Archive of Our Own

From the moment he got the call that John visited Sayid, Ben had been planning this out. Rather, he had been planning how to get vital information out of John, then have him die afterwards. Ben always got what he wanted.

Which brought him to now.

John Locke was dead. Benjamin Linus had killed him. Something twisted in his gut as he walked away from the motel. It wasn't surprise nor pride; it was akin to remorse. The feeling was fuzzy and all consuming. He didn't dare glance back, didn't dare revel in his victory. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. The wind seemed to blow colder than usual. 

His mind was abuzz, with what he had just done and his plans for tomorrow. Eloise Hawking. Yes, that's right, he'd have to visit her tomorrow. It was much too late to do so tonight. Ben continued walking until he arrived at his parked car, black and inconspicuous. He shuffled in and started the car, driving off without letting it warm up. 

Every light turned red as he drove; frustration bubbled beneath his skin. Pulling into the parking lot near his apartment, he noticed his parking spot had been taken. Cursing under his breath, he chose to park on the street instead. He'd deal with that headache in the morning. Ben avoided taking the elevator, opting to walk up the three flights of stairs instead. 

He took his shoes off, prepared for bed, and scrambled beneath the covers. The clock next to his bed displayed the time in bright red numbers. It was 11:50. Ben tried to forget the feeling of John's body stilling beneath his own.

Ben woke up with a start. His gaze flickered around the room as he sat up. He felt groggy and bone-tired. Ben's eyes landed on the alarm clock next to the bed. The numbers 8:30 shone on the device. Below it, the date read 09/15/2007. He pursed his lips. That was yesterday's date, he remembered. September 15th was the day Benjamin Linus killed John Locke. Maybe that was just some very, very vivid dream. Surely.

Today is the day he is going to kill John. Ben heaved a sigh and got out of bed. He knew his dream was too good to be true. He had John in the palm of his hand on the island. If he plays his cards right, it’ll be the same here. God, how easy it was to appeal to the poor man. His mouth quirked up at the thought. The floorboards creaked as he padded around his apartment and got changed. 

Opening a cupboard for some tea, he found it to be empty; just as it was yesterday. A strong sense of deja vu rolled over him. Ben rolled his eyes. He would have to go buy some today. Ben carried on with his day. Someone ran out onto the street as he drove to the store; Ben nearly hit her. Annoyance prickled beneath his skin. The store was out of his favourite tea, to which he settled for the next best option. He left it in his car and decided to go after John instead.

Ben hit every single pothole as he drove after John. As he got out of the car, he nearly walked into an old man walking a small, rat-like dog. Trailing towards the motel, the neon lights buzzed loudly above him. It was annoying. It was familiar. Ben's chest felt tight, the feeling worsening as he climbed the stairs and knocked on John's door.

He kicked it down, and came face to face with John about to hang himself with a cord. Words were spilling out of Ben's mouth before he even knew what he was saying. John replied with the same words in the same tone as his dream last night. It was as if they were following a script. He knew what was going to happen, he had already done it. 

Ben coaxed John off the table with empty little praises and promises, eyes wide and hand outstretched. John accepted them, all too eager. It was predictable. The cord in his hands was a familiar weight. Ben looked away as he wrapped the item around John's neck, listening to his shocked, choked breaths. John's body went limp, full weight falling against Ben's body. 

He took a deep breath and began following awfully familiar movements. There was a struggle with hiking John's body up with the cord; setting up Johns fake suicide otherwise went smoothly. The same pit settled in his stomach as he walked out of the motel. 

He told himself he'd find Eloise tomorrow; it was much too late tonight. Every light turned red as he drove. His parking spot had been stolen. Ben stumbled into bed at 11:50. Settled beneath the covers, he finally let himself take a few deep breaths and close his eyes.

Ben woke up with a start. His gaze flickered around the room as he sat up. He felt groggy and bone-tired. Ben's eyes landed on the alarm clock next to the bed. The numbers 8:30 shone on the device. Below it, the date read 09/15/2007. Ben furrowed his brows and leaned closer to the clock. 

Fumbling for his glasses, he shoved them onto his face and picked the clock up and smacked the side of it. “What?” He murmured to himself before placing the clock down. The floorboards creaked and Ben got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. He opened the cupboard and found that the tea he bought last night was gone. Surely I just left it in the car, he thought, lips pursed.

His stomach flipped as if he already knew something was wrong. Ben’s mouth tugged to the side in a frown, though he began getting changed. Yesterday was real, he experienced it; he had to. But – there’s no way he killed John Locke two days in a row.

Ben froze at that. He remembers John’s dead weight in his arms, still warm as he maneuvered the body. It happened. It happened. His jaw was clenched tightly, teeth gritting against each other. What can I do? He began listing possibilities in his mind; he needed a plan. 

He could kill John again. Or, he could stay away. He already had all the information he needed; it was Eloise Hawking he had to visit. Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. Eloise Hawking. Perhaps she can help.  He had no clue where to find this lady, or how long it would take to get in touch. 

Ben seated himself on the couch of the living room, glancing at some papers involving John’s whereabouts. He can kill John later, he knew where the man would be, anyway. Eloise Hawking was far more important right now. His full attention was devoted to calling people, making notes, and resisting the urge to groan when answers came up short. 

Ben stretched his legs out, listening to the analog clock tick, tick, tick. He was waiting for a call back on a lead; the people on the mainland typically work quickly. However, he hardly had the time to focus on the how of it all. How had he experienced the same day three days in a row? Ben pursed his lips as the large clock hand hit 21:00. 

Surely it had something to do with John, or the island. Possibly both. The island had odd powers to do with time. As far as he knew, this could be the island's fault. But really, nobody knew the full extent of the island’s powers, he wasn’t even sure Richard or Jacob knew. At the end of the day, he certainly didn’t. Neither did John. Yet, the other man acted like he knew everything there was to know about the island. 

The thought brought up a deep-seated resentment. Each time Ben had visited John, he was shocked. He never knew Ben was coming. If he wanted to, Ben could go find and kill John right now. Although he didn’t know what that would change, it seemed very appealing. Ben paused. Maybe this was some sort of karmic punishment. He killed John Locke, and therefore, he had to relive the same day, over and over and over again, unable to escape.

How bleak, his mind supplied. Despite that, he knew there was a lack of surprise in his body. He had done plenty of things to end up in this situation, but why now? What an odd punishment. It seemed it was something meant for only him to bear the burden of. Still, Ben didn’t know if anyone else knew about this predicament; he’d have to ask around. Starting with John, of course. Then Eloise, and some of his confidants, or–

His phone rang loudly. Ben grabbed the small device lightning fast, flipped it open, and pressed it against his ear. “Yes?” He asked. The reply came immediately. 

“Eloise Hawking was last seen going into a church on Liberty Street around four hours ago. She hasn’t left since; it’s safe to assume that’s where the Lamp Post is.” The tinny voice stated matter-of-factly. 

Ben hummed, and nodded to himself. “Thank you,” he said, hanging up and leaving the phone on the table.

That was good. He had an address, he could make it there today. Ben’s eyes flitted over to the window, curtains drawn, save for a sliver of the outdoors peeking through. It was dark outside, of course. He had to visit John, to ask him if he knew. Knew what Ben was going to do to him.

Before he knew it, he was rushing down the stairs. Ben crossed the street to where he parked his car last night before realizing it was back in the parking lot. He was alarmed, yes, but there was curiosity seated deep in his chest; he needed to know things, to be in charge, as always. This was out of his control.

Having started the car, Ben drove over to the motel John would be heading to. He hit every single pothole as he drove. As he got out of the car, he nearly walked into an old man walking a small, rat-like dog. Trailing towards the motel, the neon lights buzzed loudly above him. The memories hit him just before they occur. His mind felt like it was coated in molasses. It was bizarre. He didn’t like it one bit. Ben rushed up the stairs, knowing what's to come. 

He doesn’t bother knocking, choosing to kick the door down and barge in. “John, what are you doing?” He asked, knowing the answer, already ahead and aware. John looks defeated standing atop the table.  “Wait, please, John, stop!” He stood upright to look at John. 

“How did you find me?” John questioned, desperation clear as day in his voice.

Ben ignored him. “Do you know what I am going to do to you?” He asked, eyes wide. He wanted to make this go by quicker. Confusion laced John’s features. 

“What? I don’t even know how you got here!” He paused. “Answer my question. How did you find me?” His hands shook.

“I have someone watching all of them, keeping them safe. When you turned up, he called me.” He explained with ease, voice low and smooth as if trying to calm a startled animal. “Just calm down, John,” he continued. 

“What do you want from me? Are you going to kill me?” John just had to keep asking, didn’t he? Ben swallowed his pride, his fists clenched at his side.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he started, but, as always, John had to intercept. 

“Protect me? You shot him. You killed Abaddon.” 

Ben’s reply fell from his lips. “Yes. Yes, I did. But it was only a matter of time before he tried to kill you. I tried to get to you.” 

John heaved a breath. “Why? Why would–” He started, but Ben cut him off. 

“He was working for Charles Widmore. He’s extremely dangerous.” 

John’s reaction was instantaneous. “No! Widmore came to me, he saved me,” he said, trying to sound confident, though his voice shook. Ben already had this conversation with him. He just needed to tell him the right things. He knew how to do that.

“No, John, he used you. He just wanted to use you to find the island. Charles Widmore is the reason I moved the Island! To keep him away so that you could lead,” his voice broke. Ben approached John slowly, though the other man assumed the worst. One of John’s hands went up to his throat, though it faltered. The other stayed hanging onto the cord. 

He couldn’t blame him for that reaction. “You can't do this. If anything happens to you... John, you have no idea how important you are.” Ben slowly shook his head as he spoke, looking up at the other. John’s eyes squeezed shut as Ben told him this, his throat swallowing. “Let me help you.”

John sniffed as he spoke. “There is no helping me. I’m a failure.” 

Ben wanted to smack him in the face. “No, John, you’re not–” he started. 

“I am!” He shouted angrily. In a way, this version of John – forlorn, angry, confused – resembled him in the Swan. “I couldn’t get any of them. I couldn’t get a single one of them to come back with me.” John went on. “I can’t ‘lead’ anyone.” His hands left the cord momentarily.

“Jack booked a plane ticket from Los Angeles to Sydney, tonight.” Ben let John process the information, taking a few slow steps closer. “Whatever you said to him, John, it worked. And if you got Jack, you can get the rest of them.” Ben stated, head tilted. His lips felt dry and his heart pitter-pattered. It was pointless to come back, John didn’t know anything about the repeating days, he should just leave now–

“John…” He got down to his knees. They ached upon contact with the floor. “You can’t die. You’ve got too much work to do. We've got to get you back to that Island so that you can do it.” Ben said, watching John’s eyes fill with tears. He didn’t have to look where the cord was tied up; he kept his gaze on John as he untied it. Ben stood up. “Please, John. Come on.” He stretched his hand out. “Come down.”

