Works Out [Dru]

[Benson Thomas]

No Idea

Evasive actions had obviously put Andrua off, but he didn't feel right around her. A certain kind of filth, like he was caked in filth. Who could possibly be worthy to be engaged to someone when they cheated on their fiancee during the engagement? How could he have been blind to the prefection he was given? She was a gift, not a given right. He'd taken advantage of that.

Sitting at home alone for the twelfth day in a row, he wrestled with his brain, trying to work something out; work a way to tell her. To break it to her without completely losing her. Knowing Andrua, it would be useless. With her temper when she got angry, and fuck, she would be livid...

"Shit," he whispered under his breath.

He just hoped she wouldn't show up any time soon. Because he was a mess.

[Andrua Thomas]

Getting Over It

Andrua hadn't been doing much the past three days aside from working out. She had been running, biking, finding pick-up games, swimming, climbing. Because if she stopped working out then she would start thinking and if she started thinking then she would get angry and if she got angry then she would kill someone. Most likely Benson. Definitely Benson.

She was trekking back to Biella after a fantastic run through Central Park. And she had walked home instead of run and, of course, she had started to think. That was her mistake. Because she started thinking. About Benson. And Colette. Her finger moved to the engagement ring to spin it --she had developed that as a nervous habit-- but found her left ring finger empty. Oh right. She had taken the ring off. Dropped it on her night-table and forgot about it there. Because how could she wear his ring when...

She wanted to talk to him. She released a sigh as she pushed through the front doors to Biella. Wanted to... Maybe hear his side of it? If he had a side... Other then got drunk, slept with her mentor/his crush, didn't fucking tell her about it, avoided her for a week and a half...

Okay, maybe talking to him was a bad idea. But she was already at his door. And he fist was raising to pound through his face, but it was actually just knocking on his door. Once, twice, three times. Moderate power behind the knocks, nothing to clue him into the anger that was raging just beneath her skin.

[Benson Thomas]

There was a sudden change in the atmosphere when the pounding on the door came. Jolting out of Benson-land, he could only think who might be rapping at the door that loudly. He denied his first thought, praying it wasn't who he expected it to be. Scared of his own shadow as he rose from his pitched-over position on the sofa, he shuffled across the floor, only seeming to get farther away from his destination. Obviously his mind was begging him not to go there, knowing it wasn't ready for what he knew was behind it.

But he ignored it. Which, in hindsight, probably wasn't the best idea.

He pulled open the door. Falling from his lips in a whisper was a breathless "Shit," and he hoped she hadn't heard, because the very same word was probably lingering from her mouth, too. Chances were that Andrua wasn't going to want to talk. She was going to want to beat him senseless. At least she didn't know yet.

His heartrate dropped back down, realizing that he wouldn't have to deal with the fury he was anticipating. Now he just had the telling to look forward to. Wouldn't be any more fun, but it needed to be done. He couldn't keep this from her anymore.

[Andrua Thomas]

He answered the door and even if she hadn't known she would have been able to tell something was wrong; something up with him. He looked...just, not Benson. Unsure and worried sick and... Well, there was a slight squelch of sympathy in her stomach. But then she remembered why he was all upset and her sympathy disappeared rather quickly.

"Hi," she breathed out, almost a smile on her face. Her blood was rushing and so was her breathing. She couldn't really think straight but all she knew was that she was so. Fucking. Angry. So angry that she couldn't wait another minute. He had to know how angry she was. Her mouth was opened to tell him, to really give it to him.

And then her right fist launched up to take him out. It slammed into his face and she cursed as soon as it had completed its circuit. That had hurt! But it was most definitely worth it. It wasn't the route she had been planning on taking, but it was still effective. And, somehow, her anger had dissipated. At least, the raging, roiling, must-kill-now anger was gone.

Entering the room calmly, she shut the door behind her. "Hey there, sweetie. How've you been?" Her voice was saccharine sweet, obviously manufactured.

[Benson Thomas]

She knew. The moment he saw her flinch, he could tell. She knew. It had somehow slipped out of someone else's mouth, and he hadn't gotten the chance to break it to her himself. He was ruined. He'd waited too long and now she knew, and Jesus, he was going to get it.

