling in curtains around her face in defeat.

Harry takes it the same way, apparently, because, "Well, yeah, because who needs to like... make each other breakfast or whatever. I'm not about that. Wham, bam, thanks, classy lady." There's some lazy little finger-guns pointed at the ceiling to punctuate the 'wham, bam,' and he's snickering after. "I didn't take you for the kinda girl that would want it that way too, though. But that's okay. I like surprises."

He just shrugs it off when she corrects him about having whatever he wants, and when she lets out the curse, it doesn't faze him. "I'm gonna go, like..." A meaningless little hand gesture, and then he gets out of bed, wanders off -- to the bathroom, first, if Jackie follows him, and then to the kitchen to get some cereal. Like this was normal. Like he already had some kind of morning routine.

Wham, bam, Jackie's nose wrinkles in disgust and she shoves her hand through her hair to force it back from her face. "Okay, okay, just shuttup about it." He doesn't just shut up about it, he's ready to go. Panic flashes through Jackie that he's going to leave the house even though he's still in his- Ben's pajamas, but no. She's left standing in the hallway when the bathroom door closes. When he comes out she does follow him, similar to the way Shadow follows Ben day to day. She's quiet, studying him, unsure why he's still here and how she's going to deal with him. Has she ever seen Harry in the light of day? "What do you... do?" It was so broad and it would either confuse the hell out of Harry or cause him to give her an answer she didn't want but she couldn't make enough sense of the situation to narrow the question down.

Maybe he wouldn't be so over the top in the morning. Maybe he'd tone it down. Probably doesn't have an off switch, but maybe he didn't need to be full volume all the time. "What do I do?" Glancing over his shoulder at her, he's going through the kitchen cabinets until he finds a bowl and a box of frosted flakes. "I dunno. That's a weird question," snickering, he pours himself some cereal, finds a spoon in the silverware drawer, goes into the fridge for milk. "What do you do?" He's not sarcastic or aggressive in the question, just curious and a little confused, like he's going to use her answer for guidance for his own. "Like, you know," he pours milk over his cereal, picks up the bowl and spoon, turns to face her, leaned back against the counter, hips against the edge of it. "Whatever. Have fun. Make friends. Meet pretty girls." Grinning widely, easily, and then he shrugs, digs in to his cereal. "You gotta go buy some booze. Fun isn't as fun without it. C'mon, you like to party, you know what I mean. I can tell."

He repeats the question and Jackie nods dumbly trying to urge him along in answering a question she doesn't even fully understand herself. "I know it's weird, but... humor me?" It's odd watching Harry navigate her kitchen so easily like he lives here. Technically, he does live here, doesn't he? Or moreso he lives in Ben's head. Same thing? Jackie squints, trying to force away her own meandering thoughts to focus on what he says. "I work. I take care of my family. I hang out with my friends." Nose wrinkle, at what he says about meeting pretty girls and her. "I like to have fun. The way you say I like to party doesn't sound right." Staring at him like some sort of science experiment ready to explode at any moment. "I'm going to go shower an' get dressed. Maybe you can finish eatin' your cereal and I'll put out some clothes for you on the bed? Just... don't leave. When I get done we can go to the store. I need to go grocery shoppin' anyway and... we can get you some booze. You can pick out what you want for dinner, too." Hoping the more enjoyable she made the house for him, the less he would want to leave.

"What doesn't sound right about it? C'mon," and it's a little cajoling, winkwinknudgenudge. "You don't gotta lie about it. But whatever," shrugging easily, eating another spoonful of cereal while he listens to her suggestions. The way she looks at him seems to go right over his head, because he doesn't ask why she's giving him such a wary look. "Sure, yeah. I can stick around for a little while. Especially if it means I get free booze outta the deal." A little motion at her with his spoon. "Maybe you can drop me off at the casino? Just for a little bit." Shifty-eyed, though, so it's probably a good bet he's planning on doing something not quite legal while he's there.

"I don't know. I'm carryin' a child. I'd rather not be referred to as likin' to party especially in the sense you usually mean." He tosses out a whatever and maybe that could be the end of it. "Only a little while?" When he leaves does that mean Ben would be back? Is this some weird anomaly where Harry is more fine tuned and aware when he's going to leave and she's just never experienced it before? Either way, she doesn't like the look of his expression or the idea of letting him out of her sight. "I'd rather hang out. Call me clingy 'cause of pregnancy hormones or somethin'. And I can't go into the casino because it's got like, a smog of cigarette smoke in there. Let me get you some booze, I'll make you dinner, we can stop and rent whatever movies you want, we can even play cards again. Just hang around with me, please? I don't want to be alone." Worst is that she was being honest. She didn't want to be alone and hanging out with Harry somehow sounded even better than being in the house on her own.

