Chapter Text
He was going to miss Phoenix—the endless sunshine, driving Phil's car, and the beautiful sunsets along the canyon's edge. Most of all, though, he was going to miss Mom... and his annoying sister, Bella. Now he stood at the airport with a fussing mother asking a million questions and Bella at his side. Phil wasn't there, probably at work.
"Do you have your passport?" Renée asked for what had to be the millionth time.
"Yes, Mom." Ben rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. I really have to go." He pointed toward the clock. If he didn't hurry, he was going miss his flight.
"All right, be safe." She pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Benny. Tell Charlie I said hi."
She squeezed him one last time before finally letting go.
"Ugh, Mom I hate when you call me that," Ben groaned, cringing.
Renée lightly smacked the back of his head. "I carried you and Bella for nine months. I've earned the right to call you Benny," she scolded.
"Don't forget about me either," Bella said, giving him a playful punch on the arm.
"No worries, twerp. We're stuck with each other for eternity," Ben sang, ruffling her hair.
She swatted his hand away and quickly fixed the mess he'd made. "You know I'll call every week, right?" she asked softly, her wide eyes searching his face, afraid he'd leave her behind.
"Yeah." He smiled, pulling her into a hug. "And I'll always answer."
Bella held on for a moment longer before reluctantly letting go. With one last glance, Ben turned and started climbing the airplane stairs. He had barely reached the halfway point when someone shouted his name.
"Ben! Ben, wait!" It was Bella.
He hurried back down, hopping off the last step before jogging over to her. She clutched something tightly against her chest, nervously biting her lip before pressing it into his hand.
"Here, take this. You'll have a part of me wherever you go."
Ben looked down, his eyes widening. Resting in his palm was a simple necklace made from a braided leather cord. Hanging from it was a smooth white cone shell. Charlie had mailed the shell to Bella for her tenth birthday after finding it during a fishing trip on the Washington coast. She'd treasured it ever since, eventually threading it into a necklace so she could wear it every day.
"Bella... I—I can't take this."
He tried to hand it back, but she gently pushed his hand away. "Just keep it safe for me, okay?"
He nodded, slipping the necklace over his head beside his dog tags, Ben let the shell rest against his chest—a small piece of Phoenix to carry with him to Forks. He hugged his mother and sister one last time before finally boarding the plane.
The flight was four hours from Phoenix to Seattle, followed by another hour to Port Angeles and one last hour down to Forks. When the plane finally landed, Ben grabbed his bags and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He had called Charlie before takeoff to explain what he would be wearing, hopefully making it easier to recognize him.
'Uh, I'm wearing bootcut jeans, Converse, a white T-shirt, and a dark brown leather jacket. Also, I'm a brunette—don't know if you remember.' That had gotten a chuckle out of Charlie.
He looked more like his father—messy, wavy chocolate-brown hair, broad shoulders, and an athletic build that wasn't overly muscular. He did, however, share his mother's hazel eyes. Years spent under the Arizona sun had left his skin a warm beige tan, with freckles scattered here and there across his face.
“Benedict!” a voice called ahead.
He glanced around, searching for the source, then spotted what looked like his father leaning against what was definitely a freaking police car. Oh, fuck—people were definitely giving him weird looks as he approached.
He lifted a hand in a wave, and as he got closer he realized they were about the same height. Nice—he’s 5'11. Not too bad, if I do say so myself. His father seemed surprised by what puberty had done to him—and the fact that Ben clearly lived an athletic lifestyle.
Charlie gave him an awkward side hug. “It’s good to see you, Benedict,” he said, smiling.
“Same to you too, Ch—ah… Dad,” he winced. He wasn't allowed to call him Charlie to his face.
"And, uh... no one really calls me Benedict. Ben is fine."
Charlie blinked, seeming a little taken aback. "All right... I'll try to remember that," he said.
Charlie didn't say anything else. He simply walked over to the trunk, popped it open, and placed Ben's bags inside. Ben climbed into the passenger seat. It's pretty dusty in here, he noticed. Maybe Charlie doesn't drive many people around.
The drive couldn't have been more awkward. Don't get him wrong—he appreciated his father. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here. But he hadn't seen the man in years. Ben only called him a couple of times a year, and the awkward icebreaker questions Charlie kept asking weren't making things any easier.
"You still, uh... play—it was football, right?" Charlie asked.
"Basketball, actually," Ben corrected. "Baseball sometimes, too."
Off to a great start. Yay...
Charlie tapped his finger against the steering wheel. "Got any girlfriends, or boyfriends…?" He trailed off.
"I had one, but we broke up. She didn't want a long-distance relationship," Ben said with an awkward laugh. This man doesn't know a single thing about me, but at least he's open minded.
"How's Bells?" Charlie asked.
Ah, there it is. His favorite child.
Ben didn't resent Bella for it. She was the one who reached out, calling often and having long conversations with Charlie, while Ben usually just said hello before handing the phone over. No wonder Charlie had been surprised when he'd learned it was Ben—not Bella—who was coming to Forks.
"She's doing fine. Acing every class and staying home while Mom and Phil travel for baseball season."
That put an end to the questions for a while. Eventually, Charlie turned on the radio. At least it filled the silence.
Sighing, Ben rested the side of his face against the window and watched the scenery roll by. It was beautiful—he couldn't deny that. But it was the complete opposite of Phoenix, not in a bad way though. Everything was so green. The trees, their trunks covered in moss, and the forest floor filled with ferns. Even the air seemed tinted green.
Finally, they made it to Charlie's house. Parked along the street was a faded red truck with big rounded fenders and a bulbous cab.
