Unfinished Business
Summary: What was Ben Linus waiting for outside the chapel? (Or rather, should we say, 'who'?) ;)
Spoilers: For Season 6 and the show's finale, "The End"
Raiting: PG
Word Count: 2,063
Disclaimer: I own nothing (that pretty much sums it up)!
For the first time in his life, Benjamin Linus felt a strange sense of hope.
John Loch had forgiven him.
He had killed John Loch…but John Loch had forgiven him.
Could that mean that…dare he think it…that he could be forgiven for other things, too…? Could this mean that the one person, who he cared about most in the world, might forgive him as well…?
But deep in his heart, Ben knew that she probably shouldn’t forgive him. In fact, he had never been good enough for his Alex. She should have gotten away from him, far away, a long, long time ago…he never should have taken her at all. She’d had no say in the matter; she’d been but a babe when he’d found her.
She’d been his family…and he had killed her. Sure, he had not pulled the trigger, but he was still responsible, as he had ordered that she be put to death. Put to death, in the name of the Island…in the name of Jacob; in the name of what he thought was the best thing for everyone…looking back, he could see how absurd those principals had been.
And now she was gone…gone from him, perhaps for good; he’d been given the gift of her unconditional acceptance and love, and he’d ruined it with one moment. Alex was probably no doubt already inside, comforted by the warmth of her mother’s eternal love.
He wanted so badly to go inside, to join the others, to find salvation inside the shelter of the gigantic chapel, along with everyone else…but he knew that he didn’t belong….because Benjamin Linus never belonged.
Of course, there was only one way he could find salvation, and he couldn’t find it on his own. The only way he could ever find his way home, was for Alex to find forgiveness in her heart, in spite of what a horrendous father he’d been…for having kidnapped her to begin with…for having stolen her innocence…for having tortured her youth.
It was probably asking too much….but that was all that he wanted: forgiveness, and a chance to start all over again.
* * *
Inside the church, a celebration was in full swing; everyone was laughing, and alternately crying as they hugged each other, weeping tears of joy and exaltation, overwhelmed by the situation that they had found themselves to be in.
It was almost too good to be true…and yet…truth it was.
John Locke stood in the midst of the hubbub, his face positively aglow with pleasure as he watched his friends embrace one another as family: finally---at long last---off the island, and once more, together again.
He stood in silence and watched the event unfold, trying to explain to himself the feelings coursing through his veins, only to come to the conclusion that what all this meant was: he’d been found…and there were absolutely no words to express what it meant to him.
All his life, he’d felt different; out of sorts, of time and place---and here, he could actually say he was home.
Home with Jack, and Sun, and Claire; home with Hurley, and Jin, and Charlie, and Sayid…and yes, even home with Sawyer, too.
They’d all been found. He almost couldn’t contain his excitement and pleasure and tears of joy streamed down his face.
After standing still and observing for quite a long time---after he had managed to finally compose himself---still observing as more and more people arrived to join in on the festivities-Loch found a curious oddity in the crowd. It was a young woman: a tender-eyed, pale-faced, slender-cheeked darkling. She was standing off to the side, her eyes scanning the crowd, as she seemed to be searching for someone---and he found himself wondering who she could be searching for. Everyone else had already found everyone. Who was missing? He wondered…and then, his thoughts turned to back to Benjamin Linus…who still hadn’t changed his mind and shown.
There was once a time when Loch had been too shy to approach anyone directly, to even ask them their name. Now, he strode right over, and spoke to the young woman directly: “Hi there…My name is John Locke….may I help you?”
“Hi,” said the young woman, and he was startled to find she was appeared to be somewhat apprehensive of his presence, and seemed as well to be choking on her words, as though she were holding back tears. Her eyes shone with the moonlight that scattered through the stained glass windows. “My name is Alex Rousseau.”
For a moment Locke was speechless…he had known that she was Ben's daughter, but that Ben and Danielle had born a child together was a complete shock...also, that Danielle Rousseau, the French woman who had been on the Island long before their plane had downfalled, had a daughter at all. “I believe your mother is right over there,” Locke said, pointing directly over his shoulder at Rousseau, instead of asking for the young woman’s life history; there would always be time for that later. “She’s probably been looking for you as well.”
