Fic: Witness Protection, Part 23/25
Title: Witness Protection, part 23/25
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Characters/Ships: Ben/Leslie, Chris/Ann, Andy/April, Ben/Pawnee, ensemble
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~ 8,800
Summary: When corporate whistleblowers Ben Adams and Chris Robinson barely escape an attempt on their lives, they gladly accept the protection of the Federal Witness Protection program. What they don't count on is being sent to a city that feels more like something out of a movie or a sitcom than real life: Pawnee Indiana. An AU starting in "Master Plan."
Author's Notes: Happy birthday shornt! I got this one out today just for you. It's the beginning of the end. Thanks for all the support and encouragement along the way. My fingers are crossed that I can have the last two chapters finished before the new season premiers, but I can't guarantee it. Once again, much thanks to saucydiva for beta reading. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22
As the afternoon shadows lengthened in the courtyard outside her window, Leslie sat listlessly at her desk, staring at the same memo she'd been writing for the past half hour. Why wouldn't the words come?
With less than a week before the beginning of the Everson trial, she'd had more trouble than ever before focusing on her work. She shook her head. Her daydreaming would do nothing to move the trial along faster. She needed to pull herself together.
She managed to rattle out the rest of the memo in less than five minutes, and was about to move onto the next item on her agenda for the day when April burst into her office.
"Have you seen the news?" April's eyes were wide.
"What news?" Leslie's heart froze.
Her fear must have been evident on her face because April shook her head. "No-it's good. At least, I think it's good. I have it pulled up on my computer. Come on."
Leslie jumped to her feet and followed. April's computer was open to a screen of a streaming newscast. The words at the bottom of the screen jumped out at her, and she had to grip the edge of April's desk to steady herself.
"George Everson Suicide."
She listened as the newscaster recapped the situation-George Everson dead of an apparent suicide mere days before the start of his trial.
"Leslie, are you all right?" said Ron.
She looked up to find that the entire department had gathered around her while she was riveted to the screen. "I-yeah. I'm fine. Just-shocked."
"Does this mean Ben can come home, now?" Andy asked, a note of disbelieving hope in his voice.
"I don't know." Leslie stood up straight and blinked at the screen a few times, her mind racing. "I don't know. I-I need to go make some phone calls. Excuse me."
Her hand started to shake as she pulled up Doreen in her contacts and hit the call button.
"Leslie!" Doreen answered almost immediately. "Can you believe it? It feels like a dream. The darn reporters keep repeating themselves over and over and I feel like it has to be a dream."
Leslie smiled. "No. It's real."
"Thank god. I didn't use to be one who would ever rejoice in another human beings death, but god help me, I'm glad. I'm so, so glad."
"Me too," said Leslie softly. "It's still sinking in, but I'm glad, too." She cleared her throat. "So-what does this mean? What's going to happen next?"
"I don't know," replied Doreen. "I've been on the phone with every agent I know-and the federal prosecutor's office-I even tried the judge. No one has any answers for me. Not yet. They're probably still reeling from this as much as we are."
Leslie took a deep breath and nodded. "Of course. Yeah. How long do you think it'll take us to find out if . . ." She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.
"I don't know when we'll have the official word. But he's coming home. I feel it in my gut. I mean-the threats are all gone, right? The hit men are gone-Everson is gone-there's no more trial. It's all over. He has to come home."
"I hope you're right." Leslie could feel her heart racing. It seemed too good to be true. Maybe Doreen was right-maybe it really was a dream.
He can come back to me. We can make things work, this time. Everything will be alright, now. We're safe.
She closed her eyes. Safe. She'd never thought a time would come when the mere prospect of feeling safe in her own home-and her own hometown-would feel like such a precious gift.
"I need to make some more calls," said Doreen. "But I'll let you know as soon as I have news."
"Same here."
Her heart continued to flutter after she hung up. There was no way she'd get any work done today.
Ron stepped up to her door and knocked on the frame. "Any news?"
"Not yet." Leslie shook her head, but smiled. There would be good news, soon. There had to be.
He held up his cell phone. "I just got off a call to Tonya. She doesn't know anything yet, either, but she'll get back to me as soon as she hears anything."
"You called Agent Burdette?" Leslie raised her eyebrows.
"Tonya and I have . . . seen each other, socially, several times."
In spite of all the uncertainty, this gave Leslie something new to smile about. "Oh really? Are you two dating?" Leave it to Ron to get the competent brunette with a gun to fall for him.
He folded his arms and glared. "My personal life is my personal life. I'll let you know if she gets any news." With that he turned and left the office.
Leslie leaned back in her chair and sighed. It looked like the rest of the day would be nothing but waiting-maybe even into tomorrow.
There was only one way to get through it.
She dialed Ann. "Hey-do you want to go out and get drunk tonight? Please?"
~ ~ ~
Chris couldn't stop pacing the apartment, clutching his phone. "No one is answering. The agents won't return my calls. This waiting is literally one of the most frustrating experiences of my life."
Ben, looking rather pale, sat slumped on the sofa, staring at the wall with a shell-shocked look in his eyes. He nodded.
Chris paced a few more times, all the possibilities streaming through his mind. The one that kept coming back, calling to him, enticing him, shouting him, was a single, simple thought: freedom.
This had to be it. With Everson gone and his hit squad decimated, it had to be over. They had to be free.
It was a better outcome than Chris had ever allowed himself to imagine, no matter how grimly it had come about.
After a few more minutes of pacing, his phone rang.
He answered immediately. It was one of his current marshals, Wilkes.
"Look, I know you guys must be bouncing off the walls wanting to call your friends and family, but I need you to hold off for a few more days while we work with the prosecutors to figure this situation out. Remember, there are a few co-defendants left out there," said Wilkes.
"None of them were a threat to us," countered Chris.
"Probably not, but we need to do a thorough risk-assessment before we meet with you to discuss options for the future. Don't go anywhere. Don't call anyone. We should have the full assessment complete in two or three days. I know the wait will be hard, but we really need you guys to hang in there-okay?"
Hanging in there was the last thing Chris wanted to do. He wanted to log onto his old Facebook to proclaim his freedom to the world. He wanted to see his parents, and go home to his condo, and visit all his friends. He wanted to run a marathon, or compete in a triathlon, or at least a 10K.
He squeezed his lips together and finally answered. "I understand. Do you have any idea-any guesses, even-if we'll be able to go home?"
"I can't comment on that, yet, Chris. I don't want to risk creating false hope. You've just got to wait for the assessment."
"Alright. I'll wait. Just-don't take your time. Please."
After hanging up, Chris turned to Ben. "He won't make any statements as to whether we'll be able to go back to our lives-but I have a really good feeling about this. He wants us to wait while they do a risk-assessment. They wouldn't be doing that unless there was a serious possibility of the risk being gone. I think we'll be able to go home."
His heart leaped at the thought. "Can you believe it? It's extraordinary. Amazing. Brilliant. I can't sit still right now-do mind if I go for a run?"
Ben shook his head. "Go ahead. Go."
Chris nodded and headed for the door. He'd have to run twenty miles to work out this nervous energy.
~ ~ ~
Home.
The word continued to resonate in Ben's mind long after Chris left the apartment. What did home even mean, anymore?
As much as he wanted-needed-to see his mother and his brother, Partridge would never be home again. And he had zero desire to ever see his condo in Atlanta again. If he never set foot in that city again, he'd be happy.
Yet the place his mind kept drifting back to seemed so far out of reach-an insanely cluttered home; an office full of improbably eccentric co-workers; a cooky town plagued by raccoons; a bright shock of blonde hair splayed out on the pillow next to him.
He swallowed hard.
No. He couldn't go back. They'd never forgive him.
Leslie was the brightest, strongest, most extraordinary person he'd ever met. And he'd left her broken and bleeding.
It didn't matter what she said in newspaper interviews. Things could never be like they were. Not after that.
He'd held on too tight, instead of backing off when he should have. He been too selfish. He'd made one wrong choice too many. And Leslie had paid the price.
He didn't deserve that life.
He stood and slowly circled the apartment, trying to re-center his mind. He needed to let go of fantasies and accept the quiet, solitary future that lay ahead of him. He needed to stop seeing a pool of hot red spreading on a field of white every time he tried to sleep. He needed it to stop hurting so much.
~ ~ ~
Leslie's agitation grew with every passing day. Three days after the news broke, neither Doreen nor Tonya had any new information. It was maddening.
Her co-workers were beginning to give her a wide berth for fear of having her heap new work assignments on them at an alarming rate. At least the anxiety was helping her overcome her post-injury lethargy-she was right back to four or fewer hours of sleep at night. In just the past two nights she'd managed to clean out and organize her front room and main floor office. If the wait went on much longer, she'd get the whole main floor done.
"Do you think he'll want to move here?" Ann asked over dinner that night. Dear, wonderful Ann had been setting aside lots of extra time to listen to Leslie vent, and Leslie would be forever grateful.
"I-" Leslie hesitated, "I hope so. I want him to. I know he was happy here." But after the way things ended she wasn't so sure how he'd feel about it. He'd already been through so much trauma-that day in the woods had probably affected him in ways that she could only just begin to guess at.
"I just need to talk to him," she said. "I don't know how he's doing. I don't know if he's okay, or if he's been suffering. I'm sure his PTSD has flared back up, and his panic attacks. I have no idea what kind of condition he's in, or how much help he'll need, or-" she dropped her voice a little, "or how much space he might need." She shook her head. "I just need to talk to him."
Ann reached out to squeeze her hand. "You'll be able to. Soon. I'm sure of it."
~ ~ ~
"So," said the lawyer with the skinny tie, "all but one of the co-defendants has cut a deal, and the last fellow is on the verge of cutting a deal. Essentially, the federal government no longer requires your testimony for this case."
Ben swallowed hard.
"And that means?" Chris prompted.
"It means," said Wilkes, folding his arms and staring back and forth between Ben and Chris, "that while the threat level against you isn't zero, it's pretty damn close."
