Topic: February 20th: The Nature of My Circuitry

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-03-11 23:04 EST
Wednesday, February 20th, 2013 -- late evening

Jackie?d said that she wasn?t going to bother Ben about talking until after they?d gone back to his place and watched a movie, and Ben was fine with that. He fakes it well enough, feeling okay, during the walk to his house, and maybe even a little better once they?re inside and he?s trying to get Adam to go to bed after Hayley leaves to go home. Adam doesn?t seem bothered by Jackie being there, not even when Ben tells him that she?ll probably be staying the night. Really, the only thing that seems to bother him at all about the evening is that Ben?s making him go to bed even though Ben and Jackie were going to stay up and watch a movie.

?Listen, it?s some dumb chick-flick romance movie anyway,? Ben?s explaining to him from his lean against the bathroom doorway. Adam?s brushing his teeth, but he rolls his eyes anyway, like he doesn?t believe him. Ben tries not to laugh, though there?s still a little bit of amusement in his voice when he tells him, ?Really. You wouldn?t like it.?

Adam grumbles a ?whatever? at his father as he edges past him through to door, heads into his bedroom. He leaves the door open, though, so Ben takes that as an invitation, and he follows as far as his son?s bedroom doorway. ?Goodnight, Adam.? Ben waits for a response for a moment, but Adam is in bed with his back turned to the door, and he doesn?t say anything back, so Ben leaves him to sulk, stepping back from the doorway and shutting the door, leaving it cracked just a little. He makes it a couple steps down the hall before he hears, ?Dad??

Ben does an aboutface, opens the door enough to see into the room. ?Yeah??

Adam?s still in bed, but facing the door now. ?Are things getting worse instead of better?? Ben feels like all the air?s been knocked out of him, and he can?t formulate a response before his son follows with, ?I mean, with you being sick. Is it bad again?? Adam doesn?t sound scared. That isn?t why he?s asking. But he sounds concerned, worried, and that breaks Ben?s heart a little.

Ben doesn?t answer right away -- can?t answer, really -- but he moves into the room, shuts the door most of the way behind him (though the only other person in the house is Jackie, and even if she happened upon the conversation, it wasn?t anything she didn?t already know about), and sits on the edge of Adam?s bed. He feels old, suddenly, and he keeps his hands folded in front of him, keeps his focus there. Avoidant of his own too-perceptive son. ?Yeah.? Letting out a sigh after the one word answer, and then he distracts himself unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows, slowly, meticulous about it, even though he normally wouldn?t be. ?Yeah, it?s been bad lately, kiddo.?

?I thought you were getting better.? It isn't accusatory or betrayed -- again, just worried, maybe a little frustrated. He's tracing the lines in the plaid pattern of his bedsheets -- it's a fidgety little thing that an anxious Ben might do, too.

Ben bites his lip, uncertain of what to tell his son. He doesn't want to lie, but he doesn't want to let him know just how bad things are, either. After a long pause, "You trust me?" He turns enough to make eye contact with his son, brows lifted a little. Somehow, he manages not to look too pained -- not to let on that he's afraid to know the answer.

Adam studies his father's face for a moment, then nods, only once, but firmly, decisive. Ben can feel some of the tension in his shoulders disappear.

?Okay. Then... you need to trust me when I say that sometimes, things get worse before they get better.? Adam frowns, his brows knitting, and Ben isn?t really sure why -- but then his son reaches over, grabs Ben?s forearm, pulls on it a little. He?s seen the scars before -- Ben doesn?t make much effort to hide them -- but he?s never mentioned them, even though he must know Ben didn?t have them in the summer, before he disappeared from Vancouver. ?But they are getting better. It?s just not going to be easy. It helps that you?re here, though,? and Adam lets go of Ben?s arm, looks up at his face; at least he?s smiling a little.

?Really??

?Yeah, kiddo.? Adam?s probably too old for it, but Ben leans over to brush a kiss to Adam?s hair anyway; Adam lets him do it, but he makes a face and sort of huffs, which Ben ignores. ?Really. I feel a lot better just from you being here.?

