Chapter Text
Click.
One more night lost.
4:59 AM.
And another rotation of the abrupt awakeness that came along an unaffected time, daily.
Ben shakily wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling suffocated and cold all the same. His covers lay twisted and kicked at the end of his bed, half spilling onto the flooring; his pillow underside his computer desk.
The nightmares again…
Moist palms clutched his underdeveloped triceps, mind racing, trying to make sense of the blurred images that had so affected him, bringing chills to his skin.
I can't remember…what happened.
That was the worst of it all. Ben never could remember what the nightmares he'd suffered were about after rousing. His brain proffered only disjointed glimpses and sensations that lacked any apparent meaning, yet still left his heart racing as though his wellbeing was threatened by that same elusive relevance. Almost like he'd forgotten something important.
He felt sluggish.
Could he not—as any normal sixteen-year-old—sleep in? Or even sleep for that matter?
Evidently, no.
Outside his window was murky; the sky yet in its nightly state. He sat on the edge of the mattress for a while, feeling lost before a yawn parted his lips and he pointedly buffed the wooziness from his eyes. Not that it'd benefit him greatly. He wouldn't succeed much in expunging the fluffy imprint from his head: that light, airy sensation one gets when sleep is no more than a remote notion, not wholly unlike the onset of a headache which in fact has no treatment.
Who ever heard of a sixteen-year-old sleeping in during summer? Ludicrous.
The closet never seemed so far away as it did now. Those few feet he'd otherwise span ably now appeared the vastness of a mile. Ben scrunched his nose in discomfort when the effort of standing and walking left him breathless. He was exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that the small sum of work he'd just achieved left his heart thrashing wildly against his breastbone. He peered down. He could plainly see his chest pulsing. A sigh escaped him.
The notion of a cold shower to wake him up was considered, but at that moment, Ben felt he hadn't the verve to suffer through one. Lethargy was scarcely the case. The brunette leaned inelegantly against the frame of his closet, blankly gazing in. Nope. Not lazy in the least. Simply tired, nonplussed, and still reasonably off-put by the nightmare.
Pale arms fitted their way into a loose-fitting hoodie; his head popped out the top hole and he had the inconceivable urge to yell "Boo!"
A part of him vaguely toyed with the idea of his dodging of the real issues at hand. The visions beneath his closed eyes and the lacking retention of them… His mindless impulses hardly served to assert their inexistence, but Ben couldn't resist the lure of distraction.
God his head hurt.
He brushed his teeth, emptied Mother Nature and found a pair of jeans balled up on his swivel chair. Beryl eyes fixed on the clock. Seventeen after.
Early bird gets the worm.
Ew.
Forget the worm. All Ben wanted was a nice bowl of cereal. Not that he was hungry—he wasn't—but the mere thought of the simple yet satisfying breakfast had him buzzing.
Froot Loops was his current obsession. It'd been some time since he'd sought anything hearty. Somehow, the notion of a traditional morning meal ceased to sit well in the wake of his nights. Inadvertently dropping a jean size hadn't even fazed him.
The boy moseyed his way to the kitchen and stared into the pantry for a good five minutes. Darn that fluffiness and the way it marred his focus. The box was half full. He'd have to remember to buy some more before he ran out…distractions.
When was the last time he'd slept past five? In fact, when was the last time he'd had a good night's sleep, period?
He pulled out the milk and some utensils.
Was he right to mention his nightmares to Kevin instead of Gwen? Sure, his red-haired cousin was better suited for advice when it came to such things, but he really didn't feel like telling her. She'd freaked out when he'd suffered a random faint during one of their late-night patrols some three weeks ago. It was so sudden. One moment he was fine, the next a wave of dizziness hit him so hard he saw white.
He bit his lip, torn by his anarchic musings and festering anxiety. The tiny clinks of colored loops entertained him only slightly. He dumped the milk in and proceeded to inhale his concoction. Nobody liked soggy cereal.
Ben was interested as to why he'd even told the osmosian about the episodes, even if it was a brief reveal. Perhaps he simply needed vent. Every night plagued him like disease would a rotting possum on the street side.
He remembered now: the night of his faint, as Kevin drove him home he'd disclosed the nightmares, the sleeplessness. Gwen was safely tucked away at her house—albeit, with much difficulty—so the pressure of her incessant prying was naught. Kevin hadn't even uttered his question when Ben let loose.
His pale face had been pressed against the glass of the passenger side window, vision cast outward at the rolling landscape. Leviathan eyes never once looked toward the driver; he was yet intimidated and the nightmares loomed in the darkness above them. His dreams held little detail and even less understanding, simply congested blobs of shapes and sounds and obscured landscapes; even so he could not fathom the horror, the panic suffered with each episode or from where such phobia's birthed. Ben's hands shook as he recounted the incidents to his closest friend, who listened quietly beside him. Still, no tears fell, and silence intruded the drive once more.
Relief, if only some, had bathed the brunette as the words settled in the air. There was nothing any of them could do about it. Ben knew this. He'd simply have to cope for the duration of it all.
The hum of the car had him almost out when Kevin unexpectedly asked if Ben wanted to spend the night at his house. Mechanically, Ben had turned to stare at his friend; Kevin had rolled to a stop at a corner and met the look with stern eyes. A moment, and the brunette's face had split into a smile. In some small way, that gesture clarified why the younger boy had deemed it appropriate to tell Kevin. That night, he recalled, was one where sleep had graced him with only mild visions.
