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When Ben jolts awake in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and overcome by chills, he knows it's time to leave.
He knows it's time to leave because he falls asleep thinking about her and he can't even escape her in his dreams, taunting him, killing him. And he wakes up too many nights with an ache in his chest and the need to turn and wrap his arms around her, just to remember she isn't here. She's never going to be here again.
Ben used to have one really good reason for staying in Pawnee. But now… he's not so sure what's keeping him here.
He slowly starts to pack his things and he doesn't tell a soul, not even Chris, and especially not Leslie. If he can keep the truth at bay he might actually be able to slip out unnoticed, so he doesn't have to face her one more time, so he doesn't have to look into her eyes again. So he packs quietly, but quickly, as soon as he wakes up that night, and he makes plans to go anywhere but here.
It sounds so nice, in his head. If he can actually go through with it.
He really should've accounted for the fact that he lives with Andy and April.
Just a couple of days into packing and there's a pounding on his door, furious and unrelenting— Ben only knows one person who would knock like that. And really, he wants to hide, pretend he isn't home, sneak out the back door and drive out of Pawnee before she even notices he's gone.
But he opens the door. He doesn't know why he does it. Leslie’s eyes are wide and bright, her face flushed, her hair mussed, and she pushes right past him to come in.
“Andy and April told me they found a bunch of boxes in your room,” she says, no preamble, no greetings. “Are you leaving?”
She's definitely going to make this harder.
“I haven't actually made a decision yet,” he lies through his teeth. “I'm just thinking about it.”
“Oh, you're just thinking about, while packing up all your belongings? Yeah, makes perfect sense, Ben.”
He winces at the sound of his name on her tongue, the way she's pacing the living room, wringing her hands together. He's never wanted to kiss her more, and that's what makes this all the more dangerous. That's exactly why he has to go.
“Why are you so upset about this?” he asks her. “You wouldn't have even known.”
“Exactly, Ben!” Her voice dips into shrieking territory, like she's right on the edge of a breakdown. “I wouldn't have known! You were really just thinking about leaving Pawnee without saying goodbye?”
“We don't talk anymore, Leslie.” The words are acid in his throat. “I don't know why I would tell you.”
“You don't know why—” The words catch in her throat, stopping her short, and Ben is terrified that she's about to start crying. That… he can't handle that. He can do yelling, but not crying. He can't stop himself from brushing the tears from her cheeks if she starts crying.
“It's nothing to worry about now, okay?” he whispers, avoiding her eyes. “I'm only thinking about it. If I come to a decision, I'll tell you. I promise.”
It's the very first promise to her that Ben has ever broken, and that's what makes the move all the more necessary.
Only a day after, starting at midnight, Ben packs his boxes into his car and sends Chris an email detailing his resignation as Assistant City Manager. He doesn't text or call anyone else. He shuts his phone off completely and gets into the car and he just drives.
He drives past Pawnee and he doesn't once look back, not even briefly. He doesn't allow himself to.
And he doesn't see Leslie Knope again.
…
Not that Ben ever gets over her. Because for the next five years, she is in everything that he sees.
He gets a new phone and he starts a new life in an entirely different state than Pawnee, Indiana. He goes back to balancing budgets and making cuts and generally making people’s lives hell, but it's all that makes sense to him when his own reality is as terrible as it can get.
He doesn't make friends, he doesn't get close to anyone. He's learned from that mistake, he won't do that again. He can't afford another heartbreak like Pawnee, not when it still affects him in any way it can. No, he keeps to himself and he does his job. He goes back to being Mean Ben and it's never been easier for him to slip back into that cold, unforgiving mindset that he had for years.
And sometimes it's okay, sometimes he can handle it. The repetition is good, the lack of surprise and variety in his life is comfortable, it never hurts him. But then other times he’ll walk down the streets and he’ll see a lone wildflower and suddenly he is drowning in yellow hair and whipped cream and regret. He finds himself curled over in the nearest bathroom feeling sick to his stomach and wondering why the hell he did this to himself.
On those days, he'll call out from work and lay in his bed or on his shower floor and he’ll allow himself pity. Maybe he’ll drink a little, maybe he’ll just cry, maybe he’ll go online and search the news tab for Leslie Knope just to see all she's accomplished without him. Just to see how strong she still is when he's not there.
She wins her City Council election, and she gets her parks. As it turns out, she's a fan favorite without a scandal in the mix. Pawnee loves her.
Ben loves her, too. But five years after he left Pawnee, he realizes he never told her, and he wakes up gasping in the middle of the night, crying out to Leslie when she isn't here, “Why didn't you stop me?”
So, five years after he made the decision to leave Pawnee because he kept having nightmares, he finds himself in the same position he started in.
He knows he's made a mistake, probably the biggest mistake of his life, but is he too late?
He gets back into his car.
…
He still has her phone number memorized.
She sounds surprised when she answers on the third ring, and it's his voice.
“Ben Wyatt? What's up, are you okay? Why are you calling?”
His first and his last name. Very impersonal.
“I'm in Pawnee.”
“You're— oh! What brings you here?”
“Can we talk, maybe?” His voice is breaking, but he needs to be strong enough for this. He can't live his whole life not knowing what could be. “If you're not busy. Just to catch up.”
She's silent for a long time. “Meet me at JJ’s in an hour.”
…
Leslie's hands are in her lap and she's more beautiful than he remembers her.