Any sulking from Adam disappears; he just looks happy to hear it. Ben wonders, fleetingly, how much longer he has with his son like this, this kind of simplicity and innocence. He could never tell him, but his son?s resilience in the face of all he?s gone through because of Ben might be the thing that inspires him the most.

?Good night, Dad.?

?Night, Adam.? Ben gives him one more smile, tousles his son?s hair, and then gets up and leaves the room, shutting the door most of the way before heading back downstairs to the living room, where he assumes he?ll find Jackie with the movie cued up and ready to go.

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-03-11 23:05 EST
Jackie was more than reliable in having the movie ready and waiting to go when Ben came into the living room. She was well aware that Adam's getting ready for bed ritual seemed to take a little longer than what she had seen before, but since Ben didn't say anything about it she let it go. For now they would simply relax to a movie they had both seen more times than either of them would want to admit to another living soul. The time for conversation was saved for later as she had promised.

It didn't matter how many times Jackie and Ben watched The Notebook or Jackie watched it alone, by the end of it she was always sniffling one way or another. Tonight was no different when Ben tugged her off to the bedroom after turning off the TV. The pair slipped into their pajamas without much said between them and it almost seemed like Ben might be home free. Like Jackie might have forgotten about what she wanted them to talk about or maybe she was simply too tired to go over it tonight and it would be saved for another night.

They slid into bed, Jackie automatically invading Ben's side so she could curl herself into the curve of his body while facing him. One hand reached out to hook fingers into the fabric of his shirt, the other reaching out to soothingly brush fingertips at the side of his neck. Just when it seemed like she might sleepily tell him goodnight before drifting off, she brought it all crushing back down around them. "What's on your mind, sweetheart?"

Ben had really hoped that she'd let it go. He hoped that maybe the good cry she had at the end of the movie was enough emotion for one night. He's actually starting to doze off himself, one hand in her hair, the other under her cheek, when she breaks the quiet. "Sleeping." It's a joke, but sort of a weak one; the smile he follows it up with is a little wan, and it doesn't last very long. He's had all this time to think about how to tell her -- what to tell her -- but the words still don't come easily, and he's still not sure where to start. During the hesitation, his gaze wanders from her eyes to her mouth, and with a sigh, he actually looses his hand from her hair and turns onto his back, focus trained on the ceiling. "You've never talked to Ivan, right? And you and I haven't really talked about him either." He reaches up to pull her hand away from his neck, but he keeps her hand on his, lets them rest on his chest. "Harper talked to him for a long time a couple of weeks ago, and it's been ... not easy to deal with what they talked about. Figured out. You know, why he's ... whatever, why he exists. So I've been trying to work with that, but it's hard." He bites his lip, just for a second. "That's actually why Harry was around to talk to Peaches that one night. I guess it was too much for me to deal with." Easier to admit and explain all this than get into what exactly had been uncovered -- what exactly he's been trying to work through. Maybe he shouldn't, because they always promised honesty, but he hopes that maybe this explanation will be enough for Jackie and that she'll just leave it alone.

"Mmm, love your sense of humor." Quiet and honest, playful in an attempt to soften the mood like he tried even if it fell flat in the same manner. There's a brief pucker of a frown at her brow when he releases her hair but she realizes it's so he could stare upward. Maybe that made it not so bad, him relinquishing such a intimate and comforting gesture they shared between them. Jackie allows him to get settled, to place her hands were he wants them, and listens to the offered question. She pauses thoughtfully, trying to think back but it doesn't take long for her to barely shake her head. "No, Ivan an' I haven't met. And since I haven't met him you and I haven't much talked about him ever." Confirming what he already knew.

The mention of Harper makes her brows rise. Not so much because Ben spoke to her, she was aware of their sporadic appointments, but the fact that Ivan was the one causing Ben so much strife. Sam and Harry had always been the trouble makers, so for Ivan to somehow join the fray was not a welcomed thought. When he says it's been hard her hand tightened around his in a squeeze. "If it's been so hard I wish you would have told me sooner, sweetheart." She somehow managed to not even twist her lips at the mention of Harry and Peaches. She was far too focused on him and the issue at hand rather than a previous problem that had been solved as far as Jackie was concerned.

