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[closed] not to disappear

Who: Ben Hargreeves, Cole
What: Ben checks in on Cole to see how he's doing
When: September 18
Where: Cole's storage cupboard

Ben had meant what he said to Cole, when the two of them had fled from that nightmarish version of him: just because Cole is Compassion, and his purpose is to help other people when they're having a hard time, that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to have someone help him, too. Ben had been thinking a lot about that discussion, since it had happened. Even if Cole insists that it's not necessary, not the done thing, for humans to worry about spirits - Ben is worried. He does care and he isn't going to apologize for it.

So, on an evening when things are relatively calm, with no new crises in the Anchor and no new drama amongst the Hargreeveses, he sets out to find Cole. Ben has a little gift for him - one that he has wrapped up in brown paper despite the fact that Cole will probably know exactly what it is the moment Ben wanders close. Mind-reading really does make surprises difficult. But he'd done it anyway. Because the whole point is, it's worth doing these things anyway.

He has a vague idea of where Cole lives, because this place isn't that big after all, and Ben is an observant person. He watches people and remembers what he sees. So he makes his way to that storage cupboard (though he doesn't know that is what it is, yet) near to the bunks, little package tucked under his arm. After a moment's hesitation, he knocks lightly.

"Um, Cole? You in there?"

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"No. Not a demon. Not an abomination. Just... me." Cole. Compassion. And flickers of other memories and moments.

"It's not like that for me," Cole suddenly says. "If I don't help, I'm not me. I have to help, if I can. I don't know that I can, but I have to try." The obligation exists, not because of Ben, but because of Cole himself. "Hard isn't a good reason to not try. The right thing is often hard, but that shouldn't stop me."

He's faced harder.

Ben's hands are warm.

He looks at his own hand, so pale and fragile looking in Ben's, even though they both know it isn't. He doesn't hold back, because he's not sure how, but there's warmth and gratitude in his eyes when he looks up to Ben's face.

Quietly, Ben accedes, "Okay."

He might not entirely understand it, the way Cole's very identity is fundamentally tied up in a particular attitude towards the world, a particular kind of action he believes he must always take. But Ben doesn't have to get it to believe Cole when he talks about it. If he says he's gotta help to be himself, that must be the way it is. And Cole's right, that some things are worth trying, no matter how painful they may be.

It's just a balance Ben is going to have to work on finding, in the future. The thin line between cowardice and avoiding anything painful even if it's the right thing to do, and on the other side, letting ideas about correct courses of action make him unfeeling and cruel, like his father had been. There has to be a way, to walk between the two without falling...

"But I'm still not going to let you do it alone."

Whether or not Ami is actually possessed by a demon or something and really dangerous, Ben's convinced it would be distressing enough for Cole that he should have somebody there in his corner. Ben doesn't abandon people. It's not his style. He'll have Cole's back, for whatever that's worth.

"That conversation... those were your friends from back home, right? You should tell me more about them. I mean. If you want to."

Now that the matter of Ami is settled (well, not settled, he'll need to arrange a meeting and there's more to follow after that...), Ben is back to his original and primary goal in being here: to spend some time with Cole. And Cole knows all sorts of things about Ben's life, but the reverse isn't true. Ben has bits and pieces, yes, but no more.

He's not the easiest person to get to know, Cole. But it is like he'd said. Hard isn't a good reason not to try.

Edited 2019-09-30 21:13 (UTC)

"Thank you."

Cole's voice is very soft when he says it, but full of gratitude. He would do it alone, but he doesn't want to. Whatever sleeps in Ami might object to his poking at it and take it out on the host.

"Solas and Cassandra and Cadash? I hope we were friends, but I don't know if we were. Spirits don't interact like that and Cole never had a friend before he died." There was Rhys, but Rhys wasn't a friend. He had been Cole's entire world.

"Solas was an elvhen mage. He was very old, older than he should've been. He remembered the world before. He liked spirits a lot more than people." Cole hums. "Cassandra liked Varric's books, especially the ones with romance and sex. She'd read to me and do the voices as well. She knew right from wrong and wanted to make people safe. She glittered inside, like granite."

