Chapter 29: What We Die For

The group spent the next few days at the Barracks preparing for a confrontation with the man who had taken John Locke's body. They didn't know what was coming exactly—or when—but they knew that they were in for a fight.

Valerie explained what she could—she was careful not to say too much, but she genuinely didn't have much in the way of answers. The black smoke was a person, but she didn't really know how that was possible. All she knew was that he wanted to break free of the Island by destroying it, and that it was possible for him to be killed.

"We have to turn off the Island," Desmond explained.

"Turn it off?" Sawyer asked.

"All this energy—at the Swan and the Orchid. It has a source. It's why I'm here—I'm immune to it. I'm the only one who can do it. If it's off—he's just a man. That's how he can be killed."

"How can you know that?" Sawyer asked. "You from the future too, Braveheart?"

"I remember it, in a way," Desmond replied, frowning.

"Desmond is kind of unstuck from time. It's what makes him so special," Valerie explained. "Time isn't exactly a straight line to him. And he can—evidently—bounce between lines a little."

"Oh, well that explains it," Sawyer snapped sarcastically.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't understand it either," Desmond offered.

"That makes me feel worse."

Ben had been sitting quietly in the corner of the room. He frowned, tilting his head. He held up his hand to interrupt the conversation.

"What?" Sawyer asked.

"Listen."

They all fell silent. A rustling noise was coming from the basement.

"Guns," Valerie instructed quickly. "Claire, get the fuck out of here—tell the others to get ready to run. Alex, Karl, go with her."

She drew the gun at her thigh. Desmond pulled a handgun from his waistband. Ben and Sawyer grabbed rifles from the bag they had kept by the front door.

Slow creaking footsteps made their way up from the basement.

"Can it come through the tunnels?" Valerie asked Ben, an eyebrow raised.

"Not unless it's summoned. Not with the fence on."

The door behind Ben's bookshelf started to creak open.

"Hello," a voice said cautiously from the other side. "Don't shoot—it's us."

A tall figure emerged from behind the door, hands in the air.

"Richard," Ben said, frowning at him. He didn't lower the gun.

Jack followed Richard into the living room.

"You don't have Locke with you?"

"John Locke is dead," Jack replied. "That thing is not Locke."

Valerie lowered her gun, and the rest of them followed suit.

"Did you figure that out before or after you killed Jacob?" Valerie asked Jack flatly.

Jack gaped at her. "You knew?"

She shook her head. "I guessed. Ben was the one who did it last time. Of course, last time Ben was also the one who killed John," she added.

"I was?" Ben exclaimed.

"You'll remember eventually, hon," she told him casually, stepping out of the living room. "I'll go tell the others it was a false alarm."

Jack blinked, unsure of how to process what he'd just learned.

Desmond nodded at him. "It's good to see you, brother."

"Likewise," Jack replied, drawing back his focus. He began explaining the situation as he understood it—describing what had happened inside the statue, their trip to the lighthouse, and what Jacob's ghost had told Hurley about the heart of the Island.

He took a deep breath. "We're here because we need Desmond," he said heavily. "We need to take him to the heart of the Island—if we do that, the thing can be killed."

"Where's Kate?" Sawyer asked.

"She's with Hurley. They're waiting for us. We thought it was safer to split up."

"Damnit Freckles," he sighed. "What about Sayid?"

Jack shook his head. "He didn't make it. That thing—it killed everyone—people from your plane, the Others—everyone but us."

They took a moment to process the news, aware that there wasn't time to grieve.

"So what are we dealing with out there? How fucked are we?" Sawyer asked eventually.

As Jack explained the obstacles they would have to face, Richard pulled Ben aside.

"I was wrong about Valerie, it seems," he murmured. "Jack told me what she did."

Ben smiled to himself. "You weren't entirely wrong."

"Oh?"

"She was lying—and keeping secrets. Your instincts were right."

"Jack tells me she was your wife—or is, I suppose?"