Ben sank further into the couch cushions, feeling as if he'd just been punched in the gut. This was more or less what they'd been expecting, but still, he hadn't really allowed himself to believe it. "So what now?" he said in a strained voice.
"Now you have a few options," said Wilkes. "Since we can't absolutely rule out continued threat to your lives, as a token of gratitude for your service we are prepared to offer you both one final, permanent relocation. A final clean slate. A fresh start. On the other hand, since the threat is extremely low, you are well within your rights to return to previous lives, and once again we will assist you with the paperwork and help you get a start back in your old identities. The choice is yours."
"I want to go home," said Chris. "I want my life back. I'm ready to go back. As soon as possible."
Wilkes nodded. "We can start the paperwork today. Your father has been paying your mortgage and taking care of your property, so you still have a condo and a vehicle waiting for you, as well as the bank accounts and investment accounts that you had before entering protective custody. We can make sure that everything is restored to you as soon as humanly possible."
Chris beamed, an almost angelic look of joy on his face. "This is literally the happiest I've been in two years. Thank you, thank you, thank you."
"It's our pleasure, Mr. Robinson." Wilkes turned to Ben. "And you, Mr. Adams? What do you want to do?"
That was the question, wasn't it?
Ben could see the appeal of one final relocation. Disappearing into the thick of humanity with no obligations weighing on his conscience. But the peace and contentment of it wouldn't last long. Not knowing that his mother still needed help, and his sister-in-law would be delivering soon, and Leslie . . . He closed his eyes. Leslie wasn't supposed to be part of the equation anymore. He needed to remember that. But his family still needed him.
After taking a deep breath, he said, "I want to go back to being Ben Adams."
Wilkes nodded. "Alright. We can start the paperwork right away. You still have all your old accounts, but the lease on your condo lapsed. Your mother saw to it that all your things were put into storage. We can help you find a new place in Atlanta-"
"No," said Ben emphatically. "I'm not going back to Atlanta."
"So where do you want to go, Mr. Adams?"
First in friendship, fourth in obesity. The words whispered in his mind against his will.
He shook his head. "To my mother's house. For the time being, I'll go stay with my mother, in Minnesota."
"Okay," replied Wilkes. "Let's make this happen."
~ ~ ~
By the fifth morning since getting the news of Everson's suicide, Leslie felt ready to explode. Why hadn't they heard anything yet? It was all over the news that Everson's co-conspirators had all taken plea deals. So why were Ben and Chris still hidden away? The threat was gone! Why, why, why, why?
She called Doreen just after seven, knowing that she'd be getting ready to go to work. She'd been back on the job for two weeks already.
"Hi-I-"
"Leslie! It's so wonderful! We're leaving for Minneapolis in an hour to pick him up. I thought that he'd want to go see you, first, but you know Ben. He needs to do his duty to his mom first. Did you two work out any plans, yet?"
Leslie's mouth hung open for a moment as she tried to parse Doreen's words. "Wait-you're picking up Ben this morning?" Her heart raced.
"Yes! Don and Lisa made it home yesterday afternoon, and Don is driving me to Minneapolis this morning to get him. Didn't Ben tell you this last night?"
"No . . . " Leslie sank onto her kitchen chair, a rock settling in her gut. "He-we-I-we haven't talked, yet."
"Oh," Doreen sounded taken aback. "I just assumed he call you after he got off the phone with me."
"No." Leslie cleared her throat. "He didn't. I didn't even know it was over. I thought he was still in protective custody."
There was a pause. Leslie couldn't imagine what she might be thinking.
"I'm so sorry, Leslie," Doreen said. "I really thought he'd call you. He didn't say anything-I just assumed-"
"It's okay," Leslie cut her off. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure he had his reasons."
"Maybe he wanted to surprise you by calling from home," said Doreen brightly.
"Maybe." Leslie couldn't bring herself to share Doreen's optimism. Something was wrong.
"I'll talk to him when we see him. I'll tell him to call you."
"No. No, you don't need to do that. Really. He'll call when he's ready." Leslie closed her eyes. He just needed some time to get used to being free and safe again. He'd come around. Eventually. "Let him have his space. I don't want to hassle him before he's ready."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
She wished Doreen well on her trip and tried to share in some of her happiness, but when she hung up she felt drained and empty. Ben wasn't okay. She knew it in her heart. But she had no idea what she could do to help. Right now she could only hope that time with Doreen and Don would break him out of whatever difficult condition he'd fallen into.
In the meantime she'd have to go to work and do her best to distract herself from her worry. But she'd keep her phone right by her all day-just in case.
~ ~ ~
Ben had his first panic attack in the Tucson airport, and his second in Minneapolis-St. Paul. Perfect bookends to his flight home. The second came not long after meeting his brother and mom in the baggage claim area. He tried to pass it off as nausea from air-sickness, but he was pretty sure they weren't fooled.
Seeing his mom and Don again was wonderful. It felt like a miracle. But seeing his mom hobble on her crutches-hearing Don joke about the hassles of finding a new obstetrician in Iowa, where they were sent while the threat was high-did nothing but remind Ben of the hell he brought into their lives.
He tried to lead them onto topics that wouldn't trigger his anxieties. He wanted to hear about Autumn and her family. About his mom's new classes. About Lisa's pregnancy-the list of baby names they'd chosen. He wanted to hear about the old restaurants in Partridge that had closed, and the new ones that had opened. About anything other than the thousands of little reminders of the ways his choices had sowed chaos and pain in their lives, and in the lives of so many others.
Seeing his mom's house again lifted his spirits like nothing else. So little had changed. She had the same trees and bushes, the same newspaper sitting in her driveway, waiting to be picked up and read, even the same cars and trucks parked in front of neighbors' houses. Inside was almost unchanged, as well. Some of the furniture was spaced farther apart, probably to accommodate her crutches, but it was the same sofas and chairs he'd sat on for years.
Finding this place so unchanged felt like a sliding into a warm bath on a cold day.
It wasn't until almost an hour after arriving that he noticed the new picture hanging on the family picture wall in the hall. It stopped him dead in his tracks. He stood, staring in disbelief, unable to make sense of what he was looking at.
He had no idea how long he stood in that hall before his mom called, "Are you alright back here?" and came hobbling into the hall to find him.
"Mom-how . . .?" he pointed at the picture.
"Do you like it?" she said. "Leslie gave me a whole stack, but this one was my favorite."
Hearing his mom say Leslie's name, and seeing that picture hanging on the wall-a snapshot of him and Leslie together on New Year's Eve, dressed up for the party, their arms around each other, smiles on their face-it felt like he'd just fallen down a rabbit hole.
"I don't understand. Leslie-and you-how?" He continued to stare at the picture. God, they looked so happy. But just a week and a half later she lay dying in the snow while he killed a man. Pictures never told the whole story.
"She came to see me just over three weeks ago, and stayed to visit for two days. We've talked on the phone every day since. We've gotten to be good friends. She's a wonderful woman." His mother looked at him with moist eyes.
Ben swallowed hard. Of course Leslie would come here. Of course she would befriend his mom. Why did he expect anything different?
He nodded and opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to find the right words.
"You haven't talked to her yet, have you?" his mom asked softly.
He shook his head, dropping his eyes from the picture.
"You really should call her," his mom said. "She's worried sick about you. Ben?" She stepped closer and rested a hand on his upper arm. "I took what she told me at face value, but if she misrepresented your relationship to me, I can cut off contact with her today. Is that what you want?"
"No." He almost choked on the word. He couldn't bring himself to meet his mother's eyes. "She didn't misrepresent anything."
"Why haven't you called her? She misses you. She's head over heels in love with you."
"She shouldn't be." The words ripped harshly from his throat. "She's better off without me."
"Ben . . ."
A field of red spreading on white flashed before his eyes. "I'm sorry. I need some-I need some air."
He pushed away from his mom and hurried to the back door. Outside he stumbled into one of the patio chairs and rested his head in his hands as the remembered echo of gunfire filled his mind. His heart raced and his head pounded.
He couldn't do this. He didn't know how to come back.
~ ~ ~
"I don't know what to do. He's changed so much-he seems so far away." Doreen's voice shook as she spoke.
Leslie could feel tears rising in her eyes as Doreen continued. "He had a panic attack before we even left the airport. He tried to pass it off as airsickness but after everything you told me I knew what I was looking at. He's lost weight, and he was never a big man. He looks ill. He asked lots of questions on our drive home, but he wouldn’t talk about what he's been through. He didn't even mention Indiana once."
"Oh god," said Leslie, "This is bad. This is very bad."
"I know! You told me how much progress he made during his time in Indiana, but none of it seems to have lasted. Leslie-when he saw the picture of the two of you that I hung up, I tried to talk to him about you, and he had a serious break-down. He was outside for a little while, and then he shut himself in his room. That was almost three hours ago. I haven't heard a peep out of him since. I don't know what to do." Her tears were evident in her voice.
Leslie wiped away a few of her own tears and clutched the phone even tighter. "Patience. He mostly needs patience. We can't push him. But if you could look up a good therapist in your area and try to gently suggest it to him, that would probably be a good thing."
"Maybe you should come out and see him. You might be able to get through to him."
Leslie almost jumped out of her chair with her need to take act. Yes, yes, yes, her mind screamed at her. But she stopped herself, gripping the edge of her desk and taking deep breaths as she counted to ten. She had to think of Ben's well-being, here-not just her own wishes.
She swallowed before she replied, and cleared her voice a little to ease up the tightness brought on by her emotions. "I want to. Very, very much. But after what you just said, I'm worried that seeing me will send him into even more of a tailspin. I want-I need him to be ready. I need him to want to see me. Or at least to not be terrified of seeing me. I don't want to be responsible for his condition getting even worse."
"I don't see how that could possibly happen," replied Doreen. "He seems to have very strong feelings for you. I'm sure those feelings will help smooth over whatever issues he's dealing with right now."