There it was. A cracking of knuckles against the stiffness of his nose. Right between the eyes. Before he had time to react, he was launched back into the ground, stumbling into the couch, holding his face. He deserved that. Though he wasn't sure if he should snap in half and release his tears or fight back. But how could he?

Whether vital parts were broken or not, Benson staggered to his feet, one hand still covering the probably deformed part of his face where she'd connected. He'd probably be sporting two shiners in about an hour.

Benson didn't bother replying. Her artificial sweetness didn't buy him any time or credit, he knew, so there was no point in going along with her little banter. Just get right to it. Somehow, it managed to well up what needed to be said.

"I am so, so sorry." That wasn't all, but that was all he knew. He dropped his head, eyes, though blurry, focused on the ground--the only thing that seemed to be stable at the moment. Nice, solid. Under his feet, holding him up. "I don't deserve you," he sighed, fingers clutching his face harder now. "And whatever I've done...I regret."

[Andrua Thomas]

Andrua nursed her injured hand against her chest, whimpering a little. Tears caught in the corners of her eyes and she pretended that they were only from the physical pain. Her breathing shifted to shallow and she took up a long-strided pace.

"You..." she mumbled after he finished apologizing. "You fucking slept with Colette." An aggrivated groan was pulled from her as she shook her head. "Colette! I mean, anyone else, anyone, it wouldn't have even been half as bad. But... Colette!" He had picked her mentor, the woman he had had feelings for before they got together...

And she needed to stop fooling herself. Clearly his crush on the professor hadn't gone away as she had believed. He had slept with her. Slept with Colette instead of finding Andrua. It hadn't been some urge or something. It was years of a pent-up attraction that exploded and erupted all over their happy relationship.

"Can you... I mean, is there even a reason why?" she asked. Her tone was bitter but she couldn't bring herself to care. Whatever reason he offered up to her, would it even matter? Could it change anything about this situation?

Because how could she trust anything he said now?

She stretched her hand, flexing and clenching it to clear the pain from the joints. Starburst wounds had bloomed on her knuckles and stung when they hit the air. Licking her lips, Andrua kept her eyes on her hand. "Fuck, Bennie," she whimpered out, sounding far more pathetic than she would have liked. And she used his nickname. She hadn't wanted that. But it was out and it was too late.

[Benson Thomas]

It was painful to think it to himself, to say it to himself, to know he'd done it. To know that the skin he was in was the skin that had been against hers, to know that he couldn't escape himself even if he tried. To know that he had hurt Andrua and this might be the last time he saw her rendered a hollow, empty feeling inside. Nothing prosperous had come from his actions, and he would have done anything to take them back. Convincing Andrua of this was another task, one that would probably end up futile, anyway.

And hearing it from her was even worse. Someone else knew. Other people knew. He'd cut his own fiancee so deep that she'd dounf the strength to hit him, to scream at him, to hate him.

His nose went, then, and so did his throat, clear signs of the pent-up tears. "No," he whimpered, face still hidden in his hands, cowering. Not even protecting his injured body--scurrying away from the clear threat he'd provoked himself. "No, there isn't. I can't justify what I've done and I couldn't have while I was doing it, either." It had just...happened. "There was no reason. I didn't know I wanted to until I was halfway there."

He couldn't bear to see her look at him like that, talk to him like she was. He'd hurt her worse than he'd ever imagined, and there was no hope of regaining the trust that he'd broken by himself. Stupid, stupid. The very thought broke him, and he started to cry. Softly, though, raw breaths dragged in to try to tame them.

What else could he do but apologize? And if even that wasn't good enough, what else could be done?

[Andrua Thomas]

She pulled a little at her hair, frustrated beyond belief. She didn't even have the desire to yell at him anymore. She didn't want to rant and rave and hurt him. She just... She wanted things to go back. To before. To before he fucked up and fucked Colette. To before, when it was just the two of them, sitting in Pompeii, enjoying each other and light, easy conversation about their wedding.