"Well.. I'm not gonna stick around here forever. You're fun and all, but like... not fun." Not easy, is what he means, and that's clear from the suggestive look on his face -- but it's sort of hard to be mad at him, maybe, since he's just moving right along from it. She says she doesn't want him to go anywhere, and he looks a little disappointed, but when she says she doesn't want to be alone, it's almost as if that switches something on in him; his expression shifts to a smile. "Hey, hey-- I'll stay. We'll have fun together. We can do all kindsa fun stuff, okay?"

The day goes on, and Harry doesn't go anywhere. The day turns to night, and he's still there. He does try to put his arm around Jackie's shoulders at some point during the movie they end up watching, and he does try escaping the house after being banished to the couch to sleep, but Shadow, growling and barking, doesn't allow it. It seems he knows something isn't right, either.

The next morning, it's still Harry that wakes up in Ben's body. And the next, and the next. The days pass on relatively quietly, though Harry is, at times, difficult to keep out of trouble, even confined to the house. One afternoon he manages to find some weed he'd stashed god-knows-where in the house, and after fifteen minutes in the bathroom with it, the entire upstairs is permeated with the smell of the smoke. (Plus side -- he's in such a mellow mood afterward that he's easy to corral to the living room for the rest of the day.) After a couple of days, he doesn't even try to 'accidentally' brush up against Jackie in bed anymore. In a way, he's settling into the role of a dopey, annoying, but impossible to stay mad at roommate.

A week passes like that. The more distraught Jackie gets over Ben's absence, the less Harry talks about leaving, the more he tries to get her to laugh, to smile -- the more he assures her he'll stay. Probably the last thing she wants to hear.

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-10-16 00:57 EST
Saturday, August 24th, 2013 -- morning

It's always sort of confusing to come out of a long-term blackout, and this one was no exception for Ben. It's impossible to tell exactly how long he's been gone (a day? a few? a week? longer?), but he knows it's long enough that he's gone to bed and woken up, Jackie curled up next to him. He lays there for a moment, quiet, looking up at the ceiling, trying to piece together his last memories (even though nothing had happened in the meantime, the last things that had happened to him still felt like a long time ago). He remembers, abruptly, that it had been Jackie asking him what had happened, how he'd gotten injured, who she could talk to about the ghost -- insisting that she talk to someone about it. Telling him that he didn't have to talk about it, but someone else would. The sound of a strap.

Jackie's sleeping next to him, so he has plenty of time to calm himself down. Tell himself she'd done it because she cared, that she didn't understand how wrong it was for her to trigger someone else, in the moment. He's not able to get over it completely, but he doesn't think it's going to happen by brooding about it in silence alone, so he reaches over, without hesitation, and puts his hand on Jackie's shoulder, shaking her just slightly. "Hey. Wake up." Quiet, but loud enough in the silence of the early morning.

That was probably the best thing Harry could say, he's not going to stick around forever. Except Jackie does notice she has a pang of irritation when he calls her not fun, even if she didn't want to be his sort of fun. It's weird and conflicting. Thankfully he says he'll stay and that's all Jackie needs to hear to be confident about leaving the room and showering in peace. This couldn't last for more than a day, could it? It did. Day after day after day after day. Each one wearing on her more than the last. The second morning she had woken up with a sense of renewed hope that it would be Ben in bed beside her. It wasn't. The next morning her hope was much more reserved. After that, hope didn't exactly exist.

Throughout the days Jackie did her best to manage Harry, to keep him somewhat entertained while maintaining her sanity along with Ben's health, dignity, and whatever else she could protect from Harry and his antics. At first it was almost funny, in the sense that she had to laugh to keep herself sane. As days went on, it was much harder to laugh let alone smile and much to her chagrin that usually only kept Harry around even more. By the end of the week a black cloud had settled itself firmly over Jackie, a cloud full of questions and speculation over whether her husband would ever actually return. She couldn't even bring herself to really babysit Harry much anymore but he was drawn to her even more than and wanting to cheer her up. What a wretched circle.

