20 June 1893 — Hyde Park; Muggle London
Ari Fisk

Ben had a headache. And for the first time in the last few months, it wasn’t induced by a hangover. The reason was still the same, and it would remain that way until something changed. Days had passed wherein Ben asked himself what had to change in order for the world to right itself again, but there wasn’t an answer to be found, especially at the bottom of a bottle. He had nursed it anyway and it was a wonder how he hadn’t royally blundered at work. Prewett seemed confident in him at least, and Ben would be damned if he lost his job. That was the last thing he needed, so in order to make up for any possible slip-ups that had occurred within the past few months, he threw himself into more field work.

That meant interviews around the country, late nights spent pouring over paperwork and maps.

It was fucking tedious. For the first time, there was precious little that would loosen the constant knot in his chest, not even sparring with Hatchitt. The woman put up a good fight though, which made things bearable when it came to spending nights by himself, alone. He’d been recommended by one of his staff to head to the barn, but that had only served to resurface memories of Ari and how they’d gotten so lucky when Mr. Holm found them together. In the end though, Amos had been right, and taking a ride had done well to at least distract him. It wasn’t as if he could keep sending Hatchitt home to her husband with too many cuts and bruises. Jesse was a good sport about it all (or so Fallon told him), but even if Ben knew where his romantic sensibilities lay, Jesse didn’t, and he didn’t want to give the man any cause for suspicion.

Thoroughly bruised from their sparring sessions, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for him to go riding around Hyde Park in Muggle London. Transportation wasn’t an issue, but the constant bruising on his ribs were certainly protesting. Every step that the beast made sent pain radiating out from his abdomen, and it didn’t help his relaxed posture get any better, which in turn, made his mount extremely jumpy. It seemed the day was destined to go from bad to worse, because once they reached an intersection near the lake, the horse immediately spooked. Her whinny pierced the air and she bolted just as Ben caught a glimpse of… a Diricawl flapping its way between unsuspecting muggles.

Before he knew it, Ben was thrown off. He hit the ground just as his shoulder gave a sickening crunch. Someone shouted, and Ben tried to keep consciousness to see who had done so, before everything started to fade from view.

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Ari wasn’t well, by any measure. He knew that, but he hadn’t made any concerted attempts to get better, either. Outwardly, he could go through the motions; internally, he was having trouble seeing anywhere beyond himself at all. He was still in a pattern of punishing himself, because no one else would and nothing else felt so good – when he was not at work and not wreaking havoc on his own body, he played a game of avoiding everyone as much as possible.

Which was why he had made a habit of finding new places to flee to – Hyde Park, today, just as dusk fell. He eyed the other wanderers as he walked, sometimes lingering too long and exchanging a more intent gaze with another man. It was a cruising spot, he knew; he was half-tempted to indulge, more for the sheer risk of it than any satisfaction in the encounter.

But it wasn’t quite dark yet, and he wasn’t committed – he was still walking restlessly when he heard the shout, the crumpling form thrown from the horse. Ari was slower to react than he might’ve been, once, but the old instinct wouldn’t die. He jogged over – why did the horse look vaguely familiar? – knelt down and grasped the man’s arm to keep him steady before he’d registered how familiar he was, too.

Ari flinched, almost sure he hadn’t slept enough, had cut himself too much, had to be hallucinating. It would be the sort of thing his brain did, took him back to all those times before, brought Ben back to make him feel worse about where he was now. He gripped him more tightly, but he felt too real. “Ben,” Ari said, wishing he could just leave him be – instead, he was assessing him for injuries, trying to discern what he’d fallen on. “Ben. Stay awake. What’ve you done?”

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He was dreaming, surely. How else was he to see Ari standing over him, looking over him with an expression of concern? And he’d forgotten how there was always a small dent that creased itself just next to his right eyebrow. Ben had always wanted to take his thumb and press his finger to it, as if that might smooth out the worry on Ari’s face. Why shouldn’t he do so now? It wasn’t real anyways.

But just at the last moment, when Ben had decided to lift his arm from the ground, he became more aware of the solid ground beneath him, and the whispered murmurings of passersby. What have you done? The voice was undoubtedly Ari’s; uttering a phrase Ben had heard muttered time and time again in varying tones of mingled exasperation and worry. He was then was struck with the realization of how much he’d missed that tone, and he managed to wheeze out a laugh. Of course this would be the scenario when he’d hear it again. And to think, just the other day he’d dreamt of those exact words; only they’d been said with a tone of uncontrollable laughter, likely over something Ben had done. Ari’s face had been lit up with joy and love in the dream, and now Ben could only see stress. Sorrow. Anguish.