She didn't want to have to be mad at him and not trust him. She didn't want to be strong and deprive him or her. "Stop crying," she requested miserably, tears working into her own voice. She didn't want this. Didn't want to see him all weak and weepy. "Colette told me to blame her too," she revealed, calmer now. "Said that it was both of your fault." So why was she so much angrier with Benson?

Ah right.

"But why did I have to hear it from her, Ben? Why didn't you me?" Her voice was small and soft and far weaker than she would have liked.

[Benson Thomas]

"No," he snapped, springing to his feet but dragging his hands away from his face. "No. I'm not going to. I'm trying to think of ways to make this up to you and I'm not pussy for doing it, either. You just need to fucking let go of the dominance you think you have. Just shut your lips and learn." By now his breathing had become labored, and he wished all of that could be swept back inside the garbage pail of his mouth. Her words became less aggressive and he followed suit.

Swallowing to try to give his throat some relief, he found that the tears had stopped but his eye sockets were still pounding. "Well, Colette's known for chronically thinking she's guilty about everything." He remembered her fingers in his hair, and how he'd just given in... If only he hadn't caved. "I started it, Dru. I'm not going to lie to you. I didn't argue. I just...let myself go."

"But why did I have to hear it from her, Ben? Why didn't you me?"

Those were hard words to hear, but he knew he had to answer them. Ducking his head down, he traced his eyebrows with his fingertips, rubbing his temples. "Because I'm a coward. I was afraid of facing this. I was trying to think of a way to break this to you easily, and I thought I had enough time." Then he looked up, though his eyes danced around before landing on her forehead, so maybe she might think he was locking eyes when really he didn't have the stomach for it. "I never planned to keep it a secret. M'not sure if that makes you feel any better. Pretty sure it doesn't. But I am sorry."

[Andrua Thomas]

Andrua's mouth fell open at the harsh tone of his words. He was yelling at her? Was he really yelling at her? What fucked up alternate reality were they living in that he had a right to yell at her?! He was the one who had cheated on her! And, okay, so she had slept with someone else as well. But that had been in anger and fueled by the stupid desire for revenge. And no, it hadn't been the best idea, especially since she now felt worse that she had to start with...

But that was beside the point! There was no way in hell he could be yelling at her!

"Dominance?" she asked, disbelief playing over her features. "Excuse me, dominance? Benson, if I had any dominance in this relationship then you wouldn't have gone off and slept with some other woman!"

She let out a light groan, aggrivated and overwhelmed. She listened with half-an-ear as he poke about Colette. She was mostly trying to calm herself down. She could feel herself loosing control over her powers and she didn't like it. She liked it even less when she caught a snippet of Benson's thoughts. Colette's fingers running through his hair. Tears marked her face and she pressed her fists to the side of her temples. "You're thinking about her!" she said, tone of voice disgusted.

Her shoulders shook a moment as her tears fell freely. Andrua did not cry often so it was an uncomfortable sensation for her. Keeping her shoulders bent over herself, she tried to collect herself quickly. Once she was finally calmed, she gathered her thoughts. Tried to meditate, regain control over her telepathy. Because there was no way in hell she wanted to see any of his thoughts ever again.

"Because I'm a coward. I was afraid of facing this. I was trying to think of a way to break this to you easily, and I thought I had enough time."

Andrua sighed sardonically and collapsed onto the couch. "Clearly you didn't," she muttered. Andrua thought that was probably the worst part of it all. She had to hear it from Colette, not the man who claimed to love her all this time, wanted to marry her so much.

Had any of that been real? Any of his words true? Because if he still had it for Colette, had it ever gone away at all? So what had she been all this time? Just a lark? Some fun to have? Colette got married and had kids; she became unattainable. Andrua was just the next best thing. Benson had just settled for her.

"I never planned to keep it a secret. M'not sure if that makes you feel any better. Pretty sure it doesn't. But I am sorry."

"It doesn't," she assured him. Because that meant that even at just the spur of the moment his attraction to Colette could be called up. Tears were falling again but this time slowly, resignedly. "Fuck, Benson? Was any of it real? Because she's what you wanted all along, right?" A rogue sob made no sound but jerked her spine. "Well, Charles is dead, you know so go ahead and go for it, for her."

