Archive of Our Own

The house is dark when Ben arrives home. He walks over the damp grass to get to the front door so his feet won’t crunch on the gravel path. He has long since perfected the art of sliding his key into the lock and depressing the handle with as little noise as possible.

Once inside, he slips off his shoes and creeps towards the stairs. It’s after midnight, and the house seems still, but Ben knows his father’s habits. Sure enough, when he cautiously glances around the corner of the hallway, he can see a line of light under the study door. Dad has been working late most nights with the election only a few weeks away.

Ben passes the study door slowly, sliding his feet across the polished floor. He reaches the bottom of the stairs and is congratulating himself when the study door suddenly opens, bathing him in light.

“Ben.”

He turns reluctantly. 

“Where have you been?”

Ben is annoyed to find his shoulders tensing. He hasn’t done anything wrong. Not really.

“Out.” 

“I’m aware of that.” 

“I thought I was allowed to go out.” Ben lifts his chin defensively. “Or am I supposed to stay in the house at all times?”

“Don’t start, Ben.” Dad is trying very hard not to raise his voice. “You know exactly where you were supposed to be this evening. Your sister’s dance recital.”

Dad steps forward, and Ben realises with a shock that he has progressed beyond irritated to angry. His blue eyes are as hard as marbles. 

“I forgot.” 

Lie. He’d known he was supposed to watch Amy dancing. But Martin had tickets to a band he’d been wanting to see live for ages, and...

“I reminded you this morning. So did your mother.”

Ben realises there is nothing to do but go for the apology. “I’m sorry.”

His father’s face doesn’t soften at all. “It’s not me you need to apologise to, it’s Amelia. She wanted you to be there.”

Ben feels an unwelcome stab of guilt as he remembers Amy this morning, fixing him with a piercing blue stare very similar to the one Dad is giving him now. You will come tonight Ben, won’t you? I’ve been practicing every day. I can spin much faster than any of the others.

He shrugs the guilt away. “I’m sure she didn’t notice.”

“She did notice,” Dad snaps. “She was very upset that you’d let her down. As am I.” Somehow he manages to increase the intensity of his glare, skewering Ben against the wall. “I expected better of you, Ben. You’re nearly an adult now, you need to show more responsibility-”

Ben doesn’t want to hear it. He’s tired and cold, and he’s afraid if they talk for long enough Dad might smell the alcohol on his breath. So he reaches for the one weapon that he knows will stop his father in his tracks.

“Amy didn’t need me. She had both you and Mom there for her. I never had that at her age.”

The words come out harsher than Ben meant. They’re a calculated tactic, but as he speaks, he realises that at some level he truly means them. Maybe that’s partly why he went to the gig tonight. Every time he goes to one of Amy’s performances or school assemblies and watches Dad smiling and applauding, he does remember his own school events at that age. Seeing all the other kids surrounded by both parents and trying to pretend that he didn’t care that he only had one. Sometimes he’s desperately jealous of Amy, although he tries hard not to let it show.

His tactic works, or maybe his father hears that old pain. His face goes blank, all the anger draining away.

“I know you didn’t.” 

Silence falls, and Ben feels acutely guilty. He wishes he could call the words back. He knows how badly Dad feels about not being around for the first part of his life. 

“Go to bed, Ben. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” Dad turns away from Ben’s gaze. “I’m going out for a while. Tell your mother if she asks.”

“Dad...” Ben tries to convey his apology in that one word, but his father doesn’t seem to hear it. He strides away, picking up his keys from the hall table, and the front door closes with a bang.

Ben listens to the car starting up, swearing inwardly and trying to work out what pushed him into saying what he did. It’s an old wound he usually knows to leave well alone. 

A board creaks behind him, and he turns in resignation to see Mom walking down the stairs. He can tell from her glare that she heard every word.

“Benjamin. You shouldn’t have said that to your father.” Her hazel eyes are bright with anger. “You know it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t around for you.”

Ben’s guilt melts away, his anger rising to match hers. This is one of the things that annoys him most on the rare occasions he confronts them with the issue of his father’s absence. Neither parent will ever defend themselves against his accusations, but they always defend each other. If he accuses one, the other will inevitably appear to make excuses on their behalf. Frustration explodes inside him.

“Damn it Mom, I don’t care whose fault it was! All I want to know is why . What happened? Why didn’t I meet Dad till I was nine? Why didn’t he know about me? Why didn’t you tell him?”