Ben was brought back to present by a sharp pain in his abdomen, and he gave a hiss as it laced all the way down to his legs. “Nothing,” he managed to get out, despite the fact that it was most assuredly not nothing. “Saw something and she spooked.” His horse. He’d have usually been more concerned about the animal if it weren’t for the fact that his estranged lover was here. In front of him. Making his heart flutter in his chest at an erratic pace.

Perhaps it was the fall, he tried to reason with himself. But of course, he only had to look at Ari to know that answer. “How - how are you here?”

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Ben laughed, and it sounded like before. The sound of it now was a wrench to his chest. Ari swallowed quietly, praying that Ben was well enough and unhurt enough and didn’t hate him enough to not make a scene.

“Just passing through,” Ari said, still frowning, as he tried to comprehend where the pain had sparked from – his shoulder, or his side? It was difficult enough to think clearly, when it was torture just to see him now... What were the chances, though? Ari might have steeled himself to see him in certain places, but – out here, in the muggle world? Never mind the horse; they were both spooked enough. Some terrible accident, he knew – but it was almost as if he was still bound by some old pull, some sense in him always looking for Ben.

“I can’t use magic here,” Ari muttered just loud enough for Ben to hear, clenching his jaw and trying to stay focused on the immediate issue (and not on trying to scan Ben’s face for some clue to how he was these days). “Or apparate us. Do you think you can stand –?” How badly had the horse clipped him on the way down?

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He almost missed Ari’s explanation as to why he was here; Ben was too focused on how easily Ari’s frown appeared on his features, as if it had been pressed down one too many times and was in danger of being stuck that way. And because it was Ari and because even after all this time the impulse to make Ari smile had never faded one iota, Ben wanted to make a comment about how if he kept frowning, Ari would be stuck that way. And then he would reach out and press his thumb to the corner of the mouth he knew so well, as if he could iron out the creases he saw there.

The ache in his chest, he knew, wasn’t from his fall anymore. Something even greater had taken its place. Ben nodded understandingly, his eyes briefly flitting up to the now thinning crowd. They’d seen someone rush to his aid, and now that there was no need for anymore help, they would go on their merry ways and some of them who were couples would be happy, and those who were happy would be able to enjoy the warm feeling of anticipation at spending the rest of their days with someone they loved. Ben hated them for it.

“Yes,” The thought of others being so happy while he and Ari could never be had sat at the forefront of his mind and trickled down onto his tongue, bitter and acrid. He swallowed. “I’ll just —” He tried to stand, he really did. But the cage of his ribs screamed at being pressed in, and he let out a harsh grunt. Realizing he’d have to bridge the gap between them even more, Ben steeled himself before he looked up at Ari again, then extended his arm, hand splayed open. “Could you…?” He couldn’t finish the request before his eyes flickered down again. If he was going to be rejected again, he didn’t feel like a coward at not wanting to be looking at Ari when he did it.

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It was a warm summer evening, clear skies and mild air, but all Ari could feel was a sudden chill. The hair on the back of his neck was on end; a shiver threatened; he almost wanted to fold his arms around himself protectively.

But he couldn’t, because – because there was a practical matter at hand, of Ben’s fall. Ari watched as he tried to get to his feet and faltered. His face contorted further. He wished this was anyone else. He wished he hadn’t been here. He was so tempted to run.

It made him sick to the stomach to realise it, but Ari couldn’t quite disguise his own cowardice: he flinched at Ben’s outstretched hand. I can’t do this. I don’t want to be here. It’s too hard to be near you... If only they were in opposite places, and Ari could be the one left to writhe in pain and Ben could go free. He would have coped with that.

But he was still a healer, and he still loved Ben as deeply and fiercely as he had for the last twenty years, so he buried the flight instinct, jaw reluctantly set. He said nothing, but took his hand, and pulled; he tucked an arm around Ben’s side and offered his shoulders for Ben to lean on, more stiffly than he would have to anyone else. He couldn’t apparate until they were out of the park, but Ari would take him to the hospital or home and leave him there, wash his hands of this. Ben could look after himself. (That was probably a lie, but Ari had to tell himself that now, because it wasn’t any of his business to care.)

