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It surprises you, when Linus returns to the beach, following after Ilana and looking like a kicked puppy. Ilana disappears, apparently not going to lock him up again.
He looks around the mostly-ruined camp and the mostly-hostile eyes glaring at him, and quickly chooses a spot on the beach close to where you're attempting to fix your tent you had lived in prior to leaving the island for three years.
You don't hate Benjamin Linus. Maybe you ought to. He brought you here again, he killed Locke, and all of that was before kidnapping Jack and Saywer and Kate and lying to you all the first time you'd met him. It would be the smart thing to do, to at least keep him at arms length.
But you can't help but be charmed. He is undeniably charming, in a sad-sewer-rat, manipulative, hungry-for-power sort of way. You're kind of - well, you're sort of into it.
(That probably says more about you then it does about him.)
It starts to drizzle, and you're suddenly reminded of why you wanted this shelter up as fast as possible. When it rains in the island, it pours. They drizzle is just the telltale beginning. "You should find some cover, Ben." You shout above the rain pelting waxy leaves.
He gives you a look, again reminiscent of a sad animal. "I think I'll stay here, thanks. I doubt I'm exactly welcome anywhere else."
Drama queen. He could stay under the kitchen pavilion. That's mostly still standing, but he doesn't want to because most everyone else is doing the same. He doesn't have to talk to anyone. Your heart leaps into your throat for a moment.
"Well," you stake the last bit of bamboo into the sand a little violently and then look up at him. He looks lost, and his eyes keep darting like he wants to run again. "You could stay with me. The tent isn't - well, it's not roomy or anything, but it was pretty waterproof before and it stayed pretty warm."
Nothing like what his house, back in the Dharma Village offered as far as comfort, but it seems a little insensitive to bring that up. Not when he already looks like he's going to bolt, anyways.
It wouldn't be so bad, sharing. You wouldn't have offered if you didn't mean it, after all.
"Really?" He still asks. "You don't mind?"
You just shake your head and pull open the tarp in a place where you didn't have to patch it. "Come on, before it's not so warm and cozy because you're dripping everywhere."
It doesn't take anything more than that, he passes you in a blur, and you duck in behind him. It is warm, and dry, and the leaves on the ground make it a little more bearable than sand. Not much, but it's something.
"I miss my bed," you sigh. "Actually, I think I just miss anywhere without sand."
He makes himself at home in a corner and sighs. "I don't mind it so much. I guess I've just gotten used to it, over the years." The rain grows louder outside. "Even in the house, it got tracked everywhere."
It's unexpectedly sentimental, unexpectedly honest. "Alex used to play on the beach, and no matter how certain I was that the sand was off before she got in the door, there I would be, sitting to read on the couch, or going to sleep, or vacuuming the rug, and there it was. Sand. I think she was doing it on purpose." He winces. "I don't think I've ever told anyone that."
"You don't talk about Alex much." It reminds you that there's a person, under all the deflection and lies. He makes himself hard to like, sometumes, but you have to wonder if that's part of a design. "Even before - I think I maybe heard you mention her once."
"I didn't want her used against me," he says quietly, barely audible and frowning at the leaves that make the floor. "I guess it doesn't do me much good at this point, holding it in. I was a power hungry man, to such an extreme that I let her die."
Instead of arguing, and offering senseless platitudes, you ask him why he's confiding in you. He shrugs. "What do I have left to lose?"
You move to embrace him, and rest your chin on his head.
And maybe it's just more manipulation, but he looks sad, and you can't bring his daughter or his people back or undo any of it, but you can do this. Offer this little bit of comfort, right here, right now.
It's not entirely selfless, either. You don't know what's going to happen in the days, or even hours ahead. You don't know what Not-Locke wants, but it sure isn't anything good.
"You said 'were'."
He hums a soft "Pardon?" into your shoulder, and you back up to sit on your heels and look at him.
"You said you were a power hungry man. What changed?"
Ben's face goes carefully blank. "Nothing I did fixed anything, or even made me feel better. Actually, most of it made me feel worse. Power was most certainly not what I'd thought it would be. I think it's for the best if I just endeavor to stay out of the way, from here on out."
You can't imagine him being able to 'Stay out of the way', but you'll give him credit for trying. Or at least you won't laugh when he fails. "I think I'd agree with that assessment. At the very least, you'll end up with less broken noses."
He winces again, but it turns into a small smile as one hand comes up to rub at his nose. "And bruises," he adds. "And scrapes. And arrows through my shoulder."
"God, you're just the worst at making friends, aren't you?" You shoot back.
"You don't seem to mind me all that much, " he replies, one eyebrow raised, joking time clear underneath the accusations. "Unless getting me in this tent was just a ploy to interrogate me."
"You're right. I withheld from punching you all this time to gain your trust. It's all led up to this singular moment when I could ask you how you really felt about sand."
"A manipulative mastermind after my own heart," he deadpans.
The tone isn't lost on you, but your heart must not hear it since its back in your throat and you have to swallow hard a couple of times to speak properly again. "I'm flattered."
You fall into a comfortable silence and Ben sighs, before turning himself so he can lay on the floor properly, grumbling something about being too old for laying on the ground and you stifle a laugh. He looks over and glares, but it turns into a smile at you, and then up at the ceiling. "I thought I was going to die today. And then after that, I thought my only option was running to the side of that...that thing. But, here I am. This isn't - I don't think I deserve this. "
"I think you mean, 'Thanks for inviting me into your tent since I'm a bastard and no one else would have me'. And, 'I deserve this because I'm trying to be better'."
"That too," he agrees. "At least the first bit. I'm not sure any amount of atonement can fully absolve me of the things I've done. But - that's a lot of thinking and pondering to be doing at the moment. I think I'm going to take a nap. Digging was - quite frankly - both physically and mental exhausting."
"Do you want me to leave so you can get some sleep?"
He shakes his head. "I'm not going to kick you out of your own tent. Besides... " he hesitates. "I might feel better if you were here."
Honestly, you could probably use a nap too, before the next crazy thing happens. Because isn't it really just a matter of time. So you nod. "Alright," you agree. "I'll stay on one condition."
Ben looks unimpressed, to say the least. "And what might that be?"
"You have to be as honest with me from now on as you were today."
"That's not...not as easy as it sounds. Not for me."
At least he knows it - at least he's aware that it's like some sort of habit, or armor, or something. "Then try. That's all I want." Violence this in your ears as you wait for an answer. Wide blue as slowly blink at you, almost like he can't believe it.
"Okay," he says slowly. "I can do that."