Jackie had taken to sleeping in more and more as the days went by, in bed early and rising late. Everything inbetween that was a mess that she couldn't bring herself to face. When the hand settled on her shoulder, her body curled in an attempt to get away from it, seemingly out of habit because she was still somewhat asleep for a few moments longer until she sighed out a response which rang of clear defeat. "Harry, you know where the cereal is. Can I just have one more hour of sleep before I have to do another booze run?" It was something she had done before and regretted afterwards, but desperate times called for desperate measures and if alcohol was what it took to keep Harry happy and out of her hair, so be it.

He doesn't pull his hand back when she tries to move away from his touch. It's not until she calls him Harry that he lets go. He can hear the desperation in her voice, and it triggers a pang of something that he tries to ignore -- he wants to be mad at her, not feel sorry for her. She'd brought whatever had happened on herself, hadn't she? She'd made that choice. Why should he feel bad for her? But he does feel bad for her, and after a pause, his hand moves to her shoulder again, and there's a little less gruffness in his voice this time. "Not Harry, Jackie. It's me."

She might have been half asleep but she had noticed that, the hand pulling back when she said Harry. It was another day of dealing with Ben's bumbling boob and booze driven personality. It was only more reason for her to bury her face deeper into her pillow and already chalk the next twenty-four hours up to a wash. But the hand returns and before she can shake it off or get angry there's that rough assurance she has the wrong guy. Or more accurately, the right one had returned.

Her body rolled aside to face him, eyes wide and disbelieving as they search out his expression for some sort of sign that it was actually him. This isn't the sort of trick that Harry would have the sense to pull off but after a full week of Ben being MIA it was hard to believe that just as quietly he had left he had once again returned. "Ben? Is it really you?" Quiet, barely even able to be heard in the silence of the house. It held the cautious air of treading on thin ice and fully aware one false move could plunge you deep below the chilled waters.

He doesn't answer right away, pausing to take in the look on her face. This is far from the first time they've woken up together like this, with Ben not being there when his body falls asleep beside her, but she usually doesn't have this kind of disbelief written all over her face, so obviously present in her voice. Not so cautious. He notices, then, that the injuries he'd had the last time he'd been present, the welts that ran black, blue, and bloody across his back, didn't hurt nearly as much as they had before. It must've been a while. "Yeah, it's really me." But he doesn't reach for her. "How long's it been?" And now, maybe, he's a little cautious, like he doesn't want to know the answer. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

She certainly didn't have her usual glow about her that Ben loved talking to her about, reminding her that she had it since the first day he met her. Jackie looked run down, tired even if she only just woke up, dull skinned and flat. His time away had not been kind to her, more than likely her own worrying adding fuel to the flames of doubt. He assures her it's him and even then she's not leaping onto him like she normally would, making up for lost time with hugs and kisses. "One week." The words are so simple and so painful. "I didn't know if you were comin' back. I didn't know if you just... got stuck and it was goin' to be another year like before." It occurred when he was a child but who said what happened to him didn't usher in a repeat?

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-10-16 00:58 EST
There's not a lot of outward show of emotion when she tells him how long it's been, though he can hear the thud of his heart in his ears a little too loudly then. It's not until she says that she didn't know if he was coming back at all, that she expresses those fears, that there's a twinge of something that flits across his expression, and whatever it is, it makes him reach for her, pull her in close, if she'll go. "C'mere, sweetheart." It's not just because he wants her to feel better, not just because he wants to comfort her. It's because he has no way to tell her -- or himself -- that maybe someday he would get stuck. Maybe he'd just disappear someday. The thought is terrifying, and he doesn't know how to deal with it other than to try to ignore it, and to try to find some comfort in her, like he's done so many times before. "I don't have to say it, do I?"

She's face to face with Ben, he's gathering her in his arms to pull her close and in return she's clinging to the front of his shirt and twining her legs through his. Jackie has been waiting days for this, counting hours, feeling disappointed with every passing minute where it doesn't happen. Now that it's here? It feels surreal and she's unable to let herself fully get wrapped in any sort of relief, not just yet. A too real possibility that someday Ben would simply go away has been brought to light and even if she wants to get lost in his touch and the happiness that he's back, it's difficult. Besides, there's another very solid reason why it was hard for her so readily to accept any sort of comfort about this situation. "You don't have to say it. I brought it on myself."