"I don't know," said Leslie softly, shaking her head. She lifted a hand to rub her forehead. "I want to believe that. I really do. But I'm scared. I'm scared of coming on too strong and pushing him away for good. I don’t want to lose him completely just because I couldn't be patient."
Doreen was silent for a moment before responding. "I think I understand. I just want to do anything I can to help him, right now."
"I know. I do too. I just don't know if showing up and bombarding him with all these emotions right now is the best way to help him." Leslie was starting to think that nothing in her relationship with Ben would ever come easy. She needed to accept that.
"Alright." Doreen took a deep breath. "I'll try to be patient, too. And I'll try to get him to see a therapist. He really needs it. And I'll see if I can get him to call you. Or maybe you could at least send him a letter? Something he can hold in his hands, and process at his own pace?"
"Yes. Absolutely." This was the direction Leslie had been looking for. A step closer to Ben-a chance to share her feelings with him, without overwhelming him or pushing for too much too soon. "I'll write something tonight. I promise."
"Okay. I wish there was more I could do this instant, but I think you're probably right. I need to be patient. You can understand how hard that is."
"Believe me," said Leslie, "I do. It's taken every ounce of my willpower not to hop in my car today to start driving your way. But I can't push him, right now. He needs time and space. But as soon as he's ready, you better believe I'll be there."
"I do."
As soon as she ended the call, Leslie felt like she'd made the wrong choice. Of course going to see Ben would help him. What had she been thinking? Then the doubts rose again. Could they really build a relationship off of her riding in on her white horse to "save" him? Or would she just be another casualty of his anxiety disorder? Space and time. And therapy. That's what he needed-not being pushed back into a serious relationship that clearly held traumatic memories for him.
She needed to be more than just the woman he almost got killed-he needed to remember everything else they had. He needed to stop dwelling on the bad ending and to start remembering all the good things they'd shared. Could he do that better with Leslie by his side, or would he be better on his own?
She really had no idea.
Leslie picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Nygard's office. Time for another appointment.
~ ~ ~
The first thing Chris did when he got the official go-ahead to come out of hiding was log on to his Facebook account and announce to his 500 friends that he was back.
He watched the computer screen with an uncontainable grin on his face as the "likes" and comments piled up, welcoming him home.
Next, he called his parents. All four of them were overjoyed to hear from him, and Chris promptly scheduled trips to see them. His condo could wait a few more days.
As soon as he got off the phone, he looked at his Facebook post, again. Sixty-eight comments and 124 "likes." It felt magnificent. He pulled up the list of people who had "liked" his post and skimmed through it, beaming at all the familiar names. Then one name jumped out at him, and his heart caught in his throat.
Kelsey Gerard had "liked" his post.
He took a few breaths to steady his nerves, and clicked his way through to her profile. She'd moved from Atlanta to Boston. Probably, at least in part, to be closer to her sister's family. She adored her little niece and nephew. But the item that he couldn't stop looking at was her relationship status: single.
She hadn't found anyone else.
Chris had no doubt in his mind that in the more than two years since he broke off their relationship Kelsey had certainly done some dating. He'd wanted her to. He wasn't possessive, and she deserved to be happy. But she still hadn't found someone special.
There's still a chance.
He could hardly let himself think it. Yet, there it was, on the screen, right in front of his face.
He fought back the urge to hop on a flight to Boston this instant. He had no idea what she thought of him now, other than that she "liked" the fact that he was no longer a hostage of the witness protection system. He needed to give this a little time. He had his parents to visit and his condo to move back into.
He needed to be patient.
But he couldn't stop staring at her smiling face in her profile picture.
There's still a chance.
~ ~ ~
"Am I doing the right thing?" Leslie asked, rubbing her forehead and staring at the ceiling. She sat slumped in a deep leather armchair, with Dr. Nygard sitting in an identical chair next to her.
"Do you think you're doing the right thing?"
Somehow, she knew he'd say that. "I don't know. That's why I'm here. Asking you."
He nodded and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose a little. "I'm going to have to say that in situations like these, there is no right or wrong. There are just choices. I think giving him some time and space to reacclimatize to life outside of witness protection is a valid choice."
"Am I being selfish?" she said, finally vocalizing her fear. "Like, I think going to him now might help, but I'm afraid that he's so damaged that even though going to him might help him get better, we might not be able to build a healthy relationship afterward. You know? That's what I'm scared of. But it's selfish, isn't it? Putting my desire for a healthy relationship ahead of his mental and emotional well-being. I'm just being selfish."
"Maybe. But it's human to want the things that make us happy." The doctor paused. "Try thinking of it this way-perhaps what Ben wants deep down, more than anything else, is the same as what you want. A healthy relationship together. But what if you going to him now, when he's still broken and traumatized, will interfere with that? In the long run, wouldn't both of you be better off waiting? Wouldn't both of you have a better chance at what you really want if you give him space to heal, first?"
God, she hoped so. "Do you think it will really work out that way?"
"Only time will tell."
Damn it.
~ ~ ~
The first four days were the hardest. The picture of Leslie on the wall would inevitably catch Ben's eye, and it would inevitably get him thinking about all the hardship he'd brought into her life, and, whether it took five minutes or two hours, it would inevitably end with him curled up in his bed, visions of red blood seeping through white snow filling his mind.
"I can take it down," his mother said, that fourth night, her sorrow evident in her voice. "If it will help, I can take it down."
Though they both sat at the kitchen table, far out of eyeshot of the picture, she didn't have to explain what she was talking about.
Ben swallowed hard and stared down at his plate of food. Steak and mashed potatoes. He'd barely noticed until now what he was eating.
Would it really help him to take it down? He closed his eyes for a moment to think.
He still missed her-with every breath-with every blink of his eyes-with every step of his feet-with every beat of his heart. He'd probably always miss her.
But would taking the picture down really help?
For the first time since seeing it, he let himself think of the article in the Pawnee Sun. Leslie had her park. She was a town hero. She wore a bright smile to the ground-breaking.
She hadn't given up.
Jesus-Leslie had never given up on anything, ever, as long as he'd known her. And, based on the hushed phone conversations that he'd caught his mother having when she thought he was resting, Leslie still hadn't given up on him, either.
He shook his head just a little, and poked at his steak. "You don't have to take it down."
They ate in silence for a few more minutes before his mother spoke again. "She sent you a letter. It got here yesterday, but you were so . . . I was worried about you yesterday. I was worried that the letter might make things worse. But if you think you're ready, I can give it to you."
Ben's hand shook a little as he lowered his fork to his plate.
Ready. What did that word even mean, in this context? Ready. Ready to hold Leslie's paper in his hands. Ready to read her words. Ready to acknowledge, once and for all, that she didn't end that afternoon in the snow. She kept going.
Because no matter how much evidence Chris or his mom or anyone else had placed in front of him, that was the part that his mind refused to accept it.
She kept going. And he didn't.
Ben looked at his plate and poked his mashed potatoes a few more times before finally abandoning his fork.
Chris almost managed to get him going again in the two weeks leading up to the trial date. But since Everson's suicide everything had felt so confused and rushed. And Chris had left him behind with little more than a hug and a thumbs up. Ben had been left to himself, feeling like a Lazarus with one foot still in the tomb.
Was it time to finish waking up? Was it time to start trying harder? His mom had not-so-subtly pushed a card for a local therapist at him yesterday morning. Was it time to give her a call?
Was he ready?
He stood on the edge of the cliff, and he had to jump or pull back. One way, or the other.
"I'll-I'll read it," he said in a quick, low voice, surprising himself as he spoke.
His mother nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll get it after dinner."
Naturally, she made him wait.
He tried to act nonchalant when she placed the envelope in his hand, but made a hasty escape to his room before even looking at the hand-written addresses.
The room had been outfitted as a guest room, with a homey blue-toned patchwork quilt and bland artwork on the walls. But in anticipation of his coming, his mom had set out several mementos from his youth-a collection of Star Wars models and action figures, set in rows on two selves of the bookcase, staring at him.
Under their gaze he sat on the edge of the bed and slowly ripped open the envelope.
Handwritten on stationary festooned with happy penguins, her words stared up at him.
"I got your letter," she said, "the one you wrote when you were obviously wallowing in guilt and trauma. Just so you know, I have no intention of following your instructions. Really-you didn't honestly believe that I would, did you?"
Ben couldn't stop the corners of his lips from twitching into just a hint of a smile.
"I probably shouldn't have started that way," she continued. "I know it wasn't very kind. But that letter really peeves me. Still, I should probably have started by telling you how much I miss you. Because I do. Very much. Everyday. I think about you all the time. I want to be with you. The only reason I'm not with you right now, this very instant, is because your mom scared me. She made me think that maybe you don't want to see me. Or maybe you'll heal better without me. And if that's the case, I respect that. I really do.
"If you never want to hear from me again after this, I'll learn to live with it. Just know that if you're only staying away from me because you don't think I can forgive you for what happened, then you're wrong. There was never anything to forgive-you weren't to blame.
"And if you're staying away because you haven't forgiven yourself-well-I don't know what to do about that. Except to ask you to get help. Because you're the last person on earth who should be holding himself responsible for any of the shit storm that seemed to follow you everywhere you went starting when you took that job with Everson's. None of it is on your shoulders. None. Nada. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Do I need to go on?
"If you need help to understand that, please, please, get it.
"And if you really genuinely just don't want to see me again, for whatever reason, I'll learn to live with it. Just tell your mom, and she can call me. I think Doreen will know how to let me down easy.
"But I hope you don't feel that way. And I hope you'll be ready to see me soon. Because I am really, really ready to see you.
"Love, Leslie."
He had no idea how long he sat staring at that letter, but he did know that by the time he looked up again, the rest of the house was dark. His mom had gone to bed.
Ben stood up and paced slowly through the house, the words of the letter swirling in his brain. His fingers trailed along the furniture and walls. He felt the need to keep touching something, to help him remember that this was really his life, and not just another dream.