"You officiated our wedding, actually," Ben confirmed. "You said something very nice about the importance of holding on to love when you find it."

Richard blinked in surprise.

"About ten years from now," Ben explained. "On that cliff that looks out over the ocean."

"You remember?"

"Bits and pieces. Enough to understand the mistakes I've made."

Richard eyed him seriously—as if assessing the ways that he had changed since they had last spoken.

"You know why she came back, don't you Benjamin?"

Ben frowned. "For Alex—I could never forgive myself for what I—"

"She came back for you," he interrupted. "I know that desperation. I would have done anything to see my wife one last time. I saw it in her when she first arrived—I didn't realize what I was seeing—I knew it was something familiar, but I didn't I understand it until Jack explained what she'd done. She loves you very much, Benjamin. Her world was unbearable without you."

Ben looked at him, stunned by the way he'd put it all into words. "I know," he said slowly.

"That kind of love changes a person."

"It changes a lot of things," Ben added, nodding in agreement. "It changed everything."

Alpert patted Ben on the shoulder, a wise smile on his face. "I'm happy for you, Benjamin," he said simply, and they rejoined the group.

"Well, I know what I have to do," Desmond announced as Jack finished his explanation. "What are we waiting for?" he asked, turning to Ben and Richard.

"We need some semblance of a plan," Richard told him.

"He—it—whatever—it knows we're fucked without Desmond." Valerie agreed, reappearing in the doorway. "But it needs him as much as we do. Let's gather the others. We need to make some decisions."

They met at the center of the Barracks. Valerie motioned at Jack to address the group.

He stood up and looked at all of them. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say here—we've all lost so much. But we were all brought here for a reason—I have to believe that. I have to believe that there's a reason for everything we went through. It can't have been for nothing. We can't let it be for nothing. We can stop him."

"We've done it before," Desmond told him calmly.

"I hope you're right—but we know things aren't the same. And this life—this is all we have. I know what I need to do—and I need Desmond to do it—but the rest of you should go. Stick together. Make it to the plane. If this thing doesn't go as planned..." he trailed off

"Val and I will stay," Ben said. "We'll do what we can to get you there safely."

"Alright," Jack agreed, his eyes somber.

"I'll stay too," Sawyer volunteered.

"No, James," Jack replied. "You have to go."

He stood up and looked Jack in the eyes, his expression flickering rapidly between anger and grief. "So what, Doc? You're going to run off into the jungle—guns blazing—with Glasses and time-traveling Lara Croft? And I'm supposed to—what? Run away?"

"James Ford, listen to me," Valerie said firmly. "These people are counting on you." She gestured at the group, watching as he locked eyes with Claire, Sun, and Jin. "You get them the hell on that plane, and you use whatever fucking duct tape and scrap metal you can find to get that bucket of bolts off the ground and away from this place. And then you all live the absolute fuck out of the rest of your lives. That is what you're supposed to do."

Sawyer looked at her with a frown. She returned his gaze with a steely calm.

"Alright, Wednesday," he agreed conciliatorily.

Alex and Karl stepped forward to join Jack.

"We're staying," Alex announced, taking Karl's hand. "This is my home too. I'm not abandoning it."

"Alex—"

"Dad, this isn't open to debate. This is my choice."

"Please, Alex—it won't be safe."

She stared him down. "I know."

He nodded slowly. She'd made her decision.

"What about Hurley and Kate?" Claire asked.

"We'll send them your way as soon as we meet back up with them." Jack replied. "No matter what, the plane waits long as possible for them."

"Got it doc," Sawyer acknowledged.

"We'll stay in touch with you," Ben added, tossing walkies to Miles and Sawyer. "We'll buy you as much time as we can."

"There's no guarantee that deathtrap is getting off the ground," Frank cautioned.

"We believe in you, Frank," Miles said, slapping him on the shoulder. "And we've got a year's supply of duct tape. We'll make it work."

They parted quickly, unwilling to acknowledge that these goodbyes would likely be their last. Valerie pulled Sawyer into a hug as he started to walk away.