One hand goes to the back of her head, fingers, curling into her hair, his other arm tight around her waist. He might've been hesitant at first, allowing the distance to linger between them, but he doesn't want anything between them now. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, closes his eyes, keeps his face part-buried in her hair when he finally speaks again. "I love you. I know you meant to help. But never, ever do that again. Please." His voice shakes a little -- the intensity of the demand, the intensity of his feelings for her, how much he fears losing her, losing himself. A brief squeeze, the embrace even tighter for a few seconds, another kiss pressed to her hair.

Her head bows itself towards her hands that are still firmly tangled in his shirt and show no signs of moving. "I'm sorry." The words instantly crack with emotion but she's quickly silencing herself, refusing to speak again until she knows she can do it without crying because she doesn't want to give Harry any sort of excuse to come around. It actually takes quite a while for her to manage and all throughout it she doesn't move aside from her back rising and falling heavily. "It was wrong and I'm sorry. I only wanted to help. I didn't mean for..." She couldn't do it, she could barely make it through full sentences without becoming a mess and instead she simply nodded her head to show she understood.

"I know you are," just a murmur, and right after her apology, his fingers start to comb through her hair. He doesn't push it in either direction -- doesn't say anything to further explain why it was wrong, doesn't say it's fine, he forgives her, nothing is wrong. He's just quiet, holding her, letting her try to calm herself down, his only movement the repeated motion of his fingers through her blonde waves. She tries again, but has to trail off; he disentangles himself from her somewhat, but only to press his hands to her cheeks, holding her still while he kisses her forehead, lets the contact linger a moment, then presses his forehead to hers. "I know. But if I don't want to talk to you about something, sweetheart? That's my choice. You work it out with me. You don't make me go away because you'll get better answers from someone else." It was harsh, he knows it is, but it still hurt, what she'd done, and he knew it was something he'd resent until he explained just what about it hurt so badly. But the whole time, he doesn't let go, and his voice is quiet, soft. He's not mad at her anymore. Just hurt, and even that has started to fade in the face of the guilt he can tell she feels. "You understand me, sweetheart?" His hands stay on her cheeks, framing her face between his palms. "I forgive you. But tell me you understand."

Her forehead settles against his and she's much better off listening to him right now than trying to form her own sentences. The regret over what she did was mixing with the relief of Ben being back and it was the makings for a very blubbery Jackie, the last thing she wanted. "But then you don't talk to me about everything. Some things, of course, but it felt like you were going to brush off something so big and what was I supposed to do? It's not just you anymore Ben, or me, and even Adam is gettin' to the point where he's not immune to all this and he's not even a teenager yet. Now we got a baby comin' and how are they goin' to be raised? With things we can't talk about? Things we just sweep under the rug?" The calm heat of her words helped to douse the urge to cry but she was still well aware of her wrong doings. "I'm voicin' my opinion, but yes, I understand." Quiet and sincere.

Somewhere in the middle of that, he starts to put his fingers through the hair at her temple, over and over, thumb dragging along the curve of her cheek. "Then you work it out with me, Jackie. You don't use my own illness against me." So quiet, and still hurt, but he finally kisses her softly, forehead against hers again after the brief press of their mouths together. "I'm trying. Alright? I promise you I am. But you have to be on my side. I need to be able to trust you. I do trust you. But something like that makes it really, really hard." He bites his lip, closes his eyes, then lets out a sigh. "I get where you're coming from. I don't want it to be like that. But I need to know you're not gonna hurt me just because I'm being stubborn -- just because I need a little more time. I know it's a lot to ask, but you have to be patient with me, peaches." Opening his eyes finally, resuming the comb of his fingers through her hair, though it's a lot slower now, idle. "And I promise you I am doing my goddamn best. I swear I am. And if that's not good enough, then you just need to wait until I can do better -- until I can do better. I'm sorry."