She's more than aware that he's beating around the bush and not coming clean about why Ivan's purpose is causing such issues. It's hard to not want to push and prod him into telling her what the problem is, but she's learned time and time again that's not the best way to handle a situation with Ben. Especially if she wants to keep the conversation between Ben and herself without anyone else dropping in. "What's Ivan like?" Quietly, a little unsure, hoping it's not too much to overstep bounds but that maybe it would give her some sort of idea about what's going on in Ben's head.

Ben sighs a little when Jackie says she wishes he would have told her sooner, but he does return the pressure when she squeezes his hand. "That's part of what makes it hard, sweetheart. It's..." He hesitates, thinking over how to explain it -- and then there's that fade in his expression, where he goes blank, absent. It's just a blip, though and right as the pause starts to grow uncomfortably long, he's back. Jackie's still right there, and it doesn't seem like he's moved either, so he goes on with the other question, just assumes the blackout was quick and uneventful.

"He's... Well, it's good you've never met him. He kind of calls people out on lies. Usually women, but not always. He's good at figuring out when people are even trying to lie to themselves, I guess." It's a difficult line to walk -- explaining enough, not just to satisfy Jackie but to actually maybe get some real help from her -- but trying at the same time not to let on what the real problem was, where this splinter of his personality came from. He trusts her more than almost anyone, but the instinct to protect his weak points, his sad history, is strong too.

Jackie is doing her best to not push him but he can't keep it all bottled inside, can he? Obviously that tactic isn't helping him much. She's quiet when he fades off, figuring that he's simply aligning his thoughts. It gets drawn out a little further and that's when she starts to worry. He's back, speaking again, but there's a bit of unease in the shadows of her expression that it's already too much too quickly.

She curls herself against him further, as if the physical contact might help to keep him anchored in place even though she knows that isn't the case. "Stay with me, Ben." Soft, encouraging. They couldn't spend the rest of their lives constantly tip-toeing around conversations like this so now was the time to learn if she could manage. Digging without damaging.

The explanation he gives is mulled over carefully. "I'll take it as a compliment I haven't met him, yeah. For better or worse we're honest with each other, so I guess he hasn't found much place between us." The pad of her thumb was brushed along the ridge of his knuckles. "You said that he was talkin' to Harper though. Her talkin' to a guy that points out the lies of women. Do y'know what y'all were talkin' about when he came around to see her?"

He knows that it isn't really his choice to stay or not, but he doesn't get annoyed at her for asking that -- he knows she knows that too. Somehow, it is just simply encouraging, and he gives her hand another squeeze to acknowledge that he's heard her, that he appreciates, that he's trying, if it's possible to try.

When she curls in closer, he puts his arm around her shoulders, sinks his hand into her hair. He knows the answer to her question, but he doesn't answer right away (though the constant, idle movement of his fingers through her hair should assure her that he's at least still there). After a quiet moment, he lets out a little huff of almost-laughter. "Yeah, standard shrink question, actually. The whole 'tell me about your mother' thing." Ben had already talked to Jackie about his mother -- sort of, even if he'd tried to keep it vague, shied away from too much detail, even wanted to defend her at times. "Harper pushed a lot more than you had." There's something just a little amused to his expression, but it doesn't last.

The shift of his fingers in her hair is enough to soothe her even through the silence so she allows it to drag on as long as he sees fit. She knows he has as much control over leaving as she does, but it doesn't stop her from trying her best to keep the conversation from delving too deep too quickly. Little by little. When he mentions his Mother her gaze tips up to his face even if she can only make out the highlights of his features from the moonlight. "Well, I think it's part of her job t'push. She's probably better at handlin' what happens after too much pushin' than I am so maybe it's good for her to do that."

It was her turn to hesitate briefly, trying to straighten her thoughts before continuing on. "So, to make sure I'm followin' this right..." Her gaze sank from his face, staring off at a random spot on the wall across the room instead. "Harper brings up your Mother and that cues Ivan, someone who is... prone to hangin' 'round women who are lyin' to you or to themselves." Well, Jackie was no doctor but it wasn't too difficult to connect the dots.