John always grabbed his hand.

John's hand was large, warm, and strong. It was heavily calloused, likely from years of hunting, then using that wheelchair John despised, and finally, his experiences from the island. John hobbled down to sit onto the table. John always began to sob openly when he stepped down. The first time, Ben nearly didn’t know what to say. Now, it felt like he was cheating.

“I know we can do this, John,” he said as John takes in a deep, quivering breath. The cord is still around his neck. He chose not to mention Sun this time. He knows Jin is alive, and it’s not like he needs Eloise’s name anymore. Instead, Ben reached for the noose. He could strangle him right now if he wanted to. He does want to. Very badly, he wants to.

Instead, he pulled the cord off John’s head. He takes the rest of the cord and keeps it clutched in his hands. And John– John thanks him. Voice tight, he says a simple “thank you.” John doesn’t know what Ben is going to do. Ben doesn’t know if he should follow through right now. 

He places a hand on John’s bicep and leans over. “You’re welcome,” softly, he adds, “come on, here.”

Ben moved to John’s side, fitting against him like a puzzle piece, like he was meant to be there. The thought angered him. John’s arm tightened around his shoulder as he leaned his weight onto Ben. They hobbled over to the wheelchair. Ben lets John get comfortable and begins with the cold, empty promises and plans. 

“Once we can get them all in the same place... I don't know where we go from there, but we'll figure something out,” Ben says. John looked at him with something akin to admiration in his eyes. It was gone in a flash. Ben wants to see it again. John looked like he’s about to say something, likely about Eloise. Ben doesn’t let him. He has to do it now. The cord, still held tight in his hand, is wrapped around John’s neck, courtesy of Ben.

John fell off the chair, struggling and kicking and trying to scream, but he couldn't. He can’t, and he won’t. Ben knew it. The thought dawned on John, he can tell with the way he stops fighting back as much. Ben kept his eyes away from John, looking anywhere put him. All his strength goes into holding that cord tight. He has to do this, something has to change. He can’t relive this day again.

The body goes limp. Ben swallowed and lets the cord go loose. He cycled through the familiar movements of setting up John’s fake suicide. Please don’t let me wake up on this day again. It was on repeat in his mind as he walked away from the motel. Ben stuffed his hands into his pockets. The wind seemed to blow colder than usual. 

He shuffled in and started the car, driving off without letting it warm up. Every light turned red as he drove. Ben didn’t have the energy to be frustrated at this, not now. He headed to Liberty Street, hands tight on the steering wheel.

He parked the car and slammed the door hard. Ben speed-walked over to the church and opened the doors. He leaned in, pursing his lips as he glanced around. As he stepped inside, the doors closed with a loud slam. The noise led to an older woman rushing out of a room. She tilted her head, eyeing Ben. “Hello. Are you Eloise Hawking?” Ben asked, blinking.

She sniffed. “I am. And you are?” She questioned, face neutral. 

“My name is Benjamin Linus. I need your help, Eloise,” he said. Eloise paused before she gestured for Ben to come over. 

“Why are you here, Benjamin?” She inquired, looking him up and down. Ben didn’t even know where to start. 

“I need your help to find the island.” He replied. 

Eloise tilted her head. “Is that all?” She said, voice painfully bland. 

“Yes.” Ben lied with ease. 

Eloise clicked her tongue. “No, it isn’t. I know you’re in a time loop, Benjamin.” Her gaze was hard. To say Ben was taken aback was an understatement. He tried not to let it show on his face. 

“That’s– I was going to ask if you were aware of it, too.” Was his explanation. She just hummed in response.

“There’s no point in looking for the island if you’re in a time loop,” Eloise said mildly. 

Ben grit his teeth in response. “Why’s that?” He asked, forcing his voice to level out. 

She sighed, exasperated. “The way the Lamp Post works is by detecting the island’s movement around the world every day. It hasn’t detected anything today. It won’t find anything, no matter how many times you relive today.”

Ben frowned. “So how do I get out? How did I get in this situation anyway?” 

Eloise shrugged, eyebrows rising. “That’s for you to figure out.”

Ben shook his head. “Well how come you’re conscious of this? Does anyone else know about it?” He asked, stepping forward. 

Eloise stepped back. “Nobody else is aware, just you and I.” She ignored the first question.

“Do you know anything at all about this– this time loop? Or how to help me?” Desperation prevalent in his tone. 

Her eyes raked over Ben, clearly considering something. “Well, do you have a constant? Someone or something that always appears?” She asked. Ben’s first thought was John. Of course he thought of John first, how could he not. That man had begun to consume every part of his life.

“I do.” He replied. 

“That’s good. Hold onto that constant; it’ll keep you grounded. Oh, not to alarm you, but if you don’t find a way out of this loop, there’s a chance you will die.” Eloise said and turned away. “And, please hurry, I don’t want to relive this day a hundred times.” She called over her shoulder. 

“What do you mean I’ll die?” Ben called after her. She walked into another room.

Ben was practically back at square one. He walked down the aisle of the church and pushed the doors open. She wasn’t much help, no point in going back there. He needed to find a way out soon; he had no idea when, or how, he could die. She mentioned a constant. A person. Ben licked his lips, cracked from the cool air. John doesn’t even know about this… Time loop.

He started the car and drove home, tiredness seeping into his body. He glanced at his watch. The clock read 11:40. That took longer than expected. He flexed his hands and furrowed his brows as he drove. He hit every single red light and pothole. He was seriously considering walking everywhere next.

Of course, his neighbour had stolen his parking spot. At this point, he didn’t have the energy to be angry. As Ben walked up the stairs, he looked at his watch. 11:59. Ben paused on the second flight. It was less than a minute until midnight, he might as well see what happens. He walked up the stairs, keeping an eye on his watch. Ben arrived at his door, though his attention was focused on the seconds ticking by. Five, four, three, two, one–

Ben woke up with a start. Ben's eyes landed on the alarm clock next to the bed. The numbers 8:30 shone on the device. Below it, the date read 09/15/2007. He can practically feel himself turn white. “Are you serious?” He whispered to himself in disbelief. I didn’t even make it inside my apartment. 

He grumbled as he got out of bed and stepped on every creaky floorboard. Mindlessly, he opened his cupboard in search of tea. Naturally, it was empty. Ben sighed and rubbed his forehead. He thought about what to do. Eloise was vague, crawling back to her wouldn’t accomplish much. However… There’s John.

Ben paused. If this started when I killed John, I’ll have to try other things. His mind cycled through his options. He’s going to kill himself if I don’t visit. I should start by talking him out of it and leaving it at that. He scratched at his neck. I can also just let it run its course. Ben glanced around the apartment. There wasn’t anything to do other than try to fix this mess.

Ben decided to go out and buy his tea. Someone ran out onto the street as he drove to the store; Ben nearly hit her. Annoyance prickled beneath his skin. He parked his car and walked inside. The fluorescent lights above him always gave him a headache. Only then did he remember that his favourite tea was out of stock here. Ben grit his teeth; he didn’t bother buying the next best thing. It wasn’t like it would be there the next morning. He stomped out the store.

He got to his car. That’s not true; anything can work. He said as if to reassure himself. It was a lousy attempt; neither Ben nor Eloise knew what it would take to fix this. It was just up to Ben. He just wanted his favourite tea to be restocked. Ben smacked his lips, contemplating. He had nothing else to do. Any conversations he had with other people would be forgotten by tomorrow. Unless this works, his mind brought up. He doubted it.

Ben drove around aimlessly, watching the minutes tick by on his watch. It didn’t matter if he was wasting gas; it would all be back by tomorrow. Any money spent will appear back in his wallet. His car would be back in his parking spot the next morning. And John will still be alive, completely unaware that Ben had already killed him three times.

Time loops are a moronic concept, Ben thought. He wanted to punch the idiot who coined the term in the first place. The only time he had heard about time loops before this was from the cheesy comedy, Groundhog Day. How did the guy get out of that movie, anyway? Ben wondered. He doesn’t know; he’s never seen Groundhog Day. He’s only ever heard of it in the recent years of being off the island. Maybe John has seen it.

His grip was tight on the steering wheel. His mind always went back to John, like he was a parasite eating away at his brain. Ben’s mouth twitched. He would just wait outside of the motel until the time was right. He always walked in at the perfect time, anyway. But, with the stress of the last few days, along with him waking up and never feeling refreshed, it was very tempting to just close his eyes for a little–

Ben woke up with a start. His neck ached and his mouth was dry. He was still in the car, after he fell asleep. Excitement bubbled beneath his skin. He looked at his watch and immediately deflated when it read 10:23. Ben leaned against the seat, not at all well-rested and visibly bothered. Time to go to John, he thought to himself. As he got out of the car, he nearly walked into an old man walking a small, rat-like dog. He cursed under his breath.

He ascended the stairs quickly and didn’t bother knocking on the door; he kicked it down and stared at John. “John, stop, please.” Ben said, taking a few cautious steps closer to John. 

“How did you find me?” John asked, panic in his voice. This is going to be repetitive, was what Ben thought. 

Out loud, Ben said, “I have someone watching them, keeping them safe. Calm down, John–”

John is like a dog with a bone; he just can’t drop it. “What do you want from me? Are you going to kill me?” He asked, eyes frantic. 

Ben shook his head. “I’m trying to protect you, Abaddon was going to kill you. He worked for Charles Widmore, he’s dangerous–” Ben explained. 

“No! Widmore came to me, he saved me.” John interjected.

Ben never sugarcoated things. “No, John, he used you. He just wanted to find the island, which is why I moved it! I wanted you to lead,” as always, his voice quivered at that last part. He silently cursed at himself for showing that weakness each and every time. Ben stepped closer. One of John’s hands went up to his throat, faltering. The other stayed clutched onto the cord.

“You can’t do this… John, you have no idea how important you are.” He stated, eyes wide and looking up at John. “Let me help you.” His breaths were deep, a stark contrast to John’s shallow gasps of air as he tried not to cry. 

“There’s no helping me. I’m a failure.” John replied, throat working as he swallowed.

Ben knew what was coming next. “Jack booked a plane ticket from Los Angeles to Sydney, tonight. If you got Jack, you can get the rest of them.” Ben said, licking his lips. “You’re not a failure,” he continued, voice softening. Ben got down to his knees. They ached immediately. “John… You’ve got too much work to do. We’ve got to get you back to the island so that you can do it.” Ben spoke with ease. These words were practiced. He knew the outcome.

