please don't wake me
Title: please don't wake me
Summary: She knows. He'll be back.
Pairing: Ben/Kate
Rating: R
Notes: I sort of like the bizarreness of these two. I blame flaky_artist 100%. For 30_rock_office requested here a really long time ago. Sorry bb.
Kate isn't sure why she let him in. He's standing in her kitchen, glancing around, taking it all in. His thin hands run over the smooth granite. Everything about him is out of place here. All these material things. She never took him for the kind of man who appreciates a perfect kitchen. What do you want?
I'm assuming John came to you? It is not a question. She doesn't answer it. He already knows. Benjamin Linus knows everything, it seems. He's right, you know. You have to go back. Jack told you this. Kate doesn't want to talk about Jack or Locke or the goddamn island. She wants to go to bed. She wants him out of her house and she wants to sleep. Close her eyes and wake up in some other world where none of this makes sense. She needs for it all to be the nonsense she tells herself it is.
Get out. He complies. But she knows. He'll be back tomorrow.
In the morning, he's there again, on her front step. Aaron is awake now. Ben's eyes glance over him. Kate almost says something, almost tells him not to look at her son, when she sees he's already lost interest. She doesn't know what children do to him. How he can't bear to see them anymore. She doesn't know what happened. He tells her over coffee. Somewhat casually, almost. Death for him is the most casual thing of all, really. My daughter is dead. Because of Charles Widmore, he lies.
Because of him? Or because of you? His lack of reaction tells her she's right. He shrugs suddenly, an uncharacteristic gesture. And you want to go back. Why?
There are things about the island you don't understand. Things you don't even want to understand. An unspoked why bother. He doesn't elaborate and frankly, Kate doesn't care. Aaron whines from the living room and she excuses herself to put him down for a nap. When she comes back, Ben is gone, the door just closing behind him. She opens it again, calling after his dark-suited retreating form.
Where are you going?
I'll see you tomorrow, Kate. A promise. She holds him to it because she doesn't believe he can tell a truth.
When he rings her doorbell again, she almost smiles. Now he steps tentively into the house. He knows he's only welcome to a certain extent, and the evening is fast approaching. He offers to take her to dinner and she accepts. But normalcy isn't their style, and they end up at the water, legs hanging over the dock, hands too close.
Why do you want it so badly? she asks. He knows what it is. What she's talking about.
Because I don't have anything else.
He sounds so human, she starts to cry.
In her room, she pulls off his dusty clothes and he carefully undoes the buttons of her long blue dress. There are words that pass between them that neither of them hear. And she knows she's only doing this because she thinks she needs it. But really, she's doing it because she knows there's nothing left to lose.
She's known that she's going back since John Locke knocked on her door.
His hands are gentle and his lips know where to go, know all her nerves and the small corners of her body, like he's had a map of her in his head all this time. And maybe he has. He knows them all too well not to. Kate curses herself for coming to soon, for giving a small cry and gripping him tight. But he doesn't seem to mind. In the end, they wind up in the same places as before.
He stands at the doorway, she places her fingers of the knob and whispers in his ear, get out.
Summary: She knows. He'll be back.
Pairing: Ben/Kate
Rating: R
Notes: I sort of like the bizarreness of these two. I blame flaky_artist 100%. For 30_rock_office requested here a really long time ago. Sorry bb.
Kate isn't sure why she let him in. He's standing in her kitchen, glancing around, taking it all in. His thin hands run over the smooth granite. Everything about him is out of place here. All these material things. She never took him for the kind of man who appreciates a perfect kitchen. What do you want?
I'm assuming John came to you? It is not a question. She doesn't answer it. He already knows. Benjamin Linus knows everything, it seems. He's right, you know. You have to go back. Jack told you this. Kate doesn't want to talk about Jack or Locke or the goddamn island. She wants to go to bed. She wants him out of her house and she wants to sleep. Close her eyes and wake up in some other world where none of this makes sense. She needs for it all to be the nonsense she tells herself it is.
Get out. He complies. But she knows. He'll be back tomorrow.
In the morning, he's there again, on her front step. Aaron is awake now. Ben's eyes glance over him. Kate almost says something, almost tells him not to look at her son, when she sees he's already lost interest. She doesn't know what children do to him. How he can't bear to see them anymore. She doesn't know what happened. He tells her over coffee. Somewhat casually, almost. Death for him is the most casual thing of all, really. My daughter is dead. Because of Charles Widmore, he lies.
Because of him? Or because of you? His lack of reaction tells her she's right. He shrugs suddenly, an uncharacteristic gesture. And you want to go back. Why?
There are things about the island you don't understand. Things you don't even want to understand. An unspoked why bother. He doesn't elaborate and frankly, Kate doesn't care. Aaron whines from the living room and she excuses herself to put him down for a nap. When she comes back, Ben is gone, the door just closing behind him. She opens it again, calling after his dark-suited retreating form.
Where are you going?
I'll see you tomorrow, Kate. A promise. She holds him to it because she doesn't believe he can tell a truth.
When he rings her doorbell again, she almost smiles. Now he steps tentively into the house. He knows he's only welcome to a certain extent, and the evening is fast approaching. He offers to take her to dinner and she accepts. But normalcy isn't their style, and they end up at the water, legs hanging over the dock, hands too close.
Why do you want it so badly? she asks. He knows what it is. What she's talking about.
Because I don't have anything else.
He sounds so human, she starts to cry.
In her room, she pulls off his dusty clothes and he carefully undoes the buttons of her long blue dress. There are words that pass between them that neither of them hear. And she knows she's only doing this because she thinks she needs it. But really, she's doing it because she knows there's nothing left to lose.
She's known that she's going back since John Locke knocked on her door.
His hands are gentle and his lips know where to go, know all her nerves and the small corners of her body, like he's had a map of her in his head all this time. And maybe he has. He knows them all too well not to. Kate curses herself for coming to soon, for giving a small cry and gripping him tight. But he doesn't seem to mind. In the end, they wind up in the same places as before.
He stands at the doorway, she places her fingers of the knob and whispers in his ear, get out.