Ben just smiles in response to the thanks, a quick bright flash of teeth. He's still holding Cole's hand in between his. Maybe he should let go? Probably. But Cole doesn't seem to mind, and it's nice, so he just leaves it that way.

The truth is, Ben can't really offer a whole lot of insight into whether those people had counted as friends - not only because he's never met them or spoken to them about Cole, but because his own personal experience of friendship is, well. Also fairly limited. It's only since he came here that he's really had a chance to connect with anyone at all outside his family. It's a lot different doing it himself than watching Klaus do it - and so many of Klaus's friendships were not exactly normal, either.

So he doesn't know. But he hopes those people were Cole's friends. And he definitely wants to be Cole's friend, now.

Ben's eyes widen slightly when Cole talks about Solas. So..... apparently, there are elves in Cole's world? Had he mentioned that, before? Ben's pretty sure he hadn't. He can't imagine he would forget something like that. And he's definitely picturing Solas using the only framework he has for that sort of thing, as a sort of mix of Legolas and Gandalf - pointy ears and all the elegance and tree-loving and whatever, but very old and grey-haired as well. As for him liking spirits more than people, if it means he treated Cole well, then Ben approves. People can be pretty shitty, after all.

He feels a warmth spread in his chest when Cole talks about Cassandra. Ben loves books. All kinds of them - including but not limited to romance novels. Books had been such an important part of his life. A way to escape when things were too much, a source of comfort and knowledge and humor and joy in a childhood that had otherwise been pretty not great. So it makes him especially happy to know Cole had had someone who read books to him. To Ben, that indicates a level of affection and attachment that is above most other things. Cassandra must have really cared about Cole, to read to him, to do voices. And the way Cole talks about her, too... Ben wishes he could meet her. Knowing right from wrong and keeping people safe is... well that's pretty much the ultimate goal if you ask Ben.

A little part of him wonders as well how Cole would describe him, to someone who asked. He doesn't think he would be like granite inside. But he would be something, surely. And he's not entirely sure what sort of material he's made of, or what Cole would think he was.

"She sounds really cool. What about, uh. Cadash, right? And how did you meet all of them?"

Edited 2019-10-01 12:29 (UTC)

"We're a lot the same," Cole murmurs. "Watching, unseen, others living their lives, sharing their kisses and heartbreaks and tears and holds and never having them for ourselves." he looks at their hands and shuffles to curl his other one over Ben's, journal still squashed between his thighs and chest.

"Not like that. Solas was tall, thin... shaved head. Completely shaved. He wore a wolf's jaw bone and a green tunic and looked no older than you and your brothers. Cassandra has dark hair and more scars than fancy clothes or shoes. She can break magic with a thought and bones with her shield, but she squeezes her knees and squeaks with happiness when she gets Varric's newest book, and he never teases her for being girlish about it, just about the fact that she likes his works best."

He doesn't know if Solas or Cassandra would've liked Ben. He hopes they would have.

"Nadezhda Cadash. She's a dwarf. She used to be a thief to survive, but now she's one of the most powerful people in Thedas and she hates it. She just wants to make people be less awful and have a good meal every night. I met them when I came to the Inquisition, in Haven. They needed my help, and I wanted to help the most people I could. Nadezhda could see me. All the time. Because of the Mark in her hand. Solas can always see me too. Cassandra was the one who restarted the Inquisition, to hunt out the blood mages and cultists and Darkspawn. But she didn't want to lead. Didn't know how. Said Cadash should. So she did."

He lifts Ben's hands up and then, unexpectedly, tries to reach out towards Ben's body... to his stomach. "If I spoke to them, would they hear me through the Rift in you?"

Ben's insides give a little twist when Cole says they're the same. It's a strange feeling, realizing just how deeply Cole understands him. Not only because he can see inside Ben's head, to the messy tangle of things he feels like he could probably never put into words and would never be brave enough to say out loud to someone even if he could. But Cole understands because he's been through similar experiences. That separateness, being outside of things. A feeling that isn't necessarily envy, but a kind of quiet mourning, over possibilities that were lost.