Much to his surprise, Alex lowered her head and said, “I know…we came here together.”
“So…who are you looking for?” Locke asked; however, he was pretty sure of the answer.
“My father,” said Alex flatly, confirming his theory correct. “His name is Benjamin Linus…and he’s supposed to be here.”
Locke smiled warmly back at her with as much reassurance as he could, knowing that this moment was supposed to have happened exactly the way it did; that he was meant to be the one to find Linus sitting outside by himself. He wondered if his forgiving Linus had something to do with this as well…but time would tell, as time always did.
“I know your father,” he announced, “and in fact, I was just speaking with him a second ago, myself.”
Alex’s eyes lit up; at the same time, she seemed to be conflicted with what emotion to express. “Where is he?” she whispered, staring at him in what almost seemed to Locke to be an intense kind of awe.
“Outside,” Locke answered promptly, trying to ignore her hesitation. When she still seemed uncertain, he added quickly before he could change his mind, “and…I believe he’s been waiting for you.”
For a moment, she looked elated, but then her face fell, and a cloud of despair seemed to cover her features. “Can I tell you a secret?” she almost whispered, drawing nearer; befuddled, he drew slightly back, unsure why he was so pensive himself about her mysterious actions.
“Well…sure, I don’t see why not,” Locke mused aloud, trying to mask the uncomfortable feeling that was brewing in the pit of his stomach.
“I don’t know that I want to see him,” she said quickly and darkly, speaking directly at him and then looking sharply away. As though seeking guidance from the angels in the stained glass, she kept her eyes on the far wall and continued, “you see…he’s the reason that I’m dead.”
“I’m sorry?” Locke stared at her, speechless. “What did you just say?”
“You do know that we’re dead,” she whispered taughtly.
He did; he just didn’t want to think about it. Feeling weak-kneed, Locke sat down on the nearest pew; soon after, she joined him, whispering in hushed tones. “Do you know that he ordered me killed?” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.
“What?” He couldn’t think of anything better to say; the room and all the faces in it were blurring and spinning together, as though he were drunk…could dead people feel drunk?
“Yes. He did. And you know what else? He’s a murderer,” Alex went on, her voice taking on a dangerous tone, and he could feel a nausea rising in the pit of his stomach, but he fought it down.
“Alex---Alex---I know he is. I know,” he said, speaking rapidly so as to get her attention, and whirling about to face her sharply, “I know. And you know what? I almost didn’t want to talk to him either…because…because…” He was feeling sick and dizzy, and put his head between his knees for a moment, and the room at last went still.
“Because…why?” Alex was hovering over him, still waiting for him to finish.
“Because… because..” He could feel himself shaking…this wasn’t normal…but he was dead…he shouldn’t be so worried.
“What---Mr. Locke, what are you saying?”
“Because he killed me too!” he blurted out at once, and stopped, and lifted his head; once again his sight returned, and Alex was staring back at him with astonishment.
“He…killed…you?” Alex murmured, and her eyes would not leave his.
“Yes…and the irony is…I was planning on killing myself that night.” Locke paused for a moment to let the words sink in, both for himself and for her as he continued; her focus did not waver. “A man named Richard Alpert told me that I must sacrifice myself for the Island and all those that had been left behind,” Locke went on, “and, strange as it seems…” He had to pause again; the memory was so fresh in his mind, as though it were yesterday. “Ben Linus showed up that same exact night, intent with the idea of killing me, because…I’m still not sure what for.” Loch turned towards his captivated listener, and he was immediately moved by the shimmering eyes that sought his own for a motive of explanation. “I’ll never truly understand your father, Alex,” said Locke, “but…what I do know is this: he’s apologized to me for what he did, and…I know that he’s made something of an effort to better himself. Hurley---do you know Hurly?” Alex nodded, eyes bright and stunned with speechless recognition, and he continued slowly, “Hurley enlisted him to be his secondhand man, when he took over Jacob’s position. From what I’ve been told,” Locke went on, “your dad was the perfect assistant.”