The ensuing silence feels like the aftermath of a bomb explosion. Ben is shaking with horror at his own daring. He has never sworn at his mom before. Never shown his anger about all this so openly. But he needs to know. He’s fed up of being kept in the dark about something that affected his life so profoundly, of his parents deflecting the subject every time he brings it up.

“That’s a lot of questions,” says Mom eventually. Her voice is hesitant, a total contrast to her usual confident tones. “Let’s go to the kitchen.” Ben shakes his head, still simmering, and she lifts her hands in a calming gesture. “Ben, I’m not trying to fob you off. But if we’re going to talk about this, I think we need to calm down a little first.”

Ben stares at her, hardly able to believe his ears. “We’re actually going to talk about this?”

Mom lets out a long sigh, looking unhappy but resigned. “Yeah, we are. I think you’re old enough now that we can.”

“Without Dad? Don’t you want to wait till he’s here?”

Mom looks tempted, but then shakes her head with determination. “No. I think this is my story to tell you. Just the two of us.”

The way it used to be . Their eyes meet, and Ben knows she’s thinking the same thing. He doesn’t want to go back to life before Dad and Amy, but sometimes he misses the time when it was just him and Mom in their own little world.

In the kitchen, Ben sits at the table in silence while Mom makes hot chocolate for them both. She’s right, the pause does help. He can feel some of the tension draining out of his muscles.

“What brought all this on?” Mom asks, setting the steaming mug in front of him. “What’s got you so worked up about this now?”

Ben is about to say nothing, and then realises it isn’t true. Something did bring all this back to the front of his mind.

“It was Grandma’s party last weekend.”

Mom takes a seat opposite him, frowning. “Did she say something to upset you?”

“No, it wasn’t her,” Ben says hastily. There’s enough tension between Grandma and his parents without him adding to it. “It was all the relatives at the party that we hadn’t met before. They all assumed that Dad was my stepfather.”

It wasn’t a new experience, which made it worse. Ben gets why people make that assumption. The age gap between him and Amy. The fact that she looks like their dad and he doesn’t. But that doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

“They were strangers getting confused,” Mom says. “We soon put them right.”

“I know. But every time it happens it makes me feel like I’m five again, and the only kid in the class who doesn’t have a dad.”

Mom puts down her mug suddenly, as if her hands aren’t quite steady. “You weren’t the only kid who didn’t have a dad around.”

Ben’s temper sparks again. “Maybe, but I was the only one who didn’t know what his dad looked like. Who didn’t even know his name.” All the old bitterness comes flooding back. “You never told me anything. The only time you ever mentioned him was when I asked if he was dead, and you said he wasn’t.”

“I didn’t think you minded so much.” Mom has gone very pale. “You hardly ever asked about him.”

“Because I could see it upset you. And then you started taking me to see Grandad, and I didn’t need to ask you any more.” 

Ben can clearly remember the first time Mom left him at his grandfather’s house on his own. Plucking up the courage to ask if he looked like his dad. Grandad getting down a photo. Why don’t you take a look and tell me what you think.

“Suddenly I had a face for my father. And a name, and stories upon stories.” Ben takes a swallow of chocolate, and it tastes bitter in his mouth. “But it was all a lie.”

“Ben...”

He cuts his mother off. This has been building inside him for so many years, and he can’t stop the words tumbling out. “I was so confused, when Grandad told me Zak had died, because you had said my dad was alive. So I asked you again, and you said he was definitely alive, and I didn’t know what to think.” Ben laughs harshly. “You wouldn’t believe the stories I came up with. That Zak had faked his death because he was on an undercover mission, or was on the run from a gang of criminals, or...lots of stupid things.” He puts down his mug with a snap, spilling the chocolate.

“I never realised you’d thought so much about all this.” Mom’s voice shakes slightly.

“Because Zak had to be my father, didn’t he? Because you told me Grandad was my grandfather, and he only had one son. Or so I thought.” Ben traces a pattern in the spilled liquid. “All those stories Grandad told me about Zak as a kid...Dad must have been there as well, but Grandad never said a word about him. He must have gone through his photos pulling out all the ones of Dad before he showed the others to me. Looking back, it’s really disturbing.”

Ben looks up at his mother defiantly. He expects her to disagree - she and Grandad have always got on well - but she nods. “Their family has a lot of issues.”

Ben doesn’t need her to tell him that. He worked it out as soon as he grew old enough to spot the gaps in the Adama family stories. To realise that Grandad’s tales about his sons become sparse after they reach double figures. To realise that his dad’s stories of his childhood are all about taking care of his brother, with their parents barely mentioned. When Grandma told him outright last year, in her own inimitable way, that there was no point asking her for stories about her sons’ childhood because she’d been too drunk to remember, it had been more of an explanation than a revelation.

