"To get Micaela," Benedict clarifies, adding with some hesitation, "...the woman who raised me." He leans into Colin as much as he can, still shivering, but he seems to be turning inward. "My mother sold her. I asked Kitty to help me find where she'd gone, so I could buy her back. And she did, and we did. ...but it was. Set up."
He blinks heavily, squeezing out a bit more moisture. "My mother knew she could get me to come home, and had the seller direct me to her. So we went for a quick visit, and it went." He pauses to push his hair out of his face. "...wrong. I sent Kitty back with Micaela, and stayed with my mother." His mother, who turned out to be exactly the person he's been cautioned against for going on years now, which he refused to see until far too late. She probably hasn't lost a wink of sleep, and somehow knowing this makes the pain all the greater.
Colin takes over the task of brushing hair away from Benedict's face, tucking it behind his ear. So Benedict went for a good reason and stayed for a bad one.
Benedict thinks for a moment. It was months ago, and tensions got very high over the course of an evening, so the details have muddied somewhat. "...Kitty was listening to us," he says quietly, "Mother got angry. She tried to take her captive, for her shard. She would've killed her otherwise. But I helped her escape." His brow twitches. "Mother was hurt. I don't remember why. I stayed with her, so she wouldn't go after them. ...and then I couldn't leave." His hands have begun to shake as he sorts through the memories.
"Since we didn't have Kitty's shard to bring to Corypheus, Mother insisted we use mine. Telling them no, trying to leave, it... it wouldn't have worked."
He opens and closes his left hand, making the green light of the anchor shard flicker. "I wonder how long it'll stay."
Somehow, the story isn't as damning as Colin had dismissively believed during these months. He'd assumed Benedict stayed in Minrathous because he managed to get away from Riftwatch. That his connections here weren't strong enough for him not to return to his own kind. That he didn't like Colin as much as Colin liked him.
When Benedict calls attention to the shard, Colin reaches out to take his hands and steady them.
"I don't think I like your mother much," he says coolly.
This actually almost elicits a laugh, but it's more like a wheeze, a grimacing smile that turns into a rictus of pain. If he had listened to even one single person who told him how awful his mother is, he wouldn't be here. He covers his mouth with his hand, gripping it, pressing the muscles of his face that have become sore from weeping. "I think," he says weakly, "when she finds out what happened, she'll just." Another tear, which he wipes away quickly. "...she'll be angry with me, for failing. Again."
"You...you built a life here. You started out a prisoner and worked your way up from it. You made friends. You even seemed a bit happy, sometimes. You were willing to give it up for her because she's your mother. So you went with her. I'm guessing you're not in here for nothing, so you must have given them something besides your shard. Now here you are, paying your share and hers, and she's done nothing to stop it. Nothing to protect you."
Colin leans in, and his diction sounds uncharacteristically edged.
Falling silent to listen, Benedict's face is morose, his elbows folded over his drawn-up knees. His mother is a monster. He knows this, he's known it for a long time, even if he couldn't admit it. Typically, the only time he can is when it's put him in trouble.
Most telling, she isn't here. He may be stupid, but she isn't.
He sighs in resignation, angling his head as much against Colin's shoulder as he can, though the bars largely block it. What is there to say? He's been had. His whole life. And now it's over.
There's no way to press a kiss to the top of Benedict's head the way he wants to. What does he have to say that could make a difference now? Encouraging resentment against the person who put him in this situation won't help him go into the next world with peace. Or will it?
It's the first time in many years Colin has considered praying. Except he wants to pray that the Maker is real and merciful, and he's not sure to whom he should direct that prayer. He wants to go to the Maker and ask what He is, and tell him he's no good to anyone if he sends people into oblivion based on a technicality of borders and stupid mistakes, rather than important things like being evil. He'd trade a lot if he could just put his arms around Benedict properly for the next few hours.
The occasional small conversation punctuates the rest of the night, but most of it is spent just sitting, even dozing once or twice on Benedict's part-- he's exhausted-- but largely just waiting, watching the sky slowly brighten through the tiny window until there's enough light to pick out individual bricks in the dungeon wall.
Delirious from fear and fatigue, Benedict jerks awake when, a while past dawn, one of the upper doors creaks open. He wrenches his hand away from where it was holding Colin's with a hiss of "go," scooting away to hug his arms around himself with a last despondent glance. If Colin is caught here, he could be in huge trouble.
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"My mother sold her. I asked Kitty to help me find where she'd gone, so I could buy her back. And she did, and we did. ...but it was. Set up."
He blinks heavily, squeezing out a bit more moisture. "My mother knew she could get me to come home, and had the seller direct me to her. So we went for a quick visit, and it went." He pauses to push his hair out of his face.
"...wrong. I sent Kitty back with Micaela, and stayed with my mother." His mother, who turned out to be exactly the person he's been cautioned against for going on years now, which he refused to see until far too late. She probably hasn't lost a wink of sleep, and somehow knowing this makes the pain all the greater.
"I was an idiot," he whimpers.
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"What went wrong?"
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"...Kitty was listening to us," he says quietly, "Mother got angry. She tried to take her captive, for her shard. She would've killed her otherwise. But I helped her escape."
His brow twitches. "Mother was hurt. I don't remember why. I stayed with her, so she wouldn't go after them. ...and then I couldn't leave." His hands have begun to shake as he sorts through the memories.
"Since we didn't have Kitty's shard to bring to Corypheus, Mother insisted we use mine. Telling them no, trying to leave, it... it wouldn't have worked."
He opens and closes his left hand, making the green light of the anchor shard flicker. "I wonder how long it'll stay."
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When Benedict calls attention to the shard, Colin reaches out to take his hands and steady them.
"I don't think I like your mother much," he says coolly.
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"I think," he says weakly, "when she finds out what happened, she'll just." Another tear, which he wipes away quickly. "...she'll be angry with me, for failing. Again."
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Colin leans in, and his diction sounds uncharacteristically edged.
"She failed you. Fuck her."
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His mother is a monster. He knows this, he's known it for a long time, even if he couldn't admit it. Typically, the only time he can is when it's put him in trouble.
Most telling, she isn't here. He may be stupid, but she isn't.
He sighs in resignation, angling his head as much against Colin's shoulder as he can, though the bars largely block it. What is there to say? He's been had. His whole life. And now it's over.
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It's the first time in many years Colin has considered praying. Except he wants to pray that the Maker is real and merciful, and he's not sure to whom he should direct that prayer. He wants to go to the Maker and ask what He is, and tell him he's no good to anyone if he sends people into oblivion based on a technicality of borders and stupid mistakes, rather than important things like being evil. He'd trade a lot if he could just put his arms around Benedict properly for the next few hours.
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Delirious from fear and fatigue, Benedict jerks awake when, a while past dawn, one of the upper doors creaks open. He wrenches his hand away from where it was holding Colin's with a hiss of "go," scooting away to hug his arms around himself with a last despondent glance. If Colin is caught here, he could be in huge trouble.
Time to face the music.