99. weird, USA.

Feb 04, 2013 17:53

This is expressly for corellianjedi, who has been Weird, USA's #1 fangirl since Day One, and is the captain of the HMS Ben/Liv. Lizz asked for some domestic post-road trip fic, and so here is a little taste of what life is like for Ben and Olivia after their crazy year on the road...





“Nooooo,” he moaned, burrowing deeper beneath the toasty blankets. “Not yet. Too early. Seven more…”

“Whassit?” she replied, stirring against him. She rolled over. He lifted one arm, still heavy and clumsy with sleep, and slid it over her hip to pull her closer. She grabbed a handful of his shirt and tucked her head beneath his chin. “What’d you say?”

“Nothin’. Nothin’.” He huffed out a sigh and threaded his fingers through her hair, eyes half opened and bleary. “G’back to sleep…”

She drifted off again. He felt the subtle shift across her shoulders as sleep reclaimed her, her fingers loosening around the fabric of his shirt, her breathing slowing and leveling into a calm and steady rhythm.

It was just before dawn. In a handful of minutes-six to be precise-the sun would crest the horizon and spill pale pink and yellow light through the thin curtains. In the past two months his sense of time had sharpened in a way that was hardly typical. He’d stopped wearing his watch weeks ago-Olivia had noticed and asked, assuming he’d lost it or that it had broken.

He had shrugged nonchalantly and said, “Don’t really need one any more,” in a casual way. But she had picked up the underlying thought and met his eyes with somber thoughtfulness.

“Your bag of tricks must be along the Mary Poppins’ design,” she’d said. “Seems it’ll never end, eh?” And he was once again (always) grateful that Liv would understand; that he wouldn’t have to define the indefinable.

This latest little skill did make him wonder, though. If his Sight was only widening and deepening and spreading like water seeping through cracks, where would it end? Was this the way of it for everyone with such a gift? Harry had had dreams and visions and could see what was really there-but what else had he been able to do at the end, before the cancer stole him away?

Luckily, this particular card in his deck was one he could push away if necessary. He could usually ignore it so that there wasn’t an ever-present clock ticking in his ears. Though it did make it impossible to oversleep now, and it was unsettling how the damn thing seemed to reset itself when they entered new time zones, faster than a phone could, so that as soon as they crossed the invisible line the numbers flashed red across his eyes.

Perhaps it all had to do with boundaries? Because he also ‘felt’ the borders between states, and countries, and city limits now. He had mentioned it to Robbie during the last Skype session, and his fellow psychic had offered an interesting theory.

“I’ve been talking to a bounty hunter who’s also a Seer,” Rob had explained. “He gets called in when ghosts turn violent, when the creatures of the night bump a little too loudly, so to speak. And he thinks it’s an evolved survival trait. That our fabled sixth sense is a genetic fluke in the evolutionary line-which rather makes sense, given how often our gifts run through families. And since there are beings who are bound to certain places-you know, the way most ghosts can’t leave their bodies or the places where they died-and certain boundaries can block others, perhaps your ability to sense those lines is connected? You can sense where safety is. Or something along those lines.”

Ben was glad that there were others in their strange little community who were thinking about these things, trying to affix explanations and definitions to things the rest of the world refused to believe in. Partially because it made him feel less alone, and partially because he didn’t want to dwell on the unnatural (or supernatural) right now. He had other things to think about, better ways to spend his waking moments-there were more important things than answers.

Olivia sighed and pressed her cheek against his neck. The world was quiet, still, cool around the edges but warming quickly. And it was in soft moments like this when he remembered, the truth nudging him firmly but gently, and his breath would stutter in his throat. She was his wife. He was her husband. It was still new enough to spark a thrill of wonder in him, as if this was nothing but a dream he’d wake from soon enough. And for all that the new titles were inherently adult, he felt unchanged.

He was still a nerdy mess who was fumbling towards the future uncertain and afraid. He had no interest in settling down, in falling into a nine-to-five, in casting off his faded band tees and scuffed Chucks for more ‘mature’ clothing. He wasn’t about to buy into society’s bullshit about what he should be doing, or feeling, or thinking now that he was married and legally a grown-up. And he didn’t think he ever would-not after the road trip and everything he’d learned about himself, his family, the world itself. Age was just a number, after all, and he was doing his best to follow Charlie’s example in one key way: he was going to carpe diem for as long as possible. Just focus on the day to day, in making the most of the time he had. He knew very well that he had cheated death and destiny and other huge, sweeping things. And so he’d made a promise to himself the day he gave Olivia the ring that encircled her finger: no more dwelling, or worrying about the yet to come. Everything that mattered was the here and now, this moment, this bed, and the woman pressed against him like a second heart.

Dawn filled the room, rendering the vague, gray shapes of the furniture into sharp and colorful solids. He looked down as the light wove, glittering and golden, through Olivia’s pale hair. His heart felt too tight in his chest. His lips turned up at the corners unbidden.

Then he pulled the covers up higher, to block out the light, and tried to recapture a few minutes more of sleep.