"Get the hell off my island, asshole," she whispered.

"Yes ma'am," he replied with a smirk.

Sawyer walked away, leading his group to the outriggers.

Valerie turned back to Ben and sighed heavily. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed the side of her head.

"Jack," she asked quietly, "did you meet Jacob again after—did he—"

"Yes—he passed it to me."

"Even though you killed him?"

"I think he wanted me to kill him—he was ready to die."

"I fucking told you," she muttered to Ben.

"Told me what?"

"I was sure that it was what Jacob had wanted," she told Jack, "but Ben never believed me."

Jack turned to Ben. "Were you the Island's protector?" he asked. "No, it wasn't me," Ben answered simply.

"Who was it?"

Ben glanced at Valerie before answering.

"It's probably best not to get into that, Jack," he replied cautiously.

Jack nodded, realizing that it was unwise to ask more questions. He turned to Desmond. "I guess we better get started then."

"What's the plan?" Karl asked.

"We need to find the heart of the Island—then find Locke and kill him."

"And meet up with Kate and Hugo," Ben added.

"I don't like suggesting that we split up," Jack told them, "but we need to get them on that plane—before anything goes down."

"We'll go find them," Alex offered.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," Ben told her firmly.

"Ben and I can go with the kids," Valerie suggested. "It won't be looking for us. You three go do whatever you have to do."

"Alright," Jack agreed hesitantly. "Be careful."

Valerie nodded solemnly.

Desmond pulled her into a hug. "You be safe," he instructed gruffly.

Val smiled appreciatively. "Take care, Des," she instructed.

"Valerie, you've done a good thing," Richard said, tilting his head at Alex. He turned to Ben, nodding to himself. "There's no time to say everything that needs to be said, Benjamin. But I trust you'll do what's right."

Ben nodded back at him, grasping his outstretched hand.

"Thank you, old friend," Ben told him, "for everything."

Jack sighed. "We'd better get going."

The two groups parted—Jack, Richard, and Desmond headed towards the heart of the Island, and Ben and Val leading Alex and Karl to the place Hurley and Kate were supposed to be waiting.

Alex did her best to lighten the somber mood, animatedly telling her father about the more ridiculous things that had happened while he was gone—like the morning they'd woken up with a huge bird in the house, or the night they'd been sure a polar bear was in the compound, only to discover that Vincent had found them.

"Where is Vincent?" Valerie asked. "Do you guys take care of him?"

"No—no he doesn't seem to need us," Karl replied. "He kind of comes and goes as he pleases. He seems to know what he's doing."

"That sounds right," Valerie replied, smiling. "He's a very good dog."

The attempts at levity helped, but the mood was decidedly grim. They pressed on as quickly as they could, conscious of the ticking clock.

Alex led them down a steep hill and into a narrow gorge.

There was an eerie silence in the ravine. Ben found himself acutely aware of every crunching footstep.

Something felt off.

"Benjamin Linus," a familiar voice called from the crest of the ridge above them.

Ben looked up. The figure stood with his back to the midday sun. Ben squinted, holding his and over the sun. It was Locke.

He drew his gun.

Valerie stepped in front of Ben. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, a concerned frown on her face. The low ground put them at a distinct disadvantage.

"What do you want?" she called up at it. "Desmond's not with us."

"Oh," he replied with biting hostility. "You again."

"We're just trying to get off the Island," Ben attempted. "Let us pass."

"You know," Locke replied, aiming his rifle at Valerie, "I don't think I will." He pulled the trigger.

The rifle responded with an empty click.

He pulled the trigger again, with the same result.

Valerie laughed, realizing that the Island wasn't letting him shoot her. "I told you—I'm not yours to kill."

"They are, though," he replied, quickly turning the gun on Alex. He pulled the trigger again.

Ben saw it happening and dove in front of his daughter, knocking her to the ground. A searing heat tore through his side. He stifled his reaction.