He's been doing a good job since he arrived here of pretending to everyone that being dead for that long hadn't changed him all that much. That he is happy in an uncomplicated way to be alive again. And he is happy. But there is also a sense of what was lost. All those years. All those things he thinks it is probably too late for, now. Ben isn't the same person he was when he died, and he isn't the same person he would be if he had been alive all those years. It had changed him, fundamentally, to be a ghost all that time. And as much as he wants to convince himself it isn't true... he's never going to be entirely like other people.

So he had never expected it, to be understood like that. It's somehow painful and good, calming and exciting, all at the same time.

And then a moment later it is just funny, Cole correcting his inaccurate mental image. Ben smiles - how weird and wonderful his life is! - and listens as Cole tells him more about Cassandra, about Cadash. They sound like good people, and Ben is glad, that Cole had had good people around him.

Then, before he could ask more about the Inquisition (real unfortunate name, but if Cole was involved it couldn't have been evil, the guy literally is Compassion, and he'd decided it was the best way to do the most good in the world), Cole is moving. Ben lets go of Cole's hand, thinking he's tired of the contact - then he sees Cole reaching towards his stomach.

As soon as Cole mentions them, Ben feels a jolt of fear, particularly jarring because he had been feeling so happy and relaxed. Sitting here with Cole and hearing him talk about his friends had been so good, and remembering his powers, who he is, the things he's done, all of it, is like having a bucket of ice water dumped on him unexpectedly.

His immediate instinct is to recoil from anything involving Cole and his powers and the things on the other side. Cole is something good in his life and they are something awful and it can only end badly, can't it? Him scaring Cole or hurting him or killing him or ruining it all somehow, this tentative little friendship he has only just started to cultivate.

"I... I don't know."

It wouldn't work if a human tried, but Cole is Cole. So who knows what he could accomplish? Ben can't really get the question out, but the feeling of it in him is so strong he is sure Cole will hear it. They're horrible they're evil they're disgusting why would you want to.

"Shh." Cole shush is gentling, like a big brother soothing a younger sibling, the hand still being held squeezing softly. "They're not evil, or disgusting. They just are. They protect you, even though you don't want them to."

The hand redirects to stroke Ben's wrist and try and calm him. "I'm not scared of you. Or them. I saw what they did to the Behemoth, but they didn't touch me at all. Never even tried. We don't have to talk about them, I can tell you about The Iron Bull and the Chargers instead, but your relationship with them hurts you. I don't want you to be hurt. I don't want you to hate yourself for being their Rift."

Ben doesn't know how Cole can say that, when he has seen them, when he knows. How can Cole accept those things, when he says he hates cruelty, and pointless violence, and... abominations. How could there be any abomination worse than them, than Ben when they are reaching through him?

Everyone else knows it. Strangers who know nothing about Ben still know to scream and run when they see what he is. Good people, kind innocent victims of crimes, fleeing from the person who was there to save them. And Ben doesn't blame them, because they're right.

So how can Cole stand to be anywhere near him, much less touching him, trying to calm that sudden cascade of panic inside him?

One point he makes does break through that reflex of fear and repulsion. They had not attacked Cole, when the two of them ventured out of the Anchor and were attacked. Ben hadn't had to hold them back. Maybe... maybe because of what he is, they won't long to rip him limb from limb, the way they do to anything else that gets too close, if Ben can't stop them. But is that a risk he can take? With his friend?

And he has hated himself for so long. Would it even be possible, not to? Doesn't he deserve to hate himself? Hasn't he earned it, in blood and cowardice and gullible naivety and selfishness and anger and every mistake he's ever made in his whole life?

"I don't want to hurt you."

"They're not cruel." They're violent, but Cole understands that a lot of things are violent because they're lost or confused or hurt and simply lashing out wildly to try and make something make sense, to feel some semblance of control when nothing is right. "You have to understand that other things feel and think to be cruel and I don't know if they know that. Wanting to make something suffer is cruelty. But things lash out for lots of reasons. Most of those reasons are because they're suffering in some way."