She woke in an instant, eyes flashing open. It wasn’t that something-a dream, a sound-had wakened her. Her body had simply switched from off to on, leaving her alert and focused. Perhaps she had just acclimated to their gypsy lifestyle. And it was nice to wake on her own terms, without the buzzing of an alarm or some terrible surprise waiting for her.

Ben’s arms were heavy around her. She extricated herself carefully, hesitant to wake him just yet. Stretched her arms over her head until her shoulders popped quietly. Rolled her shoulders to loosen the knots. Reached over her husband’s-God, what a giddy thing that was, knowing it wasn’t just Ben beside her but her husband-sleeping form to pluck the cast-off hair-tie on the bedside table. Using her fingers as combs, she gathered up her long blonde hair and twisted it into a practical bun.

She allowed herself one long, lingering moment to smile down at the unconscious Ben, mouth hanging slightly open and shaggy hair falling over his eyes, before she slid out of bed and padded downstairs to the kitchen.

Tessa was curled up in her basket by the back door, and straightened eagerly with a flick of her ears and a smack of her rubbery black lips as Olivia stepped into the room.

“Don’t have to ask if you’re hungry,” Olivia smiled at the Australian shepherd, opening the pantry and pulling out the bag of dog kibble. The bells on Tessa’s collar jangled as she trotted over to her silver bowl, toenails loud on the hardwood floor. She set to eating with her usual gusto, tail wagging slightly as Olivia scratched behind her ears.

It was their last day here: might as well make breakfast a to do. She pulled eggs and milk from the fridge, a box of pancake mix from the pantry, scooped several strawberries from the fruit bowl. One of the things she had genuinely missed during their crazy year of road tripping had been cooking. Takeaway, room service, and microwave meals couldn’t compare to a meal made with your own hands, with fresh ingredients-at least not in her books. She chopped up the strawberries and hummed an old song that had been one of her grandmother’s favorites and thought of nothing much.

The second stack of flapjacks was piled on the platter when Ben shuffled in, hair sticking up at all angles and his shirt riding up in the back. He scratched his neck with a yawn, then leaned over the table to peck her cheek. “Mornin’,” he said. “Going all out, I see.”

“Yep. And I was thinking of baking a cake after we finish breakfast, so it’ll be waiting for Phil and Samantha when they get back. And I’ll put a casserole in the oven so they won’t have to worry about dinner.”

“Lovely idea. Anything I can do?”

“Set the table?”

“Can do.”

He rummaged through the cupboards and drawers, set out two plates and glasses and pairs of silverware. Then snapped his fingers with a thoughtful nod and opened the back door, letting Tessa streak past him before following at a more sedate pace. A moment later he returned with a handful of flowers from the back garden, to replace the wilted daisies in the vase by the window.

They sat down to eat, early morning birdsong drifting in through the screen door, and enjoyed the calm for several moments.

“So you’ll be baking,” Ben said finally, after draining his glass of orange juice. “I’ll do a last load of laundry, change the sheets on the bed, do a bit of general tidying.”

“Sounds good. We can take Tessa for one more hike up the hill after lunch.”

“Be sure to do a last walk-through before I take the bags out to the van. Don’t want to forget anything.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

In the lull, they heard Tessa barking at what was probably a pukeko, judging by the squawking, and the distant rumbling of a truck down the street. Olivia sipped at her milk, eyes straying to the photos tacked up to the fridge by a plethora of novelty magnets. Photos of Phil on a beach next to Samantha with a surfboard standing up between them; with his sunbleached hair and tattoos he looked like a born surfer boy rather than an anthropologist from England. And Samantha was clearly out of her element in that white bikini surrounded by sand-her sunburn was a brilliant red and though she was smiling it certainly looked a bit forced. Phil was squinting, but then he was perpetually squinting-he refused to wear his glasses for photos, no matter what Samantha said-and was certainly pleased to be doing the typical tourist shtick on their Caribbean honeymoon.

There were other photos, too, taken in dimly lit pubs and living rooms, where Samantha was clearly more at ease. The flash of the camera had made them both ghostly pale and red-eyed, but they looked more natural and comfortable than in the beach photos. The other shots were of friends, family-there was a brand new one tucked on the corner of the freezer showing Phil and Samantha beside Olivia and Ben, all four grinning, Samantha’s hands around her swollen belly and Phil’s arm around her waist-and a strip of black and white sonograms held a place of honor in the center.

Olivia stared at the sonograms thoughtfully. Phil had been worried that the babies would come too early-premature delivery was a typical concern in the case of multiples-but Samantha had always smiled a secretive, knowing smile when he brought the subject up.

“They’ll come when they’re good and ready,” she’d said in her thick Aussie accent, flicking back her dark hair. “When I’m good and ready. Don’t worry, love.” And then she’d glance at Ben and they would share a Look; it was a look Olivia was well versed in, and knew meant ‘We know something you don’t, but don’t expect us to explain how’. And while Phil was still coming to terms with his wife’s… oddities, Olivia was beginning to feel that nothing Ben said or did would surprise her now. This was just what life was now, for better or worse, for normal or strange.