Wincing when he says that, using his own illness against him. "I wasn't tryin' to use it against you. I was tryin' to help." Pitiful because now in hindsight she knows how wrong she went about it. It wasn't that she was trying to deny she did something wrong, she was aware now, but the last thing she wanted was for Ben to think that she would have gone out of her way to intentionally hurt him. She was focused on a solution, trying to fix things, and not on taking care of him first. Everything she always promised she wouldn't do. "I don't want to hurt you and I'm sorry I did." Her head sinking further into the pillow beneath the tender brush of his fingers. It had been such a trying week for everyone and even with him speaking so quietly to her, being so gentle, it still weighed on her too heavily. "I know you're doin' your best, sweetheart. I got impatient and wasn't thinkin' straight." She meant what she said but the words were starting to sound too automatic. She was remorseful over what she had done but they could only say sorry back and forth so many times. Instead she closed her eyes with a heavy sigh, taking in the feel of his fingers through his hair. "I'll do better." A final mumbled promise was all she could muster.

"I know." The absent motion of his fingers through her hair pauses, but it's only so he can palm the back of her head, guide it against his chest, hide his face against the top of her head. "I know. We're both trying our best. We'll both do better." Turning his head so his cheek is pressed to her hair instead, voice a little less muffled when he goes on, though it goes a little hesitant, even quieter. "Did you at least find anything out?"

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-10-16 01:00 EST
It's a comfort she would happily take. Maybe the roles should have been more reversed, maybe she was the one that should have been hugging him to her chest. Or maybe this was so natural for them, for him to nurture her, that the sense of familiarity was what they needed right now. The barest of nods in reply, we'll both do better. This could only be a minor setback, right? It wouldn't send them spiraling after all the progress they had completed so far? Pondering that was brought to a halt with a dry laugh. "Sam is probably going to have my head the moment I'm not pregnant anymore. Harry likes fruit loops for breakfast and if allowed he will eat macaroni and cheese everynight for dinner." She went silent after that. That was all she gathered after her brilliant plan was put into motion.

"He won't," quiet, even though it was a real possibility. The progress Ben had managed to make with his protector alter very well may have been damaged after this. He won't know for sure until he investigates it further, and now's not the time for it. Silent too, just running his fingers lazily through her hair, listening to the muted chirp of birds outside. It could almost be a normal morning. "I don't think he'll hurt you," sudden. After all the prodding the last time he'd been present, all the refusal, and now he's just opening up with it. "--Roland, I mean. The ghost. Not Sam." He can't feel it now, the presence of the ghost that haunted him, and maybe the time spent away, inside himself, really had helped. Maybe that's what makes him bold enough to tell her. Or maybe, maybe, it had been her telling him that it wasn't just him anymore. He had a family to worry about, too. "He's around all the time. Every day, almost. Usually he won't talk to me, but... it got worse when you were gone." Sighing, he shuts his eyes, tightens his hold on her slightly. "I was up in the attic one night, and I just... I told him to go. I told him he wasn't real, it was all in my head-- He touched me on the shoulder. Said he was as real as I was. I blacked out, woke up with the bruises on my wrists." And the bloody welts on his back. She has to know. Shaking his head, slowly, not entirely because he doesn't want to disturb her, but like he's trying to piece things together, too. "I think... I think he really did just want me to know he's real. To stop ignoring him. Which," laughing a little, helpless, "I don't know, I guess it didn't work completely, did it?" Considering he'd tried ignoring it when Jackie had questioned him about it.

Her scoff said she didn't believe that. "You didn't see him, Ben. Or hear the things he said. I messed up. I messed up real bad and he's gonna remember. Then he's gonna remind me after January." After some silence he says he doesn't think he'll hurt her. Jackie is ready to shoot that down quickly but he seems to read her mind, is a step ahead of her and corrects that he's speaking about Roland. She frowns anyway, the fact that she has to be assured about a ghost. Still, she laid quietly tucked against him, allowing him to pull her in further when he needed it. She listened to him carefully and waited before she chimed in. "It makes me wonder if the reason Roland is here, why he's able to... do what he does... is because of us bein' in RhyDin. I mean, there are so many oddities in this town I guess bein' a ghost around here would be a walk in the park." Her frown deepened. "But okay, he wants to get your attention and for you to stop ignorin' him, but why? What's the point? He got somethin' to say? You say he doesn't talk to you." It was easier this way, to focus on the problem at hand instead of everything she had done wrong in the past week.

"It's a long time until January, Jackie." Even though it's hard to say who needs it more at this point, he takes on a reassuring tone for at least that much, drops a kiss to the top of her head, curls his fingers into her hair where they stay, for now. "I won't let him do anything to you. I promised you that before. I meant it then, mean it now." It had almost broken him the first time around, fighting with Sam -- the month of alter-free life afterward -- and the sudden shift back to it later on. Still, he sounds fierce about it, protective, even though his voice is still so quiet.