Despite all that, the way Grandad erased his father so completely all those years ago makes him shiver...and Mom was part of the conspiracy of silence. 

“I don’t understand why he did it. Or you did it.” This is another question Ben has spent too much time struggling to answer over the years. “What did Dad do that was so awful that you both pretended he didn’t exist?” 

The question seems to take his mother completely off guard. She recoils against the chair almost as if he’d slapped her. “Ben...it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like? It doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand how you could cut Dad out of our lives for ten years, and then get back together with him within...what, four months?” By the time they all went to Aerilon anyway. He remembers seeing them kissing at the spaceport.

“Three.” Mom is watching him warily. “Ben, I know it’s all very confusing-”

“Why did Grandad think Zak was my father? And it wasn’t just him. I heard someone at Grandma’s party say ‘I thought the boy was Zak’s son. Maybe they pretend Lee’s his father so it’s less confusing for him’ .” Ben judders to a stop, his voice breaking.

“Ben, no.” Mom grabs his hand, her face suddenly fierce. “Lee is your father. Don’t doubt that.”

“Because you said so?”

“Ben, I never lied to you about your father. I kept silent, yes, but I never told you a lie.” Mom’s eyes capture his, so compelling that he can’t look away. “You’re Lee’s son.” Her mouth twists bitterly. “Proved by DNA test, if you won’t take my word for it.”

The overheard comment at the party has unsettled him for days, but now that he’s expressed the fear, Ben realises he never believed it, deep down. 

“When I first met Dad, he wasn’t what I expected.”

“He wasn’t?” Mom looks surprised.

“No. I guess...I expected someone like Uncle Karl, because he was the closest thing to a dad I knew. I expected him to be tall and joking all the time.”

For a second all the distress clears from Mom’s face, and she almost laughs. “Lee must have been a disappontment, then.”

“No.” Suddenly Ben is back in Jack’s living room watching his father walk in, torn between fear and excitement. “When we started talking, it was like I recognised him. Or recognised parts of myself in him. The parts which didn’t fit with you or Grandad.” Adults had often commented on his serious outlook, on his constant questions, on his need to know everything, but his father never had. He always seemed to think it was completely natural, because that was the way he was too.

“Ben, I’m so sorry.” Mom’s voice sounds strange, and when Ben looks up he sees with horror that there are tears in her eyes. She hardly ever cries.  “You should have had Lee earlier, and it was my fault you didn’t.”

Ben groans with frustration. He doesn’t want to hear about whose fault it was again. 

“Then why didn’t I? What happened? Explain it to me.”

“I’ll do my best.” Mom pulls a tissue from the box on the table. She wipes her eyes and takes a long breath. “I don’t know where to start.”

“When did you first meet Dad?” Ben has often wondered this. Uncle Karl and Aunt Sharon often reminisce about how they first met, their eyes meeting across a crowded hangar deck or some sentimental crap, but he’s never heard his parents talk about their first meeting.

“Okay.” Mom lifts her chin, as if she’s going into battle. “The first time I met your dad, I was dating his brother.” She flicks him a glance. “That’s why people assumed Zak was your father.”

Ben is blindsided. He takes a moment to absorb it, to think through the implications. In one way it explains a lot, but in another, it explains nothing.

“Did you leave Zak to be with Dad?”

“No. Zak and I were engaged when he died.”

“But you and Dad…” Ben frowns. He isn’t quite sure how to put into words the feeling that his parents create when they are together. Neither of them are very demonstrative in public, but the depth of their connection is clear. Sometimes it feels as if they are on their own private wavelength that no-one else can comprehend.

“Yeah, I know.” Mom seems to understand what he is getting at. “If I had met Lee first, I don’t think I would have dated Zak. I hope I would have had the sense to realise what a bad idea that would be.”

“Were you and Zak unhappy?”

“Not at all.” Mom looks incredibly sad. “We loved each other very much. I still miss him. But when I met Lee something clicked between us. We fit together in a way that Zak and I never did.” She sighs heavily. “It’s hard to explain. I’m still not sure I understand it myself. If I’d met Lee first back then...I’m not sure we’d have started dating. We were both too wary for that. But I don’t think I’d have got together with Zak knowing I had that kind of connection with Lee.”

Ben feels uncomfortable. It’s so weird thinking about his mom as a young woman dating. Hearing about her feelings for Dad and his brother. He begins to wish he hadn’t started this conversation.