His hands worked quickly to untie the cord, his gaze never leaving John. “Please, John. Come on.” Ben held out his hand. “Come down.” His voice was far more mellow than the last time he had said these words. He wasn’t going to kill him again, not this time.

John always grabbed his hand.

John had too much faith. He no longer had the island to offer it to, so now it went to Ben. Selfishly, Ben wants to commit John’s hand to memory. By the end of this time loop, he probably would. “I know we can do this, John,” he says. He finds himself wanting to believe it so, so badly. Ben pulls the cord off John's head and lets it fall. 

John thanks him as tears flow freely down his cheeks. Ben doesn’t acknowledge it. “Come on, here,” he says instead. He presses up against John’s side and tries to ignore the warmth of John’s arm around his shoulder, John’s torso up against his; tries to ignore John everywhere around him. It was suffocating. Ben just about dumped John into his wheelchair.

“We have to get them in the same place. Then we can make a plan.” Ben stated, putting a healthy foot of distance between him and John. Ben headed towards the door. 

“Where are you going, Ben?” John inquired, voice tired. 

“Back to my apartment.” He answered dutifully. 

He hears John inhale. “Don’t you need more information? Anything?”

Ben faced him. “Do you want me to stay?” He asked instead, cocking his head to the side. He doesn’t really want to stay, doesn’t want to see John. “I can, just not for long.” Is what Ben continued with. John’s eyes are wet. Somehow, those last few words push him over the edge again. John doesn’t cry loudly, though he took deep, shuddering breaths.

Ben listens to him cry for a long time.

He seated himself on the bed. John pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, then took another deep breath before he licked his lips. His eyes landed on Ben. “Thank you,” he says again. 

Ben felt sick to his stomach. “You’re welcome,” he replied. As he got to the door, he turned around to face John again.

“John, do you know how Groundhog Day ends?” The question startled John, who stared at him with wide eyes. 

“I’ve never seen it,” he answered honestly.

Ben’s lips are tight as he nods. He left without saying goodbye and John didn’t call after him. He’s halfway back to the apartment when he thinks to check his watch, catching the last few seconds before it hit midnight, and–

Ben woke up with a start.

He didn’t bother visiting John.

Ben spent the day trashing his apartment.

He remembered falling asleep drunk.

Ben woke up with a start. More importantly, his headache still hasn’t gone away. The clock, as always, read 8:30. Below it, the date was 09/15/2007. Ben rolled over in his bed. He just wanted to go back to sleep. He knew he couldn’t; there was work to do. As always, it involved John.

Maybe John was meant to kill himself. Maybe he was meant to do it in front of Ben. He rubbed his eyes and got out of bed, going about his routine. Like every other time, he forgot that he was out of tea. Ben grumbled at the sight. As he stepped into the hallway, he remembered something else. The neighbour, What was his name? Trey? That’s right.

He needed to tell the man with the blue honda civic to stay away from his parking spot. Ben stomped up the stairs and rapped on Trey’s door.  He needed to know everything about the people that live in the same apartment complex as him. Like how Trey works as a real estate agent and recently divorced his wife. And that he’s a huge asshole.

Trey opened the door, squinting at Ben. “Hey, uhh. You live below me. What’s your name again?” Trey asked, yawning. 

Ben wrinkled his nose at the morning breath. “Benjamin Linus. I’ve just come to tell you to not take my parking spot today; I have errands to run.” His voice was low, though clear. 

Trey snorted. “Why? I’m busy too, you know. I don’t wanna get a ticket by parking on the curb.”

“How come you can’t use your parking spot?” Ben questioned, raising a brow. 

“Repainting it.”

“And you can’t take anyone else's parking spot?”

Trey laughed in his face. “You kidding? No, I’m good buddies with everyone else.” Trey replied, shaking his head to himself. Ben wanted to punch him.

Well. It’s not like he’ll remember tomorrow.

Ben punched Trey in the face, effectively knocking him out. He stepped into the apartment and dragged Trey’s unconscious body in. Ben rummaged around some drawers, found some zipties, and tied the man to one of his kitchen chairs. He didn’t bother doing anything else; he just walked out the apartment and slammed the door shut. Ben scampered down the stairs and into his car, finally relieved that his parking spot wouldn’t be taken that night.

He decided to go to a cafe to buy his tea there instead. Ben was in and out of the cafe in less than five minutes, back in the car and sipping the mediocre tea boredly. He had just started the car and began to drive when he got a call, his phone buzzing madly. His brows furrowed. This is new. He put the tea in the cupholder and answered the phone.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end said. 

“Yes. Is this Eloise?” He asked, pursing his lips. 

“It is.”

“How did you get my number?” Ben questioned, squinting at the crosswalk where two birds fought over some food. 

“That doesn’t matter. You still haven’t found a way out?”

“You’ve given me, what, one day? Of course I haven’t.” Ben said.

On the other end, he could hear Eloise tsk. “Have you begun to feel any headaches?” She inquired, voice steady. 

Ben thought back to this morning. “This morning, but I attributed it to a hangover.” 

“That hangover could also be the beginning of an aneurysm.” Ben couldn’t quite tell what tone she had. 

“I’m working on it. Besides, the headache has gone away.” He stated. “Don’t call me back, Eloise.” Ben finished, hanging up.

He knew where John was headed; how could he forget? The first time Ben woke up on September 15th, he had followed John around all day. He stopped his car across the street, watching John wheel himself into a diner. There was an urge to walk in and expose himself to John. He chose to drive away to the place where John would be later today.

The car came to a full stop in the parking lot of a department store. Slumping in his seat, he glanced out the window. John wouldn’t get here until it was late; he was lucky it was a 24 hour store. It was afternoon. There was nothing for him to do but wait. Ben is patient. He can wait.

Ben fell asleep.

For the first time in a while, he dreamed. Ben saw, clear as day, the island. The mountains towered over the valley, a natural protection. It was midday. He walked into the forest, beneath the thick trunked canopies. They cast shadows on the jungle floor. Between the leaves, sunlight poured through like a spotlight. It shined in his eyes, blinding him a little. Around him, he heard the crunching of leaves, movements that aren’t his own.

Ben missed this. Craved it deeply.

He woke up slowly, still in the car. His body screamed in protest as he sat up and stretched. He does not feel refreshed. Ben hasn’t felt good after waking up since getting into this mess. His headache was back. The larger, smarter part of him knew it was from awkwardly sleeping in the car two days in a row. The smaller, worried part of him thought back to Eloise.

Ben ignored it and looked out the window. Just his luck, he saw John wheeling out, a bag in his lap. Ben knows what's in the bag. He watched John awkwardly hobble into a taxi. Ben, naturally, followed the taxi. It doesn’t matter if he already knows where they’re going; there’s always been a certain thrill in the chase. If his luck continued, this would be the last day he had to relive.

He parked his car across the street and watched as the taxi driver helped John out the car. Once the taxi drove off, John’s face showed a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. He was always very expressive when he thought he was alone. Ben waited for John to go inside the motel before exiting his car. He still managed to run into the man with his rat-like dog. He shoved the man out of the way and rushed inside. No consequences.

He waited in the lobby for a few minutes before he ascended the stairs. As always, Ben kicked the door down and made eye contact with John. The cord was around his neck. “Ben?” he said after a moment of silence. “How did you find me?” John continued. 

Ben looked John in the eyes as he spoke. “I’m keeping tabs on the others. I got a call when you showed up.”

They stared at each other. Ben kept his face as neutral as possible. John had tears in his eyes. “What do you want from me? Are you going to kill me?” John asked, lip trembling. 

“No, I’m not going to kill you. You’re going to do it yourself. It’s what you have to do, isn’t it?” Ben answered, keeping his distance. He moved to the bed and sat down.

“You did a good job protecting your friends and the island. You know what you have to do now.” Ben explained. It felt like calling a dog a good boy before it was euthanized. 

John took a deep breath. “Are you really here?” This caught Ben off guard. He offered a nod. John huffed out a laugh. “Why don’t you just kill me yourself then?” He questioned. 

“You don’t get it, John. You are extremely important. But this is your destiny. You have to do it. Or don’t. Who am I to tell you what to do?” Ben got off the bed, the mattress springs squeaking. He turned his head and walked to the door, avoiding looking at John. 

He heard a choked off gasp.

Ben refused to look back at John.

He felt numb. His footsteps quickened as he was in the lobby, eager to get back into his car. He rubbed his forehead and collapsed into the front seat. Ben leaned his head on the steering wheel. It felt like there was a pit in his stomach. He didn’t want to drive. Ben took in a deep breath and stared at his watch. He counted every second of every minute until it was midnight– 

Ben woke up with a start. He didn’t need to look at his clock to know it read 8:30, and that below it, the date is 09/15/2007. His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Ben did not want to get out of bed and relive this day anymore. He has let John live. He has let John die. What else was there to do?

A thought struck him; a bad, bad idea.

Can I die?

Ben sighed. Of course I can. However… If John can keep coming back, then maybe I could, too. Ben sat up in bed with great effort, letting the blankets pool around his waist. There’s a gun in his trunk. He could get up, drive to the diner John would be at, and shoot himself in front of John. Or he could wait until night time, avoid the crowd, and do it in the secrecy of the motel.

Ben chose the former.

He got out of bed and made himself presentable. He searched through the back of his closet for a nicer looking suit. Ben admired it in his hands. Hardly worn, few wrinkles. Either he dies wearing it or it’ll be back in here tomorrow. Should I even call it tomorrow? It’s just the same day again. He rolled his eyes to himself.

Ben was tired. How many times has he lived today? Seven. That’s six times too many. He pinched his nose bridge. His headache was gone. Maybe it was some placebo effect; he kept telling himself he was fine yesterday, so he felt fine today. If he thought too hard about it, his head started to hurt again. Ben groaned and opted to get changed.

He didn’t bother telling off Trey today. Ben just stepped down the stairs and walked outside to his car. He opened the trunk and searched for the gun. When he found it, he tucked it in the back of his pants. Ben closed it and went to start the car. His movements felt automatic, like this was an out-of-body experience.

There was a time where Ben had accidentally tried some hallucinogenic fruit on the island. The trip itself was fine, but the aftermath had him feeling distant and numb. Is that an aftereffect? This reminded him of that situation. Only, this time, Ben wasn’t tripping balls. He was stuck in a time loop and was going to blow his own brains out in front of John Locke. It was a bitter thought, an even worse idea.