Alex laughed shortly, and he was surprised to find her voice filled with an embittered, dry humor. “Ever since I can remember, he was always the man in charge…I couldn’t ever imagine him agreeing to be ‘enlisted by’ or actually agreeing to be ‘assisting’ anyone.”
Loch smiled knowingly, but fondly, and added: “Well from what Hurley told me, he was terrific.”
Alex was silent in thought for a moment, before stating softly, stonily facing the floor, “I don’t know why you’ve forgiven him.”
“Because we’ve all come so far,” said Locke, observing her carefully, “and because…I can.”
“He let those people kill me,” Alex spat darkly. “He killed you.”
“He’s learned from his mistakes,” said Locke, “and that’s the best you can ever ask for.”
Alex turned sharply to face him, demanding, “So why hasn’t he come inside then?”
Locke simply returned her gaze, and then he said, “Because he’s waiting for you.”
All at once, Alex stiffened, then something he couldn’t identify lifted her features. “He can’t move on without me,” she said.
“Then the question is,” said Locke, “can you move on without him?”
Alex started, blinking back at him with astonishment, replying defensively, “I don’t have anything to atone for!”
“I never said you did.” Locke smiled back at her as though he shared his own secret; for all she knew, he did. “Go to him, Alex.”
“And if I don’t?” Alex asked tartly, glaring.
“He will never find peace.”
Her eyes shone with tears. Looking abruptly away, she said to the empty side of the pew, “I don’t know if I can.”
“I know you can,” said Locke, “if you say you can.”
It was then that Alex knew what she must do. “Will you come with me?” she asked, voice trembling.
“That I can’t do,” said Locke, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, his voice urging her on with encouragement, “this is something that you must do this yourself.”
At long last, she stood, albeit on wobbly legs. “I wish I knew how you could be so sure,” she said.
“I follow my heart,” was all he said in reply, and held his hands out to her, in a warm embrace, which she willingly accepted.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Tell him we’re waiting,” Locke said, and smiled, wiping away his own tears as Alex turned and headed towards the chapel’s closed door.
And another one opens, he thought with an immense satisfaction: and with that, he turned to join the others and wait in anticipation of their successful return.
Spoilers: For Season 6 and the show's finale, "The End"
Raiting: PG
Word Count: 2,063
Disclaimer: I own nothing (that pretty much sums it up)!
For the first time in his life, Benjamin Linus felt a strange sense of hope.
John Loch had forgiven him.
He had killed John Loch…but John Loch had forgiven him.
Could that mean that…dare he think it…that he could be forgiven for other things, too…? Could this mean that the one person, who he cared about most in the world, might forgive him as well…?
But deep in his heart, Ben knew that she probably shouldn’t forgive him. In fact, he had never been good enough for his Alex. She should have gotten away from him, far away, a long, long time ago…he never should have taken her at all. She’d had no say in the matter; she’d been but a babe when he’d found her.
She’d been his family…and he had killed her. Sure, he had not pulled the trigger, but he was still responsible, as he had ordered that she be put to death. Put to death, in the name of the Island…in the name of Jacob; in the name of what he thought was the best thing for everyone…looking back, he could see how absurd those principals had been.
And now she was gone…gone from him, perhaps for good; he’d been given the gift of her unconditional acceptance and love, and he’d ruined it with one moment. Alex was probably no doubt already inside, comforted by the warmth of her mother’s eternal love.
He wanted so badly to go inside, to join the others, to find salvation inside the shelter of the gigantic chapel, along with everyone else…but he knew that he didn’t belong….because Benjamin Linus never belonged.
Of course, there was only one way he could find salvation, and he couldn’t find it on his own. The only way he could ever find his way home, was for Alex to find forgiveness in her heart, in spite of what a horrendous father he’d been…for having kidnapped her to begin with…for having stolen her innocence…for having tortured her youth.
It was probably asking too much….but that was all that he wanted: forgiveness, and a chance to start all over again.
* * *
Inside the church, a celebration was in full swing; everyone was laughing, and alternately crying as they hugged each other, weeping tears of joy and exaltation, overwhelmed by the situation that they had found themselves to be in.
It was almost too good to be true…and yet…truth it was.