“I don’t want you to think that Lee and I were having an affair behind Zak’s back,” Mom says, her face heating. “We never...it wasn’t like that. We were friends, that was all.” 

Ben feels his own face turning red, and wishes he could sink through the floorboards. Obviously he knows his parents must have had sex, or he and Amy wouldn’t be here, but...he really doesn’t want to think about it. At all.

“What was Zak like?” he asks, seizing on the first distraction he can think of.

“He was charming. Good-humoured. Liked being the centre of attention, but a good listener too.” A fond smile spreads across Mom’s face. “He had a way of making you feel special when you were talking to him. As if you were the most important person in the world. He seemed to glide through life. Enjoying where it took him and not taking anything too seriously.”

“He sounds cool.” Zak has always loomed so large in Ben’s life, first as his assumed father, then as the missing piece in the family whose loss no-one had ever quite recovered from. His presence is so strong that Ben still often expects to meet him some day. 

“He was.” Mom wipes her eyes again with the tissue. “Some of it was an act. I saw that, after a while. It was his way of coping with his parents. Lee got angry, and Zak pretended not to care. But of course he did care. That was why he was so desperate to become a viper pilot.”

“Because Grandad wanted it?” 

Mom nods. “He made it clear how proud he would be if his sons followed in his footsteps. They both thought fulfilling his dreams would finally get his attention. But Zak had extra pressure, because Lee had already got his wings.”

The last few words snag Ben’s attention. He’s always seen Zak through his dad’s eyes, the indulged little brother who had everything easy. Suddenly he thinks about it from the other perspective.

“Did Dad...do well in the fleet?”

The answer is in the roll of his mother’s eyes. “Graduated top of his class. Highest scores in the whole colonial cohort in his flight test - that was only because I was in the year below, of course.” Ben nods dutifully, hiding a grin. “Fast tracked to War College for early promotion...come on, this is your dad we’re talking about!”

Their matching hazel eyes meet in shared amusement, all tension draining away for a moment.

“He’s going to win this election, isn’t he,” says Ben. 

“Of course he is.” His mom scowls, but her eyes are soft. “Knowing him, I’ll end up finding myself married to the President. Then he’ll probably decide he’s disillusioned with politics and move on to improving agricultural efficiency to end planetwide hunger or some crap like that.”

Ben laughs, but he thinks about Zak again from this new viewpoint. “Dad must have been tough to have as an older brother.” 

“Zak definitely felt lost in his shadow.”

“I get that.” It comes out more fervently than Ben meant, and he shrugs awkwardly. “It’s not that easy being his son, either.”

It’s his mother’s turn to look blindsided. “Ben...you know Lee will be proud whatever you do, as long as you’re happy.”

“I know.” That isn’t the issue. Ben struggles to put it into words. “But I watch you both and...well, look at you. Three years back in uniform and you’re devising the flight training programme for the whole fleet.”

“That’s because they realised I’m the only person who knows what they’re talking about,” says Mom, with a smirk.

“Yeah, because you love flying. It’s your talent, and that’s why you’re so successful. So I thought all I needed was to find my talent and be successful in that. But then I look at Dad.” Ben sighs. “You’ve just told me about his fleet career. Then he went into law. Senior partner, won landmark cases, ran that successful campaign to get the environmental laws changed here.” Predictably his mother scowls. That campaign is still a sore topic. “And now politics. How many talents does he have?”

“Just one,” says Mom, holding his eyes firmly. “He’s a compulsive perfectionist workaholic. And I cannot deal with two of those in my life. So make sure your talent is something else. Okay?” 

The steel suddenly ringing through her voice knocks Ben off balance. Maybe Mom sees it, because her voice softens. “Think about it, Ben. Do you really want to be that driven? To push yourself that hard?”

Ben thinks of all the late nights his father spends in his study, the anxious lines that sometimes seem to be graven in his forehead, the worrying pitch of his nervous intensity when his projects reach their crucial point. 

“I guess not.”

“You don’t.” Mom’s tone rejects any contradiction. “If Lee didn’t have me to knock some sense into him, he’d have had a nervous breakdown or a heart attack by now. I’m not denying what he’s achieved, but he pays a price for it. I hope you can see it’s not necessarily something to envy. Zak never could.”

Maybe he can. What she’s said has made Ben feel lighter. Less weighed down by his own expectations. Less intimidated by his parents’ examples. He feels another surge of fellow feeling for Zak.

“What was wrong with Zak wanting to be a viper pilot?”