Ben just wanted to be free from this.

He pulled into the diner parking lot just as John had left the taxi. John’s head shot up at the sight of him. “Ben.” He said curtly. 

“Hello, John.” Ben greeted; John looked suspicious of him. 

Distress was filling Ben’s system; it was suffocating him. He had to do this now. Ben tugged the gun from his pants and brought it up to his head. Briefly, he saw John’s eyes widen. He felt a sick satisfaction at that. He pulled the trigger.

Ben saw, clear as day, the island. He was on the sand and he could feel each individual grain between his toes. The sun beat down on the back of his neck, making him sweat. He felt content. Ben turns his head and saw–

He saw Alex.

Ben wanted to cry. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't. She just stared out into the ocean, a contemplative look on her face. Her words sounded muffled to him when she spoke. “Keep trying, dad.” 

Ben mouthed her name. Alex, he wanted to say. Alex! He tried to scream. Nothing came out. She turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were wide and, worse yet, forgiving. Alex opened her mouth, but he couldn't hear her. It feels like there’s water in his ears. Alex, he needed to say.

Ben wanted to apologize.

Ben woke up with a start. “No,” he murmured to himself, feeling his face. “Alex,” he rasped. His eyes filled with tears, his throat swallowing deeply. He was so close. He should’ve reached out to her, should’ve tried harder to say something. Ben closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. He won't cry. He cannot cry. He had work to do.

Maybe, just maybe, he can see Alex again.

Ben stayed in bed. He stayed in bed all day. His gaze stayed trained on the clock on the nightstand. He inhaled and exhaled periodically. He’s had enough with this. It was a cruel joke being played on him by the universe at his expense. It was mocking him. It knew his deepest insecurities and regrets and it was shoving it back in his face. 

The clock neared the time that John would be arriving at the motel. Ben forced himself to get up and out of bed. There was a chance. A small, tiny chance that Ben could see Alex again. It didn’t matter if it was for a few seconds or minutes or hours. Regret sunk deep into his bones and weighed him down. He still won’t cry. He’s afraid if he cries, he won’t be able to stop.

Ben doesn’t bother getting changed. He grabbed the gun from his trunk and drove to the motel. Ben sped through every red light and stop sign. His breathing was erratic and frantic. He was so close; he could practically taste it. Ben came to a sudden stop and clambered out of the car. He ran across the street. A car nearly hit him; he doesn’t care. In record time, he ran upstairs and kicked the door down.

John was already hanging.

Ben stared at him. John was making an ugly gasping noise. His face was turning blue. Ben chose to stare at the floor as it played out. He pulled the gun out. “John, I’ve been stuck in a time loop.” Ben paces back and forth.

“I’m tired of it. You have died five times now. Each time, you came back. I’ll admit it– I don’t know how to fix this. You must be happy to hear that.” Ben ranted, waving his hands around in the air. He offered a little self-depricating laugh and spun on his heel to face John.

John was no longer struggling. He was hanging there limply. “I shot myself in front of you yesterday. Do you know what I saw? I saw my daughter, John. I was close enough to hold Alex. But I couldn’t.” He realized now that he’s confessing. His heart felt like it was breaking. He looked up at John's body. 

“You can’t help me.” He brought the gun up to his head and pulled the trigger.

Ben saw, clear as day, the island. Except, he was no longer on the beach. He wasn’t at the edge of the jungle, either. He was in some caves. Across from him, there was a shadow. “Alex?” He called out but, no, this doesn’t feel right. His voice was too echoey, his limbs were too light. Alex was nowhere to be seen. The shadow got closer to him.

It was– it was John.

Ben gaped at him. John’s presence here unnerved him. “Where is Alex?” He asked, scrambling up towards him. John just looked at him with squinted eyes, as if Ben was the one out of place here. 

“She isn’t here.” Ben tried to grab John, but he stepped out of the way. Ben couldn’t coordinate himself properly. His head felt like it was full of helium. “Keep trying, Ben.” John said, and his voice is everywhere all around him, crushing and smothering him.

Ben woke up with a start. He got up and out of bed, climbed the stairs to the roof of his apartment complex, and jumped off.

Ben woke up with a start. He ran downstairs out onto the street and walked in front of a truck.

Ben woke up with a start. He filled his bath, unplugged his toaster, and sat in the tub while holding it.

Ben woke up with a start. He doused himself in gasoline and lit a match. 

Nothing.

Ben woke up with a start. Ben examined his hands, felt his face and gave his cheek a pinch. It hurt. He was disappointed. Ben sagged against his pillow and looked up at the ceiling. He felt everything. The fan was spinning round and round. What else can I do? Ben mulled it over.

John, John, John. His life practically revolved around that man ever since he crashed on the island. He needed to talk to him, to ask him questions. Maybe he’d give some cryptic answer that solved all of this. John seemed to feed into Ben’s little metaphors and analogies, if the whole “magic box” was anything to go by. The thought made him tilt his head. 

Maybe that was the answer. Go talk to John and convince him that he was in a time loop. Ben rubbed at his temples. If he focused hard enough, there was a phantom press of a gun against his head. Ben changed slowly. His heart ached. He missed Alex. She was right there. He inhaled shakily and closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to think about her, not now.

Ben slammed his front door shut and didn't bother locking it. If anyone took anything, chances are, it would be there the next morning. A part of it hoped that wasn’t the case. He wanted this to work. He was getting sick and tired of this. Of course, at his most vulnerable state, his mind had to play tricks on him with Alex. Ben winced and tried to steer his thoughts away from her.

He got into the car and drove on autopilot. He headed to the same diner John was going to. He hit every single pothole as he drove. Ben couldn’t even be bothered to care anymore. He pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car. He left it unlocked and walked into the diner. His gaze swept the interior, taking in its darker colour palette. He was looking for one thing. Ben’s eyes landed on John, seated in his wheelchair by a window. He was talking to a waitress.

The waitress smiled at him and walked away, her hair bouncing as she moved. Ben strided over to John. He stepped up behind him and cleared his throat. John’s head turned, his brows furrowing when he saw Ben. John’s mouth was agape. “Ben.” He said. 

“Hello, John. Mind if I take a seat?” Ben asked, though it was more out of courtesy.

 John squinted at him, but gestured at the seat across from him. “Go ahead. Then you can explain how you found me.”

Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew this was coming. The chair scraped against the floor noisily as he pulled it out, then sat in it. “I have been watching the others, keeping them safe. When you turned up, I got a call.” Ben stated. 

John tilted his head up. “Keeping them safe? From what? Besides,” he leaned forward, “you killed Abaddon. How does that keep anyone safe?”

Ben snorted. “I was keeping you safe from Abaddon.” Ben leaned forward, too, his face inches apart from John. “He was going to kill you, sooner or later. The others,” he sat upright. “I was protecting them from Charles Widmore.” Ben finished. 

John clicked his tongue, a mirthless little laugh escaping his lips. “Widmore, right, he saved me.” John said, voice rising. 

Ben shushed him. “No, he used you, listen to me–” Ben took a deep breath, mostly to calm himself.

“He just wants to find the island; I moved the island because of him, so that you can lead–” Ben closed his eyes for a brief moment. 

John’s face was unreadable. “Why are you here?” He asked with a sigh. Ben shifted in his seat. He didn’t know how to explain without sounding like a lunatic. 

“John, there is no other way for me to say this, but you have to listen to me.” He said. John frowned at him. “I am stuck in a time loop. I have been reliving today over and over again. Nobody,” except for Eloise, “remembers any of it.” Ben explained, face pinched.

John laughed in his face.

It was more like a guffaw. An older couple turned to give them a funny look. Ben leaned over again. “Shut up. I’m serious.” He hissed. John snorted, wiping an honest-to-God tear from his eye. 

“Yeah, sure, and I’m Kevin Spacey.” He said with a chuckle. 

“I’ve nearly lost count how many times I woke up on today’s date. I have been trying something different every time. Nothing works.” Ben continued miserably.

“Really?” John said, humor lacing his voice. “If you were trying to manipulate me, you should use something more plausible. Not,” he waved his hand, “a time loop. You sound ridiculous.” To Ben, his tone was mocking. This conversation is ridiculous. 

“Later today, you are going to go for a stroll in the park. At night, you’re going to a department store to buy an extension cord. Then, you’re going to go to a motel, write a letter to Jack, and you will hang yourself.” Ben said. All traces of mirth left John’s face. He stared at Ben. 

“I know you have Jin's ring in your pocket. I know Jin doesn’t want Sun to go back to the island. I know this because you told me already. Have faith in me, John.” Ben continued. 

John clenched his jaw, mulling over what Ben said before he spoke. “What are you trying to do, Ben?”

“I’m trying to escape this time loop. I’ve tried damn near everything.”

John shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. Why are you telling me this?” HIs face was grim.

For the first time in a while, Ben didn’t know how to answer. “I suppose…” He hesitated. “I don’t have anyone else to tell. As sad as that may be.” Ben finished. His gaze stayed on John’s. 

John raised a brow. “That is a bit sad, isn’t it?” 

Ben scoffed. “Don’t let it get to your head. You’re probably the reason this started for me.” Ben replied.

John gave him a look. “How so?”

Ben pursed his lips. “I watched you hang yourself.” He lied with ease. 

John’s face was steady; he hummed in response. “You watching me kill myself is what got you into this mess?” John asked, head tilted. 

Ben matched his posture. “Yes. Yes, it did. And I have tried everything to get out of it.”

The waitress came back, placing a sandwich in front of John. In her other hand, she held a pot of coffee. “Oh, I didn’t know you had someone joining you!” She greeted happily. Ben gave her a tight-lipped smile. 

“Neither did I. Thank you for the food.” John said. 

The waitress hummed as she filled up John’s mug with coffee. “Can I grab you anything?” She asked Ben. 

“Just tea, if you have. Any is fine.” Ben answered, eyes still on John. 

“Of course!” She replied and left.

“I have watched you die, I have killed you myself, I have left you completely alone, and I have talked you out of killing yourself.” Ben pinched his nose bridge. “I have also killed myself. Obviously, none of it worked.” He gestured to himself. 

John’s eyebrows shot up. He seemed to consider something before speaking. “Every day you have relived has revolved around me. You haven’t considered having fun?” John questioned. 

He didn’t even sound phased by Ben saying he’s killed him already. Ben felt like punching him. “No, because I’ve been worried that I’m stuck in a time loop forever.” Ben stated, hands clasped on the wooden table. 

“You killed yourself before messing around?” John reiterated. Ben really was going to punch him.

