Marionette (A 'The 5th Wave' Fanfiction) [COMPLETED] #wattys2017

22. Strings; Chapter IV.

    Graduation is a month away. We're at the firing range, 'enjoying' our last lessons. We're second in the chart now, a few points separating us from first.

    Ben is much better and hits far more bullseyes. I'm proud of him.

    He wipes some sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand and smiles at me crookedly. "Thanks so much for your help," he says in simple.

    I shrug it off and prepare my own rifle and aim. A target flies up and after a moment of hesitation I fire. Too close, but still impales the middle.

    Ben whistles and I wonder if he's mocking me. "Sometimes I think I'm actually catching up with you," he starts, "but then you come and I just think 'nope, not happening.' And I'm right, of course."

    I look at him, expecting to hear his laugh. But he's dead-serious. When he stares at me like that I swear I should be killed. Emotion is a weakness and with him I feel too much of it. And weakness resolves in death.

    There was this book Ma always read. I don't remember anything about it, just this phrase, To die for love? What could be more glorious? To love is to burn, to be on fire.

    Ben is a fire. Beautiful, warm, bright, but when you touch it it scorches your skin. Some people like the pain- mostly masochists. Is that what I am for wanting Ben? For needing him?

    He does this to me. He burns me. He weakens me. And I don't need him. He's a drug, not a necessity. I just think he's the only one. But he's not. I'm in a camp full of the chosen. Are they all 'the one?' Nonsense.

    I turn my head away from him. "Nonsense," I mutter.

    He frowns. "What do you mean?"

    "You already caught up with me."

    We both know I'm not talking about shooting- it's obvious who's the upper hand.

    It's deeper than the bullet once it gets into your skin and pierces it and leaves a scar. Some things go deeper than scars.

    Ben caught up to me. He knows my game. I didn't fool him. He understands. Ever since that first meeting all the way to the moment he held me. He knew.

    I do too, I suppose. The reason he's so noble and denies to leave anyone behind is his sister. The guilt of leaving her and running did something to him. He refuses to leave. He refuses to run. He must redeem himself by saving everyone. Can he save himself?

    He's so good. He's easily misused. Is that what makes a hero? Big heart, warm eyes, dark past? Ben is more than the sum of all that. Ben isn't a hero. That title is too beneath his greatness.

    He has flaws. He's not a god. God isn't a perfect being. He's a perfectly cruel one. When everyone depended on him and prayed to him, where had all his unlimited power gone to? He didn't run nor leave. He just sat back. And that's even worse than what Ben did.

    Gently Ben places his hand on my cheek. It's not as furious and terrified like that night when he was afraid he would lose me. He has nothing to fear. He caught up. "Rose," he whispers, his voice deep and breath sweet. "Rose."

    I shake my head. "Evening chow is coming. We should clean up," I reason.

    His stone mask is back on and I anxiously look around, hoping no one saw. Luck is on my side.

    After all that, Ben smiles.