"God fucking damnit, you evil piece of shit!" Valerie exclaimed and started firing up at him—the bullets hitting him but having no effect.

"Dad!" Alex cried. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he lied. "I'm fine—are you alright? Did it hit you?"

"No—I'm good," she answered. Karl took her by the hand and dragged her behind a tree. Ben grabbed Valerie by the waist and pulled her away, taking cover with Karl and Alex.

Bullets whizzed by.

"Can we stop him somehow?" Alex asked. "Maybe if we can—"

A deep rumbling in the distance interrupted her suggestion.

Everything seemed to change in an instant. The skies darkened, and the air crackled with angry electricity.

Valerie didn't hesitate—she burst out from behind the tree and, aiming carefully, took a shot at Locke.

It hit him in the arm. He touched the wound—noting with some surprise that he'd actually been injured.

Valerie pulled the trigger again, narrowly missing his leg.

There was fear in his eyes. He turned away, running from the ravine.

"We have to keep moving," Valerie told the group. "It's already happening. We have to find Kate and Hugo."

Ben quietly touched the place where he'd been hit. He looked at his fingers—dripping with dark blood. The bullet had probably nicked a vein. There was no way to know how serious it was, but he was not optimistic. In the heavy rain, his dark clothing was enough to hide the severity of the wound from the others, at least. There was no time to deal with it now.

They made it to the beach, finding an anxious Kate pacing in the sand as Hugo stared out at the water.

"Kate!" Valerie shouted.

She and Hugo both looked up.

"Where's Jack?" She shouted urgently.

"He's going to kill that thing," Alex explained, rushing over to them. "We have to get you to the plane."

The ground lurched under their feet as another rumbling crack echoed in their ears.

"I have to help him!" Kate exclaimed.

"There's no time," Alex replied. "He wanted us to make sure you were safe!"

As Alex launched into an impassioned speech, imploring Kate and Hurley to leave the Island, Valerie stepped back to stand at Ben's side.

He smiled at her through gritted teeth.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He nodded, but she frowned at him, unconvinced.

"Are you bleeding?" she whispered, noticing the growing dark stain on over his hip.

"It's fine," he insisted dismissively, shaking his head. "It's nothing serious."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he lied.

"Look," she whispered, grabbing his shoulder. She pointed out at the water. The third outrigger that they'd pushed out from Hydra island was floating just offshore.

"You have to take Hurley in the canoe!" Kate told Alex as she noticed the outrigger. "Get him to the plane! I'll be fine."

"I'm not getting in that thing," Hurley objected.

"Hurley, the plane is going to leave," Alex insisted. "We'll get you to the others—Sawyer is there, with Jin and Sun, and Claire, and Miles. They're all waiting for you. Frank is going to fly you home."

Ben flashed a worried look at Valerie, but she shook her head. They couldn't interfere with this—it was too important.

Hugo looked up at them helplessly. "We have to help Jack," he insisted.

Alex glanced back at her dad.

"It's not up to me," he said simply.

Karl's radio buzzed at his hip.

"Are you guys alright over there?" Sawyer's voice crackled. "Is this whole damn place going under?"

Kate grabbed the walkie from Karl before he could answer. "James, it's Kate. We're going to help Jack—wait as long as you can, but if you have to leave without us, you leave."

"I promised the doc we'd wait for you."

"Well I'm overruling him. He doesn't get to fucking martyr himself. We'll try to make it but—whatever happens, happens."

She handed the walkie back to Karl.

"Where is he?" Kate asked again. "Where's Jack?"

Valerie shook her head. "We don't know—we can try to find him. There's not much time."

They started running back into the jungle.

A flash of lighting and booming crash of thunder pierced the air. An intense torrent of rain burst from the sky.

Ben glanced over his shoulder at Valerie, and she met his gaze with a grim smile.

He was starting to feel weak. For a moment, he considered stopping—telling the group to go on without him. But he knew that Jack could use all the help he could get, and he didn't want to leave Alex.