How and why she could possibly still want to be with him after everything made no sense to him.
She really was better off without him-he knew that in his gut. But he wasn't better off without her. Did this letter give him permission to be selfish? Did it give him permission to disrupt her happy life once again, dragging his dark cloud along with him?
His fingers lingered as they swiped over the phone on its charging base in the kitchen. He circled away for a few minutes, but slowly paced his way back. This time he picked up the phone and looked at the numbers. She'd still be up, this time of night. All he had to do was push the numbers.
He'd dialed half the numbers before he stopped himself. He shook his head, put the phone back on its base, and walked back to his room. Not tonight. He needed time to think about this with a level head. He needed to consider all the ramifications of his actions before making this kind of move.
He couldn't-wouldn't-let himself hurt her again.
~ ~ ~
Chris sat in the airport in Kansas City after concluding a lovely visit with his mom and step-dad. Next stop, Tampa, to see his dad and step-mom.
While he waited, he skimmed Facebook on his phone.
Ever since regaining his freedom he'd been playing "like" tag with Kelsey.
He'd "liked" her triumphant photo after completing a thirty mile bike ride on the previous Saturday. She'd "liked" his reunion photo with his mom and step-dad. He'd "liked" the picture of her dog Hilda after a visit to the groomers. She'd "liked" the picture he took of the grilled Portobello burgers he'd made for dinner. He'd "liked" her report of a successful day at work, and then, this morning, she'd "liked" his posting about leaving for Florida.
Though many of his other friends and acquaintances had left him personal messages and comments on his statuses, Kelsey had said nothing. Just the silent "likes." And he hadn't dared say anything, either.
It could mean anything, really. She might simply be happy for him. That was a normal, human reaction to good news in someone's life-to feel happy for them. But what if it meant more? What if, in spite of all the time that had passed, she was willing to give him a second chance?
He wasn't ready to take that leap. Not yet.
That train of thought led him to Ben.
They'd been each other's confidants for more than two years. For months at a time Ben had been the only person Chris was sure to talk to on a daily basis. Yet he hadn't checked in with him once since leaving Arizona. A twinge of guilt welled in his chest, and he quickly dialed the number for Ben's mother's home.
She answered after three rings. "Mrs. Adams, I presume? I hope you're doing well. This is Chris Robinson. Is Ben still staying with you?"
"Chris! I'm so glad to hear from you. Really. Are you doing well?"
"Extraordinarily well. I am literally having the time of my life, thank you."
"That's wonderful. I'm so glad to hear it." Yet her cheer seemed forced.
"Mrs. Adams-is everything all right?"
A long sigh filled his ear. "Not really. Ben is-he's still here. He's in the bath right now."
Chris frowned. "He's not taking his long sadness baths, again, is he?"
Mrs. Adams chuckled mirthlessly. "Sadness baths is a pretty apt description."
"Oh dear. He's not doing well, is he?"
"No. I'm afraid not. There are times when he seems a little better and I start to hope, but then he slips right back into his depressed funk. He doesn't leave the house except to do a little yard work for me, and he hasn't even spoken to Leslie yet-"
"What?" Chris's jaw dropped. "He won't talk to Leslie?"
"No. I tried to get him to call her, but he goes into a tailspin every time I try to bring her up."
"This is not good," said Chris, vastly understating the matter. "Is he still taking his Zoloft?"
"I haven't seen him taking any pills at all, no."
"He's gone off his meds? God damn it." Chris closed his eyes and shook his head. "Please excuse my language. He'd only just begun to make progress on the medication when everything happened and we got word we could come home. I should have made him promise to stick with it. No wonder he's gone into a tailspin."
Chris should have known this was a possibility. He should have done more to make sure Ben would be alright. He'd been too focused on his own freedom to think of the man who'd been by his side for better or for worse these past two years. He shook his head. "Mrs. Adams-I'm on my way to Florida for three days to visit my dad and step-mom, but when I'm done I'd like to change my itinerary to come up to Minnesota and see Ben. Would that be alright with you?"
"Yes! Absolutely. He needs all the help he can get right now. Thank you so much."
The relief in her voice spoke volumes about how poorly Ben was adjusting. Damn it. "I'll call you the day before I come to let you know my schedule."
"Good. I can't wait."
After hanging up, Chris tapped his thighs nervously. Maybe he should change his itinerary and go to Minnesota, first.
He shook his head. No. Ben had made it through darker times, before. He'd last another three and a half days. And then Chris would be there to see if he could set things right.
~ ~ ~
For the next two days, Ben's eyes drifted to the phone every time his mom wasn't looking. And every time he ended up castigating himself. He'd done enough harm to Leslie already. He couldn't let himself hurt her again. But the little voice at the back of his mind would always whisper that maybe-just maybe--not talking to her hurt her far worse.
He read the letter again and again. He knew he shouldn't. It only encouraged him to hold onto a fantasy that he should have let go of weeks ago.
But it also made him hope-it made him hope that he could someday be the kind of son his mom deserved, again. That someday he could actually be a good uncle to Don's kid. That someday he could learn how to be a friend again. That somehow, in spite of everything, his life would go on.
He needed that kind of hope right now.
On the third morning after first reading the letter, he finally cracked. His mom was at school, working, and the phone had been calling to him since breakfast.
Before his brain could take over he grabbed the handset, punched in the numbers, and hit "talk."
He held his breath as it started to ring.
"Dorrie-hi! Any news?" Leslie's bright voice filled his ear.
He froze.
~ ~ ~
Doreen had been calling Leslie over her lunch hour, lately, so Leslie was surprised to see her caller I.D. come up at just past 10 am. Especially since it was her home phone number. She frowned as she answered, hoping that things hadn't gotten any worse.
"Dorrie-hi!" she answered. "Any news?"
There was silence on the line, and Leslie's heart began to race. "Dorrie?" she asked again, softly. It couldn't be-could it? She swallowed her fear and said, "Ben?"
She heard a low cough, and then his voice. "Uh, hi. Yeah. It's. . . it's me."
She gripped the arm of her chair and rapidly blinked away the moisture rising in her eyes. "It's good to hear your voice."
"It's good to hear yours, too." He lapsed back into silence.
Leslie gulped. "Wow. So-I-I hope you don't mind that I visited your mom. I just wanted to do something to help."
"No. No. I don't mind. It's good. It's good. She, uh, needs friends. And, and . . . it's good." His voice sounded raw and unsteady.
"Good. I like her. A lot."
"Yeah. She's a good mom."
"She is."
Another silence fell. Leslie took a deep breath. "It's really, really good to hear from you. I miss you."
The silence that followed her confession was painful. She sucked on her bottom lip, waiting-giving him time to answer.
"Fuck." The word was so soft she could barely make it out. Then, a little louder, "I don't know what to say. I-I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This was a mistake. I can't . . . I'm sorry."
"Wait-Ben-" But before she could finish, the call went dead. He'd hung up.
She slowly lowered her phone, grateful that Tom wasn't at his desk. She couldn't handle his questions right now. A low sobbed welled in her chest.
She stood and grabbed her purse and phone, heading for the nearest exit. She couldn’t break down at her desk. She needed to get out of there. She needed Ann.
~ ~ ~
"I miss you."
Her words burned in his ears, filling his mind. God, how much he'd longed-needed-to hear those words. To hear her voice.
Missing her had become the totality of his existence. Mourning her, really. Mourning the loss of an impossible dream. Mourning the loss of the real, complicated, frustrating, delightful, funny, brilliant, sexy, kind, determined woman that he'd last seen limp and pale and covered in blood, being lifted into the back seat of a police car.
In spite of everything he'd seen and read leading up to this moment, he felt as if he was talking to a ghost.
This couldn't be real. He couldn’t let it be real. He didn't deserve it.
He broke her.
Nothing he did could ever make amends for that. Not really. "Fuck."
He heard a faint gasp on the other end of the call.
"I don't know what to say," he muttered, rubbing his face with his free hand, struggling to make sense of the mess of thought and emotion colliding in a tangled game of red rover in his mind. "I-I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He could never apologize enough. Never. "This was a mistake. I can't . . ." Can't make you whole again. Can't spare you the pain. Can't be the man you thought I was. Can't deserve you. Never. "I'm sorry."
He hung up and sank to the ground, his whole body trembling. He gasped and shook and cradled his face in his hands.
He'd fucked things up. Bad.
~ ~ ~
A new wave of sobs overtook Leslie, and she clung to Ann even tighter, so glad that her friend had the morning off.
"Why won't he just talk to me?" she repeated through her tears. She'd said it dozens of times already, but she still hadn't thought of a good answer.
Ann smoothed her hair and rubbed her back. "I don't know, honey. I don't know."
"Tell me everything will be okay." Leslie didn't believe herself when she said it. Maybe it would seem more true if Ann said it.
"Everything will be okay. Somehow. I promise."
Leslie nodded her head, and then snuggled tighter against Ann's shoulder.
It would be okay. Somehow.
~ ~ ~
Ben sat slouched on the couch when the bell rang. His mom wasn't back from work yet. It was probably for her.
He ignored it.
He'd been ignoring almost everything since his disastrous phone call yesterday morning.
The bell rang again.
And again.
Ben frowned. Why wouldn't they just go away?
The bell rang again.
With a seething anger rising in his chest, Ben stood and stalked toward the front door. He flung it open, expecting an overzealous deliveryman. Instead, he found Chris.
Ben's jaw hung limp and he blinked in surprise.
Chris smiled warmly. "Hello, Benjamin. I hear you're not doing too well?"
A lump rose in Ben's throat and all his anger drained away. "I'm not. I'm really not." He drew in a shaky breath, and felt tears pricking his eyes.
"I'm here to help." Chris's eyes were warm with compassion and he spread his arms wide.
Ben readily accepted his friend's invitation, and wrapped his arms around Chris for a desperate hug.
"I'm so screwed up," he said as Chris patted him on his back.
"Let's see if we can start to fix things. Together."