“Nothing, but he didn’t have a natural talent for it. And because he was so desperate to follow Lee and your grandfather, he wouldn’t accept that. Wouldn’t give up.” Mom’s eyes are distant, and all colour fades from her face. “He worked hard, and I gave him all the extra help I could, but he still failed basic flight.” 

“That must have been tough for him.” 

“He didn’t know.” Mom almost whispers the words. The look on her face sends a shiver down Ben’s spine. “I was his flight instructor, and I faked the results. I passed him.”

Ben frowns, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. “You were Zak’s instructor? But he was your boyfriend-”

“We kept it a secret.”

The pieces suddenly begin to fall into place. Mom passed Zak when he should have failed basic flight, and then he was killed in a flying accident…

“I shouldn’t have passed him.” Mom clasps her hands together, and Ben realises they are shaking. “But he would have been devastated if he failed, and I loved him too much to do that to him.”

“And then he died.” 

“Then he died.” Mom’s eyes are full of tears. “And I felt as if I had killed him.” Her voice breaks entirely.

“Mom!” Ben’s not sure what to do. Mom has never been someone who needs comfort. He puts his hand on her arm and pats it awkwardly.

Mom looks at his hand in surprise, then smiles at him with a gratitude that makes Ben’s breath catch. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...it’s so long ago now, and I know it wasn’t all my fault that he died, I know that...but sometimes it all comes back.” She wipes her eyes again and grimaces. “What is wrong with me tonight? Suddenly I’m a watering can.”

“Is that why you stopped training pilots?” Ben asks, putting it together. “Because of Zak?”

“Yes. It was a long time before I felt I could be responsible for students again. I needed to forgive myself. Be able to trust in my own judgement again.” A genuine smile grows on her face. Mom has never been happier since she started teaching at the Academy again, and now Ben understands why.

“I was a mess when Zak died,” Mom says. “Back then, part of me was always waiting for something to go wrong with my life, but I’d never imagined that he would die.” She trails off, staring into the distance, and Ben can see how bad it was for her. He’s always thought of Zak’s death as his father’s tragedy. Now he sees that the loss was just as deep for his mother.

She obviously loved Zak very much...but Ben can count. He knows the date Zak died, less than a year before he was born. How did that happen? 

He doesn’t have to ask. His mom keeps talking, as if she’s eager now to get the story over with. “Zak’s funeral was an awful day. I felt like I was sleepwalking, barely aware of what was going on.” A shudder runs through her whole body. “Then I heard Lee yelling at his father. Blaming him for Zak’s death, for pushing him into flight school. I hadn’t realised until then that Lee knew Zak was struggling.  The things he said to his dad were vicious. I think every resentment he’d bottled up through his childhood spilled over.”

“So that was why they stopped speaking? Why Grandad pretended Dad didn’t exist?”

Mom nods. “I think it was easier for him to pretend he didn’t have another son rather than admit Lee wanted nothing to do with him.”

Ben frowns. “That’s stupid. Ignoring facts doesn’t change them.”

Mom stares at him in silence for a moment, then chokes on a laugh. “No. No, it doesn’t. Wish I’d worked that out at your age.”

“So why did you and Dad stop speaking? Was that about Zak too?”

“Yes.” Mom takes a shaky breath. “Your dad drove me home after the wake, and stayed for a drink. Several drinks. You can imagine how devastated we both were. And when you’re drunk and grieving, you can end up doing foolish things. Things you wouldn’t otherwise do.” 

She stops, looking at Ben meaningfully. Ben stares back at her in confusion, and then suddenly he understands, with a shock like plunging into icy water. 

“You mean that was when you and Dad…?” He’s too embarrassed to go any further.

“Yes.” Mom won’t meet his eyes. 

“So I was...I came from a one-night stand.” 

“No. It wasn’t like that.” Colour rushes back into Mom’s face, and she finally looks at him, her eyes fierce. “It meant more to both of us. Maybe it would have been easier if it hadn’t. But I loved Lee then, and he loved me, even if we couldn’t admit it.”

Ben doesn’t understand that at all. “But if you loved each other, why did Dad leave? Because he felt guilty? About Zak?”

“Partly. But also...that night I told him the truth about passing Zak. That I was the person he should blame for his death, not his father.” Mom closes her eyes, as the memory is too painful to look at. “We had a terrible fight. The worst one we’ve ever had.”

“Worse than when Dad found out you rejoined the fleet?” It’s a stupid thing to say, but Ben doesn’t know how to respond. He feels out of his depth.

