[ Klaus is right, that nothing had happened. But if something had, it would have been entirely Ben's fault for his negligence. He has to re-learn not only to look after his body's needs, but also, to be constantly afraid of himself and what will happen if he slips up. He's a hazardous chemical in need of containment. Proper procedures need to be followed or people get hurt. That is simply how it works, and it will never change, as long as he is alive.
As hard as Ben can be on Klaus, he is twice as hard on himself. Ben pictures, with sudden icy clarity, the exact disappointed look their father would give him for being so weak. Even after everything that's happened, and so many years, Ben still thinks in his case, his father's harshness - at least some of it - was justified. You can't afford to be patient with the mishandling of radioactive materials... ]
I should've known better.
[ His thoughts remain snarled and awful, but Klaus's hand rubbing at the back of his neck is nice, and he knows that soon enough the protein bar will settle in his stomach and the ache will subside. He manages a smile for Klaus, when he says it's his turn to look out for Ben. ]
So I get to give you shit, now?
[ But it isn't just a joke; there's a question in it, too. For so many years, the only thing Ben was capable of, the one singular thing, was doing his best to look after Klaus. It was the only impact he had on the world, the only human connection. The only thing that kept him anchored all those years so he didn't end up raving and insane like all the other ghosts. So it's not like Klaus owes him for it. And he wants to be sure that this won't be too much for Klaus - add too much to a plate that is already so full.
Ben holds Klaus's gaze, swallowing. In stops and starts, he admits: ]
I forgot how intense everything is. Being alive. It's not like I didn't have feelings - have emotions - when I was dead, but it was all... muted. I would still be, you know, worried or sad, but I couldn't feel it.
[ And he brings a hand, pressing it flat and splayed against his chest, to show the physicality of it, the way emotions expressed themselves in the body. Ben wonders, now, for the first time, if that's a little what it's like for Klaus when he is on drugs. A similar numbness - not quite the same, but related. And probably a good thing, too. If he'd been acutely aware of the loneliness, the grief, the isolation, or the terror when Klaus was in danger, the hurt when bad things happened to him and Ben couldn't stop them... he isn't sure he could have borne it.
Then, because Klaus said he has his back, because he is looking at him with those eyes full of concern and attention and gentle worry, Ben admits, voice a rasp: ]
no subject
As hard as Ben can be on Klaus, he is twice as hard on himself. Ben pictures, with sudden icy clarity, the exact disappointed look their father would give him for being so weak. Even after everything that's happened, and so many years, Ben still thinks in his case, his father's harshness - at least some of it - was justified. You can't afford to be patient with the mishandling of radioactive materials... ]
I should've known better.
[ His thoughts remain snarled and awful, but Klaus's hand rubbing at the back of his neck is nice, and he knows that soon enough the protein bar will settle in his stomach and the ache will subside. He manages a smile for Klaus, when he says it's his turn to look out for Ben. ]
So I get to give you shit, now?
[ But it isn't just a joke; there's a question in it, too. For so many years, the only thing Ben was capable of, the one singular thing, was doing his best to look after Klaus. It was the only impact he had on the world, the only human connection. The only thing that kept him anchored all those years so he didn't end up raving and insane like all the other ghosts. So it's not like Klaus owes him for it. And he wants to be sure that this won't be too much for Klaus - add too much to a plate that is already so full.
Ben holds Klaus's gaze, swallowing. In stops and starts, he admits: ]
I forgot how intense everything is. Being alive. It's not like I didn't have feelings - have emotions - when I was dead, but it was all... muted. I would still be, you know, worried or sad, but I couldn't feel it.
[ And he brings a hand, pressing it flat and splayed against his chest, to show the physicality of it, the way emotions expressed themselves in the body. Ben wonders, now, for the first time, if that's a little what it's like for Klaus when he is on drugs. A similar numbness - not quite the same, but related. And probably a good thing, too. If he'd been acutely aware of the loneliness, the grief, the isolation, or the terror when Klaus was in danger, the hurt when bad things happened to him and Ben couldn't stop them... he isn't sure he could have borne it.
Then, because Klaus said he has his back, because he is looking at him with those eyes full of concern and attention and gentle worry, Ben admits, voice a rasp: ]
I'm so tired.