TBC
Part 24 here
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Characters/Ships: Ben/Leslie, Chris/Ann, Andy/April, Ben/Pawnee, ensemble
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~ 8,800
Summary: When corporate whistleblowers Ben Adams and Chris Robinson barely escape an attempt on their lives, they gladly accept the protection of the Federal Witness Protection program. What they don't count on is being sent to a city that feels more like something out of a movie or a sitcom than real life: Pawnee Indiana. An AU starting in "Master Plan."
Author's Notes: Happy birthday shornt! I got this one out today just for you. It's the beginning of the end. Thanks for all the support and encouragement along the way. My fingers are crossed that I can have the last two chapters finished before the new season premiers, but I can't guarantee it. Once again, much thanks to saucydiva for beta reading. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22
As the afternoon shadows lengthened in the courtyard outside her window, Leslie sat listlessly at her desk, staring at the same memo she'd been writing for the past half hour. Why wouldn't the words come?
With less than a week before the beginning of the Everson trial, she'd had more trouble than ever before focusing on her work. She shook her head. Her daydreaming would do nothing to move the trial along faster. She needed to pull herself together.
She managed to rattle out the rest of the memo in less than five minutes, and was about to move onto the next item on her agenda for the day when April burst into her office.
"Have you seen the news?" April's eyes were wide.
"What news?" Leslie's heart froze.
Her fear must have been evident on her face because April shook her head. "No-it's good. At least, I think it's good. I have it pulled up on my computer. Come on."
Leslie jumped to her feet and followed. April's computer was open to a screen of a streaming newscast. The words at the bottom of the screen jumped out at her, and she had to grip the edge of April's desk to steady herself.
"George Everson Suicide."
She listened as the newscaster recapped the situation-George Everson dead of an apparent suicide mere days before the start of his trial.
"Leslie, are you all right?" said Ron.
She looked up to find that the entire department had gathered around her while she was riveted to the screen. "I-yeah. I'm fine. Just-shocked."
"Does this mean Ben can come home, now?" Andy asked, a note of disbelieving hope in his voice.
"I don't know." Leslie stood up straight and blinked at the screen a few times, her mind racing. "I don't know. I-I need to go make some phone calls. Excuse me."
Her hand started to shake as she pulled up Doreen in her contacts and hit the call button.
"Leslie!" Doreen answered almost immediately. "Can you believe it? It feels like a dream. The darn reporters keep repeating themselves over and over and I feel like it has to be a dream."
Leslie smiled. "No. It's real."
"Thank god. I didn't use to be one who would ever rejoice in another human beings death, but god help me, I'm glad. I'm so, so glad."
"Me too," said Leslie softly. "It's still sinking in, but I'm glad, too." She cleared her throat. "So-what does this mean? What's going to happen next?"
"I don't know," replied Doreen. "I've been on the phone with every agent I know-and the federal prosecutor's office-I even tried the judge. No one has any answers for me. Not yet. They're probably still reeling from this as much as we are."
Leslie took a deep breath and nodded. "Of course. Yeah. How long do you think it'll take us to find out if . . ." She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.
"I don't know when we'll have the official word. But he's coming home. I feel it in my gut. I mean-the threats are all gone, right? The hit men are gone-Everson is gone-there's no more trial. It's all over. He has to come home."
"I hope you're right." Leslie could feel her heart racing. It seemed too good to be true. Maybe Doreen was right-maybe it really was a dream.
He can come back to me. We can make things work, this time. Everything will be alright, now. We're safe.
She closed her eyes. Safe. She'd never thought a time would come when the mere prospect of feeling safe in her own home-and her own hometown-would feel like such a precious gift.
"I need to make some more calls," said Doreen. "But I'll let you know as soon as I have news."
"Same here."
Her heart continued to flutter after she hung up. There was no way she'd get any work done today.
Ron stepped up to her door and knocked on the frame. "Any news?"
"Not yet." Leslie shook her head, but smiled. There would be good news, soon. There had to be.
He held up his cell phone. "I just got off a call to Tonya. She doesn't know anything yet, either, but she'll get back to me as soon as she hears anything."
"You called Agent Burdette?" Leslie raised her eyebrows.
"Tonya and I have . . . seen each other, socially, several times."
In spite of all the uncertainty, this gave Leslie something new to smile about. "Oh really? Are you two dating?" Leave it to Ron to get the competent brunette with a gun to fall for him.
He folded his arms and glared. "My personal life is my personal life. I'll let you know if she gets any news." With that he turned and left the office.
Leslie leaned back in her chair and sighed. It looked like the rest of the day would be nothing but waiting-maybe even into tomorrow.
There was only one way to get through it.
She dialed Ann. "Hey-do you want to go out and get drunk tonight? Please?"
~ ~ ~
Chris couldn't stop pacing the apartment, clutching his phone. "No one is answering. The agents won't return my calls. This waiting is literally one of the most frustrating experiences of my life."
Ben, looking rather pale, sat slumped on the sofa, staring at the wall with a shell-shocked look in his eyes. He nodded.
Chris paced a few more times, all the possibilities streaming through his mind. The one that kept coming back, calling to him, enticing him, shouting him, was a single, simple thought: freedom.
This had to be it. With Everson gone and his hit squad decimated, it had to be over. They had to be free.
It was a better outcome than Chris had ever allowed himself to imagine, no matter how grimly it had come about.
After a few more minutes of pacing, his phone rang.
He answered immediately. It was one of his current marshals, Wilkes.
"Look, I know you guys must be bouncing off the walls wanting to call your friends and family, but I need you to hold off for a few more days while we work with the prosecutors to figure this situation out. Remember, there are a few co-defendants left out there," said Wilkes.
"None of them were a threat to us," countered Chris.
"Probably not, but we need to do a thorough risk-assessment before we meet with you to discuss options for the future. Don't go anywhere. Don't call anyone. We should have the full assessment complete in two or three days. I know the wait will be hard, but we really need you guys to hang in there-okay?"
Hanging in there was the last thing Chris wanted to do. He wanted to log onto his old Facebook to proclaim his freedom to the world. He wanted to see his parents, and go home to his condo, and visit all his friends. He wanted to run a marathon, or compete in a triathlon, or at least a 10K.
He squeezed his lips together and finally answered. "I understand. Do you have any idea-any guesses, even-if we'll be able to go home?"
"I can't comment on that, yet, Chris. I don't want to risk creating false hope. You've just got to wait for the assessment."
"Alright. I'll wait. Just-don't take your time. Please."
After hanging up, Chris turned to Ben. "He won't make any statements as to whether we'll be able to go back to our lives-but I have a really good feeling about this. He wants us to wait while they do a risk-assessment. They wouldn't be doing that unless there was a serious possibility of the risk being gone. I think we'll be able to go home."
His heart leaped at the thought. "Can you believe it? It's extraordinary. Amazing. Brilliant. I can't sit still right now-do mind if I go for a run?"
Ben shook his head. "Go ahead. Go."
Chris nodded and headed for the door. He'd have to run twenty miles to work out this nervous energy.
~ ~ ~
Home.
The word continued to resonate in Ben's mind long after Chris left the apartment. What did home even mean, anymore?
As much as he wanted-needed-to see his mother and his brother, Partridge would never be home again. And he had zero desire to ever see his condo in Atlanta again. If he never set foot in that city again, he'd be happy.
Yet the place his mind kept drifting back to seemed so far out of reach-an insanely cluttered home; an office full of improbably eccentric co-workers; a cooky town plagued by raccoons; a bright shock of blonde hair splayed out on the pillow next to him.
He swallowed hard.
No. He couldn't go back. They'd never forgive him.
Leslie was the brightest, strongest, most extraordinary person he'd ever met. And he'd left her broken and bleeding.
It didn't matter what she said in newspaper interviews. Things could never be like they were. Not after that.
He'd held on too tight, instead of backing off when he should have. He been too selfish. He'd made one wrong choice too many. And Leslie had paid the price.
He didn't deserve that life.
He stood and slowly circled the apartment, trying to re-center his mind. He needed to let go of fantasies and accept the quiet, solitary future that lay ahead of him. He needed to stop seeing a pool of hot red spreading on a field of white every time he tried to sleep. He needed it to stop hurting so much.
~ ~ ~
Leslie's agitation grew with every passing day. Three days after the news broke, neither Doreen nor Tonya had any new information. It was maddening.
Her co-workers were beginning to give her a wide berth for fear of having her heap new work assignments on them at an alarming rate. At least the anxiety was helping her overcome her post-injury lethargy-she was right back to four or fewer hours of sleep at night. In just the past two nights she'd managed to clean out and organize her front room and main floor office. If the wait went on much longer, she'd get the whole main floor done.
"Do you think he'll want to move here?" Ann asked over dinner that night. Dear, wonderful Ann had been setting aside lots of extra time to listen to Leslie vent, and Leslie would be forever grateful.
"I-" Leslie hesitated, "I hope so. I want him to. I know he was happy here." But after the way things ended she wasn't so sure how he'd feel about it. He'd already been through so much trauma-that day in the woods had probably affected him in ways that she could only just begin to guess at.
"I just need to talk to him," she said. "I don't know how he's doing. I don't know if he's okay, or if he's been suffering. I'm sure his PTSD has flared back up, and his panic attacks. I have no idea what kind of condition he's in, or how much help he'll need, or-" she dropped her voice a little, "or how much space he might need." She shook her head. "I just need to talk to him."
Ann reached out to squeeze her hand. "You'll be able to. Soon. I'm sure of it."
~ ~ ~
"So," said the lawyer with the skinny tie, "all but one of the co-defendants has cut a deal, and the last fellow is on the verge of cutting a deal. Essentially, the federal government no longer requires your testimony for this case."
Ben swallowed hard.
"And that means?" Chris prompted.
"It means," said Wilkes, folding his arms and staring back and forth between Ben and Chris, "that while the threat level against you isn't zero, it's pretty damn close."