John Locke stood in the midst of the hubbub, his face positively aglow with pleasure as he watched his friends embrace one another as family: finally---at long last---off the island, and once more, together again.
He stood in silence and watched the event unfold, trying to explain to himself the feelings coursing through his veins, only to come to the conclusion that what all this meant was: he’d been found…and there were absolutely no words to express what it meant to him.
All his life, he’d felt different; out of sorts, of time and place---and here, he could actually say he was home.
Home with Jack, and Sun, and Claire; home with Hurley, and Jin, and Charlie, and Sayid…and yes, even home with Sawyer, too.
They’d all been found. He almost couldn’t contain his excitement and pleasure and tears of joy streamed down his face.
After standing still and observing for quite a long time---after he had managed to finally compose himself---still observing as more and more people arrived to join in on the festivities-Loch found a curious oddity in the crowd. It was a young woman: a tender-eyed, pale-faced, slender-cheeked darkling. She was standing off to the side, her eyes scanning the crowd, as she seemed to be searching for someone---and he found himself wondering who she could be searching for. Everyone else had already found everyone. Who was missing? He wondered…and then, his thoughts turned to back to Benjamin Linus…who still hadn’t changed his mind and shown.
There was once a time when Loch had been too shy to approach anyone directly, to even ask them their name. Now, he strode right over, and spoke to the young woman directly: “Hi there…My name is John Locke….may I help you?”
“Hi,” said the young woman, and he was startled to find she was appeared to be somewhat apprehensive of his presence, and seemed as well to be choking on her words, as though she were holding back tears. Her eyes shone with the moonlight that scattered through the stained glass windows. “My name is Alex Rousseau.”
For a moment Locke was speechless…he had known that she was Ben's daughter, but that Ben and Danielle had born a child together was a complete shock...also, that Danielle Rousseau, the French woman who had been on the Island long before their plane had downfalled, had a daughter at all. “I believe your mother is right over there,” Locke said, pointing directly over his shoulder at Rousseau, instead of asking for the young woman’s life history; there would always be time for that later. “She’s probably been looking for you as well.”
Much to his surprise, Alex lowered her head and said, “I know…we came here together.”
“So…who are you looking for?” Locke asked; however, he was pretty sure of the answer.
“My father,” said Alex flatly, confirming his theory correct. “His name is Benjamin Linus…and he’s supposed to be here.”
Locke smiled warmly back at her with as much reassurance as he could, knowing that this moment was supposed to have happened exactly the way it did; that he was meant to be the one to find Linus sitting outside by himself. He wondered if his forgiving Linus had something to do with this as well…but time would tell, as time always did.
“I know your father,” he announced, “and in fact, I was just speaking with him a second ago, myself.”
Alex’s eyes lit up; at the same time, she seemed to be conflicted with what emotion to express. “Where is he?” she whispered, staring at him in what almost seemed to Locke to be an intense kind of awe.
“Outside,” Locke answered promptly, trying to ignore her hesitation. When she still seemed uncertain, he added quickly before he could change his mind, “and…I believe he’s been waiting for you.”
For a moment, she looked elated, but then her face fell, and a cloud of despair seemed to cover her features. “Can I tell you a secret?” she almost whispered, drawing nearer; befuddled, he drew slightly back, unsure why he was so pensive himself about her mysterious actions.
“Well…sure, I don’t see why not,” Locke mused aloud, trying to mask the uncomfortable feeling that was brewing in the pit of his stomach.
“I don’t know that I want to see him,” she said quickly and darkly, speaking directly at him and then looking sharply away. As though seeking guidance from the angels in the stained glass, she kept her eyes on the far wall and continued, “you see…he’s the reason that I’m dead.”
“I’m sorry?” Locke stared at her, speechless. “What did you just say?”
“You do know that we’re dead,” she whispered taughtly.
He did; he just didn’t want to think about it. Feeling weak-kneed, Locke sat down on the nearest pew; soon after, she joined him, whispering in hushed tones. “Do you know that he ordered me killed?” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.
“What?” He couldn’t think of anything better to say; the room and all the faces in it were blurring and spinning together, as though he were drunk…could dead people feel drunk?