After that, though, he backs down some. He doesn't want to talk about it, but he knows he doesn't really have a choice. He knows it's selfish to keep avoiding it. "It must be. I never saw him in Vancouver after he died." A pause, a slightly overlong one (and if she could see his face, it'd gone absolutely blank), but eventually he comes out of it. "Maybe he wants to talk to me but I can't talk to him. I have a hard time... sticking around." There's no point in being vague about a blackout to Jackie, but he does it anyway. "It has to be forgiveness. Either he wants it, or he thinks I need it. I don't know." Even quieter by the end, but still, "And I don't know how to do that, anyway."

Jackie wants to point out that it's even more time for Sam to get worked up until he reaches the point where he can rip her head off, but she keeps it to herself. He sounds so determined that part of her wants to believe him, another small part of her already does."I know, Ben." One hand unhooking from his shirt so she can drag fingertips along the stubble of his jaw.

With her head tucked against him the way it is she misses the lull in his expression. She takes the silence as him working it through before he speaks. That would be understandable since it was a lot to comprehend. "It's not fair." She sounds like a petulant child but she doesn't care. "He doesn't deserve forgiveness and you didn't do anythin' that needs to be forgiven." He didn't know how to do it and Jackie wouldn't be able to help that well since she thought it was ridiculous. "So, he's just goin' to keep the household hostage because he's an a**hole that can't rest in peace." The sadness that had laced her voice for so long was quickly becoming heated even if it was quiet. It was unclear if it was better to have a sulking Jackie on your hands or an angry one.

He's glad she just gives in to that, tells him, in essence, that she believes him. It helps steel him up, solidify his resolve to make sure nothing happened to her. One time was enough.

He sighs when she says it isn't fair -- and he doesn't protest it at all, doesn't try to cut her off. She's right, after all. But he'd rather have a sulking Jackie than an angry one -- he's out of it, after the weeklong blackout, and her anger, as understandable as it is, isn't something he can handle right then. "No, he won't." Not as defiant as before, not so confident, but it's not a weak declaration, either. He'd said the same thing before, assured her this haunting wouldn't be a problem for them, but he sounds more sure of himself this time. "I'll go to a shrink. I'll find one. I need to work through this and make it stop. If it was just me, I'd deal with it, but... it's not just me anymore." A little more quiet by the end of that; he'd realized partway through the admission that highlighting his lack of self-regard probably wasn't the best thing to do in front of Jackie. Instead of backtracking, though, he just laughs suddenly, lets her go, rolls over onto his back, grinding the heels of his palms against his eyes. "Jesus Christ. Maybe it's a f*cking blessing, making me face this finally." Another sigh, and then he drops his hands from his face, reaches over for one of hers. "Are you okay?" A little bit hesitant in the question, and he suspects her answer will be a lie, but he has to ask anyway.

She wants to ask how he's so sure but she knows that the words will have too much bite in them that's not intended for him. She's angry at the situation, angry at Roland, still angry at herself. All of that dissolves away, doesn't vanish but it's certainly masked by Ben's statement. Her head lifts to blink up at him. He admits that he wouldn't take much action if the situation only concerned him, but that doesn't surprise her. She could have told him that herself since it was a nasty trait he's had for far too long. The anger that was in her sizzles out. "Do you think a shrink will be able to help with this?" It wasn't sarcastic, it was draped in just a little bit of hope that maybe Ben somehow had the answer to his problem she never would have thought of. And just as quickly, those three little words are causing her expression to sink and shut down. It was easier to focus on him, his problems, how to keep the family safe. When it came to her she just wanted to gloss over the last week and everything it has churned within her. "I'm fine." She rolls over onto her back but she can't even lay like that for long and soon she's rolling out of bed and rising to her feet.

He can't help it, her question causes his brows to draw together slightly, a little bit pained. Maybe there really was no fixing this. Maybe he was just haunted forever. It was sort of unnerving, but he's used to being unnerved -- and besides, soon after, she's brushing off his own question, lying like he figures, but he hadn't counted on her leaving, too. "--hey, no, Jackie--" Too delayed in reaction to actually connect on the grab he makes for her wrist, but he's getting out of bed right after, trying to catch her in a hug from behind, one hand ending up resting on the swell of her stomach. "C'mere. You're not fine." Any lingering anger he felt toward her, any resentment, was completely gone now. "And we need to talk about..." It's hard to finish the sentence -- hard to figure out how, hard to get the words out once he does, swallowing thickly during the pause. "About what to do if that happens again." Or worse. The words are left unsaid, but somehow they hang in the air between them anyway, the idea that he might never come back.