They heard a gunshot ring out in the distance.

"What was that?" Hurley asked.

"I think Jack found Locke—or maybe the other way around," Kate answered. She started sprinting towards the noise, her gun drawn.

The earth rumbled again, punctuated by a sharp, splintering crack.

"Hurley—move!" Alex shouted, pushing Hugo out of the way of the falling tree.

It happened slowly—and yet far too quickly for Ben to stop it.

The tree collapsed on top of Alex, crushing her under its weight.

"Alex!" Karl cried out—his voice a bone-chilling, guttural wail. He fell to his knees beside her head. "No—Alex—please!" he sobbed.

Ben rushed over to her, hoping against reason that she'd somehow be fine.

A speechless Valerie followed him, the color drained from her face and a deeply shaken look in her eyes.

"We can get the tree off!" Kate offered, running back to help.

Valerie shook her head in stunned silence.

"It's too late," Hugo murmured sadly.

"Alexandra," Ben rasped, taking her limp hand. There was a horrible familiarity in seeing her like this. He was sick to his stomach. He could have stopped this—if he'd been standing where she was standing—if he'd been close enough to push her away. He would give his life a hundred times over to save hers, but this time he hadn't been given the choice.

His chest felt both hollow and heavy at once. "Alex," he begged, his voiced hushed and desperate.

She slowly blinked open her eyes, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.

"Daddy?" Her voice was weak, and her eyes were swimming with fear and confusion.

"I'm here," he told her.

"Alex?" Karl whispered.

"Karl," she replied. "I love you so much."

The tears rolled down his cheeks. "I love you more," he told her, and he kissed her.

Her eyes fluttered shut. Her hand slipped out of Ben's as the life left her body.

Ben's eyes filled with tears. He leaned forward, kissing the top of her head.

The rain picked up suddenly, the storm seeming to grow angrier with Alex's passing. The earth groaned again, throwing Ben onto his back.

Rocks started to fall from the cliff above them. Val grabbed Ben by the armpits and pulled him to his feet, out of the way of the falling debris.

The ground cracked under their feet, separating Valerie and Ben from Kate, Hugo, and Karl.

More gunshots echoed in the distance.

Hurley pulled a distraught Karl away from Alex's body.

"We have to go!" Kate shouted over the roar of the rain. She pointed up at the cliff. "It's coming down!"

More rocks and debris hurtled towards them. Ben took a few shaky steps back, stumbling in the slippery mud.

Ben could see his own agony reflected in Valerie's eyes. She nodded at him, and they started running as the cliff face collapsed behind them.

They kept running, even once they were clear of the landslide. They weren't running towards anything—but they had to keep moving. Not running would mean stopping to process what had happened.

They ran until they emerged from the jungle, then ran up the beach until they couldn't run anymore. Ben wasn't sure how long they had been running, or where they were, or when it had stopped raining.

He slowed down and tried to catch his breath. He bent over, wincing. The shock and adrenaline had finally begun to wear off.

Valerie stopped next to him, her hand on his shoulder. She looked out at the horizon.

"Val, I'm not going to make it," Ben said shakily. His knees buckled, and he collapsed into the sand. He touched the wound under his ribs.

She extended her hand to pull him back to his feet. "We'll be fine, Ben, it's okay."

"No, Valerie—it's over." He lifted his shirt, revealing the true extent of his bleeding.

It took her a moment to understand what he was telling her.

"No." Her eyes filled with tears, and she fell to her knees. "Ben—please—no. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't save her. I'm so sorry. It was all for nothing—all of it." She cried helplessly into his shoulder.

"It wasn't for nothing," he murmured. "She had three more years. She was happy. She died knowing how much she was loved—that I'd give everything for her."

He leaned back into the sand, and she lay down beside him. He looked out at the ocean—at the white crests of waves under the red and golds of the sunset.

He realized that they were sitting exactly in the spot where she'd told him who she was—the same spot where she'd agreed to marry him. He smiled.