“Much worse than that.” 

That’s hard to believe. Ben had heard them shouting from the far end of the garden, and Dad had stormed out and not come back for hours. It had been worse than the fight when Dad had been arrested over that environmental campaign. It had been Mom who stormed off that time. Apparently she’d gone to see Aunt Sharon and smashed some plates, although he still thought Hera was exaggerating.

“I know we still have serious fights sometimes,” Mom says, “but it’s not...we don’t mean to hurt each other now. That night we did. We both struck to wound as deeply as we could, and we succeeded. When Lee left, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, and I was almost glad of it.” Old pain echoes in her voice. “So when I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t tell him. I didn’t think he’d want to know.”

Ben waits for more, but she’s silent, staring down at the table. 

“That’s it? You didn’t think he’d want to know?” A spark of anger glows to life inside him. “But you didn't ask him. You didn’t even give him a chance.”

“Ben…”

“When he did get a chance, he did want to know.” Dad hadn’t had to come to Caprica when Mom went missing all those years ago. He could have stayed on Aerilon and ignored the whole thing, but he hadn’t. He had stepped up and been Ben’s father.

“Ben, I wasn’t thinking straight. I was grieving for Zak, and in shock at finding out I was pregnant. I know now I should have told Lee, but at the time it seemed impossible. I thought he hated me.”

“Even if he did hate you, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have wanted me. He did want me.” Ben hates how he sounds, like a little boy trying to convince himself.

“Of course he did. Like I said, I wasn’t thinking rationally. It took years of therapy before I was able to see things more clearly.” Mom leans forward, her eyes wide and imploring. 

“But you still didn’t get in touch with Dad. When you were seeing more clearly.”

Mom sighs, sinking back into her chair. “I know. I suppose...the more years passed, the easier it was to let things lie.”

Easier for you . Ben clenches his hands under the table. “Would you ever have told him, if you hadn’t got stranded on Aquaria?”

For a moment he thinks Mom will refuse to answer, but then she lifts her chin and meets his accusing eyes steadily. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

I hope so isn’t good enough. Not good enough at all. Ben can’t hold back his fury any longer.

“Nine years, Mom. Nine years without a dad. I always thought you must have had a good reason, but...was that it? You and Dad had a bad fight and your feelings were hurt?” It sounds ridiculous. It is ridiculous. 

“Ben. I know it’s hard to understand, but…” Mom falters over her words in a way most unlike her. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Ben can tell she means it, but it doesn’t matter.

“Well, you did,” he hurls back. “I didn’t have a father, and it hurt. Whatever happened between you and Dad, however bad your fight was...it wasn’t a good enough reason to do that to me. It wasn’t.”

His words echo around the kitchen. The anguish on Mom’s face hurts Ben too, but he wouldn’t take the words back even if he could. He meant every one.

“I know it isn’t.” It comes out jerkily, as if she’s having trouble forming the words. “I’m sorry, Ben. I don’t know how to make you understand.”

“You can’t. I won’t ever understand how you could do this to me.” Ben gets to his feet with such force that his chair clatters to the floor. “I’m going to bed.”

“Ben…” Mom leans towards him, but he steps back. His head is whirling. 

“No, Mom. Please. I can’t talk about this any more.” He’s had enough. Enough of uncomfortable truths and answers that don’t solve anything, that only make him feel more confused. He’s exhausted and his head is throbbing. He almost runs out of the kitchen and up to his room, and doesn’t look back.

---

Ben doesn’t sleep much that night. At some point he hears Dad come home, and for a while after he can hear them talking downstairs. He can’t make out the words, but Mom sounds upset. 

Good. She should be.

He still doesn’t understand. Mom is always so confident and capable. Whenever he has a problem she always knows the right thing to do. So deep down he’d always accepted that she must have had a good reason for not telling Dad about him for so long. 

Now it turns out she didn’t. She kept him away from his father because she was hurt and scared. That’s what it comes down to.

Ben hadn’t really thought Mom could be hurt or scared, until tonight. Parents aren’t supposed to be either of those things.  

Ben feels foolish for thinking that. Logically he knows it’s not true, but it’s how he feels. He was hoping that finally talking about the past would give him the answers he craved, but it hasn’t. If anything he feels more confused and betrayed than he did before.