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-10-16 01:02 EST
He took her question the wrong way and she probably would have managed to tell him that if she wasn't busy trying to get her robe out of the closet, a plan that's interrupted when she's captured from behind. She doesn't want to talk about it right now but his hand on her stomach is a welcome thing and she leans herself back against him, not finding the will within to dart away from him when all she's prayed for this week is his return. What do they need to talk about? Her feelings? She wasn't going to be owning up to those anytime soon. No, what he actually wants to talk about is even worse than that and that is even to make her pull away from him. "No! I don't want to talk about it. I've been thinking about it all week, playing out every scenario in my head and I don't want to think about it anymore!" She doesn't need to busy herself with the excuse of a robe. She just needs to get somewhere that she can breathe. "I don't want to talk." Skirting past him so she can head for the door of the bedroom.

When it came to his own personal life, especially dealing with his illness, he never planned ahead. Usually, he didn't think about it at all, just dealt with it when it came up, sometimes got ambitious and tried to do a little self-help ahead of time -- but trying to make these kinds of plans? That was unheard of. The way she relaxes back against him, he thinks she might actually be alright with having that conversation now, but after he bites the bullet and brings it up, it's obvious he was wrong.

He lets her go without a fight, even putting up his hands a little, sort of surrender. And really, he should let it go. He should just feel bad for her, should be doing his best to comfort her. She's been without him for an entire week, she's been dealing with the fear that she had no idea when he'd come back. It's hard for Ben to comprehend, though -- he hadn't missed her, because he hadn't been conscious at all in that week. So instead of being sensitive to that, he's just annoyed at the situation, that he's trying to be proactive and she's refusing, and it comes out in a frustrated sigh. "That's not fair, Jackie. I didn't want to talk either, and I did." Eventually. After a week, after she'd tried to get answers from someone else because Ben had been refusing. "This isn't something we can just ignore." Following after her, but he's keeping some distance now.

Jackie doesn't even want pity, which is surprising. She has her childish moments of wanting to be spoiled with attention, wanting to be coddled and held while being assured everything was going to be alright. Right now? No, she wanted distance. Not so much from Ben but from this conversation. His irritated tone just makes her pick up her pace to pull the door open and move for the bathroom. "How many times have I said I won't push?" Her call echoing against the tile of the shower before the addition of running bath water followed it. "I pushed one goddamn time, Ben. And I'm sorry for it! I'm sorry! But I'm not doin' this right now and you can't make me, do you hear me!?" She's getting herself a towel from the closet, such casual tasks even though her voice is getting more worked up the closer his casual pace brings him. "I just spent the entire week thinkin' I wasn't goin' to see you again. What if you weren't here when the baby was born? What if I was stuck with Harry!?" The towel wasn't supposed to be a weapon but at the peak of her yelling it's flung at his chest. "F*ck you! If I want to ignore this right now I'm going to! You can't even give me an hour of relief! You a**hole!" The words should sound fierce but they can't since they were gurgled between sobs and tears were following shortly behind. She was on the move, back into the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind her.

He's really not expecting her to get that worked up. He probably should be, considering what she'd been through, but he's not, and it stops him in his tracks at some point. So stunned, he doesn't even move instinctively to try to catch the towel or fend it off; it hits him in the chest, falls to the floor. By the end of it, by the time she's flinging insults at him, he's out of the shock, but then he just looks hurt, sorry. If she'd actually managed to get through it all without tears, he'd probably be as worked up as she was, yelling at her in return, but the way she breaks down stops any chance of that happening. He's not able to stop her from hiding herself in the bathroom, and he doesn't even try to follow her in right away, first just leaning up against the doorjamb, quiet for a long time, listening. Eventually, maybe once the water turns off, "Jackie? C'mon. I'm sorry." And he tries the doorknob then, too.