[Benson Thomas]

"Fine!" he erupted. "Fine, I'm a God damned, cheating bastard! I can't say anything to make you forgive me, I can't do anything, so I don't know why I'm still here. If you want me out, say so. I'm trying to tell you that I still love you, and even though I messed up, I'd do everything in my power to get a second chance. If you don't love me anymore, then I want you to be happy. I'm so sorry for what I've done. I don't know how many times I can say it." Catching himself, he closed his mouth, trying to regain some stability in his breathing.

"You're thinking about her!" The untainted words of disgust and unadulterated loathing split him in half. He wanted to scream at her for reading his mind, for assuming that he still had feelings for Colette, for assuming that he was lying to her. He also wanted to fall onto the ground and plead mercy because he was thinking about Colette, but not in the way she had surmised. Benson was fairly certain that Andrua was perfectly capable of dismembering him if she so pleased (she'd already done a fine job with his face), so he tried to settle for the latter without completely giving in.

"Don't you know that I think about you all the time? Don't you know that I've been hating myself for doing this since it was done? How could I ever think about her like that anymore when I've been feeling so fucking guilty this whole time?" Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry he pleaded, but he wasn't sure if he was telling himself or her.

Because watching her hate him, watching her feel so hurt over this made him rethink his decision to marry her, only because he knew his worth had dropped. She was so good and so strong and he had the nerve to do something like that to her. His throat clenched and he fought back the tears.

He felt like puking. "Of course it was real. You think I would go through the trouble to lie to you this whole time just to wait for some man to die and leave you? Think I'd ask you to marry me then stick around after you rejected me? Go through all the soccer, and the cookies, and damn it, the sex, and then just drop you? Do you really think I'm that horrible of a person? What kind of impression have I made on you, save my mistake? I know I shouldn't have done it, and I would take it back if I could. I swear."

Shaking his head, he went on, just finding that the words were spewing up. He didn't have to think about it anymore. "I never wanted Colette after you. Colette wasn't even second best. Nobody was. It was you or nothing. Don't you get it? It was you."

He took in a long-needed, ragged breath. This was costing him so much energy. "Fuck that. Don't ever say that to me. I'm not going to just 'go for her.' In whatever fucked up reality you think we're in, it's not going to happen. I've tried to make my point clear. Just tell me now if you want me out." Out of the mansion. Out of New York. Out of her life.

[Andrua Thomas]

" If you don't love me anymore, then I want you to be happy. I'm so sorry for what I've done. I don't know how many times I can say it."

Andrua's head snapped up at that. "Of course I still love you." The words fell of their own volition, she hadn't thought about saying them. She didn't want to love him as badly as she did. That's why this hurt so badly. Because she loved him and he...had slept with Colette! God, she just couldn't get that out of her head. He had been with another woman.

The hands that had combed tenderly through her hair had touched Colette's bare skin. The feet that had sparred with hers in a soccer match had tangled with Colette's on the sheets of her bed. The lips that had whispered against hers in the intimate conversations at the middle of the night had been on Colette's lips. His hands, feet, lips, fingers, chest, hips...

Andrua blew out a shaky gasp.

Benson babbled out a series of questions and Andrua could only shake her head, breaths coming in short, stacatto breaths. "I don' know," she murmured softly. "I don' know. I know I love you but I don' know much else." Her voice was child-like, a little girl trying to pretend she wasn't crying.

"I never wanted Colette after you. Colette wasn't even second best. Nobody was. It was you or nothing. Don't you get it? It was you."

She wished she could believe him. Wanted to believe him so badly. Wished she didn't want to believe him so badly. She wished she could just wash her hands of him because, damn it, he had hurt her. And it hurt bad.

"Fuck that. Don't ever say that to me. I'm not going to just 'go for her.' In whatever fucked up reality you think we're in, it's not going to happen. I've tried to make my point clear. Just tell me now if you want me out."

She chewed harshly at her lowerlip, bringing blood to the surface even. "I don't want you out," she said gently, barely aloud. "I wish I did, but I don't." She chuckled without much mirth and rubbed the tears from beneath her eyes. "Even now, I'm sitting here and at the back of my mind I'm thinking about how fucking hot you've got me just by yelling at me."