“Don’t act like you’re better than me. You’re stuck in the time loop, too.” Ben said, eyeing him.

“I just don’t remember any of it like you do.” John shot back smugly.

Ben tried not to let his anger show on his face. “Right. Please, do you have any meaningful advice?” Ben grumbled, rubbing his temples. 

“What would I have to say to you? I have no idea what you’re meant to do. Seems like you’ve tried almost everything.” John said. His mouth was open as if he was going to continue, but the waitress came back and placed a mug in front of Ben. 

“Thank you.” Ben said lamely. 

“No worries!” She replied.

“My advice is to have some fun. Have you ever seen Groundhog Day?” John asked. 

“I haven’t, and neither have you. I already asked you this question.” Ben answered in the most mocking tone he could muster up. 

John rolled his broad shoulders. His sandwich was still left untouched. Ben took a sip of his tea; John mirrored him with his coffee. “Go watch it then. I don’t know what else you can do.” His voice sounded apologetic.

“Don’t kill yourself tonight. Please, John.” Ben said, tiredness seeping into his voice. 

“Is this just so I can help you?”

“For the most part, yes. But listen to me,” Ben swallowed, “Jack bought a ticket from Los Angeles to Sydney, tonight. You succeeded with Jack. You can get the rest of them. We can.” Ben stated. 

John had his regular squinted look on his face. “You’re sure?” He asked quietly. Desperately. 

“I am.” Ben said.

John sighed, deeply. “I was told I needed to die for them to come back.” He rubbed his mouth. 

“Maybe that’s true, maybe it isn’t. But you can die another day, on your own terms, surrounded by your friends. Just not tonight. Please.” Ben finished. John let his gaze fall from Ben’s for the briefest of moments.

“Okay,” he murmured. 

Ben nodded, and rose to his feet. “Thank you, John.” He said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. 

John turned his chair to face Ben. “What, that's it? You’re leaving?” 

“Well, yes. I have faith that you’ll listen to me,” was Ben's response. John’s mouth is agape. He looked shocked. Ben doesn’t quite know why. He left without another word; he could feel John’s gaze burning a hole in his back as he walked out.

Ben got into his car and slammed his door shut. He drove home and hit every single red light. He stopped at a Blockbuster on the way back. Groundhog Day was nowhere to be found. Ben felt like ripping his hair out. He sped home and parked across the street. Ben stomped up the stairs to his apartment.

If this didn’t work, what else was there to do? What if John does kill himself? The thought, quite frankly, scared him. He hasn’t felt scared in a while. At least that’s another combination for him to try out. He just couldn’t let John out of his sight. Ben sat on his couch, his head in his hands. The day was nowhere near over and he felt on edge. 

All the what ifs? filled his head. Ben glanced at his watch. He didn’t want to drive over to John’s motel to see if he hung himself or not. It was just nervous, pent-up energy. Have fun. Yeah, right. With who? John? Ben rolled his eyes. He turned the idea over in his mind. It was an oddly appealing option. He could keep John away from that awful motel the whole night. Really keep an eye on him. If this doesn’t work, the next time I’ll… Have fun.

He felt weirdly giddy at the prospect. Ben instantly shoved the feeling back down. Ben flopped down on the couch and squeezed his eyes shut. He was normally good at falling asleep quickly. This was going to work. John was going to live, the two of them would convince the others to go back to the island, and John would die on his own terms. That’s what was going to happen. Tomorrow, he would wake up on his couch, and his back would hurt, and he’d be happy.

Ben woke up with a start. He was back in his bed. His hands found the alarm clock and he smashed it against the wall before grumbling loudly. It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t. I knew I should’ve watched him for the rest of the day. Ben huffed. He brought a hand up to rub his aching head. John told him to have fun. Maybe he should. Maybe it’s a stupid idea.

When it came to John, he never knew anymore.

He got out of bed and changed. The floorboards creaked loudly beneath his feet. Ben’s mouth tugged into a frown. How can he have fun? Without visiting John? His mind was drawing a blank. He could feel his face go hot from embarrassment. I suppose I’ll go visit John.

He brought a coat before leaving his house. The weather was the same as it had been every day. A slight breeze in the daytime that got chillier as it got closer to night. Ben decided to walk to the diner John would be at. He was getting sick of this driving; it’s not like he was in a rush.

His pace was brisk. He knew exactly where he was going. Ben tripped on a piece of sidewalk sticking up. He cursed underneath his breath, yet continued on. Ben glimpsed at his watch. If he got there a little later, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. The thought made him hesitate. Would it? Other than potentially dying, what could happen if I never escape? He furrowed his brow. An aneurysm didn’t sound too bad now, either.

Ben quickened when he saw the diner. He crossed the road and entered the building. Glancing around, Ben saw no sign of John. Ben eyed his watch. He had missed John by a few minutes. Ben grumbled, leaving the diner. He’s going to the park next, Ben’s mind supplied. 

“Hi there, sir. Can I help you?” The same waitress he saw yesterday asked. 

“No.” He said in a clipped tone.

Ben walked. He walked on the poorly paved and cracked sidewalks. If he focused hard enough, he could imagine it as the jungle floor; uneven, dirty, and roots sticking up everywhere. Ben tripped again. He eyed the pavement angrily, and trekked on. Ben, eventually, arrived at the park. 

It was a long field with plenty of trees and benches scattered around. It went around a lake that glittered in the sunlight. It stretched on for a while. His eyes flicked around in search of a wheelchair. His shoulders relaxed when he saw John next to a bench and facing the lake. Ben strided over, his head held high.

John turned his head. His eyes widened when he saw Ben. As always. “Hello, John.” Ben said. He sat on the bench. John didn’t make a move to leave. That’s a good sign. 

“Hi, Ben.” He replied simply. “How did you find me?” John asked. Ben inhaled. Then exhaled.

“I have been keeping the others safe. I got a call when you turned up.” He lifted a hand. “I know I killed Abaddon, but he was going to kill you.” Ben said before continuing. “Charles Widmore was using you to get to the island. He’s why I moved the island; so that you could lead.”

John seemed to consider it for a moment. “Why are you here, then?” He questioned. 

Ben shifted in his seat. “I know that later tonight you are going to write a letter to Jack. I know that you have Jin’s ring in his pocket, and that he doesn’t want Sun to go back to the island. I know that you have to go visit Eloise.”

“How–”

“I know that you are going to hang yourself tonight in a motel room.” Ben interrupted.

John’s mouth was agape. “How do you know all of that?” He inquired, suddenly upset. 

Ben paused. “Listen to me very, very carefully. I am not trying to trick you. I am stuck reliving today over and over again. I have already had this conversation with you before.”

John laughed in his face.

Because of course he did. Except, this was different from yesterday’s guffaw; it was laced with nervousness. He shook his head once he was done laughing. 

Ben glowered at him “Are you finished?” He said, raising a brow. 

John hummed. “I am,” he replied with a small smirk. 

“You have to believe me.” Ben went on, scooting closer on the bench to John. John tilted his head.

“Is that how you know exactly what I’m going to do later today? And about Jin and Eloise?”

Ben nodded. “You told me all of it. You also got me stuck in this mess.” He stated. 

John raised his brows. “I did this to you? How?”

“I watched you hang yourself.” Ben said, folding his hands neatly in his lap.

John paused. “Sounds more like a punishment for not helping me.” He said after a moment. 

Ben scoffed loudly. “Well, I’ve helped you numerous other times and it hasn’t worked. I even tried killing you to see what would change.” Ben gestured between the two of them. “Obviously, nothing happened.” Ben concluded. John furrowed his brows. “Before you ask, I can’t die. I’ve tried.” Ben said bitterly.

“You sure this has to do with me?” John suggested. It felt condescending. 

“You are… A constant. In all of this.”

John eyed him before sitting upright in his chair. “What do you expect me to do?”

Ben shook his head. “You told me… To have fun with this.” Ben answered. 

John smirked. “Your idea of fun is hanging out with me? You tried to kill me because you were jealous of me.” John replied. 

“Yes, well, you’re the only one who's willing to accept the idea of a time loop. Do you expect me to go to Sayid and ask him to play chess with me?” Ben said, rolling his eyes. 

What surprised him was John snorting. Ben furrowed his brows at the noise. “No, I don’t think anyone else would believe you. I barely do. You only ever stay with me when you need something. Now you need… A friend.” John chuckled.

Ben smirked at the absurdity. He looked over at John. “Just let me stay with you until midnight.”

John shrugged, a small grin on his face. “Why not. What’s your idea of fun?”

Ben swallowed, thinking. “I think we should go to a bar.”

Ben was a little tipsy. John wasn’t; he was nursing the same beer for the better part of an hour. Ben was on his third glass of top-shelf whiskey. He was not worrying about spending any money. They were seated in the back corner in a booth, John still in his wheelchair. The seats were glossy and the lights were dim above them. The bar was relatively empty. A pamphlet on the table read that tomorrow is karaoke night.

Ben doesn’t even like karaoke. He just wanted to see tomorrow. He voiced this opinion to John. “I wake up every day on the same day, seeing the same things, having the same conversations.” He was rambling, but his speech wasn't slurred. John nodded along. “You’re not gonna drink anything else? It’s all on me. The money’ll be back in my pocket tomorrow.” Ben said. “I promise I won’t hurt you.” Ben went on, voice low as he leaned over.

John huffed. He treated it like a challenge and chugs the rest of the drink. He flagged down the waitress and asked for whatever Ben was having. Ben grinned at him, and John smiled back. 

It was a nice smile; it made him seem younger. There was a little glint in John’s eyes. It was coy, as if he wanted Ben to keep talking. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Ben took a sip of his drink and glanced over at the T.V above the bar. John watched him with a keen eye. The waitress came by with John’s drink. Ben sees the score on the T.V and he snorts, shaking his head. John tilts his head at him curiously. “What’s so funny?” He asks. 

Ben nodded his head towards the T.V. “The Red Sox won today. You know, when I told Jack that the Red Sox won the league in 2004, he didn’t believe me. He called me a liar. Laughed in my face.” His tone got colder at the end of his sentence.

John hummed. “Can you blame him?” 

Ben scoffed. “I know I’m a liar, John.” 

John shook his head. “No, not that. The Red Sox aren’t, or I guess weren’t, good. At all.” John said before adding. “I can’t believe it’s 2007.”

Ben made a noise of acknowledgement. “Believe me, I get it.” He murmured. 

John sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You seem to know a lot, Ben. Especially about me.” 

That was true. Ben knows everything there is to know about John. “I don’t know a lot about you.” John added. There was something funny with his tone, as if he was teasing Ben. 