“Yes. He did. And you know what else? He’s a murderer,” Alex went on, her voice taking on a dangerous tone, and he could feel a nausea rising in the pit of his stomach, but he fought it down.
“Alex---Alex---I know he is. I know,” he said, speaking rapidly so as to get her attention, and whirling about to face her sharply, “I know. And you know what? I almost didn’t want to talk to him either…because…because…” He was feeling sick and dizzy, and put his head between his knees for a moment, and the room at last went still.
“Because…why?” Alex was hovering over him, still waiting for him to finish.
“Because… because..” He could feel himself shaking…this wasn’t normal…but he was dead…he shouldn’t be so worried.
“What---Mr. Locke, what are you saying?”
“Because he killed me too!” he blurted out at once, and stopped, and lifted his head; once again his sight returned, and Alex was staring back at him with astonishment.
“He…killed…you?” Alex murmured, and her eyes would not leave his.
“Yes…and the irony is…I was planning on killing myself that night.” Locke paused for a moment to let the words sink in, both for himself and for her as he continued; her focus did not waver. “A man named Richard Alpert told me that I must sacrifice myself for the Island and all those that had been left behind,” Locke went on, “and, strange as it seems…” He had to pause again; the memory was so fresh in his mind, as though it were yesterday. “Ben Linus showed up that same exact night, intent with the idea of killing me, because…I’m still not sure what for.” Loch turned towards his captivated listener, and he was immediately moved by the shimmering eyes that sought his own for a motive of explanation. “I’ll never truly understand your father, Alex,” said Locke, “but…what I do know is this: he’s apologized to me for what he did, and…I know that he’s made something of an effort to better himself. Hurley---do you know Hurly?” Alex nodded, eyes bright and stunned with speechless recognition, and he continued slowly, “Hurley enlisted him to be his secondhand man, when he took over Jacob’s position. From what I’ve been told,” Locke went on, “your dad was the perfect assistant.”
Alex laughed shortly, and he was surprised to find her voice filled with an embittered, dry humor. “Ever since I can remember, he was always the man in charge…I couldn’t ever imagine him agreeing to be ‘enlisted by’ or actually agreeing to be ‘assisting’ anyone.”
Loch smiled knowingly, but fondly, and added: “Well from what Hurley told me, he was terrific.”
Alex was silent in thought for a moment, before stating softly, stonily facing the floor, “I don’t know why you’ve forgiven him.”
“Because we’ve all come so far,” said Locke, observing her carefully, “and because…I can.”
“He let those people kill me,” Alex spat darkly. “He killed you.”
“He’s learned from his mistakes,” said Locke, “and that’s the best you can ever ask for.”
Alex turned sharply to face him, demanding, “So why hasn’t he come inside then?”
Locke simply returned her gaze, and then he said, “Because he’s waiting for you.”
All at once, Alex stiffened, then something he couldn’t identify lifted her features. “He can’t move on without me,” she said.
“Then the question is,” said Locke, “can you move on without him?”
Alex started, blinking back at him with astonishment, replying defensively, “I don’t have anything to atone for!”
“I never said you did.” Locke smiled back at her as though he shared his own secret; for all she knew, he did. “Go to him, Alex.”
“And if I don’t?” Alex asked tartly, glaring.
“He will never find peace.”
Her eyes shone with tears. Looking abruptly away, she said to the empty side of the pew, “I don’t know if I can.”
“I know you can,” said Locke, “if you say you can.”
It was then that Alex knew what she must do. “Will you come with me?” she asked, voice trembling.
“That I can’t do,” said Locke, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, his voice urging her on with encouragement, “this is something that you must do this yourself.”
At long last, she stood, albeit on wobbly legs. “I wish I knew how you could be so sure,” she said.
“I follow my heart,” was all he said in reply, and held his hands out to her, in a warm embrace, which she willingly accepted.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Tell him we’re waiting,” Locke said, and smiled, wiping away his own tears as Alex turned and headed towards the chapel’s closed door.
And another one opens, he thought with an immense satisfaction: and with that, he turned to join the others and wait in anticipation of their successful return.