She shook her head a little, eyes scrunching shut. "I want you. I love you. I never want you to leave. But I don't know if I can... have you here with me... Because you hurt me." It hurt even further to admit it. She rushed forward, knowing what he would say in response. "I know; you're sorry. I know, I believe you. I am too." Fuck, she hadn't meant to say that. "You hurt me and I hurt you. And I don't like that I acted the way I did in response to you hurting me and... Fuck. I'm not makin' any sense am I?" she asked, lost a little and with still more tears falling. Fuck, she hated to cry; it's like it would never stop.

She pitched forward a little further, letting her head to rest in her hands.

[Benson Thomas]

He began with a, "No," which wasn't really how he wanted to proceed. It meant a chain reaction of denial, of torture, of facing brutal realities and that meant the process of working it out would be slower. Keeping his own tears on reserve, he linked his hands behind his neck in a stressful flex, wanting to expel the energy he knew he didn't have anymore. It had all flushed out within the past few minutes of heated arguments, but now new waves of disgruntled voltage had brought back spurts of power.

Continuing on his path of "no," he said, "You haven't done anything to hurt me. That's not why I did what I did. It wasn't you. There's nothing wrong with you. Understand that? It was me, doing something stupid because I'm thick and stupid, and it just wasn't you. Please believe that. It makes me look like an ass but that's all I have to offer." He fell back onto the couch, slumping into a very uncomfortable position, but he doubted anything would really be very satisfying anymore.

What did this mean? He was never going to get married? The thought pulled at his heartstrings and he wanted to sob and puke and scream and run and die all at the same time. Especially when she curled into a helpless, pitiful position. His mind juggled the idea of gathering her in his arms, telling her he was sorry until she finally forgave him and wasn't fighting with herself anymore.

"It just..." He licked his lips. "I hurts the most to see what I've done to you. How I've made you feel."

[Andrua Thomas]

"You haven't done anything to hurt me. That's not why I did what I did. It wasn't you. There's nothing wrong with you. Understand that? It was me, doing something stupid because I'm thick and stupid, and it just wasn't you. Please believe that. It makes me look like an ass but that's all I have to offer."

No, no, no. That's not what she had meant. No. She had hurt him and he didn't even know it yet. Because she had done what he had done. And fuck, he was going to flip a shit if she told him... When. When she told him. She had to. She had gotten all pissed over him not telling her about him and Colette. She wouldn't be a spineless hypocrite.

"No," she said softly, not able to meet his eyes. Shit; shit; shit. That's what she felt like: shit. "No, I mean. I did hurt you. I... Well, after Colette told me...what had happened." A surge of righteous anger. "I was a bit upset, honestly. All anger and misguidedness, really. And, I, well, I went to this bar. And I hooked up with this guy." She swallowed. Didn't want to leave anything up for interpretation. "We slept together, I mean. So, if you're a cheating bastard then so am I. And I'm just as sorry as you are only more so because I did mine on purpose because I wanted to hurt you because I was so hurt."

She stopped. Took a breath. And another. Blinked. Continued.

"And honestly it was probably the worst decision of my life because I thought of you the whole time and I even thought it was you a few times. And it just made me want you more but I was still so mad at you... Yeah." She ended with a nod, puncuating her story. Oh Christ. He was going to be absolutely livid.

"I hurts the most to see what I've done to you. How I've made you feel."

"Please don't say that," she said in a soft miserable voice. Because she had hurt him just as bad probably. "I'm so sorry."

She took in a steadying breath and shook her head. "Maybe... Maybe we need a bit of a break? Or something? Just, to..." Her eyes closed gently. To what? "I don't know," she finished, voice barely audible.

[Benson Thomas]

His mouth was left slightly agape as she choppily revealed the back splash of her tears, and he had to puzzle together the half-eaten sentences that she spit out onto his plate. He'd signed his own condemnation papers when he tangled the sheets with Colette, but this was the execution. Oh, if only his father could see what he'd made of himself now.