Shit... I love it. Hopefully the owner lets me drive it.
"Whoa! Whose truck is that?" Ben asked.
Charlie looked over to where he was pointing. "Well... it's yours, if you want it," he said with a hopeful expression.
"Ch—" Shit. It's going to take forever to call him Dad. "Wow... Dad, really? Thanks, I love it!"
Thank God I don't have to walk to school in this weather, he thought.
"Well... you're welcome," Charlie mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
Forgetting all about his bags, Ben jogged over to the truck. He ran his hand along the side, tracing the worn paint. Crouching down to inspect the wheels, he caught his reflection in the rims.
"Where'd you find it?" he asked.
"Do you remember Billy Black down in La Push?" Charlie asked.
"No." Ben frowned.
"He used to go fishing with us during the summers," Charlie prompted.
Billy Black... The name sounded familiar, but he could barely recall any memories of fishing. Maybe that's where Bella caught her obsession with shells.
"He's in a wheelchair," Charlie continued when Ben didn't say anything. "He can't drive anymore, so he offered to sell the truck for cheap."
"Got this old lady for you," he continued. "Renée said you got your license, so I figured you could use it. Besides, I don't think you'd want your old man dropping you off at school."
"That's nice of him." Ben squinted at the side mirrors. "It looks like an older model, though."
"I think it's from the fifties... maybe the sixties," Charlie admitted.
He tossed Ben the keys before grabbing the bags from the trunk and leading the way inside. His old room hadn't changed much. He and Bella had shared it during the countless summers they'd spent in Forks as kids. Bella's side was painted a soft powder blue, while his was a muted slate gray.
Thankfully, there was only one bed now. A desk sat beneath the window with a secondhand computer on top, mostly for Mom, who would send frequent emails to keep in touch.
Charlie didn't hover. He gave Ben space to unpack and settle in. Before leaving Phoenix, Bella and Mom had taken him shopping for clothes that could actually survive Forks' weather. Maybe after unpacking he'd take a walk around town and get a better feel for the place.
Heading back downstairs, Ben spotted Charlie arranging the pillows on the couch. He looked up at the sound of footsteps.
"Where ya going, kiddo?" he said from where he was standing.
Ben felt weird being called kiddo. The only people who gave him nicknames were his mom and, occasionally, his closest friends. Not even Phil, who he'd been living with for most of his life, ever called him anything other than Ben or Benedict—usually only when he was being scolded.
"Just thought about taking a look around," he said, gesturing toward the door.
"All right, but don't be late. It gets cold," Charlie nodded.
"Yep," Ben said, popping the p. "That's why I got this on." He pointed at his jacket and waved goodbye as he stepped out the door.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets to protect them from the cold, he began to walk. Forks looked the same—the houses hadn't changed one bit. The people here seemed stuck in a time loop. A normal, boring town, but Ben was okay with that; he liked simple things in life.
Tomorrow, he had to attend Forks High School with a total of three hundred and thirty-seven students. Seems like there's a population recession in these parts, he thought. All the kids knew each other, and he'd be the new kid. Maybe I could charm my way in with my tan—girls dig that, he mused.
Ben ended up walking for two more blocks before heading back to Charlie’s—well, his home now. He peeled off his shoes by the entrance and slammed the door closed. There was a clatter from the kitchen, and Ben made his way in.
“I almost thought a bear ate you because you took so long,” Charlie said, holding what seemed like dinner.
Oh great, there’s bears here, he thought.
“Very reassuring,” Ben replied, dropping his jacket over the back of a chair. “Love the welcome.”
Charlie grunted, already setting the food down. “You’ll get used to it.”
Glancing around the kitchen, Ben took in the stark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Sitting down at the table, he propped his elbows on it. Charlie slid a plate toward him along with a glass of water before sitting across. For a while, the only sounds were the scrape of utensils and the hum of the heater.
Then Charlie cleared his throat. "How was your walk?"
Ben shrugged. "It was fine. Walked a couple of blocks."
They fell quiet again. Ben's foot bounced nervously beneath the table. "It was also... wet," he added, poking at his food.
Charlie nodded but didn't push any further. Taking one last bite of the poorly made—but well appreciated—food, Ben stood up.
"Well, I think I'm gonna go to bed," he said, gesturing awkwardly.
Charlie rose from his chair. "No, of course. G-good night, Ben." He seemed to hesitate before deciding to pat him on the shoulder.
Snatching the leather jacket from the chair, Ben made his way upstairs. He walked down the hallway toward the bathroom he'd share with Charlie.
Ben took a steaming hot shower, hoping it would ease the tension in his muscles. After cleaning himself up, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He ran a hand through his tangled, damp hair before deciding it was good enough.
Back in his room, he changed into a pair of gray sweatpants, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the chair by the desk. He could've flopped down on the bed and called it a night, but his mother wanted updates.
Gotta make sure she knows I'm alive, I guess.
Switching on the secondhand computer, he flipped it open and began to type.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: [email protected]
Hey, Mom. It's Ben.
The trip to Forks wasn't bad. Saw a lot of things on the way. Its pretty green in here and cold too. I think you might have an idea of how I'm tolerating the weather.
I haven't died yet, so that's a win.
Me and Charlie caught up, had a little chat. I start school tomorrow. It's getting late, and I need to head to bed soon.
I love you, Mom. I'll call every week, and tell the twerp not to miss me too much.
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Reaching over to the bedside table, he found an old alarm clock. It took him a while to figure it out, but once he did, he set the alarm for 6:30 a.m. Finished, he crawled into bed and pulled the blankets over himself. Staring up at the ceiling, he listened to the whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof until he fell asleep.