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   Benedict Sterling

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He knew he should have been prepared for the physical contact, and yet Ari’s touch might as well have burned through his clothes straight to his skin. Letting out an appropriately timed grunt, Ben put his arm around Ari’s shoulders to steady himself. He kept his gaze firmly in front of them. One step at a time. Just breathe. Except he couldn’t; it was as if the air had thickened around them and formed a firm seal over his ears, curving around the back of his neck until it formed a noose. Ben gritted his teeth. “Thank you.” He mumbled, knowing he’d have to come right back out here after he was healed to try and see where his horse had run off to. There was no point in trying to make Ari run around the park after the beast like an idiot (at one point in time he would have gladly done so and enjoyed every bit of it; what would have been an amusing thing to daydream about only caused Ben to grit his teeth harder and do his best to shove the thought out of his mind. It was easier said than done when everything that Ari was, his touch, his scent, even the damned sound of him walking, tried to get Ben’s attention, to make him feel something.)

I hate this. He wanted to say it, but the words stuck to the roof of his mouth and wouldn’t budge. Ari was the one who walked away from them. The logical part of Ben’s brain (hah!) told him that Ari had been right to do so; he’d had to do something given that he had a wife and child to look after. The not-so-logical part of him wanted to scream. “You can just...drop me off here.” Ben said abruptly, nodding to the nearby wall that wizard-kind walked through to get to the magical world. “I’ll be alright.” His grip, however, refused to loosen on Ari’s shoulders.

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There was a lump in his throat at the thank you, because thank you was the last thing he ever deserved to hear from Ben. Instead he focused on the physical sensation of Ben’s arm shifted around him, the familiar weight and the familiar warmth, and the closeness as they fell into step.

And came to the wall. I’ll be alright. (’Tis but a scratch, he might as well have said.) A noise caught in Ari’s throat at that, because that was the sort of thing Ben had always said, casual and mischievous and devil-may-care, and Ari had never once believed it.

And since all that had happened between them, Ari wasn’t sure he ever would. “You know I want you to be, don’t you?” he blurted out, in spite of himself – and this was not the time nor the place, and about nothing a visit to the hospital would fix – but he didn’t know when he would see Ben again, and he had been carrying the thought for too long. (Ben had sent him letters, and he hadn’t even replied –) “However you get there, I want you to be alright.” Maybe that was presumptuous, based on his own still-hurting state – maybe Ben had moved on faster. Maybe Ben didn’t love him any more – that would be good, Ari insisted to himself. Maybe Ben hated him, or had simply stopped to care. That would ease a fraction of Ari’s guilt, at least, than imagining him unhappy and alone. “I know it sounds like nothing now –” now that he had ruined things for him again – “but I – I always wanted you to be happy, more than anything. That’s all I want now.” He just – couldn’t see a way to make it true.

They’d stopped moving, but he still hadn’t let go of Ben either.

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He wasn’t entirely sure what was more painful; hearing Ari’s voice, or seeing him, or touching him and feeling hollow. Was it possible that it was all three? Was it possible to feel as if someone had reached in and gouged a hole into one’s chest? Ben didn’t want to let go, but knew it was time to part ways. But maybe he could hold on just a bit longer. He’d expected Ari to nod, and turn away but instead he started to speak and Ben, as desensitized to surprises as one could ever be, nearly started as Ari addressed him. Want him to be…what? Ben stared at Ari, searching his expression for more explanation.

Ah…

Happy.

He could only stare at Ari unblinkingly as he felt his composure start to fracture with every word. The air felt heavy around them yet somehow Ben felt as if the slightest disturbance would cause everything to fall apart again. Thoughts raced through his mind, each option equally as devastating as the last. He wanted to hurt Ari, just as Ari had hurt him by walking away, but doing that would never make him feel better. He wanted Ari to feel the exact pain that was now coursing relentlessly through him, but he already knew from one glance at Ari that he wasn’t faring any better. Another glance around them reassured Ben that they had at least a few more moments of privacy until someone walked through the passage again. He had nothing more to lose.

Ben's voice was thick as he finally opened his mouth to speak. “Then why did you walk away from me?”

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   Ari Fisk

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Ben was just staring at him, wordlessly, endlessly, like he couldn’t fathom the sentence, couldn’t comprehend. Ari wanted to walk back the words, or amend them to I love you, I still love you more than anything, but that wouldn’t fix anything in reality, no matter how much he wanted it to. They couldn’t keep living like this.