Val hadn't stopped the worst from happening, but—in trying—she had changed him profoundly. He'd been loved by someone who had seen the worst in him—his violence and his selfish cruelty—and forgiven it.

"You didn't save her life, Valerie, but you did save mine. I'm a far, far better man for having had your love."

She squeezed his hand.

He was quiet for a while—talking would take energy he didn't have. He held her against his chest as she cried. He felt the softness of her hair under his cheek. He closed his eyes.

He remembered everything.

"Valerie," he murmured.

She looked at him.

"It's all there. My memories. All of it."

Her nose started to bleed.

"I love you," he told her, suddenly overwhelmed by the knowledge.

"I love you too," she replied, smiling sadly through her tears.

He exhaled slowly. She rested her head over his heart.

"You're dying," he added, sensing her weakness.

She wiped the blood from her nose, nodding. "I don't think I can survive in this time without you."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "for asking you to do this."

"No, no—don't apologize. It gave me more time with you. It was worth it."

There was a gentle rumbling in the distance, and they watched the sky together as the plane soared overhead.

Ben smiled suddenly and looked at Valerie. He wiped blood and tears from her face and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ears. "I love you," he whispered again, relieved to be saying the words.

She kissed him. "Promise you'll find me in the next life."

"I promise," he breathed.

He blinked heavily and closed his eyes. He was gone.

Tears streamed down her face. She could feel the sickness taking her. She clung to Ben's chest and listened to the sound of the ocean crashing into the sand. Drowsy and cold, she closed her eyes. The ocean faded into the distance, and Valerie drifted peacefully into the dark.


Epilogue: A Far Better Rest

Ben had felt very much at peace since the rest of the Oceanic passengers had gone into the church. He should miss Hugo, he thought, but he didn't. He wasn't gone, really—and he was at rest.

It was a strange thing to go about his life, knowing that it wasn't really a life at all—but Alex needed him, and his great unfulfilled purpose was to be a father to her—the kind of father she deserved.

If her experience was anything like his, Rousseau would understand when she inevitably remembered. There would be no room for anger. Not here.

He knew Alex would forgive him too, in spite of how little he deserved it. He could spend another lifetime trying to atone for what he did, but it would never be enough. He would try, though. A second chance was not a thing to be wasted.

It was a Sunday morning—to the extent that it was really any day. He was driving—not heading anywhere in particular—but he felt a sudden urge to have a cup of strong tea. He pulled into the parking lot of a Coffee Bean.

There was a short line in the store. The woman in front of him had a Blackberry to her ear. Her sleek ivory dress flattered her slender figure. Her shoulder-length dark hair was shiny and pin straight. She held her hand over the phone to order an iced mocha, then went back to the conversation.

"I don't think it's worth it to get into a discovery dispute at this point—"

"No, I agree, but from a litigation risk perspective—"

Ben ordered a medium tea, deciding at the last moment to opt for the iced option.

"Well it's not like we couldn't file a cross-motion if it gets to that point, honestly—"

"Why do you think I'm here?"

The words hit Ben like a punch to the chest. He wasn't sure why, at first, but the fog he felt was familiar. He knew her.

She picked up her iced mocha from the counter and turned to grab a straw. He picked up his tea. She turned around to leave, and her eyes met his.

He stared at her, trying to understand his own reaction to her. She grinned at him, and—in his distraction—he bumped into her, spilling his tea all over her white dress.

"Holy fuck," she exclaimed, and immediately started laughing.

Valerie.

The memories rushed in—a second lifetime. All the gaps in his mind—in the time he'd spent with Hugo—suddenly made sense. The life he had remembered was overlaid with another life that he had somehow also lived.

Valerie swimming towards him. Valerie arguing with him about turkey. Valerie soaked with rain, sitting in the mud next to him. Valerie soaked in blood, kissing him.

His eyes filled with tears.

"I'm so sorry," he told her, his voice quiet. He grabbed napkins and handed them to her.