He sits there, listening and picking through the thoughts and feelings, lips moving but the words not quite vocalised, Ben's words reflected back soundlessly. Cole felt the same, like he was a monster for a power he never asked for and never wanted, that ripped out of him when things became too much.

"I can teleport and be impossible to sense. You won't hurt me. I don't think they would either." He tries to move his hand in again, because if he can get close, maybe he can sense them, read them clearer without the Red Shift raging around him. "Hello. We met before."

Ben is breathing fast, thin quick little inhales and exhales. He is trying to keep his mind open to what Cole is saying: that cruelty requires intent, and that the things on the other side of the portal aren't capable of that. He had never really considered that. He knows they don't think in the same way humans do. But that fact had always been easy to wrap up inside the narratives that Reginald had fed to him for so many years. That they were monstrous, uncontrollably destructive and inherently evil. That they were animals and Ben was about as good as an animal thanks to his connection with them, and should be treated like one. That his existence was nauseating, unnatural, unstable, but at least, potentially useful, if only he would learn perfect and unwavering control over himself.

Cole thinks that they are suffering? Could it be that, when he opens that portal, it's every bit as painful for them as it is for him? That blinding knife-sharp pain he can feel, every single time? Is this world as terrifying to them, as theirs would be to him?

Cole seems so sure that he will be safe, and he's never lied to Ben before. Nonetheless, it takes all the bravery Ben has, just to stay still. To let Cole touch his stomach and attempt to communicate through him. He is tense from head to toe, breaths shaky and quick. Ben clenches both his fists, digging blunt nails into his palms. He shouldn't be agreeing to this. If it goes wrong... if anyone gets hurt...

He doesn't hear any response. But there is a certain wordless shifting, a feeling of pressure on the portal that he's never experienced before. It... doesn't hurt, but it's very strange.

Cole knows that he's asking a lot of Ben. More than a lot, he's asking him to mistrust everything he knows about Them and trust in Cole's instinct, an unfounded and evidence lacking thing. "Animals can't be evil," he murmurs, shuffling a little closer on the balls of his feet. "They don't have the intent. Even a lot of demons in Thedas don't mean to be cruel. They get pulled from the Fade and the world is confusing and painful and frightening. It has rules that they're forced to obey that don't exist in their world, obedience hurts and disobedience hurts more. You didn't want to be their Rift. I don't know if they wanted a Rift to call them."

Cole squeezes Ben's hand again and rests his fingertips against the thin skin that hides the unreality inside him. Strokes softly, like he does walls and objects, but most of what he reads is just Ben's fear. "You're not a coward and you don't deserve to hate yourself. You're the bravest of them. You lived with his revulsion and fear and the pain and you still kept going. You don't deserve to be in fear. Neither do you." He strokes again, over clothing, but tentatively reaching out to them. "I know, it doesn't make sense, it's confusing and frightening. It doesn't have to be."

It should be easier, perhaps. To see the way that Reginald's treatment of him was just as unjustified as the things he had done to Ben's siblings. Some part of him has been quietly convinced this whole time that, amongst all of them, he was the only one who deserved it. The only one so inherently dangerous and dark that any methods at all were justified. But here is Cole, saying animals aren't evil, can't be. Sympathizing even with demons from his own world, that are merely reacting to pain and fear, like frightened creatures.

Ben thinks of the nightmares he's hard - the ones have felt different to others, where he is on the other side of the portal. Where there is no light at all, no noises apart from the roaring of blood in his own ears, and they are all around him, slumbering and tranquil in their own realm. If that really is anything like the place they live... how harsh this world must seem, with its riot of bright light and cacophony of sounds, and hordes of small creatures, scuttling and screaming and incomprehensible.

His insides gives an uneasy lurch when Cole touches his stomach, but he doesn't flinch away. He struggles to breathe slowly, deeply, in and out. Keep the panic from digging its claws in any further. Every one of Cole's words hits him like a blow. No one has ever really thought he was brave before. No one has ever told him he doesn't deserve to be afraid.