“I’m a pisces.” Ben replied sarcastically, shifting his gaze. 

“Anything else I should know?” John asked. 

Ben tilted his head. “This is my favourite whiskey.”

John took a sip of his own drink. “It’s good.” He replied. John then clicked his tongue, leaning forward. Judging by the look on his face, Ben knew this was John preparing to bombard Ben with questions. “So. A time loop.” He started. 

Ben smirked to himself. Like a dog with a bone. “Yes, a time loop. What’s so difficult to understand about it?”

“A lot of it is difficult to understand. Like how you assume I caused this by hanging myself.” 

Ben sat up. “In front of me.” He said, pointedly. 

“In front of you.” John repeated. “My question is why you’re doing this–” he gestured a hand between them, “now. You decided to try dying before having a little fun.” 

Ben’s lips tugged down into a frown. “If you were in my shoes, what would you do?”

John considered it. Ben shook his head, a little smile on his face. “This is what I mean. There isn’t much you can do when repeating the same day, especially on the mainland.” He added bitterly. “You’d do exactly what I did.” He went on. 

John took a sip of his drink. “We aren’t the same, Ben.” He stated, face passive. That bothered Ben. He wanted John to get angry.

“You didn’t answer my question. What would you do?”

“I’d try to escape, that’s a given. Then I’d go do whatever I wanted. If it all comes back the next day, I can do anything. You can do anything.”

Ben was sick of this discussion of time loops. He looked at the wooden table. It was littered with ring stains. John brought his drink to his lips. “The gravesite you were at,” Ben said suddenly. “You were visiting Helen, weren’t you.” He stated. 

John slammed the drink down. “You don’t get to talk about her.” He stated with barely-concealed fury. He clenched his jaw and glanced away. Self-satisfaction was clear on Ben’s face. He sipped his glass, finishing it off. 

“Do you get off on getting me angry?” John said suddenly. 

Ben sputtered. “Excuse me?” Now it was John’s turn to have a smug look on his face. Ben scoffed; his face felt a bit hot. “No, I don’t. I just think you need to be reminded of reality every now and then.” He said. John didn't reply, but he still looked smug. Ben wanted him to wipe that look of his face. It didn’t suit him.

Ben tried to ignore it. He flagged down the waitress and asked for two more glasses of the whiskey. “Finish yours off,” he told John. He complied, setting the glass back down. The waitress returned with the drinks. They both take a sip. “I think that this has gotten very out of control.” Ben started. John tilted his head, as if urging him to continue. “This, as in… The island. The rest of the survivors. Charles Widmore. You.” Ben continued. 

John nodded as if he understood. He never would, not in the way Ben did. “Well, I have faith we’ll end up right where we’ll need to be.”

“I’m getting deja vu again,” Ben muttered. John chuckled. “Really, John. You don’t feel as if you’ve made a wrong turn somewhere? Look at you now. I tried to kill you and now you’re drinking with me.” Ben accentuated his statement with a sip.

“I don’t think anyone knows if their life is on track.” John said cordially. Offhandedly, he added, “we’re not always going to be happy where we end up.” 

Ben eyed him. “I’m no longer in a wheelchair. That’s something I can be happy about.” He replied peevishly. John made a face, but covered it up by sipping at his glass. Ben mirrored him.

“You won’t remember anything I tell you tomorrow.” Ben said. John raised a brow. “Unless this works, which I doubt it will.” Ben scoffed, then licked his lips. “You don’t know anything about me. Go ahead, ask me some questions.” Ben leans back and takes a long sip, throat bobbing as he swallows. John stares at him before registering what Ben said.

“How long have you lived on the island?”

“A little over thirty years.” 

“How did you find Anthony Cooper?”

“We asked around. He’s remarkably easy to follow.”

“What was the incident?”

“I only know that a bomb exploded.”

“Why did you press the button?”

Ben paused. He pursed his lips and took another sip of his drink. “You know that I will always have faith in the island. It would’ve been stupid to not press it.” 

John shifted in his seat. He looked guilty. “Did you keep pushing it?” He questioned. 

John gave him a look. “No, I didn’t, and the hatch turned into a giant magnet. Then Desmond made it implode to save us all.” He explained. Ben’s lips tugged up into a smirk. He was about to say something before John interrupted him.

“Is baseball your favourite sport?” John asked. Ben could see the tips of his ears were a bit red, likely from embarrassment. 

“It is.”

“The Red Sox are your favourite team?”

“Of course.”

“What’s your favourite food?” John said conversationally. Ben’s face must’ve been awfully funny, because John smiled at him with squinted eyes.

“That’s an odd question,” Ben said with a scoff, followed by a softer “croissants.” He looked towards the T.V. It was playing some sitcom Ben didn’t know.

“You should get some.” John stated, sipping his whiskey. 

Ben sighed. “Another day. When I escape this I’ll get some to celebrate.” He replied, setting his gaze back on John. The latter was examining the delicate glass in his hand, twirling it around. Ben watched as he set it down.

“Where’d you have the best croissants?” He went on. 

Ben knew the answer, remembered it as clear as day. “This little bakery in the French countryside. I decided to indulge.” He could remember how warm and fresh it was, the buttery taste on his tongue, paired with the flakiness of the bread. 

John thrummed his fingers on the table. “Why were you in France?”

Ben eyed him. “I was following someone. Nobody important; they’re dead now.”

John rolled his shoulders. “Are there any good bakeries near here?” He asked curiously. 

Ben had no clue why he was so interested in this topic. “None that I know of.” 

“What was it like growing up on the island?” Ben furrowed his brows. “Or, what was the Dharma Initiative like?” He elaborated. Ben clenched his jaw before he replied.

“Dharma was,” he waved a hand around, “controlling. I resented them. Then I had to wait patiently for years before joining the others. I suppose it was a matter of striking at the right time.” He said, bitterness lacing his voice. “But serving the island is the best thing to have happened to me.” The words felt fake just as they escaped his mouth. Which wasn’t right, he was willing to die protecting the island. Just less willing to leave in order to protect it.

Ben had practically just peeled back his skin and revealed the truth about him. He could no longer stand upon his sturdy lies. He’ll forget, he reminded himself. The bar had filled up without Ben noticing with lively chatter surrounding them. John’s voice was hushed when he spoke. 

“Do you want to leave?” Ben looked around and nodded. He flagged down the waitress and gave her his card. He turned back to John in the meantime. 

“I just have one more question.” John said. Ben tilted his head, blinking. “What are you going to do tomorrow?”

Ben hated that he knew what John was implying. There wasn’t going to be a tomorrow. It was obvious from the start that this wasn’t going to work. Why did he entertain this? His head could explode any second, for all he knew. Ben didn’t even think about what he would do tomorrow. Not that he would tell John, of course. 

“I’m going to kill you again.” He answered. John didn’t look surprised, but he did look disappointed. The waitress came back to give him his card, to which he put it in his wallet.

Ben stood up and wobbled. His hand shot out to catch himself on the back of the booth seat. John wheeled over next to him. He placed a hand on Ben’s lower back and guided him out the bar. John’s hand felt like it was burning his skin. Ben held the door open for the man. Together they walked side-by-side on the cracked sidewalk. 

Ben swayed a little as he walked, not that he would admit it. Though John didn’t comment on it, he could tell, if the grin on his face was anything to go by. He didn’t even know where they were going. He cleared his throat. John looked up at Ben. 

“Are you going to call a cab?” Ben asked. 

John shook his head. “It’s not that cold. Is your place far?” John replied. 

Ben shivered at a particularly cold gust of wind. John seemed unfazed. Yes, it is far. He wanted to say. “No, it’s not,” is what he said instead. They walked in relative silence. The city still buzzed around them. As Ben looked up, he could see the lights on in some apartments. As he looked around him, he saw cars zooming past and blaring music. When he looked next to him, he saw John, who was staring ahead. 

Ben glanced at his watch again. Five minutes until midnight. They had spent a lot of time in the bar doing nothing. Yet, as he thought about it more, his heart warmed. Ben tried to squash the feeling. Ben stopped in his tracks. John noticed and turned around. 

“My apartment is about an hour from here.” He sniffed. “It’s almost midnight. I’m going to wake up in my own bed again soon.” He continued, voice nearly as cold as the wind.

“Are you sure it’s still my fault you’re in the time loop?” John asked. 

Ben snorted. “I thought you were done asking questions.” John’s eyes raked over Ben. He suddenly felt very exposed. 

A large part of Ben was very grateful that John would forget everything he told him. A smaller, delusional part of him wanted John to remember. He didn’t care how humiliated or ashamed he would feel. John’s hand found Ben’s forearm, as if he were trying to comfort Ben. As if he knew what Ben was feeling. He didn’t. He never would. The warmth seeped into him. 

He pried his arm away to look at his watch. One minute left. Ben swallowed and licked his lips. He didn’t know what else to say. He shook his head; John understood. “Thank you.” Ben said instead, facing John properly. 

Maybe Ben’s mind was playing tricks on him, but the wind felt like it was blowing harder. “Of course, Ben.”

Ben woke up with a start.

Ben sagged against his pillow and looked up at the ceiling. The fan was spinning round and round. I need to kill John and turn myself in.  His head was pounding, a slowly building pressure at the back of his head. He glanced at the clock. 8:30. 09/15/2007. As always. Ben got out of bed. The floorboards creaked as he padded around his apartment and got changed. He stretched, wincing when he heard his back crack loudly. 

Ben went to his kitchen and pulled out a bottle of wine. He popped the cork and threw it off to the side. He glared at the bottle before chugging a quarter of it. He put it on the counter and sank into the couch. A sense of dread filled him.

Am I dying? 

After the initial fear, Ben felt relieved. He brought a hand up to his temple to rub it in slow circles. It didn’t really help. Obviously. I could have an aneurysm any second now. He thought indignantly. Tonight I’ll do it. Maybe it’ll work. Ben squeezed his eyes closed. He’d sleep it off until the time comes; it seemed to work in the past.

Ben pried his eyes open. He felt disoriented and his eyesight was unfocused and fuzzy. The air was cold and dry. His skin prickled. Ben’s nose was numb from the frigidness. He curled his arms in on his body and rubbed his hands together in effort to warm himself. Ben blinked and saw that he’s back in that temple underneath the Orchid.

He hated it here. The air nipped at his ears. He was losing feeling in his hands. Ben exhaled deeply, watching as his breath curled into the air. He looked around and saw John behind him. Ben tilted his head. He could feel every vertebrae in his neck grit against each other. John was wearing a thick, brown coat that Ben has never seen before. John’s eyes crinkled and he waved at Ben.