Ben sank further into the couch cushions, feeling as if he'd just been punched in the gut. This was more or less what they'd been expecting, but still, he hadn't really allowed himself to believe it. "So what now?" he said in a strained voice.
"Now you have a few options," said Wilkes. "Since we can't absolutely rule out continued threat to your lives, as a token of gratitude for your service we are prepared to offer you both one final, permanent relocation. A final clean slate. A fresh start. On the other hand, since the threat is extremely low, you are well within your rights to return to previous lives, and once again we will assist you with the paperwork and help you get a start back in your old identities. The choice is yours."
"I want to go home," said Chris. "I want my life back. I'm ready to go back. As soon as possible."
Wilkes nodded. "We can start the paperwork today. Your father has been paying your mortgage and taking care of your property, so you still have a condo and a vehicle waiting for you, as well as the bank accounts and investment accounts that you had before entering protective custody. We can make sure that everything is restored to you as soon as humanly possible."
Chris beamed, an almost angelic look of joy on his face. "This is literally the happiest I've been in two years. Thank you, thank you, thank you."
"It's our pleasure, Mr. Robinson." Wilkes turned to Ben. "And you, Mr. Adams? What do you want to do?"
That was the question, wasn't it?
Ben could see the appeal of one final relocation. Disappearing into the thick of humanity with no obligations weighing on his conscience. But the peace and contentment of it wouldn't last long. Not knowing that his mother still needed help, and his sister-in-law would be delivering soon, and Leslie . . . He closed his eyes. Leslie wasn't supposed to be part of the equation anymore. He needed to remember that. But his family still needed him.
After taking a deep breath, he said, "I want to go back to being Ben Adams."
Wilkes nodded. "Alright. We can start the paperwork right away. You still have all your old accounts, but the lease on your condo lapsed. Your mother saw to it that all your things were put into storage. We can help you find a new place in Atlanta-"
"No," said Ben emphatically. "I'm not going back to Atlanta."
"So where do you want to go, Mr. Adams?"
First in friendship, fourth in obesity. The words whispered in his mind against his will.
He shook his head. "To my mother's house. For the time being, I'll go stay with my mother, in Minnesota."
"Okay," replied Wilkes. "Let's make this happen."
~ ~ ~
By the fifth morning since getting the news of Everson's suicide, Leslie felt ready to explode. Why hadn't they heard anything yet? It was all over the news that Everson's co-conspirators had all taken plea deals. So why were Ben and Chris still hidden away? The threat was gone! Why, why, why, why?
She called Doreen just after seven, knowing that she'd be getting ready to go to work. She'd been back on the job for two weeks already.
"Hi-I-"
"Leslie! It's so wonderful! We're leaving for Minneapolis in an hour to pick him up. I thought that he'd want to go see you, first, but you know Ben. He needs to do his duty to his mom first. Did you two work out any plans, yet?"
Leslie's mouth hung open for a moment as she tried to parse Doreen's words. "Wait-you're picking up Ben this morning?" Her heart raced.
"Yes! Don and Lisa made it home yesterday afternoon, and Don is driving me to Minneapolis this morning to get him. Didn't Ben tell you this last night?"
"No . . . " Leslie sank onto her kitchen chair, a rock settling in her gut. "He-we-I-we haven't talked, yet."
"Oh," Doreen sounded taken aback. "I just assumed he call you after he got off the phone with me."
"No." Leslie cleared her throat. "He didn't. I didn't even know it was over. I thought he was still in protective custody."
There was a pause. Leslie couldn't imagine what she might be thinking.
"I'm so sorry, Leslie," Doreen said. "I really thought he'd call you. He didn't say anything-I just assumed-"
"It's okay," Leslie cut her off. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure he had his reasons."
"Maybe he wanted to surprise you by calling from home," said Doreen brightly.
"Maybe." Leslie couldn't bring herself to share Doreen's optimism. Something was wrong.
"I'll talk to him when we see him. I'll tell him to call you."
"No. No, you don't need to do that. Really. He'll call when he's ready." Leslie closed her eyes. He just needed some time to get used to being free and safe again. He'd come around. Eventually. "Let him have his space. I don't want to hassle him before he's ready."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
She wished Doreen well on her trip and tried to share in some of her happiness, but when she hung up she felt drained and empty. Ben wasn't okay. She knew it in her heart. But she had no idea what she could do to help. Right now she could only hope that time with Doreen and Don would break him out of whatever difficult condition he'd fallen into.
In the meantime she'd have to go to work and do her best to distract herself from her worry. But she'd keep her phone right by her all day-just in case.
~ ~ ~
Ben had his first panic attack in the Tucson airport, and his second in Minneapolis-St. Paul. Perfect bookends to his flight home. The second came not long after meeting his brother and mom in the baggage claim area. He tried to pass it off as nausea from air-sickness, but he was pretty sure they weren't fooled.
Seeing his mom and Don again was wonderful. It felt like a miracle. But seeing his mom hobble on her crutches-hearing Don joke about the hassles of finding a new obstetrician in Iowa, where they were sent while the threat was high-did nothing but remind Ben of the hell he brought into their lives.
He tried to lead them onto topics that wouldn't trigger his anxieties. He wanted to hear about Autumn and her family. About his mom's new classes. About Lisa's pregnancy-the list of baby names they'd chosen. He wanted to hear about the old restaurants in Partridge that had closed, and the new ones that had opened. About anything other than the thousands of little reminders of the ways his choices had sowed chaos and pain in their lives, and in the lives of so many others.
Seeing his mom's house again lifted his spirits like nothing else. So little had changed. She had the same trees and bushes, the same newspaper sitting in her driveway, waiting to be picked up and read, even the same cars and trucks parked in front of neighbors' houses. Inside was almost unchanged, as well. Some of the furniture was spaced farther apart, probably to accommodate her crutches, but it was the same sofas and chairs he'd sat on for years.
Finding this place so unchanged felt like a sliding into a warm bath on a cold day.
It wasn't until almost an hour after arriving that he noticed the new picture hanging on the family picture wall in the hall. It stopped him dead in his tracks. He stood, staring in disbelief, unable to make sense of what he was looking at.
He had no idea how long he stood in that hall before his mom called, "Are you alright back here?" and came hobbling into the hall to find him.
"Mom-how . . .?" he pointed at the picture.
"Do you like it?" she said. "Leslie gave me a whole stack, but this one was my favorite."
Hearing his mom say Leslie's name, and seeing that picture hanging on the wall-a snapshot of him and Leslie together on New Year's Eve, dressed up for the party, their arms around each other, smiles on their face-it felt like he'd just fallen down a rabbit hole.
"I don't understand. Leslie-and you-how?" He continued to stare at the picture. God, they looked so happy. But just a week and a half later she lay dying in the snow while he killed a man. Pictures never told the whole story.
"She came to see me just over three weeks ago, and stayed to visit for two days. We've talked on the phone every day since. We've gotten to be good friends. She's a wonderful woman." His mother looked at him with moist eyes.
Ben swallowed hard. Of course Leslie would come here. Of course she would befriend his mom. Why did he expect anything different?
He nodded and opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to find the right words.
"You haven't talked to her yet, have you?" his mom asked softly.
He shook his head, dropping his eyes from the picture.
"You really should call her," his mom said. "She's worried sick about you. Ben?" She stepped closer and rested a hand on his upper arm. "I took what she told me at face value, but if she misrepresented your relationship to me, I can cut off contact with her today. Is that what you want?"
"No." He almost choked on the word. He couldn't bring himself to meet his mother's eyes. "She didn't misrepresent anything."
"Why haven't you called her? She misses you. She's head over heels in love with you."
"She shouldn't be." The words ripped harshly from his throat. "She's better off without me."
"Ben . . ."
A field of red spreading on white flashed before his eyes. "I'm sorry. I need some-I need some air."
He pushed away from his mom and hurried to the back door. Outside he stumbled into one of the patio chairs and rested his head in his hands as the remembered echo of gunfire filled his mind. His heart raced and his head pounded.
He couldn't do this. He didn't know how to come back.
~ ~ ~
"I don't know what to do. He's changed so much-he seems so far away." Doreen's voice shook as she spoke.
Leslie could feel tears rising in her eyes as Doreen continued. "He had a panic attack before we even left the airport. He tried to pass it off as airsickness but after everything you told me I knew what I was looking at. He's lost weight, and he was never a big man. He looks ill. He asked lots of questions on our drive home, but he wouldn’t talk about what he's been through. He didn't even mention Indiana once."
"Oh god," said Leslie, "This is bad. This is very bad."
"I know! You told me how much progress he made during his time in Indiana, but none of it seems to have lasted. Leslie-when he saw the picture of the two of you that I hung up, I tried to talk to him about you, and he had a serious break-down. He was outside for a little while, and then he shut himself in his room. That was almost three hours ago. I haven't heard a peep out of him since. I don't know what to do." Her tears were evident in her voice.
Leslie wiped away a few of her own tears and clutched the phone even tighter. "Patience. He mostly needs patience. We can't push him. But if you could look up a good therapist in your area and try to gently suggest it to him, that would probably be a good thing."
"Maybe you should come out and see him. You might be able to get through to him."
Leslie almost jumped out of her chair with her need to take act. Yes, yes, yes, her mind screamed at her. But she stopped herself, gripping the edge of her desk and taking deep breaths as she counted to ten. She had to think of Ben's well-being, here-not just her own wishes.
She swallowed before she replied, and cleared her voice a little to ease up the tightness brought on by her emotions. "I want to. Very, very much. But after what you just said, I'm worried that seeing me will send him into even more of a tailspin. I want-I need him to be ready. I need him to want to see me. Or at least to not be terrified of seeing me. I don't want to be responsible for his condition getting even worse."
"I don't see how that could possibly happen," replied Doreen. "He seems to have very strong feelings for you. I'm sure those feelings will help smooth over whatever issues he's dealing with right now."