Ben can tell Jackie is watching him, but he just keeps his gaze trained up on the ceiling -- even when she hesitates in responding, and even when she sums up the conversation so far. His brows draw together, just a touch, a little pinch of a wince. "Yeah. That's... Well, you aren't dumb, Jackie." His fingers still in her hair; the air in the room feels suddenly heavy to him. He doesn't piece it together any further for her -- and actually, he tries to blow it off completely. "It was a long time ago." He shrugs, though the motion is a little rough, forced. "Doesn't matter now." Though they both know that isn't true, because if it didn't matter, Ben wouldn't be as strained as he's been lately.

"No, I'm not." So matter-of-fact. "But you're still here tellin' me it was long ago an' doesn't matter even though we both know that time alone doesn't heal all wounds. And if it didn't matter now then we wouldn't be havin' this conversation to begin with because nothin' would be eatin' at you." Lips puckered into a faint frown. What was she trying to accomplish with all of this? "I'm figurin' Ivan is gettin' into the mix of tryin' to tell you how you should feel about your Mother like Sam was before?" She didn't exactly wait for an answer. "I'm not going to force you to talk it out, Ben. Pros and cons, reasons why and why not. I still think that it's somethin' you need to figure out on your own. Not with them and not even with me. But it also makes me worried when y'keep things like this to yourself. Lettin' it eat at you ain't gonna help none." She rolled enough to rest on an elbow to lift herself just enough to peer at him. "You don't have to get opinions from me on somethin'. We don't gotta talk nothin' out to come up with a decision then and there. Sometimes... talkin' is just good to relieve some of the pressure that builds up from keepin' it all inside."

He's quiet through what she says, but mostly it's because he's conflicted. Finally he sighs, untangles his fingers from her hair. "It isn't like that. Nobody is telling me anything, not unless I try to... to think about it." To work through it, confront it. "Nothing 'builds up,' Jackie." Or that's what he tells himself, what he believed. "Not until Harper talked to Ivan and we talked about my mother. And since then, I've been all messed up about it, but it's because I'm thinking about it. Before it didn't bother me -- she didn't bother me -- because she wasn't important. I didn't think about her." Maybe it was talking to Adam that had done it. Finding out how obvious it was that he was having trouble. Or maybe it was talking to Jackie about it now, feeling so anxious about it, wanting to avoid it. "I mean..." He laughs a little, but it's that nervous type, and it sounds a little off besides -- a little sad. "What does it matter, right? Whether she knew what was going on or not, it doesn't make a difference."

Ben might have removed his hand from her hair, perhaps an attempt at some sort of space, but she wasn't having it. Her body shifted aside until her chin was settled against his chest, closer and still peering up at him. "So if you think about it too much someone else steps in? It obviously matters if you can't stop thinkin' about it and she's some sort of important if you want to know whether she knew or not. She's your Momma and the idea that you had in your head about her is bein' challenged. It might not make a difference to change anything that happened, but it's going to color how y'think of her now. And sometimes not knowin' is the worse."

Her head tipped forward, her forehead pressing against his chest while she tried to think it over. When she began speaking again she was slow to lift her head leaving the first few words of what she said muffled. "It's not an easy question by any means, Ben. But the fact it's still pickin' at y'seems to mean you wanna know the answer. I don't know how that can happen, maybe talkin' to Ivan or Sam directly?" She couldn't believe she was suggesting that. "I just want you to remember that while the things that happened to you in the past might have created the person y'are... it's the decisions you've made that have shaped the sort of man y'are today. Just you. An' you're a good man. Y'got Adam, y'got me, and you got a lot of positive things goin' on for you, sweetheart. Look at the past, figure it out, keep on healin' from it, but at the same time let it stay back there where it belongs. I guess that's the only helpful thing I can say, if it's even helpful at all." Her lips turned downward at the edges. The subject was so much more than she had imagined and she was worried she was floundering, doing more harm than good.