When it gets light, Ben gives up trying to sleep and goes downstairs. The house is quiet. Even Amy doesn’t wake this early. He grabs his jacket and eases open the back door as quietly as he can. He steps out onto the patio, lifting his face towards the pale sunlight, then pulls a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and lights up. He usually only smokes when he’s out with his mates, but this morning he needs it. The smell of the tobacco and the motions of the ritual calm him. The feeling that’s dogged him all night, as if a giant hand is crushing his chest, begins to ease a little.

Halfway through the cigarette, Ben hears someone moving in the kitchen. He stubs it out and hides the butt behind a flowerpot just before the back door opens behind him.

“Morning, Ben.” Dad is holding two steaming mugs of coffee. He offers one to Ben. “Thought you might need the energy boost.”

Ben takes the mug, hoping his dad won’t be able to smell the smoke. Dad doesn’t say anything, but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes that makes Ben uneasy.

The outdoor wooden chairs are put away in the shed at this time of year, so Dad sits on the brick wall that separates the patio from the lawn. He looks at Ben expectantly, and Ben can’t see any alternative but to sit beside him. He promises himself that if Dad starts scolding him for upsetting Mom he’ll leave.

“Sorry for walking out last night,” says Dad.

Ben had almost forgotten about that, after all that happened afterwards.

“Sorry for what I said.” He’s still braced for an argument, so it doesn’t sound very apologetic.

“It’s fine.” Dad smiles, but he’s watching Ben closely. “I should have stayed and talked to you about it.”

Ben knows a parental ambush when he sees one. He gives in. Maybe it’s better to get it over with. “I talked to Mom instead. I suppose she told you what happened?” 

“Yes. I wish she’d waited until we could talk to you together, but she felt it was her court martial to face. In a manner of speaking.” Dad sighs, looking irritated. “She does tend to take all the responsibility on herself over this.”

Ben’s not sure he wants to talk to his dad about this. That he ever wants to talk about this again at all. But his mouth doesn’t seem to agree with his brain, because less than a minute later the words burst out of him.

“How could you forgive Mom? For not telling you about me?”

Dad doesn’t answer for a moment. Then he smiles, almost sadly. “Because I love her.”

Ben shakes his head in instinctive rejection. “It’s not that easy.” He loves Mom, of course he does, but that doesn’t make him any less angry. Or feel any more forgiving.

“It is if you want it to be.” Dad looks at Ben’s mutinous face and chuckles. “Yeah, that’s exactly the face I’d have pulled if someone said that to me at your age. I was angry at the world.”

“Really?” Ben finds it hard to imagine. Dad has a hot temper when roused, but he’s not like Martin’s dad, who constantly simmers about every tiny thing.

“Oh yes. I hoarded grudges like cubits. Especially with my parents. I rejected every overture they made and got furious with Zak if he responded.” Dad’s voice has the wistful note it always does when he says Zak’s name. Ben understands that more now. 

“Then Zak died, and I knew exactly who to blame for his death. Your grandfather, for pushing him to be a pilot. And your mother, when I found out she’d faked the pass on his flight test. The day after his funeral I left Caprica, and swore I would never see or speak to either of them again. And I stuck to that. Even when my anger faded, I kept my distance.”

Dad is quiet for a moment, sipping his coffee. He’s staring at a bird perched on the garden wall, but Ben doesn’t think he’s really seeing it. He’s looking back into the past.

“And what did that get me? Ten years without two of the people I loved most in the world, because I never stopped loving them, even when I hated them.” Dad grimaces, putting down his mug on the wall. “That probably sounds mad.”

“Not really.” It’s kind of how he feels about Mom at this moment.

“And although I didn’t know that, it cost me nine years with you. Years we could have had if I’d swallowed my pride and called my dad. Or Kara.” Dad turns to look at Ben fully.  His blue eyes are full of guilt. “That’s my fault in this. What I need to be forgiven for.”

“Dad, you didn’t know.”

“Maybe I would have done, if I’d managed to keep a hold on my temper the last night I saw Kara.” His voice is thick with regret. “I said some cruel things during that fight. Used things she’d confided to me against her. I broke her trust. After that, I understand why she didn’t tell me when she found out about you.”

“I don’t,” Ben mutters, staring at the ground. 

“Your mom had a tough childhood. Much worse than mine.” Ben lifts his head in surprise. Mom is as reticent about her parents as she used to be about Dad. He’d known it was a painful topic for her, but not why. 

“I won’t go into details,” says Dad, in response to the questions in his face. “It’s her story to tell you if she ever wants to. But the way they treated her made it hard for her to trust anyone. It taught her to instinctively protect herself when she felt vulnerable, even if it hurt other people. I broke her trust, and I made her feel vulnerable, and so she protected herself by staying away from me. I think that’s really why she didn’t tell me about you.”

