(no subject)
Title: A Single Smile
Pairing: Benjamin/Juliet
Rating: PG
Summary: Set in S4, Ben is in Jack's camp as opposed to Locke's. A brief glance at the tortured relationship between, in my humble opinion, the two best characters on the show Benjamin and Juliet.
She watched him for a long time. Watched him sitting on the beach, staring out at the sea. Nobody spoke to him, sat beside him, offered him food or even a sip of water. She disinfected her hands with a bottle of alcohol.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to clean Ben’s face.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to restore what little dignity he has left, Jack. He may have his flaws, but he’s nothing if not dignified.”
“So why do you want to give it back to him, after everything he’s done?”
Juliet looked up at him, “Because it’s the only thing he has left.”
She sat down next to him, not saying a word and placed the bottle of alcohol, a bottle of water and a makeshift first-aid kit in the sand. Finally she placed a knife next to her feet.
He glanced at the knife. “Taking precautions?”
“No.” She replied. “Now turn your head to me.”
He did as he was told and she looked closely at his injured face, at the cuts and bruises. The blood served to contrast the colour of his eyes, and they seemed even bluer than usual. They stared back at her with intensity but also a crushing vulnerability she’d never seen before. She sighed, then tipped the bottle of water over his head, soaking his hair. The liquid trickled down his face, soothing him and making it easier to remove the dried blood.
She took a clean wipe and held his jaw to steady his head. His eyes never left her face as she cleaned him, returning some semblance of normality. She discarded the bloodstained wipe and picked up a clean one.
“I’m going to disinfect your cuts.”
She held the wipe over the opening of the alcohol and tipped it downwards, soaking a small patch and began to dab the gashes that marked his face.
They sat in silence whilst she tended to him. It was punctuated only by his winces and gasps as the fluid stung his deep wounds.
She noticed the deepest cut lay above his left eye; the lid pierced by a violent fist no doubt. “Close your eyes, Ben. This one’s going to hurt.”
He closed his eyes and ground his teeth together, not wanting to reveal his agony whilst Juliet was so close. It had been a long time since she had been so near to him, his masculinity was shattered, he didn’t want it broken any further.
“Urgh.” The alcohol stung. He moved his head away instinctively. She gripped his jaw once more to steady him whilst she continued to clean the cut. When she was done, she took out some healing cream to dab into the gash.
“Why are you doing this?” She continued to apply the cream until the wound was completely blanketed. She exhaled and looked at him. Her eyes penetrated his and the passion he felt for her, the admiration and adoration that pained him for three years, came flooding back. She was beautiful.
“Because you’re broken, Ben, and nothing you do can hurt me anymore.” He smiled and looked down at the sand. So very beautiful.
She picked up the knife and angled it so she could slit the binds securing his wrists together. She cut them loose and they fell away, revealing his sore skin underneath. Fierce red marks had branded his wrists, leaving them bloodstained and slashed.
“Hold out your arms.” He complied, and again she washed and disinfected his wounds and again he winced in discomfort. She glanced at him as the alcohol sunk in. He looked so defenceless, so childlike. How he had fallen. The once great leader, the all-knowing Benjamin Linus now powerless and fully exposed. She could almost cringe for him.
She carefully bandaged his wrists not bothering to tie them back up. There was no point. He had nowhere to run, nobody to lead. A pang of sympathy shot through her. Ben, bruised and bandaged. He could be so kind, so polite and good humoured. A man behind the monster.
“Thank you.” She smiled and moved to stand but he grabbed hold of her hand. “Juliet… I’m sorry. For everything.”
There was no need for elaboration; she knew exactly what he meant. Though time had left her distant and cold, unwilling to repair the broken bonds between them, a common understanding remained. He was sorry for ever bringing her to the island, for preventing her from leaving, for depriving her of her sister and nephew. He was sorry for staking claim to her on a beautiful day whilst she wept over her lover’s corpse. Did she believe him? Could she? His lies had hurt her before, why should now be any different? His eyes bore into her own, so sincere, so tragic.
Juliet was a forgiving woman, though she couldn’t yet absolve him fully, the picture of a ruined man sitting before her, pleading with his eyes, almost broke her heart. She squeezed his hand before letting go and placed a hand on the side of his face.
“Drink this or you’ll dehydrate.” She handed him the water bottle. That was all he needed. A simple touch. A single smile.
As she walked away he watched her, thinking to himself how one gentle smile from her hurt him more than any fist ever could. Her smile tore into his soul. The smile that both reminded him of what he had lost yet what he never had to begin with. He thought back to the tortured nights he had spent thinking about her alone in the dark. Her soft skin, her silky blonde hair, her deep blue eyes and her smile. The way it cut through his heart like a blade.
A smile was all he received, it was all he deserved and he came to the realisation that ‘his’ Juliet was never really his at all.