Ben really was trying to create distance -- physical and emotional -- so when Jackie moves in closer, while he doesn't push her away, he doesn't encourage her to stay close, either. "Yeah, when I think about it too much, somebody else steps in." His tone is a little short -- he doesn't raise his voice, and he's not upset with her. Just tense. Luckily, he doesn't need to address her suggestion of talking to Sam or Ivan. "No, I know the answer. She knew. She had to have known. I know that now." It isn't an easy thing to admit to, but it's manageable, because he doesn't go anywhere, no switch, no fade. After a couple of deep breaths, he turns to face her, puts his arms around her, his hand at the back of her head, keeping her head tucked beneath his chin. So often, that's a pose that's meant to comfort her, for him to take care of her, but right now, it's not any of that. Right now, it's just so he can avoid eye contact. "So she knew. So she let it happen." Just a murmur, but it's controlled. "So what."

He wasn't pushing her away, not exactly, not yet anyways. She would take it as a sign to continue but to tread carefully. She can feel the tension growing between them and hear the snap in his tone, but could she really stop now with a clear mind? Letting him keep this to himself, as 'to himself' as things got with Ben, for this long hadn't seemed to help. Would she even be able to help? It was a definite possibility that she wouldn't, but she had to make an effort. He would do the same for her if the tables were turned. To at least try to let her clear her mind, voice her worries, and tell her something uplifting. He was so good at that and she was constantly jealous of it since she always felt she was only a word away from making everything crash and burn. Advice over counters to strangers? That was easy. Private conversations with the one she loved cast in moonlight? Not simple by any means.

Jackie was sorting out the fact that no one was letting Ben ponder this problem too deeply on his own when his admittance that his Mother obviously knew what was going on dropped between them sharply. She's still stuck in stunned silence when he gathers her against him. She assumes he's only looking for a little bit of comfort, some assurance she was still there, not that he was hiding from her. "Oh, Ben." Softly, while arms draped around him, grasping at him in return. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. The words don't even begin to cover it but I'm so sorry." She allowed the quiet to linger between them, his 'so what' to painfully hang in the air.

It was after a minute or so when she managed to break the silence, though her voice was not much louder than a whisper. "It's not somethin' to 'so what' over, sweetheart. It's a big deal. I'm sure it hurts and I'm sure it raises a lot of questions for you. Maybe the first thing that comes to mind is to be angry at her, to think it means she didn't care." Fingers pressed into his back just a little more in a slow massage. She spoke so slowly, like walking over thin ice. "But sometimes... we gotta remember that our parents are people, too. Only human. And I think they all wanna try as hard as they can for us, but sometimes it's just not in 'em. They can't, they don't know how, they're not strong enough, too driven by other foolish thoughts. They do the best they can even if it's no good but it's all they got to offer."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." Still so quiet, kind of muffled into her hair. There isn't much emotion in his voice -- usually he's able to play disinterested or dismissive pretty easily, but not right now, and the lack of emotion is the giveaway to how much he's really feeling. "It's not a big deal." He hides his face completely against the crown of her head, and he's quiet for a long time after she finishes speaking, not moving, other than the slow, steady movement of the back of his ribs under her hands as he breathes.

"She didn't care, Jackie. Even if she was only human, she was supposed to--" It doesn't usually happen like this, mid-sentence (at least, not while talking to somebody -- when he wrote, it happened all the time), but he cuts off there, silent for a short moment, and his hold on her goes slack. But it's just a moment, and when he comes to, he lets go of her, pulls away -- turns away from her, really, but it's to sit up, go into the drawer of his nightstand, pull out the small leatherbound journal she'd given him for Christmas. He opens it up, just a few pages in, and turns toward her enough to hand it over to her. Even just a scan of the page it's open to reveals enough of the chaos; his own hand is less neat than it usually is, and it stops mid-thought more often than it manages to finish, at times even interrupted by different handwriting. One could almost be described as elegant, cursive, and the other is nearly the opposite, a child's careful printing. No commentary on it, and he doesn't even stick around to answer any questions. "I need a drink." Low-voiced, though the frustration still comes through. He shuts the nightstand drawer a little harder than he probably needs to, gets out of bed, leaves the room.

