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Lost, "The Survivors," Ben/Locke, PG-13
Title: "The Survivors"
Fandom: Lost
Pairing: Ben/Locke
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Summary: Ben thinks he's alone on the island, but John isn't so easy to get rid of.
AN: Like everything about this fic has been jossed by now, but I still like it. Locke just wants to follow Ben around like a very persistent puppy!
Everyone was gone.
Some had made it off the island. Some hadn't. Some had just disappeared into the mist, never to show their faces again. It didn't matter. Well, most of them didn't matter. Finally Benjamin Linus was alone.
Sitting in his favorite armchair in his favorite house, Ben allowed himself a moment to relax. His communication systems were still online, and soon he'd make the phone call that would summon his rescuers. The war would continue. There was no other choice. But for just half an hour, maybe less, he could close his eyes and embrace the knowledge that for once, his doors weren't double-locked. There was no one to hide from, no one to lie to. On the stereo, Renee Fleming's voice trembled at the climax of a Verdi aria. One of Juliet's favorites.
"Sorry, I forgot to knock." Of course it was John. The man was smeared with mud and sweat, covered in bruises and nasty-looking scratches. Survival hadn't been easy on the island for the past couple of days, and he looked like he'd barely made it. But there he was, leaning on the doorframe, still smiling that mysterious little smile of his.
"John!" Ben exclaimed, stalling for time. He wasn't used to being surprised. "I thought you were on the boat, with your friends."
"Nah," said John. He pushed off from the door frame and limped into the living room. His clothes were filthy. Please don't sit on the couch.
He sat on the couch. "Where would I go? Tell me, Ben, where could I go from here?"
"Where could you go? You could have started a new life! Off of this island, you'll be a hero, John. A spiritual leader. How could you turn that down?"
John smiled sadly. "You really think so, Ben? I don't know. You think they'd invite me to go on Oprah?" He laughed.
"Don't knock it, I've heard the gift baskets are to die for."
"Don't patronize me, Ben. You know what I've seen here. You've seen it, too. The island chose us, and only us." John stood up again, restless. Favoring his right leg, he paced across the floor in front of Ben, not making eye contact.
"So the island told you to come here?" This was odd. It was starting to seem like Locke wasn't here to get his revenge after all.
Locke stopped pacing and turned to face Ben. He grinned. “Nobody told me to come here. I was just thinking, where would be the best place to spend this afternoon? And I thought I might want to spend it with you.”
“… Excuse me?”
“Well, I don’t know what your great big plan is from here on out, but I thought you might be able to use an extra pair of hands. You know, just in case.”
Ben frowned. “I don’t usually work with a partner, you know…”
“I’d sort of gathered that. But, look, I’m here for a reason. The same reason that you are. Don’t you see? You need me on your side. That’s why I was on that plane. I was supposed to meet you.” Now he placed his hand on Ben’s shoulder, leaning over a bit – to look Ben in the eye, or to steady himself, it was hard to say.
“John, I shot you. I left you for dead. I lied to you over and over, and when you caught me I just made up new lies. I have been directly responsible for terrible things happening to you and your friends since you’ve been here. Why are you here, John? Why aren’t you running away?”
“That was a test, wasn’t it? And I passed, didn’t I? And that’s why I’m here.”
Ben sighed. He looked straight into John’s eyes, and saw that same boundless hope that had always been there, that same desperation. It almost moved him, but more than that, it exhausted him. He took John’s hand and gently removed it from his shoulder. There was kindness in his voice, or somewhere underneath it.
“I’m not your father, John.”
By now Ben was kind of a connoisseur of punches. And for a man who looked as ragged as he did, John threw one hell of a right hook. Ben didn’t see him turning his back, but he heard the door slam like it was being hit by hurricane winds.
La Traviata was coming to an end on the stereo, and outside the sun was bright and the island was a perfect, uninhabited paradise. Soon there would be helicopters landing and perfectly loyal employees coming to find him. He would return to all of the rewards of power, everything he’d given up to hold onto this stronghold, this all-important playing field. But right now, Ben was alone. And just for a fraction of a moment, before he came back to his senses, that felt like a punishment.