"I don't know," said Leslie softly, shaking her head. She lifted a hand to rub her forehead. "I want to believe that. I really do. But I'm scared. I'm scared of coming on too strong and pushing him away for good. I don’t want to lose him completely just because I couldn't be patient."
Doreen was silent for a moment before responding. "I think I understand. I just want to do anything I can to help him, right now."
"I know. I do too. I just don't know if showing up and bombarding him with all these emotions right now is the best way to help him." Leslie was starting to think that nothing in her relationship with Ben would ever come easy. She needed to accept that.
"Alright." Doreen took a deep breath. "I'll try to be patient, too. And I'll try to get him to see a therapist. He really needs it. And I'll see if I can get him to call you. Or maybe you could at least send him a letter? Something he can hold in his hands, and process at his own pace?"
"Yes. Absolutely." This was the direction Leslie had been looking for. A step closer to Ben-a chance to share her feelings with him, without overwhelming him or pushing for too much too soon. "I'll write something tonight. I promise."
"Okay. I wish there was more I could do this instant, but I think you're probably right. I need to be patient. You can understand how hard that is."
"Believe me," said Leslie, "I do. It's taken every ounce of my willpower not to hop in my car today to start driving your way. But I can't push him, right now. He needs time and space. But as soon as he's ready, you better believe I'll be there."
"I do."
As soon as she ended the call, Leslie felt like she'd made the wrong choice. Of course going to see Ben would help him. What had she been thinking? Then the doubts rose again. Could they really build a relationship off of her riding in on her white horse to "save" him? Or would she just be another casualty of his anxiety disorder? Space and time. And therapy. That's what he needed-not being pushed back into a serious relationship that clearly held traumatic memories for him.
She needed to be more than just the woman he almost got killed-he needed to remember everything else they had. He needed to stop dwelling on the bad ending and to start remembering all the good things they'd shared. Could he do that better with Leslie by his side, or would he be better on his own?
She really had no idea.
Leslie picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Nygard's office. Time for another appointment.
~ ~ ~
The first thing Chris did when he got the official go-ahead to come out of hiding was log on to his Facebook account and announce to his 500 friends that he was back.
He watched the computer screen with an uncontainable grin on his face as the "likes" and comments piled up, welcoming him home.
Next, he called his parents. All four of them were overjoyed to hear from him, and Chris promptly scheduled trips to see them. His condo could wait a few more days.
As soon as he got off the phone, he looked at his Facebook post, again. Sixty-eight comments and 124 "likes." It felt magnificent. He pulled up the list of people who had "liked" his post and skimmed through it, beaming at all the familiar names. Then one name jumped out at him, and his heart caught in his throat.
Kelsey Gerard had "liked" his post.
He took a few breaths to steady his nerves, and clicked his way through to her profile. She'd moved from Atlanta to Boston. Probably, at least in part, to be closer to her sister's family. She adored her little niece and nephew. But the item that he couldn't stop looking at was her relationship status: single.
She hadn't found anyone else.
Chris had no doubt in his mind that in the more than two years since he broke off their relationship Kelsey had certainly done some dating. He'd wanted her to. He wasn't possessive, and she deserved to be happy. But she still hadn't found someone special.
There's still a chance.
He could hardly let himself think it. Yet, there it was, on the screen, right in front of his face.
He fought back the urge to hop on a flight to Boston this instant. He had no idea what she thought of him now, other than that she "liked" the fact that he was no longer a hostage of the witness protection system. He needed to give this a little time. He had his parents to visit and his condo to move back into.
He needed to be patient.
But he couldn't stop staring at her smiling face in her profile picture.
There's still a chance.
~ ~ ~
"Am I doing the right thing?" Leslie asked, rubbing her forehead and staring at the ceiling. She sat slumped in a deep leather armchair, with Dr. Nygard sitting in an identical chair next to her.
"Do you think you're doing the right thing?"
Somehow, she knew he'd say that. "I don't know. That's why I'm here. Asking you."
He nodded and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose a little. "I'm going to have to say that in situations like these, there is no right or wrong. There are just choices. I think giving him some time and space to reacclimatize to life outside of witness protection is a valid choice."
"Am I being selfish?" she said, finally vocalizing her fear. "Like, I think going to him now might help, but I'm afraid that he's so damaged that even though going to him might help him get better, we might not be able to build a healthy relationship afterward. You know? That's what I'm scared of. But it's selfish, isn't it? Putting my desire for a healthy relationship ahead of his mental and emotional well-being. I'm just being selfish."
"Maybe. But it's human to want the things that make us happy." The doctor paused. "Try thinking of it this way-perhaps what Ben wants deep down, more than anything else, is the same as what you want. A healthy relationship together. But what if you going to him now, when he's still broken and traumatized, will interfere with that? In the long run, wouldn't both of you be better off waiting? Wouldn't both of you have a better chance at what you really want if you give him space to heal, first?"
God, she hoped so. "Do you think it will really work out that way?"
"Only time will tell."
Damn it.
~ ~ ~
The first four days were the hardest. The picture of Leslie on the wall would inevitably catch Ben's eye, and it would inevitably get him thinking about all the hardship he'd brought into her life, and, whether it took five minutes or two hours, it would inevitably end with him curled up in his bed, visions of red blood seeping through white snow filling his mind.
"I can take it down," his mother said, that fourth night, her sorrow evident in her voice. "If it will help, I can take it down."
Though they both sat at the kitchen table, far out of eyeshot of the picture, she didn't have to explain what she was talking about.
Ben swallowed hard and stared down at his plate of food. Steak and mashed potatoes. He'd barely noticed until now what he was eating.
Would it really help him to take it down? He closed his eyes for a moment to think.
He still missed her-with every breath-with every blink of his eyes-with every step of his feet-with every beat of his heart. He'd probably always miss her.
But would taking the picture down really help?
For the first time since seeing it, he let himself think of the article in the Pawnee Sun. Leslie had her park. She was a town hero. She wore a bright smile to the ground-breaking.
She hadn't given up.
Jesus-Leslie had never given up on anything, ever, as long as he'd known her. And, based on the hushed phone conversations that he'd caught his mother having when she thought he was resting, Leslie still hadn't given up on him, either.
He shook his head just a little, and poked at his steak. "You don't have to take it down."
They ate in silence for a few more minutes before his mother spoke again. "She sent you a letter. It got here yesterday, but you were so . . . I was worried about you yesterday. I was worried that the letter might make things worse. But if you think you're ready, I can give it to you."
Ben's hand shook a little as he lowered his fork to his plate.
Ready. What did that word even mean, in this context? Ready. Ready to hold Leslie's paper in his hands. Ready to read her words. Ready to acknowledge, once and for all, that she didn't end that afternoon in the snow. She kept going.
Because no matter how much evidence Chris or his mom or anyone else had placed in front of him, that was the part that his mind refused to accept it.
She kept going. And he didn't.
Ben looked at his plate and poked his mashed potatoes a few more times before finally abandoning his fork.
Chris almost managed to get him going again in the two weeks leading up to the trial date. But since Everson's suicide everything had felt so confused and rushed. And Chris had left him behind with little more than a hug and a thumbs up. Ben had been left to himself, feeling like a Lazarus with one foot still in the tomb.
Was it time to finish waking up? Was it time to start trying harder? His mom had not-so-subtly pushed a card for a local therapist at him yesterday morning. Was it time to give her a call?
Was he ready?
He stood on the edge of the cliff, and he had to jump or pull back. One way, or the other.
"I'll-I'll read it," he said in a quick, low voice, surprising himself as he spoke.
His mother nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll get it after dinner."
Naturally, she made him wait.
He tried to act nonchalant when she placed the envelope in his hand, but made a hasty escape to his room before even looking at the hand-written addresses.
The room had been outfitted as a guest room, with a homey blue-toned patchwork quilt and bland artwork on the walls. But in anticipation of his coming, his mom had set out several mementos from his youth-a collection of Star Wars models and action figures, set in rows on two selves of the bookcase, staring at him.
Under their gaze he sat on the edge of the bed and slowly ripped open the envelope.
Handwritten on stationary festooned with happy penguins, her words stared up at him.
"I got your letter," she said, "the one you wrote when you were obviously wallowing in guilt and trauma. Just so you know, I have no intention of following your instructions. Really-you didn't honestly believe that I would, did you?"
Ben couldn't stop the corners of his lips from twitching into just a hint of a smile.
"I probably shouldn't have started that way," she continued. "I know it wasn't very kind. But that letter really peeves me. Still, I should probably have started by telling you how much I miss you. Because I do. Very much. Everyday. I think about you all the time. I want to be with you. The only reason I'm not with you right now, this very instant, is because your mom scared me. She made me think that maybe you don't want to see me. Or maybe you'll heal better without me. And if that's the case, I respect that. I really do.
"If you never want to hear from me again after this, I'll learn to live with it. Just know that if you're only staying away from me because you don't think I can forgive you for what happened, then you're wrong. There was never anything to forgive-you weren't to blame.
"And if you're staying away because you haven't forgiven yourself-well-I don't know what to do about that. Except to ask you to get help. Because you're the last person on earth who should be holding himself responsible for any of the shit storm that seemed to follow you everywhere you went starting when you took that job with Everson's. None of it is on your shoulders. None. Nada. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Do I need to go on?
"If you need help to understand that, please, please, get it.
"And if you really genuinely just don't want to see me again, for whatever reason, I'll learn to live with it. Just tell your mom, and she can call me. I think Doreen will know how to let me down easy.
"But I hope you don't feel that way. And I hope you'll be ready to see me soon. Because I am really, really ready to see you.
"Love, Leslie."
He had no idea how long he sat staring at that letter, but he did know that by the time he looked up again, the rest of the house was dark. His mom had gone to bed.
Ben stood up and paced slowly through the house, the words of the letter swirling in his brain. His fingers trailed along the furniture and walls. He felt the need to keep touching something, to help him remember that this was really his life, and not just another dream.