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-03-11 23:13 EST
Maybe she shouldn't, but she wants so badly to disagree with him right now. To tell him that it is a big deal and saying it's not won't change what it is, no matter how much he wants it to. But his words come with a solid bite. She didn't care. Jackie was ready to take whatever he had but it cut out far too soon and he went slack. A frown was tilted up at him and upon his return he was letting her go, moving away from her altogether. Jackie rose to sit up as well, the journal thrust in front of her and taken with an unsteady hand. The bits and pieces of different handwritings are noted but he's already on the move out of the bedroom before she even has a chance to say a word or read it. The lamp on the side table is flicked on and that's just what she does. Reads, over and over again. Wanting so badly for something to come to light that she can point out that will somehow make things better for him but it never comes. The words are painful, hard to swallow, and it tortures her that they were written by his hand.

She's not exactly sure how much time has gone by since he walked out of the room. Part of her was screaming so loudly for her to stay in place. To let him have his time alone and when he was ready he would come back. It would have been the smart thing to do, the polite thing really, but the much more impatient and worried side of her won. Wrapped in her grey cotton robe with his journal clutched to her chest bare feet padded along the quiet of the house until she reached the doorway of the dining room. She finds him at the dining room table, arms folded on the tabletop, head pillowed on his arms. He'd poured a glass of Jack, and both that and the bottle were there, but the bottle looks almost full, and the glass does too. He didn't even move and that was okay with her. Jackie continued further into the room and as quietly as she could (it sounded so loud in the stark silence of the night) she pulled out the chair beside him and sat. At least this time around she didn't attempt to invade his personal space. The leatherbound journal was set on the table and slid across to settle at his elbow. Once it was there her hand was pulled back, folded in her lap with its pair.

The bottle of Jack and its accompanying glass were noted, it was the entire reason that he had come down here in the first place. He needed a drink. She knows that his affair with alcohol is a torrid one, but what help was it going to be pointing it out to him? With all the stress already accumulated between them, majority of it being because of her, was an added chorus of 'should you really be drinking that?' going to help anything? No. Even more importantly, the glass and bottle appeared to be barely touched. With that in mind her gaze shifted from the bottle and glass to him.

She didn't wait to be acknowledged before she spoke. She would say what was on her mind and leave if she had to. "I don't know how to make it better, Ben. I know y'didn't come to me wantin' me to make anythin' better and if y'had your way I wouldn't know 'bout any of this at all. But... it's my natural reaction to you bein' hurt. Wantin' to do somethin' and to somehow make it stop." She never actually voiced an apology for forcing the subject so much, but it was all clear in her tone. "I don't know how she did it. I can't even begin to think like her, because the last thing I ever want to see you do is suffer, sweetheart. I know I'm not perfect and sometimes I make y'upset even when I think I'm doin' my best, but... I can't make sense of her lettin' y'go through so much. I can't begin to explain what her thinkin' was or justify it or say whether she did care or didn't care. All I can do is tell you that I care, I want you, and God as my witness I will do what I can t'keep you from sufferin', Ben. I can't fix the past, nothin' I'm sayin' will make it all okay or make it easier for you, but I realize now this is all I can do. Promise you that you'll never have to watch someone who is supposed to love you ever simply stand by an' do nothin'." Ah, but wasn't that part of the problem tonight? Her wanting to help so badly even if her attempts were horrifically clumsy? The thought seemed to strike her belatedly and she added on. "For better or worse, I suppose." Heaved out in a sigh and her head sank so she could actually breathe. It felt like she might have forgotten to do so, wanting to get that all out before he told her to stop.

Ben doesn't even really look at Jackie when she comes into the room and sits down next to him, though when she slides the leatherbound book toward his elbow, he does at least glance in that direction before he resumes staring down the glass of Jack in front of him. He isn't really surprised to see her -- maybe even a little relieved. It isn't so much that he wanted space, but more that he didn't want to witness her reaction to that vulnerable, hurting side of him that was laid bare in that journal. Didn't want to see the pity that might surface, or maybe even fear or being overwhelmed. But it doesn't seem like she feels any of those things.