Fandom: Lost
Pairing: Ben/Locke
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Summary: Ben thinks he's alone on the island, but John isn't so easy to get rid of.
AN: Like everything about this fic has been jossed by now, but I still like it. Locke just wants to follow Ben around like a very persistent puppy!
Everyone was gone.
Some had made it off the island. Some hadn't. Some had just disappeared into the mist, never to show their faces again. It didn't matter. Well, most of them didn't matter. Finally Benjamin Linus was alone.
Sitting in his favorite armchair in his favorite house, Ben allowed himself a moment to relax. His communication systems were still online, and soon he'd make the phone call that would summon his rescuers. The war would continue. There was no other choice. But for just half an hour, maybe less, he could close his eyes and embrace the knowledge that for once, his doors weren't double-locked. There was no one to hide from, no one to lie to. On the stereo, Renee Fleming's voice trembled at the climax of a Verdi aria. One of Juliet's favorites.
"Sorry, I forgot to knock." Of course it was John. The man was smeared with mud and sweat, covered in bruises and nasty-looking scratches. Survival hadn't been easy on the island for the past couple of days, and he looked like he'd barely made it. But there he was, leaning on the doorframe, still smiling that mysterious little smile of his.
"John!" Ben exclaimed, stalling for time. He wasn't used to being surprised. "I thought you were on the boat, with your friends."
"Nah," said John. He pushed off from the door frame and limped into the living room. His clothes were filthy. Please don't sit on the couch.
He sat on the couch. "Where would I go? Tell me, Ben, where could I go from here?"
"Where could you go? You could have started a new life! Off of this island, you'll be a hero, John. A spiritual leader. How could you turn that down?"
John smiled sadly. "You really think so, Ben? I don't know. You think they'd invite me to go on Oprah?" He laughed.
"Don't knock it, I've heard the gift baskets are to die for."
"Don't patronize me, Ben. You know what I've seen here. You've seen it, too. The island chose us, and only us." John stood up again, restless. Favoring his right leg, he paced across the floor in front of Ben, not making eye contact.
"So the island told you to come here?" This was odd. It was starting to seem like Locke wasn't here to get his revenge after all.
Locke stopped pacing and turned to face Ben. He grinned. “Nobody told me to come here. I was just thinking, where would be the best place to spend this afternoon? And I thought I might want to spend it with you.”
“… Excuse me?”
“Well, I don’t know what your great big plan is from here on out, but I thought you might be able to use an extra pair of hands. You know, just in case.”
Ben frowned. “I don’t usually work with a partner, you know…”
“I’d sort of gathered that. But, look, I’m here for a reason. The same reason that you are. Don’t you see? You need me on your side. That’s why I was on that plane. I was supposed to meet you.” Now he placed his hand on Ben’s shoulder, leaning over a bit – to look Ben in the eye, or to steady himself, it was hard to say.
“John, I shot you. I left you for dead. I lied to you over and over, and when you caught me I just made up new lies. I have been directly responsible for terrible things happening to you and your friends since you’ve been here. Why are you here, John? Why aren’t you running away?”
“That was a test, wasn’t it? And I passed, didn’t I? And that’s why I’m here.”
Ben sighed. He looked straight into John’s eyes, and saw that same boundless hope that had always been there, that same desperation. It almost moved him, but more than that, it exhausted him. He took John’s hand and gently removed it from his shoulder. There was kindness in his voice, or somewhere underneath it.
“I’m not your father, John.”
By now Ben was kind of a connoisseur of punches. And for a man who looked as ragged as he did, John threw one hell of a right hook. Ben didn’t see him turning his back, but he heard the door slam like it was being hit by hurricane winds.
La Traviata was coming to an end on the stereo, and outside the sun was bright and the island was a perfect, uninhabited paradise. Soon there would be helicopters landing and perfectly loyal employees coming to find him. He would return to all of the rewards of power, everything he’d given up to hold onto this stronghold, this all-important playing field. But right now, Ben was alone. And just for a fraction of a moment, before he came back to his senses, that felt like a punishment.