How and why she could possibly still want to be with him after everything made no sense to him.
She really was better off without him-he knew that in his gut. But he wasn't better off without her. Did this letter give him permission to be selfish? Did it give him permission to disrupt her happy life once again, dragging his dark cloud along with him?
His fingers lingered as they swiped over the phone on its charging base in the kitchen. He circled away for a few minutes, but slowly paced his way back. This time he picked up the phone and looked at the numbers. She'd still be up, this time of night. All he had to do was push the numbers.
He'd dialed half the numbers before he stopped himself. He shook his head, put the phone back on its base, and walked back to his room. Not tonight. He needed time to think about this with a level head. He needed to consider all the ramifications of his actions before making this kind of move.
He couldn't-wouldn't-let himself hurt her again.
~ ~ ~
Chris sat in the airport in Kansas City after concluding a lovely visit with his mom and step-dad. Next stop, Tampa, to see his dad and step-mom.
While he waited, he skimmed Facebook on his phone.
Ever since regaining his freedom he'd been playing "like" tag with Kelsey.
He'd "liked" her triumphant photo after completing a thirty mile bike ride on the previous Saturday. She'd "liked" his reunion photo with his mom and step-dad. He'd "liked" the picture of her dog Hilda after a visit to the groomers. She'd "liked" the picture he took of the grilled Portobello burgers he'd made for dinner. He'd "liked" her report of a successful day at work, and then, this morning, she'd "liked" his posting about leaving for Florida.
Though many of his other friends and acquaintances had left him personal messages and comments on his statuses, Kelsey had said nothing. Just the silent "likes." And he hadn't dared say anything, either.
It could mean anything, really. She might simply be happy for him. That was a normal, human reaction to good news in someone's life-to feel happy for them. But what if it meant more? What if, in spite of all the time that had passed, she was willing to give him a second chance?
He wasn't ready to take that leap. Not yet.
That train of thought led him to Ben.
They'd been each other's confidants for more than two years. For months at a time Ben had been the only person Chris was sure to talk to on a daily basis. Yet he hadn't checked in with him once since leaving Arizona. A twinge of guilt welled in his chest, and he quickly dialed the number for Ben's mother's home.
She answered after three rings. "Mrs. Adams, I presume? I hope you're doing well. This is Chris Robinson. Is Ben still staying with you?"
"Chris! I'm so glad to hear from you. Really. Are you doing well?"
"Extraordinarily well. I am literally having the time of my life, thank you."
"That's wonderful. I'm so glad to hear it." Yet her cheer seemed forced.
"Mrs. Adams-is everything all right?"
A long sigh filled his ear. "Not really. Ben is-he's still here. He's in the bath right now."
Chris frowned. "He's not taking his long sadness baths, again, is he?"
Mrs. Adams chuckled mirthlessly. "Sadness baths is a pretty apt description."
"Oh dear. He's not doing well, is he?"
"No. I'm afraid not. There are times when he seems a little better and I start to hope, but then he slips right back into his depressed funk. He doesn't leave the house except to do a little yard work for me, and he hasn't even spoken to Leslie yet-"
"What?" Chris's jaw dropped. "He won't talk to Leslie?"
"No. I tried to get him to call her, but he goes into a tailspin every time I try to bring her up."
"This is not good," said Chris, vastly understating the matter. "Is he still taking his Zoloft?"
"I haven't seen him taking any pills at all, no."
"He's gone off his meds? God damn it." Chris closed his eyes and shook his head. "Please excuse my language. He'd only just begun to make progress on the medication when everything happened and we got word we could come home. I should have made him promise to stick with it. No wonder he's gone into a tailspin."
Chris should have known this was a possibility. He should have done more to make sure Ben would be alright. He'd been too focused on his own freedom to think of the man who'd been by his side for better or for worse these past two years. He shook his head. "Mrs. Adams-I'm on my way to Florida for three days to visit my dad and step-mom, but when I'm done I'd like to change my itinerary to come up to Minnesota and see Ben. Would that be alright with you?"
"Yes! Absolutely. He needs all the help he can get right now. Thank you so much."
The relief in her voice spoke volumes about how poorly Ben was adjusting. Damn it. "I'll call you the day before I come to let you know my schedule."
"Good. I can't wait."
After hanging up, Chris tapped his thighs nervously. Maybe he should change his itinerary and go to Minnesota, first.
He shook his head. No. Ben had made it through darker times, before. He'd last another three and a half days. And then Chris would be there to see if he could set things right.
~ ~ ~
For the next two days, Ben's eyes drifted to the phone every time his mom wasn't looking. And every time he ended up castigating himself. He'd done enough harm to Leslie already. He couldn't let himself hurt her again. But the little voice at the back of his mind would always whisper that maybe-just maybe--not talking to her hurt her far worse.
He read the letter again and again. He knew he shouldn't. It only encouraged him to hold onto a fantasy that he should have let go of weeks ago.
But it also made him hope-it made him hope that he could someday be the kind of son his mom deserved, again. That someday he could actually be a good uncle to Don's kid. That someday he could learn how to be a friend again. That somehow, in spite of everything, his life would go on.
He needed that kind of hope right now.
On the third morning after first reading the letter, he finally cracked. His mom was at school, working, and the phone had been calling to him since breakfast.
Before his brain could take over he grabbed the handset, punched in the numbers, and hit "talk."
He held his breath as it started to ring.
"Dorrie-hi! Any news?" Leslie's bright voice filled his ear.
He froze.
~ ~ ~
Doreen had been calling Leslie over her lunch hour, lately, so Leslie was surprised to see her caller I.D. come up at just past 10 am. Especially since it was her home phone number. She frowned as she answered, hoping that things hadn't gotten any worse.
"Dorrie-hi!" she answered. "Any news?"
There was silence on the line, and Leslie's heart began to race. "Dorrie?" she asked again, softly. It couldn't be-could it? She swallowed her fear and said, "Ben?"
She heard a low cough, and then his voice. "Uh, hi. Yeah. It's. . . it's me."
She gripped the arm of her chair and rapidly blinked away the moisture rising in her eyes. "It's good to hear your voice."
"It's good to hear yours, too." He lapsed back into silence.
Leslie gulped. "Wow. So-I-I hope you don't mind that I visited your mom. I just wanted to do something to help."
"No. No. I don't mind. It's good. It's good. She, uh, needs friends. And, and . . . it's good." His voice sounded raw and unsteady.
"Good. I like her. A lot."
"Yeah. She's a good mom."
"She is."
Another silence fell. Leslie took a deep breath. "It's really, really good to hear from you. I miss you."
The silence that followed her confession was painful. She sucked on her bottom lip, waiting-giving him time to answer.
"Fuck." The word was so soft she could barely make it out. Then, a little louder, "I don't know what to say. I-I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This was a mistake. I can't . . . I'm sorry."
"Wait-Ben-" But before she could finish, the call went dead. He'd hung up.
She slowly lowered her phone, grateful that Tom wasn't at his desk. She couldn't handle his questions right now. A low sobbed welled in her chest.
She stood and grabbed her purse and phone, heading for the nearest exit. She couldn’t break down at her desk. She needed to get out of there. She needed Ann.
~ ~ ~
"I miss you."
Her words burned in his ears, filling his mind. God, how much he'd longed-needed-to hear those words. To hear her voice.
Missing her had become the totality of his existence. Mourning her, really. Mourning the loss of an impossible dream. Mourning the loss of the real, complicated, frustrating, delightful, funny, brilliant, sexy, kind, determined woman that he'd last seen limp and pale and covered in blood, being lifted into the back seat of a police car.
In spite of everything he'd seen and read leading up to this moment, he felt as if he was talking to a ghost.
This couldn't be real. He couldn’t let it be real. He didn't deserve it.
He broke her.
Nothing he did could ever make amends for that. Not really. "Fuck."
He heard a faint gasp on the other end of the call.
"I don't know what to say," he muttered, rubbing his face with his free hand, struggling to make sense of the mess of thought and emotion colliding in a tangled game of red rover in his mind. "I-I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He could never apologize enough. Never. "This was a mistake. I can't . . ." Can't make you whole again. Can't spare you the pain. Can't be the man you thought I was. Can't deserve you. Never. "I'm sorry."
He hung up and sank to the ground, his whole body trembling. He gasped and shook and cradled his face in his hands.
He'd fucked things up. Bad.
~ ~ ~
A new wave of sobs overtook Leslie, and she clung to Ann even tighter, so glad that her friend had the morning off.
"Why won't he just talk to me?" she repeated through her tears. She'd said it dozens of times already, but she still hadn't thought of a good answer.
Ann smoothed her hair and rubbed her back. "I don't know, honey. I don't know."
"Tell me everything will be okay." Leslie didn't believe herself when she said it. Maybe it would seem more true if Ann said it.
"Everything will be okay. Somehow. I promise."
Leslie nodded her head, and then snuggled tighter against Ann's shoulder.
It would be okay. Somehow.
~ ~ ~
Ben sat slouched on the couch when the bell rang. His mom wasn't back from work yet. It was probably for her.
He ignored it.
He'd been ignoring almost everything since his disastrous phone call yesterday morning.
The bell rang again.
And again.
Ben frowned. Why wouldn't they just go away?
The bell rang again.
With a seething anger rising in his chest, Ben stood and stalked toward the front door. He flung it open, expecting an overzealous deliveryman. Instead, he found Chris.
Ben's jaw hung limp and he blinked in surprise.
Chris smiled warmly. "Hello, Benjamin. I hear you're not doing too well?"
A lump rose in Ben's throat and all his anger drained away. "I'm not. I'm really not." He drew in a shaky breath, and felt tears pricking his eyes.
"I'm here to help." Chris's eyes were warm with compassion and he spread his arms wide.
Ben readily accepted his friend's invitation, and wrapped his arms around Chris for a desperate hug.
"I'm so screwed up," he said as Chris patted him on his back.
"Let's see if we can start to fix things. Together."
TBC
Part 24 here