He doesn't interrupt her at all when she speaks, and around the time she says that she wants him, that she cares, he turns his head to look at her -- still down on his folded arms, but his cheek resting there instead of his chin. During that little pause before she adds that on, for better or for worse, he sits up, reaches over to take one of her hands in his, and his attention falls there. "Thank you, Jackie." For a moment, that's all he says. He's not sure how else to express the gratitude, and he worries that if he gets too far into the reasons he's thankful, it'll overwhelm him. But after a short silence, he squeezes her hand, tries anyway. "I know you only want to help. I know you care. That means the world to me, sweetheart. It really does. Even when you won't let it go... I know it's because you care. I never doubt that about you." Glancing up at her face then, he tries a smile; it's weak, but it's real, though it edges into a wince. "I'm sorry you've got to deal with all this. I know you're going to say it's fine, you don't mind, you knew what you were getting into, but... I'm sorry all the same." Turning toward her, he leans in to gather her up in a tight hug, as best he can while they're both sitting in separate chairs. "Thank you for being patient. And for staying." And the way he says it, it doesn't seem like he's only talking about tonight.

Jackie's gaze is still sunken to her lap when Ben takes one of her hands and it doesn't even lift then. The situation isn't even something that she had to deal with personally and yet it's stifling, heavy on her chest and shoulders. She couldn't even begin to imagine the toll it was taking on him and it was remarkable to her how much his pain was her pain. It's when he says thank you that her attention rises to his face, peering out through wisps of stray blonde hair. She's listening carefully to everything he has to say, not interrupting because he was kind enough to give her the same consideration when she went on her well meaning tangent. His weak smile was mirrored, just a barely there lift at the corners of her lips. "Am I that predictable? 'Cause that's everything I was lookin' to say. But don't take it as me sayin' it's easy. It's not, we both know it. But mostly I'm sorry you have t'deal with all this, too, Ben. And I don't want you to have to handle it alone."

She's gathered up in that hug and it makes her smile come a little more easily, a smidgen brighter. It's not the best way to hold a pose like this so she's sliding from her seat, turning herself to slip onto lap and making it that much easier to keep her arms draped around his shoulders. Her nose brushed the bare skin of his throat, needing that contact after having to watch him walk away so deliberately. "I won't ever be perfect, sweetheart, but I'll try as hard as I can to be patient so long as y'do the same for me while I stumble my way through. It's somethin' we got time to work on because I ain't goin' nowhere." As if his thanks for her staying really wasn't needed because there were no other options in her mind. This is where she belonged, with him. "This is love, is all. When the good is so damn good, you gotta take the bad right along with it."

It's not really a laugh when she asks if she's predictable, but it's close to it. He doesn't say anything about it until she's crawled into his lap, though. "I'd never expect you to be perfect, sunshine." Kissing her temple before leaning his cheek against the top of her head, holding her close. "Of course I can be patient. I know it isn't easy for you -- and it's not like there's a guidebook for this. I have to figure it out just like you do." He's about to say something else, but he hesitates -- though after a sigh, he goes on.

"I know you don't want me to handle this alone, sweetheart. And that means a lot to me, but... how do I explain this?" The last, more to himself, and it takes him a few seconds to get his thoughts in order, and even then, his words come a little slowly, cautious. "Things like... you know, like this," vague, but she'd know, "are hard for me to talk about. --not just because it's emotional, or it hurts, or something like that, but... it's hard for me to talk about. I don't..." Trailing off, trying again. "I have a hard time staying here. Maybe it'll come with time, that I'll be able to talk about it, but right now..." He shakes his head, though his cheek stays pressed to her hair. "It's tricky," a little more quietly, "knowing how far I can go with it before it's too much." They both knew what happened when things were too much for Ben. "And I don't like to do that around you. --going away, I mean. I know you want to help me through the bad times, but sometimes it's not just me that's involved, I guess. It's not just me that you'll end up talking to if you push too hard. I don't want to put you through that if you don't want to deal with it. I want to stay with you," that had really touched him, when she'd said that earlier in the night, "but it isn't always my choice."