"It's fine—I needed an excuse to skip going into the office. Let me get you another tea."

"It was my fault—

"Well—maybe—but let me get you another one anyway."

"Alright," he agreed slowly.

Valerie on the beach at night. Valerie beaming at him in a white dress. Valerie by his side as he died, twice.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You seem a little shaken."

"A friend of mine passed on last night," he told her quickly. "I'm a little out of it."

"Oh—fuck. Sorry."

She reordered the tea for him and sat down at one of the tables.

"Did you want to sit for a minute?"

He nodded and sat down across from her. He stared openly at her face, unable to completely contain his emotion.

"Valerie, by the way," she told him, taking a sip of the iced mocha.

"Ben Linus," he replied, still staring at her.

She stared back at him, frowning slightly. He could sense that she was trying to understand the nascent feeling of recognition.

"Do you want to tell me about your friend?"

He thought about it. "To be honest, not really."

"Oh good," she replied, relieved. "I'm not very good at dealing with death."

He smirked, knowing that it was not entirely true. "We have that in common," he replied.

She chuckled.

"What do you do?" she asked sipping more of the mocha.

"I teach history," he answered. "You're a lawyer?" he added, stepping away to grab his tea from the counter.

"How could you tell?" she asked him, turning her chair to face him.

"Your phone call. And the fact that you are in business attire on a Sunday, in L.A."

"Honestly I could get away with wearing yoga pants in the office over the weekend, but I really like wearing this dress."

He winced. "Sorry about that, again."

She laughed. "The dry cleaners should be able to handle it."

"Let me take care of that, at least," he said, insistently.

She considered arguing with him but thought better of it. "Okay," she agreed, her voice soft.

She was silent for a while, sipping her drink and staring at him. The silence was comfortable, as it always had been.

"Could you give me a ride home, actually?" she asked suddenly. "I walked here—and, you know…" she gestured at the large stain on her dress.

He was glad she'd asked. He hadn't thought through how to go about ensuring that she would stay in touch with him.

He held the door to the coffee shop open for her as they left, and the passenger door to his sedan open as she stepped into the car.

"My building's called The Orchid," she told him, and began to give him directions. "It's just a couple of minutes from here."

He smiled wryly. He knew where he was going, somehow. "I think I've been there before," he said through a chuckle, and started to drive.

He could feel her eyes on him.

"What?" he asked, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Who are you?" she asked. "I feel like we've already met."

"Perhaps we have," he answered slyly.

She bit her lip and continued looking at him, but she didn't say a word until they arrived at her condo complex.

She touched his forearm lightly as he parked.

"Do you—would you like to come in?" she asked, her voice careful.

He raised an eyebrow and blinked slowly.

"I'm sorry if that's too forward—I just—I think I want to get to know you better."

They locked eyes for a moment—she frowned quizzically as his lips curled into an amused little smile.

"I would like that very much," he answered.

He followed her through the lobby of her building and into the elevator. She pressed the button for the eighth floor, and took a step back, her shoulder bumping against his.

He caught her hand in his, loosely, and she squeezed back in response. She looked up at him, clearly confused by what she was feeling, but—at the same time—certain that she was doing what she was supposed to.

She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled herself into him, planting a kiss on his mouth, pushing him into the corner of the elevator.

He held her head in his hands, his thumbs against her temples, and he kissed her back.

She pulled away and looked into his eyes. "I don't know why I did that," she admitted.

"Yes you do, Val," he replied.

Her eyes darted back and forth, searching his with a passionate urgency.

"Ben."

She threw her arms around his neck, sobbing freely into his shoulder.

"It's alright, Val," he told her gently, "it's alright."

She held him tightly, clutching the back of his neck. He kissed the side of her head and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his cheek against her hair.

If there was meaning in anything that had happened, it was this—to love another person and be loved in return. There was no grander plan—no greater purpose—not for any of them. In the end, this was all that had ever mattered.

"It's alright," he repeated. "I found you."