She's actually shining, in this booth at JJ’s Diner, looking vulnerable and confused and a little bit uncomfortable. Her eyes are red, but they don't reveal much else, as if she's trying very hard to keep her emotions in check as Ben slides into the seat across from her.
“Congratulations,” he tells her, and he can't keep his eyes off her. “For City Council. Lot 48, your park. National Parks. For everything.”
Her lips twist into the softest of smiles. “Thank you,” she whispers. “But… why are you here, Ben? In Pawnee?”
He wishes he could lie again, but he's well past being capable of that, not to her. Breaking one promise was more than enough. “I wanted to see you. I… had to see you.”
She sucks in a breath and shakes his head. “Don't… don't say that. You don't mean that. You can't… you can't just leave without saying anything and then five years later insist that you have to see me. You don't get to do that, Ben.”
“I'm just trying to be honest with you, Leslie.” The words in his brain are jumbled and he has no idea what he's doing, all he can focus on is that he wants her. To reach out and touch her, to curl his fingers into her hair, to cup her cheek, remember what it feels like to kiss her— memories nearly forgotten. “I made a mistake. The biggest mistake. And it's much too little, too late, I know, but I should've said screw it five years ago and told you I loved you. But I can now—”
“Don't. Ben, don't—”
“I came here to tell you I love you. After five years, I still love you. And I just… I really needed you to know that.”
She's shaking, and for a moment, it's all she can do to sit there and squeeze her eyes shut. “Ben.”
“You don't need to say it back. I just needed you to know, that I can wait—”
“Ben.”
Her hands lift from her lap to rest on the table, and a glint of metal catches Ben’s eye. Silver. Small. Very noticeable.
He stiffens, chokes.
“Ben,” Leslie whispers. “I'm engaged.”
And suddenly Ben feels like he can't breathe.
“Oh.” It's not enough to say, no words are big enough to express how he feels. “Is… is he good to you?”
She starts to smile, soft and sad, nodding her head. “He is. I love him very much.”
It's a pain he can feel in his entire body, setting him on fire, mocking him. Her fingers ghost over her engagement ring as if in remembrance of the proposal, and Ben doesn't want to know more. He doesn't want to know his name, doesn't want to see his face. He doesn't want to imagine Leslie curled up in bed with someone else, smiling into his kisses, laughing with him at four in the morning. He doesn't want to picture her future husband making her waffles in the morning— does he know how much whipped cream she likes? Is he okay with the way she talks in her sleep? Does he get upset when she wakes up early and he doesn't get to see her first thing in the morning?
Does she wear his t-shirts, does she smell like him? Has she told him about how her dad died, how she visits his grave every year? Does he know that she has gear to catch raccoons and she hates libraries, but she loves books, that she wants to name one of her children from The Princess Bride , that she doesn't understand Star Wars but she still loves Princess Leia?
Does he know that her favorite place is the wildflower mural up on the second floor?
Of course he does, Ben decides. Because he loves her enough to marry her. Because this unknown man knows more of Leslie than Ben ever will.
“Congratulations,” he tells her.
Leslie shakes her head, and reaches out to touch his hand. He swears it burns, but he can't pull away. “Ben,” she breathes. “I never told anyone about us, you know.”
He bites down hard on his lip and refuses to look at her. “Neither did I.”
“Just like we promised.”
There's another long pause, where all they do is sit with her hand on his, their eyes looking anywhere but at each other.
“I could've,” she continues. “I almost did. But after you left, I was mad for a long time. I was angry, and almost told people out of spite, that the reason you ran away was because we broke up.”
“Oh. Are you still mad?”
She shakes her head. “It's been five years, Ben. Eventually, I grew out of the anger, and I just… moved on.”
Like it meant nothing to her.
“I wish… I wish I could say I did the same,” he admits. “I tried to. I really did.”
“I honestly didn't expect this. And… if I'm honest, Ben…” Her eyes dart up from her lap, and they tentatively meet each other’s gaze. “If you were three years earlier than this, I would've told you I love you too.”
Just three years earlier, and it could've been alright.
Three years earlier, and maybe Ben could be the one who put an engagement ring on Leslie’s finger.
And if he never left at all, maybe it could've been a wedding ring by now.
“It's just too late, Ben. I'm sorry.”
“Don't be sorry,” he says. “It's my fault. I'm just… glad that you're happy. That you're taken care of.”
She squeezes his hand, and it feels like she's squeezing his heart. “If it means anything to you, I don't regret what we had,” she tells him. “It didn't work out between us, the world was way too against us. But I don't regret it at all. I learned a lot from you.”
“I don't regret it either.” I only regret leaving. I regret not kissing you. I regret not saying screw it. I regret not loving you like I should have.
She smiles, much more genuinely, and pulls her hand from his. He knows it's the last time he'll ever touch her again. “I should go, I have a lot of work to do. But… this was good. This was nice. I think this was the closure I needed.”
“Yeah… yeah, this was good,” he lies. “Just talk between old friends.”
She stands up and shoulders her purse. “Yeah, old friends. Well… goodbye, Ben Wyatt.”
He hides his shaking hands as she leaves, and readies himself to do the same; to stand up, and to move on. To walk away once and for all and finally learn to be okay with it, because Pawnee is no longer Ben’s home.
He’ll do his best.
“Goodbye, Leslie Knope.”