Jackie is nodding slowly and steadily when he explains that he's figuring it out right along with her. That he'll be patient and doesn't expect perfection from her. The admittance without saying as much, that such a thing in a situation probably doesn't exist. It's his pause and sigh that makes her ghost of a smile vanish, puckering into something much more serious and thoughtful. He's trying to figure out how to explain it and the little building of anticipation causes her to lift her gaze, careful to not disturb him, even if she doesn't breathe a word before he does.

"I'm sorry I pushed. Even if I mean it in the best of ways I know that doesn't always cut it sometimes. The first moment y'sorta... nodded off," what else was she going to call it? "I should have just let it go for the night. Let us go to sleep in peace an' picked it up another time. I realize it's not easy, but I guess part of me was hopin' that... if it's me, if y'feel safe, that maybe it wouldn't happen. Obviously that isn't the case." Her face burrowed just a little further against his throat. "That means a lot though, sweetheart. That y'don't want to do that around me. And y'know I prefer talkin' to you above all else. So... I just need to be more aware, I guess. Take the warnin' signs more seriously. I suppose my biggest fear is havin' it seem like I'm givin' up or lettin' it go for good. Not carin' when it gets hard."

Nodded off. He's never thought about it that way before. He absently combs his fingers through her hair, closes his eyes when she nuzzles against his throat. "No, it's okay. You don't need to apologize for that, Jackie. And don't feel like you let me down. If I could talk about it with anyone, I'd want it to be you." He presses a kiss to her hair, but then he's settling with his cheek against her head again. Doesn't really seem much like he wants to move from how they are, with her curled up in his lap like she is. "You have to understand, that's how this whole thing works, right? That I stay separated from all of those memories -- all those feelings that come from them." He pauses for a moment then -- has to. The thud of his heart in his ears is too much for a moment, and he has to push through the surge of emotion that had surfaced, tuck it away, before the pounding stops, and he swallows heavily before saying anything else. "It's going to take a long time for me to try to... I don't know, to be okay with feeling with that kind of stuff on my own, I guess. Baby steps." Finally, he pulls away, but only enough to put one hand on her cheek, press his forehead to hers. "I know you care, sweetheart. Don't ever think I might doubt that. You know the worst of it, and you're still here. I know you care."

"I understand that the boys kept everythin' from y'when you were little. I understand that they protect y'from it to a point but..." She was going to say that she figured maybe that he was an adult now they would let him have more say. Allow him to delve into those memories, emotions, work out how it made him feel and what it means to him. But it's then that he goes quiet, obviously trying to get a handle on himself. Maybe it didn't matter how many years had passed. Maybe nothing would make it any easier for him and this subject in particular would forever be unresolved for him. But no, he says it will only take time and baby steps. A longterm goal. She could deal with that. Time was something she felt they had. Her forehead tipped against his, eyes closing and with a slow inhale she took him in. "That's all I need. You knowin' I care an' nothin' will ever change that. Everythin' else can be worked on over time." Her head tipped forward, a brush of her lips against his. "But how about we call it a night for now? Come back t' bed. No more talkin'." It wasn't even the promise of sleep. It was the idea of being in bed with him. Close, intimate, tangled, quiet, content. "I think we both need that."

"We've got time, sunshine." The kiss he gives her in return lingers just a little longer, and when he breaks it, he finally puts a little space between them, but he keeps his hand on her cheek for a few seconds, a little quirk of a smile in place. He wants to thank her again for staying, for being patient, but he knows she'd brush it off. It's something he has to work on -- understanding that her staying is what she really wants too, despite all the hardship that comes with it. "Bed's a good idea. I think you're right." The smile goes just a little more crooked, and then he's helping her up off of his lap. As soon as she's on her feet, he tucks the journal under one arm before picking up the glass of Jack, and the bottle too, but it's just to take them both into the kitchen, dump the contents of the glass into the sink, put the bottle back where it belongs before heading back upstairs to his bedroom.