“Because she was scared?”

“Yes. Maybe it’s hard for you to understand, but it takes a lot of time and help to learn not to act on those old irrational childhood impulses.” Dad looks rueful. “Believe me, I know.”

Ben sips at his coffee, his mind reeling once more. The picture his dad is painting is hard to reconcile with the mother he thought he knew. Maybe that’s it, though. She isn’t only his mother. She’s a person who had a life before he existed, who has dimensions unknown to him. It’s an uncomfortable thought.

“Okay, maybe I understand why Mom didn’t tell you about me at the start,” Ben says, draining the last of his coffee. “But what about later? You said you had nine years where you should have got in touch with her. So did she. And she had a much more compelling reason to do it.”

Dad opens his mouth and then closes it again, smiling ruefully. “I’m beginning to understand why Kara always hates me being logical. Maybe that’s my point though.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Logically I should have hated Kara, when I found out about you. She certainly expected me to. I remember the look in her eyes when she came back from Aquaria. She expected me to call her every name under the sun and hold it over her head for years.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I already told you that. Because I love her, and I remembered that the moment I saw her again.” Dad smiles at the memory, slow and tender. “I’d been angry with Kara for ten years and it hadn’t solved anything. So I told her I didn’t want to hold a grudge. That I wanted to be parents to you together. And that decision has given me the happiest ten years of my life. Hopefully more, if she doesn’t murder me over this election.”

Ben stares at him. He feels a little awed that Dad was able to do that. Is grateful he made that decision, so they could be a family for the last ten years. It gave Ben everything he’d always secretly wanted when he looked at the Agathons.

“I wish I could let it go, like you did,” he says. “But I don’t know if I can.” 

He stares at the ground again, feeling obscurely guilty. As if he’s letting his father down by not following his example.

“Ben, that’s fine.” He feels Dad’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. “You must still be adjusting to all this. You probably don’t know how to feel about any of it. Am I right?”

Ben nods. His throat is too tight to speak.

“Take all the time you need. Ask us any questions you want, and we’ll answer them. Don’t feel you have to do anything. You have every right to feel hurt and angry.” Dad’s hand tightens. “It’s not easy. I’ve never completely let it go. Look at last night.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Dad’s voice is suddenly fierce. “You have nothing to feel guilty for in all this. You’re the one who was hurt the most.” He sighs. “I’m sorry you didn’t draw better parents. You deserved ones who were less messed up.”

Ben manages to look up. “I don’t know. I think I did pretty well.” 

Despite everything he’s learned, he doesn’t doubt his parents love him. And they’ve always supported him. He knows kids who have it much worse. It sounds like both his parents had it much worse.

“You mean that.” Dad sounds incredulous. 

A lump rises in Ben’s throat. “You were worth the wait.” 

He looks quickly away from his dad’s face, staring back at the ground. He hopes Dad isn’t going to do something ridiculous like cry. He certainly isn’t.

“Even though I’m shorter than Uncle Karl? And don’t tell as many jokes?”

Dad’s voice scrapes, but he sounds steady enough that Ben gets the courage to look up. He’s smiling, even though it’s a little wobbly.

“Mom told you that, huh?”

“Yeah.” His father’s smile dies away. “Ben, can I ask you a favour?”

Ben nods warily.

“I know you’re angry with Mom right now, and as I said, you have every right to feel that way. All I want to ask you is...don’t cut her off.”

“What?”

“You’ll be leaving home this year. Don’t use it as a way to cut yourself off from her. From us. Leave the door open. Stay in touch.”

Ben frowns. “Why do you think I would do that?”

“Because it’s what I would have done. You’re like me in a lot of ways,” says Dad, and Ben feels the old thrill he used to get whenever someone pointed out any similarity between them. Proof that they belonged together. “You take things to heart, and you don’t get over them easily. I want you to find a better way to deal with that than I did.”

It takes a moment for Ben to clear his throat enough to reply.

“I won’t cut Mom off, I promise. Or you. However angry I am. I would never want to not have both of you in my life.” He doesn’t even want to imagine it. 

His dad’s smile is full of pride, warming his whole face. “Then you’re a wiser man than I was.” He puts his arm around Ben’s shoulders. 

Normally Ben would pull away. He’s too old now for that kind of thing. But this morning he doesn’t want to. He even leans into the hug, just a little. 

And when Mom comes out of the house a few minutes later, her face pale and uncertain, Ben finds a smile for her.

It’s a start.