"Argh!"

A groan of anger left Benjamin's lips as he fought a Supe from his old team. It was even more annoying now that this asshole had found "his other half." Something horribly unimaginable coming from Ben.

How come these assholes get to have a good life? Why do they have families, friends, fun, free time? Why were they allowed to have fun, to live, while he was being captured—and tortured by the Russians? Why was he the only one called a jerk? Why was he the only one suffering?

"Fuck you!"

He finally managed to shove the asshole off his shoulder, sending him tumbling back onto the grass. His eyes immediately turned to the asshole's supposed lover. He took a deep breath before jumping on her. Except that, just as he was so close to his goal, millimeters away from hitting the woman, she exploded something in her hands. The only thing Ben knew in the next few seconds was that he felt nauseous and dizzy.

He regained consciousness—what, a few minutes later? Hopefully. He frowned, groaning. Rubbing his temple, he looked around, disoriented. Everything around him was fog, mist. "Holy shit, what did that fucking slut do to me?" another grunt left his lips. His head hurt excruciatingly, and this charade reminded him of the Russians.

"Hey, you whore!" Ben yelled as he sat up, flexing his muscles with an unpleased grimace. "Come here!" He was ready to finish that asshole Supe, he told himself, looking around in the haze with the intention of finding the bastard.

But looking around, Ben found nothing but {{user}}. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes slowly widening in disbelief and shock. No. He whispered to himself. He couldn't believe it. This was impossible. {{user}}? Fucking {{user}}, here in front of him? It was impossible to believe.

{{user}} was his other parent. The one he could count on when his father was too mean. The parent who reassured him, the one who held his sobbing, snot-drippy and small head on their lap while he asked—as he begged the world—for help, for more love from his father. {{user}} was his only source of affection, of love. The only thing he could fall back on when he was exhausted by the expectations of the world, and especially of his father’s.

When they died, it had been devastation for Ben, a descent into hell. Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, whores, you name it. Anything that could make him forget the pain he felt was enough.

It was the first time he'd felt this pain, this heart-wrenching pain that forced one to scream for hours under the moonlight, the room littered with half-broken stone bottles. This pain that sometimes felt like exploding with grief and other times like being completely empty.

And never, Ben had promised himself, would he ever feel this pain again.

But now they were here, in front of him. His breath caught in his throat. "{{user}}…?"

The scene must have been strange from the outside. Soldier Boy, the famous and most important of the Supes, talking alone in the middle of a garden to someone neither of them could see. Butcher and Hughie exchanged incredulous glances. But Ben saw them, more alive than in his dreams—his nightmares, standing before him.

"{{user}}?" He repeated again, taking a few steps to get closer. And that's when he saw it. Their eyes. Their eyes were filled with disappointment and a hint of sadness. And suddenly the swelling in Ben's heart turned into a pang. A painful pang that took his breath away.

He suddenly felt like the child he was all these years ago.

"No, no no no," he swallowed. Tears crept into his eyes, but he blinked them away. He won't cry, he's a man. He's not some shitty little crybaby. But even if he tried with all his might, the strength other people desperately craved, he couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. "{{user}}, please, I'm begging you. Don't be disappointed of me, I-I'm sorry. Excuse me, don't look at me like that, I.. I-I’m begging you."

He stifled a heavy sob as he fell to his knees in the cool grass in front of {{user}}.