He walked over to Ben and shrugged off his jacket, draping it across Ben’s shoulders. Ben doesn’t know what to say. It was as if he forgot how to speak. His lips were dry from the icy air. John squinted at him and nodded his head towards the wheel. Ben startled and turned to face it fully. He walked over, but his steps were slow. Pins and needles went up his legs. His movement felt sluggish.

Ben made it over, but it felt like it took hours. He found himself at the wheel. Ben went to one side and placed his hand on the wheel. He strained to push it. Ben heard crunching behind him and looked over his shoulder. John was behind him, looking unfazed as he started pushing the wheel. 

Ben focused his attention back on it, putting every ounce of strength into his arms and legs. His hands felt stuck to the wheel. As far as he knew, they probably were. The wheel creaked once, twice, three times, before it made a full turn. There was a ringing in his ears, a blinding light he became awfully familiar with. He could hear John murmuring in his ears, but he couldn't process the words.

Ben woke up with a start.

He was still on the couch. He felt just as perplexed as he did in that dream. Ben yawned and sat up. His head was still killing him. He glanced at his watch and remembered his latest idea. Ben stood up, grabbed his keys, and walked straight out of the building. He didn’t have a second to waste. Ben hopped into his car and drove. 

He hit every single pothole as he drove. Ben thrummed his fingers against the wheel. He hoped the alcohol was out of his system. It probably was. Ben arrived at the motel. He could do this whole routine with his eyes closed at this point. It was second nature. As he got out of the car, he nearly walked into an old man walking a small, rat-like dog. It hardly phased him anymore. Ben walked inside the motel, up the stairs, and kicked down John’s door. He walked in. 

While he feigned shock, his heart still thrummed against his chest at the sight of John about to hang himself. Ben stepped towards the man. He didn't say anything, just knelt down and untied the cord dutifully. He kept his gaze locked on John as he did so, tossing the cord to the side. John hadn’t said anything yet. 

That was… Unlike him. 

Ben rose to his feet. John stood above him. Ben had found himself in this position plenty of times now. He didn’t know how many more times he’d come face-to-face with John like this. He hoped the answer was none. His heart jolted at the sight. Ben extended his hand and John reached for it with all the trust in the world. 

John looked at Ben’s hand, eyes full of tears, not yet shed which– which was different. 

Every other time, John would have been openly weeping by now. That was another constant in this hellish time loop. This was disturbing. This was exhilarating. “Ben,” John whispered, their hands still clasped. He tilted his head back to look at John; he tried to ignore how it felt like he’s baring his throat to a predator. John’s hand was blunt and packed with memories. 

Ben imagined it wrapping around his neck. His pulse began to race. “John,” Ben murmured. John blinked back his tears. He stepped off the table. Ben nearly forgot that John was taller than him. Ben’s gaze flickered over John’s face. There’s a resigned sort of exhaustion on his face. Ben understood it completely. John was breathing heavily, staring at Ben with wide eyes.

He doesn’t know which one of them crushes their lips together.

John let go of Ben’s hand. One hand trailed up Ben's back, the other gravitated to his waist. His hands clasped Ben tightly. Ben’s hands flew towards the hem of John’s shirt. He fisted it tightly and tugged John impossibly closer. Ben’s free hand migrated up John's body. One of them makes a noise; or maybe it was both. Ben couldn’t really tell right now. He also didn’t care.

His hand started from his shoulders, nails digging into them even through the fabric of his shirt. It moved to his collarbone, thumbing the shallow dip of it. Ben's hand went to John's neck, feeling for his pulse. It was racing. Ben’s likely was, too. His hand briefly wrapped around John’s throat. He could strangle him right now, maybe snap his neck. It’s what he should do. Ben ignored the idea. He brought his hand up to John’s jaw, cradling it.

They broke apart for a second, gasping for air. John’s breath ghosted over his lips. Ben stared at him with hooded eyes. He pulled John down into another kiss. John groaned at the hot slide of Ben’s tongue against his. Ben, embarrassingly, made a needy, high-pitched noise from the back of his throat. Ben angled his head to get deeper, hands grabbing at the back of John’s head so he could keep him close.

Ben pushed him back against the table. Ben’s hands made their way underneath John’s shirt. The latter immediately mirrored him. It felt molten-hot, like it was going to leave burns all over his torso. He found himself uncaring if that were to happen. Ben suddenly tasted something salty on his tongue, and he realized his cheeks were wet. He didn’t know if the tears were his own or John’s. 

John stumbled as he moved with the heavy cast. He dragged Ben towards the bed, and Ben let him. They split apart again and Ben’s heart throbs. They were close enough that their breaths were mingling. Ben swallowed hard. John brings a hand up to Ben’s cheek. The other stays heavy on Ben’s hip. “Your nose is bleeding,” he murmured. Ben doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to take his hands off of John, doesn’t want to shatter this moment.

“I don’t care.” He said honestly.

Ben pried a hand away from John’s shoulder to swipe at his nose. He admired the crimson on his finger. He smeared it on his pants and looked at John. Neither said anything. Ben glanced at John’s lips. The latter had his gaze set on the bed. Every time John had something in the palm of his hand, he didn’t know what to do with it.

He tilted his head and gestured vaguely to the bed. “You’re not second guessing, are you?” Ben said, almost teasing. John shook his head rapidly. Ben dragged John into another kiss by the back of his head. It was slower, but no less desperate. John gently pushed Ben onto the springy bed, to which Ben pulled John down with him. 

Ben hasn’t felt that good in a long, long time.

He laid on his side, looking at the digital clock with half-lidded eyes. It was a few minutes until midnight. John was behind him, his forehead pressed into the back of Ben’s neck. Neither of them spoke, as if they didn’t want to shatter the delicate moment. He couldn’t stand it. “I was going to kill you tonight,” Ben said, abruptly. 

John stirred, but didn’t move from his spot. He pressed a chaste kiss to Ben’s neck. “I figured.” He rasped. Ben doesn’t say anything. The clock is about to hit midnight; he just closes his eyes and lets himself rest. John snaked an arm over Ben’s chest. He’d allow it to rest there, just for a little.

Ben woke up with a start. He was back in his apartment. He sagged against his pillow and looked up at the ceiling. The fan was spinning round and round. Ben missed last night; it was dragged from him all too soon. He wishes that worked. The words he had lived by his whole life were clear as day.

Nobody can save him but himself.

Ben knew exactly what needed to be done. It should’ve been clear from the start. A ringing dragged him out of his thoughts. He looked at the nightstand. The clock read 8:30. The date was 09/15/2007. His phone continued to ring. Ben rolled onto his side and grabbed it.

“Ben?” The person on the other end asked. Of course, of course, it was Eloise. Ben nearly forgot about her. He had specifically told her not to call him back.

“I told you not to call me back.” He got out of his bed and padded around his apartment. He stepped on every creaky floorboard. He glanced at the cupboard where his tea would normally be. I’ll go to a cafe later, he thought boredly.

“I’m aware. Have you made any progress at all? You’ve been doing this for over two weeks.” Her tone was clipped. She was obviously just as sick of this as him.

Ben scratched at his neck absentmindedly. Has it really been that long? Ben thought about what she said. Progress. He tilted his head. “I know what to do,” he said. Eloise hummed on the other end.

“Have you been having any side effects?” She questioned. Ben paused. He knew exactly what she meant. The headaches, the nosebleed.

“No,” he lied and hung up. Tomorrow would be his last day in this time loop. He just needed one more day. Ben got changed and left his apartment. He hopped into his car and drove to a cafe. Someone ran out onto the street as he drove to the store; Ben nearly hit her. He got his tea and drove to the park that John would currently be at. He parked and walked to the bench.

“John,” Ben called out. John’s head snapped over to Ben, his eyes widening. 

“How did you find me?” John asked. 

“Don’t interrupt.” Is what he started with. “I’ve been keeping the others safe. I got a call when you showed up. Abaddon was going to kill you. Charles Widmore was using you to get to the island.” He explained. 

John’s brows were furrowed. He turned his wheelchair to face Ben. “I need to bring the others back to the island.”

Ben pinched his nose bridge. “Jack booked a ticket to Sydney. You can get the others, we can get the others. You don’t even have to die to do it, John.”

There was a flash of fear in his eyes that was then overcome by anger. He stood up from his chair and hobbled over to Ben. “How do you know about that?”

Ben held his gaze as he stood up straighter. “Listen to me very, very carefully. I am-” he paused. John was just going to laugh at him again. “I was cursed by the island. I’ve been reliving the same day over and over again. I need you to survive until tomorrow to escape it.” He lied.

John didn’t laugh. Instead, his mouth tugged down into a slight frown. “What do you mean I have to survive?”

Ben tried not to smirk at the fact that John believed him. “You wouldn’t remember it; but for about a week straight, you’ve died at the end of each night.” Ben placed a hand on John’s shoulder, gently pushing him backwards. “I know where you’ll be safe.”

John shook his head and stood his ground. “How do I know I can believe you?” He said.

Ben sighed. “Jin’s ring is in your pocket. He doesn’t want Sun to come back to the island. You told me that.” He replied.

John examined his face. His jaw was set tight. He dutifully sat down in his chair. Ben nodded at him. “Where are we going, then?”

“My apartment.”

John chuckled the whole car ride at the idea, shaking his head in disbelief. He quieted down when they arrived at the apartment complex, analyzing the building and Ben. “You’re serious? Your apartment is going to save my life?” He asked as he got out of the car. 

“Yes, John, I’m serious.” Ben answered as they crossed the street. They took the elevator up. Ben fumbled for his keys at the door as John stared at him. He walked in and toed off his shoes as John wheeled in behind him. 

John shut the door and glanced around. “Nice place you have,” he commented. Ben hummed his thanks, walking into the kitchen. “What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” John went on. Ben grabbed a wine bottle and showed it to the other man. John just pursed his lips.

“You’ll only get hungover if you survive today.” Ben stated, another lie piling on top.

John chuckled. Ben poured them each a glass, handing one to John. They migrated towards the living room. Neither of them wanted to address the elephant in the room. Ben turned on his T.V, clicking through the channels before landing on the news. He let it play in the background. “Every time I die, you have to relive today?” John started.

“Yes. I’ve seen you hang yourself, get hit by cars, fall over and hit your head too hard. I’ve seen it all.” Ben said. 

John tilted his head curiously. “So why is your apartment safe?”

Ben shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

John snorted and took a sip. “You always know.” He paused. “Are you lying to me? Do you just want some information and then you’ll kill me yourself?” John said.

“If I wanted to do that you’d be dead already.” Ben scoffed. The two stared at each other as the reporter on the T.V talked about a new bakery.