He trusted Ben’s glance around them enough not to check for himself that they were still alone. He almost hoped someone would appear, to force them to scatter the conversation and to stop Ben from arguing back. But no one saved Ari from this, so he had to look into Ben’s eyes and hurt him again, still more deliberately than last time. “Because I can’t be with you,” Ari said, crushed, through gritted teeth. “Because you’re better off without me.” (That was true. Who wouldn’t have been better off without him?)

“And you’ll be happy sooner or later,” he added, falsely calm; Ben should just go back to the man he’d used to be. The boisterous flirt, the dashing auror, the eligible bachelor, the best friend he’d always loved. (They could not continue to be best friends anymore either, that was too much to ask, but...) “You were always happy before.”

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“No,” Ben jolted forwards, seizing Ari by the lapels of his coat and for one mad moment he wanted to press a bruising kiss onto Ari’s lips. But even making contact like this was risking it, and so the next moment he let go as if he had been scalded. But the tortured, half-crazed look remained in his gaze, having been unsheathed by Ari’s insistence that he knew what Ben needed now. Couldn’t he see that what he needed was Ari himself?

“I was never happy before.” He shook his head, forcing himself to step further away. “I thought I was but then you forced my eyes open and I can never - I will not see the same way again Ari… not…as long as you draw breath.” Ben could feel the chasm in his chest being torn open even further with every passing moment, but he held on as his eyes burned hot. Ari had reached into the depths of his soul, dipped his fingers into the darkness he found there and turned everything to liquid gold; a Midas come to life.

He searched Ari’s eyes as his own stung, his vision growing blurry. “Can you honestly tell me you’re happier now?”

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   Elias Grimstone, Verity Swann

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This was almost the way Ben had looked that first fateful night – the night Ari had tried to kiss him, to tell him I’m in love with you. Eyes blazing, anger coursing, hanging onto what he knew for dear life.

Ari wanted badly to kiss him now. Or else he needed Ben to throw him back against the wall, to batter the feeling out of him somehow, hurt him enough to undo it all. But Ben had an injured shoulder and was too insistent for that – delusional, as if Ari had done anything good for him. As if what he had just said was not an elaborately twisted way of saying that Ari had ruined his life.

Ari knew that was true, as well as he knew that he’d condemned Dionisia to a prison of a life and Elliott to a house built on lies. And he wasn’t happy either, and he couldn’t lie about that. But he could be as stubbornly determined as Ben could, and he had to trust his own certainty here. Ben would be better off without him. The more he thought it, the more true it felt.

So he didn’t react, just let Ben grab him and did nothing, made no protest, only returned his blazing look with a dull-eyed one. “Get yourself to the hospital,” was all he said, waiting for Ben to let go of him.

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   Fallon Gillespie

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The instant after he said it, Ben knew he wouldn’t get the response he wanted. Perhaps a romantic would have thought that the realization would hit him with the force of a tidal wave but instead he just felt…flat. As if someone had quietly shuttered the windows, blocking out all the light that had flooded into the room. A thousand different wizards he’d fought and won, and it was the one before him that had the power to bring him to his knees. He wanted to beg and plead but he knew it was useless. Ari was committed to the path he was on, and there wasn’t anything Ben could do to stop it.

He stepped back even further, almost stumbling as he put more distance between them. It felt as if Ari had reached up and enclosed his throat in his hand and squeezed. The air was thin now, and he felt something inside him extinguish. He hadn’t realized it was there until Ari’s command completely obliterated it. So to make sure no one else could take anything else from him, Ben took a breath, steeling himself; blanking his mind, his thoughts, everything. He hadn’t done this in a long time, but unless he wanted to feel himself fracture in two, it was the only option.

With one last look at Ari, he turned and walked through the passage.

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   Ari Fisk, Fallon Gillespie

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He was gone. Just like that, he was gone.

Ben had fought it, Ben had fought him that night and fought him until now, and Ari loved him for that – only Ben could be as stubborn, only Ben loved him far more than he deserved – but even Ben had his limits. And he had forgiven him so much over the years, again more than he deserved, but Ari knew from that hardened look there was no chance Ben could forgive him this.

It was what he had wanted; it was what he deserved. To break it beyond repair. Ben had listened to him, finally.

So Ari just stood there, staring senselessly at the wall and waiting for the relief to come. He didn’t know how long for; all he could taste was the blood in his mouth from biting his tongue. (And he couldn’t help but think there were easier ways to make himself hurt than like this – but never mind. It was done.)

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   Fallon Gillespie

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