In went a shallow, shoulder-raising breath that he held until it hurt. Then it left him in a warm, spiraling cloud. He couldn't honestly be angry with what she did, because that would only be hypocritical. He was disappointed, however, that she'd felt the impulse--and gvae into it--to stoop to his level. Had she done it simply to get back at him; to show him how she felt? Because that was effective enough. Somehow, he thought perhaps maybe it was less revenge-motivated and more driven by the rage he'd ensued in the first place.

Swallowing thickly, he shook his head, looking away, weight shifted over to one side with his hands on his waist. "You don't have to be," he consoled under his breath, but he wasn't sure how confident he was with that answer. The more he told himself the lie, the more it became the truth. Until he'd fully convinced himself what she'd done was okay by him and he forgave her; hadn't really blamed her to begin with.

Then his head shot up and was about ready to grab her to keep her from walking through that door. "You..." he started, wetting his lips, "you want to?"

[Andrua Thomas]

"You don't have to be."

Andrua wiped at her eyes unnecessarily. She wasn't crying yet but the tears were gathering. Why couldn't he get mad at her? Yell and shout and call her names and validate her anger toward him. Because she had done the same thing as him. Worse even, as she had said. She had done worse to him than he had done to her. And fuck she was mad at herself, hated herself for it all.

"Y' fucking kidding me, dude?" she asked, sparing a half-hearted smile. "I do have to be and I am. I really am." She took in a breath that ended up shuddering on the end from her withheld sobs.

"You..." he started, wetting his lips, "you want to?"

It took all her will power to not just curl up against his chest. If she had been upset like this over anything else she would have done just that. Settled into his embrace and just let his presence calm her down, soothe her, settle her into happiness. But she couldn't do that. They were fighting. They weren't working. They...they needed a break.

"No," she answered honestly. "No, I really don't want to." She lowered her head to her hands, scrubbing her face. Taking a deep breath, she rested her chin on her hands, meeting his eyes. "I do not want to...break up...go on a break, whatever." She bit her lowerlip, hoping to stabalize herself. "But.. But maybe we need it."

Her right-hand fingers rubbed at ring finger absently, still surprising at feeling skin instead of cool metal.

[Benson Thomas]

"No?" he replied, arching a brow and sparing a contorted frown. He began to tire and slumped down onto the couch again, putting his feet up on the coffee table, rubbing his face up and down. Whatever they were going through was fucking with his mind so hard. He didn't want to take a break from them. They'd only just been in Pompeii, talking of how they were going to have the wedding they'd been wondering about and hoping for. How could that just be dropped?

His eyes drew down to her capering fingers, and he noticed how they were bare. So her subconscious wanted a break, did it? "Fine." His chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh, and he leaned his head back to give his neck some relief--a nice alternative to rubbing it.

"If you think we need a break, I'm all for it. Whatever it takes to mend this." He knew his position on the couch spoke against him, but he was much too tired to stand upright at the moment.

[Andrua Thomas]

"If you think we need a break, I'm all for it. Whatever it takes to mend this."

Andrua nodded and took in a slow, long breath. Just like she got an opportunity at goal. Standing between the half and the eighteen, watching the goal with the defenders behind her... She just needed to keep calm and make the decision. Stop thinking about, stop weighing options. Just go for it.

"I think we might need it." She said softly, regretfully. "Just so we can...work it out. With ourselves." She licked her lips, turning to face him. She just studied him a moment. Remembering the lines of his face. The smiles he had sent her way, the heated looks from those dark, soft eyes, the indescribable expression that came to his face when she just knew he loved her.

"I think we should," she concluded, voice barely audible. And it killed her to say it. "And... I think... I should go." Because if she stayed any longer she would take back everything she had just said, leapt him into an embrace and proceed to make frantic, desperate love to him. "I'll stay in contact, Ben," she added, steadfastly. "I don't want to...cut you out of my life; not at all." She just needed some time to herself to figure things out, how to work through it all.

Rising, she moved the few steps to where he sat and bent over. Her eyes closed softly and she pressed her lips to his gently, barely applying pressure. "'Bye, Benson," she said, not moving yet. After a split second, she pulled back. "I'll see you around." And then she turned. Walked to the door. Closed it behind her.

Somehow she made it to her room first. Locked the door behind her, slid to the ground and cried against her arms folded over her knees.