He shuts his eyes, feeling the heat of tears welling up, but his breathing is steadier now, and the worst of the blind terror is decreasing, by tiny degrees. He doesn't feel it, the impression that comes back through, from them to Cole. Not words or anything like them, but the concepts and emotions of dread, of loathing, of wanting the breach gone, wanting permanent separation. The impressions are simple and urgent, animal-like in that way. They do not convey any understanding of how long the breach has been there, any memory of when it has opened before or anticipation of when it would again. They don't experience memory or time in that way, so each time would be like the first, as horrible and inexplicable and awful.

Cole keeps his hold on Ben, on his hand and on his stomach, listening and interpreting and sending back impression like he might to another spirit. Comfort and relaxed, which for them is their dark, quiet place, even if to Cole himself, that's frightening.

"They don't understand," he says softly. "You can't hear them yet, but they don't understand. They sleep and exist and then they are grabbed and dragged into another place, a place of colour and noise, screaming and bright and overwhelming and they don't like it. And then... they go back and they forget. Or... it hasn't happened. They only exist in time when the Rift opens. They don't know they're hurting you, or hurting anyone."

His hand moves up to Ben's chest, to rest over his racing heart. "They're not going to come out, we're both safe. You're allowed to feel whatever it is you feel, but they're not going to come out because of me talking to them. You can breathe, relax, they don't want to visit. We're all safe."

Ben watches Cole as he communicates with them, that distant look on his face. It is... very, very weird, being able to feel it, that some energy or meaning is passing through his body, but not being able to hear or understand it, himself. Or... not yet, Cole said. Does that mean that he could? That it would be possible? Even if he is not a spirit, like Cole?

Would he even want that, to be able to communicate with them? Ben has never considered it, before.

And he doesn't know why it is - if the good vibes Cole is sending through to them are just leaking a little in transit, or whether soothing them has some effect on him, too. He doesn't know exactly how, but Ben feels a piece of that impression, too. Calm. Just - calm, and understanding, and reassurance, and calm. He lets out a shuddering exhale, closing his eyes.

Could it be true, what Cole is saying? That they don't even remember all the times the portal has opened before? That they... aren't even aware of all the damage they're causing, that they are hurting him, killing people? How could that be true, when they are so hungry?

And yet... they don't try to eat any of the humans they kill. They don't come all the way through, to feast or who knows what. Could the two be separate? They exist in darkness and hunger, and then opening a portal to them is so terrifying and painful that they lash out, like the animals they are?

It's a lot to wrap his mind around. It's counter to everything he'd thought he knew, everything he had been taught. Ben doesn't quite believe it, but he is, at least, confused. He is not sure, for the first time in his life, that they are horrific abominations, bloodthirsty and evil and repulsive and making him all those things along with them. Cole's hand is resting over his heart and he tries to believe it, that he is safe. Takes more of those long, slow breaths, and tries to focus on the calm.

Cole's sending it as much to Ben as Them, because They are calm and relaxed, but Ben isn't.

"It's not all okay and it's all right to feel confused or overwhelmed. But right now, you're safe and I'm safe and you gave me a lovely present that feels really nice." He shuffles to sit next to Ben, still holding his hand.

Sorry about the tatty gloves and the threadbare wraps and his constantly grimy nails.

Safe. He is safe. Safe to just exist in the world. Safe to be around for other people. How long has it been, since he really felt that? Has he ever?

He's had it drilled into him so completely that he is a lit match held just above a pool of gasoline. That he must be attentive, and careful, and still, and do everything right, and even then, chances are sooner or later something will happen to make someone get hurt. Ben can't remember back far enough, to when it had started. All of those old old memories are blurred. He'd just accepted it, that he would never really be safe for anyone to be around. That no one apart from his family - who had no choice, and who knew how useful he could be in a fight where a lot of people needed to die - would ever want to be.

But here is Cole, who can see beyond the surface of things and into the heart of them, into what they really are, not running away from him. Trying to help him in ways he didn't even know he could hope for. Holding his hand like he isn't some disgusting thing.

Ben hasn't got the words for any of it, but maybe that's okay. He can just sit here with Cole's hand in his - and who cares, about the tattiness of the gloves, or the rest of it? - and be quiet, and grateful, and feel, just for a little bit. Safe.

[ I'm calling this thread nicely wrapped there. ]

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