Setting his spoon down, he lifted the bowl to his lips and gulped down the remaining milk. He held no regret for his actions as of yet. Ideally, he hoped no adverse repercussions would develop as a result, but this dilemma was still new to him and so long as nothing new materialized, he wanted to keep it on the down-low. Part of him, despite how pitifully miniscule it was, maintained hope for a solution, a cure or end.
He scanned the clock.
Twenty-seven after.
"I've got to get outta here..." he muttered, replacing the dairy and cereal box in their respective homes. After stuffing his feet into his sneakers and seizing the keys dangling by the front door, he left.
Briefly after, the bowl left abandoned on the tabletop shuddered, sliding four inches to the edge where it fell and shattered on the tile floor.
"What do you mean 'Ben's not home'?" Kevin drawled through the cell phone pinched between his ear and shoulder, hands busy filling his beloved car with power steering fluid.
"I mean Ben's not at his house!" came the exasperated cry through the line.
"So…what's the big deal?"
"Kevin, it's eight in the morning! Do you expect me to believe he voluntarily woke up early and left?!" Gwen snapped, heaving a sigh, he heard, of most likely frustration.
The seventeen-year-old screwed the cap back on, shut the hood of his car and tossed the empty bottle. "Listen," he tried, switching his cell to his other ear, "Ben's not a baby. He probably had some mad craving for a smoothie or something and left."
"His car is still here."
"So he walked, or flew. You do know he has the Omnitrix stuck on his wrist. Did you call him?"
"He's not answering."
"Come on, Gwen, it's not like he's gonna get floored by some creeper—,"
"KEVIN!"
"Okay! Okay!" he amended, hands rising in submission as if the red-head could see. "I'll go find him and meet up with you."
"Thirty minutes."
"At the pier, with the details of the mission explained to short-stuff. Got it."
"Good." Click. Dial tone.
He sighed before shutting his own cell, running his fingers through his hair and shaking his head. Why did Ben have to be such an idiot?
Popping open the driver side door, he fell into the driver's seat. The engine roared, a car door slammed and rubber bled on the pavement as he peeled out the driveway. Producing his Plumber's badge, Kevin tracked the Omnitrix's signal, distantly pondering why it hadn't occurred to Gwen to simply track Ben through his mana. Clearly she wasn't in the right state of mind.
The teen didn't question the destination. It wasn't like him to care much for the whereabouts of others. It was the motive behind the location that was of great interest to him. Prior knowledge of Ben's distresses had the seventeen-year-old anxious that something else was aloof. If anything, Gwen's overprotectiveness toward the boy made things all the more suspicious. Gwen was hiding something, something not all that irrelevant to what Ben was undergoing—so it seemed to Kevin. Regrettably for her, she was not the best at hiding things; Ben was simply—most often—inept to such dissimilarities. Credit given to the boy, he did have a lot on his plate.
After some time, Kevin found himself next the threshold of a forest, somewhere near the outreaching's of Bellwood. His brows dropped in frustration. The signal was coming from the shallow innards of the wood which, to his dissatisfaction, his car could not traverse. A frustrated sigh escaped him. If things could be any odder…
Fog still cleaved to the ground in doleful wisps, unrelenting despite the slanting sun riddling through the branches. The temperature was much cooler as Kevin entered the welter of foliage and brush; a welcome acquittal from the mid-morning heat.
His badge flashed in a strobe-like manner as he neared a clearing. Cautiously skirting a rotting tree, which rested profoundly—and precariously—on a neighboring oak, he found Ben lying sprawled on the dirt-patched ground. "Ben?" he called as he stepped closer. Inquiry reflected in his dark eyes.
Ben jerked, startled, before his head tipped back to gaze at the osmosian. His face glistened with sweat, flushed from the sun streaming down on him. His hand brushed back the sopping locks of hair adhering to his forehead. A sheepish grin stirred his lips. It was a wonder he'd not suffered heatstroke wearing that jacket of his. "Hey Kevin."
"Don't 'hey Kevin' me," the older teen said harshly. "Gwen's on the verge of a meltdown. You weren't answering your phone."
The brunette's mouth formed a small "O" as he registered the fact. "I forgot it." I don't think I even wanted it…
"Clearly."
Ben sat up, glancing around the clearing before rotating his eyes to Kevin, remarking, "It's hot," and fanning himself with a hand for emphasis. Kevin resisted the urge to snort derisively, and crossed his arms.
"Mind telling me what the heck you're doing…wherever here is? Don't say you're bird watching either because I'm not buying that crap." Kevin advanced a bit. It was still morning, but the sun was brutal. His skin was beginning to prickle with perspiration in the exposure of the glade.
Ben smiled wanly before casting his gaze about once more. "I had a dream about this place." His voice was easy, almost sad, but thoughtful. "It feels…familiar somehow."
A preexistent trickle of anxiety grew in flow within Kevin; he remained quiet, trusting Ben would articulate when ready.
True to his assumption, the brunette stood, scrubbed the dirt from his attire and touched his temple, stating, "I feel like something really…significant happened here. I just can't remember what." He sighed, dropping his hand. "I don't even know if anything actually happened or if I'm just loosing it." Chartreuse eyes trained on Kevin; a distressed smile pulled at his lips. The dark circles beneath his eyes appeared weightier in the shades of the casted sunlight.
Noiseless but candid, an unspoken message charged betwixt them: a pact of secrecy for the time being. The younger boy visibly relaxed when the elder nodded consent and turned about. Ben waited a moment, casting one final look at the clearing before trotting in suit to the other.