“Tell me the truth.”

Ben took a large sip from his glass. “I did.”

John shook his head. “No you didn’t.”

They eyed each other. “I am stuck reliving today. I’m just not sure if it’s because of the island or not.” Ben said.

John chuckled mockingly. “Just admit it.”

Ben took another gulp from his glass. “I don’t need to admit anything. I have seen you die time and time again.”

John placed his glass down and folded his hands in his lap. “Why is your apartment a safe place?”

Ben wanted to scream at him. “Do you remember when I was in a wheelchair, John? And when you came stumbling into my camp, your presence quickened my recovery? It’s like that.” He said, his gaze steely.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that a few minutes ago?” John asked.

Ben inhaled deeply and glanced off to the side. He finished off his wine and glared at John. “You and I slept together last night. Forgive me for trying to act normal because you can’t remember it.” John blinked at him owlishly. He grabbed his glass and took a sip before keeping his gaze locked on the T.V. Ben just rolled his shoulders and slumped back into the couch.

He felt something hot running down his face. It took his brain a second to catch up before he realized his eyes were wet and tears were streaming down his face. He brings a hand up to wipe them away. Ben can see John staring at him through the corner of his eye. He opens his mouth and tries to speak but his voice cracks before he can.

He was sobbing before he even knew it. His shoulders shook as he hunched over. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides. The last time he cried like this was when Alex died. Now, he didn’t even know why. Ben hasn’t cried like this in three long, long years. It was the kind of weeping where it wracks your body and exhausts you through and through. He felt like a toddler having a meltdown.

Ben sniffled, wiped his red-rimmed eyes, and sat up. He was furious. “You can’t help me, John.” He sneered. John was silent, if not a bit shocked. His head is back in his hands, one threading through his hair. He heard John wheeling over to him.

He can still relive today if he really wanted to. The mere idea made him sick to his stomach. He felt like he was going to cry again. He couldn’t do that. John is giving him a look. To Ben, it was full of pity. “Your nose is bleeding.” John said. Softly, he adds “I’m sorry.” Ben wanted to punch him so, so badly for that.

He does.

It was cathartic in a way that killing him never was. John reeled back and stared at him with his mouth agape. “Do you want to fight?” John asked incredulously. Ben answered him by standing up and punching him in the eye again.  It was like a game now. John was naturally at a disadvantage from his broken leg. 

Maybe Ben was playing dirty, but he aimed for John’s gut, who groaned loudly at the strike. He nearly felt bad. Then John punched Ben in the nose and the feeling instantly dissipated. Ben’s fist collided with John’s jaw, then swung at his stomach again. Ben lunged at John again, who tried to block him. It resulted in them falling onto the floor with a loud thump. 

John was clearly winded and his eye already looked swollen. Ben felt like he could keep throwing more punches. John waved a hand as he sat up. “Ben, stop it.” He wheezed. 

“You’re tired already?” Ben said, heaving a breath. John eyed him, rolling his shoulders. Ben glanced off to the side. He was sitting on the floor leaning against the couch. John made no move to get up to his chair. “You didn’t let me win, did you?” Ben asked. 

John huffed a laugh and shook his head. “If my leg wasn’t broken I would’ve put up more of a fight.” He reasoned. Ben smirked at that. He felt his face; his nose was still bleeding. Obviously John having punched him didn’t help. His face ached and he found he didn't really care. John shuffled over to Ben, sitting next to him against the couch. There were a few inches between them. “Why were you visiting me last night?” John questioned.

Ben examined his hands. His knuckles stung from their altercation. It would be fine by tomorrow. “I was going to kill you. See if it would change anything.” He answered.

John hummed noncommittally. “Was this–” he gestured at Ben, “just to get your frustration out?”

Ben’s face must’ve been awfully funny, because John smiled at him with squinted eyes. His heart panged. “I suppose.” He licked his lips. “Are you going to get your drink?”

He paused before shaking his head. “Wine’s not really my thing.”

“It isn’t my thing either.” Ben stated. His knees groaned as he got up. He grabbed the glass and sat down on the floor next to John. “If I don’t escape this time loop, I will die.” He said. 

John raised a brow.  “How?”

“I don’t know how. Probably an aneurysm.”

John tilted his head. “I mean how do you know you’re going to die?”

“Eloise Hawking told me.”

John pursed his lips. “She was supposed to tell me how to get back to the island.”

“I know. You told me already.”

John stared at him. “So she knows you’re in a time loop?”

“Yes. I don’t know how.”

John swallowed. “Must be tiring.”

Ben chuckled. “You don’t even know.” He rubbed at his forehead. “It’s exhausting.” He wanted to cry again, but it was as if all his tears were gone. They probably were, considering his earlier breakdown. Ben screwed his eyes shut. He flinched when he felt a hand on his arm.

John was looking at him. Maybe it wasn’t pity in his eyes, maybe it was something else. That something else scared him. His arm wound around Ben’s back, his hand landing on his other shoulder. Ben drank the last sip of his wine before placing it on the floor. He allowed John to pull him closer. Ben rested his head on John’s shoulder, tucking his face into his neck. 

“I guess this is my fault. A little bit, at least.” John said softly as his hand stroked Ben’s shoulder.

“Yes, it is.” Ben murmured into John’s neck.

John threaded his fingers through Ben’s hair. It reminded him of when he used to do this for Alex, after she was upset about something. He wondered if John would’ve been a good father.

Ben blinked back tears. He doesn’t know how long they sat there for. He just knew that later–

Ben woke up with a start.

He was tired. He glanced at the clock. 8:30 and 09/15/2007 shone in bright red numbers. His head hurt just looking at it. Ben got out of bed and got changed. He walked through his apartment and stepped on each creaky floorboard. Ben opened the cupboard on autopilot. It was empty. As always.

He drove to the store. Someone ran out onto the street as he drove to the store; Ben nearly hit her. They were out of his favourite tea. He bought the next best option. He chose to trail after John in his taxi. Ben hit every pothole as he drove after John. As always.

The day went by quickly. He was on the street where John’s motel was. Ben felt apprehensive. As he got out of the car, he nearly walked into an old man walking a small, rat-like dog. The neon lights buzzed loudly above him. As always.

It was all familiar. Of course it was. Ben had experienced this time and time again. He climbed up the stairs and knocked on the door. Swallowing back his worry, Ben kicked the door down. He saw John about to hang himself.

 “John, what are you doing?” He knew the answer. John looked defeated. “Wait, please, John, stop!” He stands upright to look at John. 

“How did you find me?” John questioned.

“I have someone watching all of them, keeping them safe. When you turned up, he called me.” Ben kept his voice low and smooth as if trying to calm a startled animal. “Just calm down, John.”

“What do you want from me? Are you going to kill me?”

“I’m trying to protect you,”

“Protect me? You shot him. You killed Abaddon.” 

“Yes. Yes, I did. But it was only a matter of time before he tried to kill you. I tried to get to you.” 

“Why? Why would–”

“He was working for Charles Widmore. He’s extremely dangerous.” 

“No! Widmore came to me, he saved me.”

“No, John, he used you. He just wanted to use you to find the island. Charles Widmore is the reason I moved the Island! To keep him away so that you could lead,” his voice broke. Ben approached John slowly, though the other man assumed the worst. One of John’s hands went up to his throat, though it faltered. The other stayed hanging onto the cord. He couldn’t blame him for that reaction.

They were still following a script. As always.

Ben knew what to do now.

You can't do this. If anything happens to you... John, you have no idea how important you are.” Ben slowly shook his head. He looked up at John with wide eyes. John squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed. “Let me help you.” He said.

“There is no helping me. I’m a failure.” 

“No, John, you’re not–”

“I am!” He shouted angrily. He thought of John in the Swan Station, John interrogating Ben in his own house, John in the bar. “I couldn’t get any of them. I couldn’t get a single one of them to come back with me. I can’t ‘lead’ anyone.” His hands left the cord momentarily.

“Jack booked a plane ticket from Los Angeles to Sydney, tonight.” Ben took a few slow steps closer. “Whatever you said to him, John, it worked. And if you got Jack, you can get the rest of them.” Ben stated, head tilted. His lips felt dry and his heart beat rapidly in his chest.

“John…” His knees ached as he got down on them. “You can’t die. You’ve got too much work to do. We've got to get you back to that Island so that you can do it.” John’s eyes filled with tears. Ben’s might be, too. He kept his gaze on John as he untied the cord. It was in the same spot with the same knot. As always. 

Ben stood up. “Please, John. Come on.” He stretched his hand out.

He inhaled deeply. “I love you.” Ben said, softly and honestly. His voice cracked.

John’s eyes widened; his mouth was agape. John grabbed Ben’s hand. As always. 

Ben has felt John’s hand dozens of times now. John's hand was blunt and strong. It was heavily calloused and is larger than Ben’s hand. It was warm and felt like it was burning his skin. He has it committed to memory; he never wants to forget it. John sat on the table and cried. As always.

“I know we can do this, John.” He murmured as he pulled the cord off his head. He kept the cord tight in his hand. John thanked him. “You’re welcome. Come on, here.” He said. Ben moved to John’s side, fitting against him like a puzzle piece, like he was meant to be there. Ben’s heart clenched. John’s arm tightened around his shoulder as he leaned his weight onto Ben. 

They hobbled over to the wheelchair. Before John sat down, he faced Ben. “Do you really love me?” He asked in disbelief.

“I do.” Ben wished he was lying.

John leaned in to kiss him. He can’t handle that now. Ben shied away. “Later. I promise.”

John seated himself in his chair. Ben’s hands shook. He wrapped the cord around his neck. John fell off the chair, struggling and kicking and trying to scream, but he couldn't. He can’t, and he won’t. Ben knew it. John doesn’t stop trying. He kept his eyes away from John, looking anywhere put him. All his strength goes into holding that cord tight. He has to do this, something has to change. Ben’s heart broke.

The body went limp. Ben does, too; he’s slumped against the floor. He was exhausted. Ben let the cord go loose. He cycled through the familiar movements of setting up John’s fake suicide. He felt numb as he did so. Ben’s hands still shook. He walked out of the motel. As he exited, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. The wind seemed to blow colder than usual. As always.

He shuffled in and started the car, driving off without letting it warm up. Every light turned red as he drove. Ben didn't have any energy left. His heart hurt. He felt a warm liquid running down his face. He knew his nose was bleeding. He won’t cry. He cannot cry. Ben parked his car on the curb and walked up the stairs to his apartment. He glanced at his watch.

12:00.

John was dead.

Ben wept.