The sound of running water, the quiet echo of music from a shower radio Jackie loved and had playing everytime she was taking a bath or putting on her make-up, and sporadic crying. Those were the sounds that came from the bathroom for the next half hour to forty-five minutes. Eventually the water shuts off and it's quiet, not even a response at first to Ben's call. Maybe another five minutes later the door opens and Jackie is in the same pajamas she had stomped into the bathroom wearing, only now they were wet because she had given up her towel to him without thinking and soggy blonde locks hung limply at her shoulder. "Don't make me talk about it." Her eyes were rimmed with red but she looked calmer overall. Her voice sounded calmer when she spoke too but it was still edged with pleading. "Don't make me talk right now."

He does start to worry some once the water shuts off and she doesn't respond to him -- but it's irrational. Jackie's not Ella. Closed bathroom doors and emotional girls hidden away inside aren't usually something to be so concerned about. He waits it out, and there's the tiniest bit of triumph when she comes out of the bathroom unscathed, though it's overshadowed by the remorse he feels. "I won't, babe. Not right now. C'mere," but without waiting for a response from her, he pulls her into a tight hug, ignoring that he's going to get damp from her wet clothes. "I shouldn't've pushed like that. Wasn't thinking."

She nods her head absently when he agrees he won't make her talk and in return for his promise she doesn't fight him when he gathers her into a hug. Her arms slide around him, head turning to press her cheek against his shoulder. "I know you didn't mean it. And I pushed first. I know, I know." She can't even put complete thoughts together so she reverts to burying her face against him. "I want to lay down." She had just gotten up, showered, but she was already giving up on the day. Or at least the first half of it. Maybe she could sleep and wake up again, pretend this morning or the past week never happened. She was learning far too many tricks about side stepping situations from Ben.

"I know you didn't mean it either." Face half-hidden against the top of her head, even though her hair's wet. He stays like that a moment, even when she tells him she wants to lay down again, but eventually he pulls away some, though he does take one of her hands in his. Reluctant to let her go completely, for whatever reason. "Alright, sweetheart. And I want to hold you for a while." Starting for their bedroom again, he barely pauses when he stoops to pick up the towel, and only lets go of her hand when he starts to dry her hair with the towel, lazy about it (though it was an act; he felt nothing but tension inside). "We'll just... we'll just be together today. How's that sound?" He should know better, since it's his own tendency, his own preferred coping mechanism, the avoidance, but she gets it past him easily; he falls right into supporting her in that sidestepping.

She wonders if he's actually going to try to tell her no to going back to bed, if he'll deny her the chance to properly wallow in what their long awaited reunion had become. Instead he's taking her hand, agreeing with her even if the satisfied wave that washes over her isn't enough to affect her outwardly. "You can hold me." Like he needed permission, but at least it was nice to assure him it was welcome. The way she follows him, how she stops when he starts to dry her hair even if she gives no further reaction than that, it's all reminiscent to the zombies in the classic horror movies Ben loves so much. She's practically shut down even if she continues to answer him. "Yeah. We'll do that." All the thoughts that had infiltrated her mind throughout the week, they quieted for the first few moments of Ben's return but the idea of coming up with a game plan. The idea this could happen again. It was too much to cope with and she needed to sleep it off. Whether he followed or not she trudged along to the bed and climbed into it without any hesitation, wrapping herself beneath the blankets.

Eventually, he lets her go on ahead of him, sighing quietly, holding the damp towel between both hands. Doesn't want to let her out of his sight, so he just drops it on the floor and follows after her. "You're gonna get sick, babe. Wet clothes." Doesn't pull her out of bed, though, instead just getting under the blankets with her. "Lemme just...?" He doesn't even finish asking permission, since he has a feeling she's way too blank and complacent to argue with him anymore, just trailing off in the question before starting to strip her wet pajamas off. If she doesn't fight him on it, as soon as that's done, he's pulling her close. There's not anything he can say to undo the way the morning had gone, but at least he can offer a quiet, "I'm here," muffled into her hair.

Jackie hears his worry, somewhere in her head she acknowledges it, but she can't bring herself to do anything about it. There's not a word from her when he starts peeling wet clothes off her and while she's adjusting herself somewhat to make his job easier it's not by much. She lets him draw her in and she's burrowing further beneath the blanket, into her pillow, and against him. Her very own fortress against everything she didn't want to deal with or think about. His last words, I'm here, were probably the most comforting thing he could give her right now and it was with that thought humming steadily through her head that she lost herself in sleep.