Though even Ben had hesitated when Samantha had suggested they finish up business before she went into the hospital.

“Are you absolutely, positively sure?” he’d asked at least three times. “We can easily do this after-”

“And we can just as easily do it now. I’ve got several days yet before the triplets start kicking down the door. And those poor souls have been waiting long enough as it is. We’re both as prepared as we’re gonna be. Fuamai said there needed to be at least three of us, and she can’t stick around indefinitely-I’d rather do it now before she gets called off somewhere more pressing and we have to wait another month for her to get back to the area.”

“If you insist, Sam,” Ben had said, resigned. Phil had shot him a look over his wife’s head that clearly said, “Don’t even bother to argue with her when she’s in this mood,” and Ben had replied with one that said, “Trust me, pal: I know what it’s like to deal with a stubborn, bullheaded lady who knows what she wants and when she wants it.”

So two weeks ago they had all driven out to the lonesome spot by the crooked white pine, where only a few haphazard stones marked the graves. Phil and Olivia stood back by the VW van while Ben, Samantha, and the Maori elder Fuamai had walked out the lines. And as the sun began to set beyond the rugged, misty rocks of the islands that dotted the harbor far below, they opened the Doors for the ghosts that had lingered in this forgotten cemetery. Olivia had felt the chill of their passing and shivered, but could see from Ben and Samantha’s expressions that everything had gone as well as could be hoped. There had been no angry spirits haunting this hill-just sad shades that had been trapped in time like flies in amber.

“Thank you for your help, Ben,” Fuamai had said, offering him a motherly hug and a carved jade medallion in the shape of a spiral. “I had hoped that Harry’s nephew would take after him.”

“Thank you. If you need anything else-so long as it’s not too crazy-feel free to shoot me a message.”

“I understand,” she’d said with a twinkle in her dark eye, glancing over at Olivia. “Best of luck to you and your wife.”

Tessa’s scratching at the door broke Olivia’s reverie. Ben got up with a squeak of his chair to let the dog in; obediently well-trained, she waited at the threshold as he wiped her muddy paws off with a towel by the door for just such a purpose.

“Find something, girl?” Olivia asked, noticing something poking out from the side of the shepherd’s mouth. “Oh, it’s a bone-how lovely. Don’t take it in the living room, okay?”

The dog whined softly, then trotted over to her basket where she set to work gnawing at her discovery.

“That dog’s so smart it’s almost uncanny,” Olivia remarked. “I swear, she understands English-and more than just the basic words all dogs pick up.”

“Sam does like to joke that she’s her familiar,” Ben said. “And who knows anymore?”

And that was the truth, no (pun unintended) bones about it. At this point, Olivia would accept that the Loch Ness Monster was actually an alien from Alpha Centuri who was in cahoots with Bigfoot and worked with Interpol. If white witches and Vodun and ghosts were real, why not every other fairy tale in the book?

“This has been nice,” Ben commented. “House-sitting is like the best of both worlds. All of the trappings of home-owning without any of the hassles. We should make a career of this.”

“You know, that isn’t a half-bad idea,” Olivia mused, getting up to refill her cup. “Maybe I could design some fliers. You could make a website. We could use all of your paranormal contacts to get the word out-I’m sure there are other ghostbusters and monster hunters out there who could use house-sitters while they’re off bagging the things that go bump in the night.”

“That’d be a great tagline.”

“I’m glad everything went smoothly,” Olivia said, abruptly changing the topic. “With Sam, I mean. Having one baby is difficult enough, let alone three at once.”

“Yeah. Sam was positively blasé about it though, wasn’t she? Said multiples ran in her family.”

“…I wonder if that’s typical?”

“Huh?”

“Multiples in families with gifts? I mean, Nathaniel and Joseph. You and Charlie. Sam and Phil’s triplets.”

“I dunno. Maybe someone’s done a study looking into it?”

“Hmm.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I was just thinking,” Olivia said quickly, setting down her glass. “I mean, when it comes time-when we decide we want to-I’m just wondering if we’ll have multiples when we decide to have kids.”

Ben could feel himself going pink, and lifted his glass to cover his embarrassment only to remember it was empty. “Oh, um, well, that’s a ways away yet, don’t you think?” he stammered.

Olivia stared at him for a heartbeat before bursting into wild laughter. “Oh my God, Benjamin Hawthorne, don’t act so shocked! You know about the birds-”

“Yes, yes, obviously,” he said. “But there’s plenty of time, right? I’d like to just be married and get used to that before we start picking out baby names!”

“Agreed,” Olivia grinned, getting up and stepping around the table to sit on his knee and slip her arms around his neck. “But someday. Someday there’ll be a little boy or girl-or both-running around with your eyes and my chin-”

“And Charlie’s temper, knowing our luck,” Ben muttered.

“And won’t that make life exciting?” She leaned closer and kissed him firmly, fingers curling around the collar of his tee-shirt. “So, shall we pull out the map and decide our next stop?”

“How does Taupo sound? We could go for a cruise around the lake.”

“Whatever floats your boat, dear.”

genre: literary fiction, novel excerpt, weird; usa

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