"It was Ava," was all Ben said, as he all but collapsed in Leo's arms. His grip on Leo's shoulders was desperate, tight, painful in its intensity. "I know." Leo allowed Ben a moment to cling, allowed himself a moment to return the embrace, to feel Ben's body against his. Then he maneuvered Ben inside and pushed him gently to the sofa. Programmed a large tumbler of whiskey, neat, and pressed the glass into Ben's slack hand. "Drink. You'll feel better." Ben obeyed, fingers shaking slightly. Leo watched Ben's throat work, as Ben quickly licked a stray droplet from full lips, ruthlessly tamping down the immediate burst of need. He needs your love as a friend, nothing more. Still, a part of him ached for what he could never have. If he had any strength, he'd leave New York, find a new life somewhere else, far away from Benedict Forrest. It would be the sane thing to do, but then, nothing about Leo's feelings for Ben were sane. "I can't believe it," Ben said, once the glass was empty. His voice was raspy from the burn of the whiskey, but his eyes had lost most of their vacant expression. "If Dallas hadn't played me part of Ava's confession..." "You believed it." Taking a chance, Leo sat next to Ben. Put a comforting hand on his knee and squeezed. "You believed she was capable of this, you just didn't want to know. You've always believed the best in people." It was one of Ben's best qualities, and one Ava had managed to destroy with her ruthless actions. "She had Uncle Tommy killed for money." Ben spit out the word like an epithet. Saying it seemed to take all of his anger and energy. With a small, wounded sound of grief, he dropped his head on Leo's shoulder, his own shaking with silent sobs. Leo's heart simply shattered. In that one moment, if Ava Anders had appeared before him, he'd have gladly killed her with his bare hands. If he could have taken Thomas Ander's place, he knew he'd gladly end his own life to spare Ben this pain. "It's alright, Ben." He put his arm around Ben's shoulders, and lied for the both of them. "It'll be alright." "I'm so tired..." Ben's voice was muffled, but Leo heard the exhaustion in it clearly. "So stay the night. I've got plenty of room." Ben lifted weary eyes to Leo. "Would you mind?" Stay forever. Stay and let me take care of you, let me love you, get you through this... But, of course, Leo said none of these things. Betrayed none of his feelings by so much as a flicker of his eyelashes. He knew Ben would never love him – could never love him – the way he craved. And he knew that if Ben ever found out how Leo felt, the inevitable look of pity on Ben's beautiful, open face would destroy him. "C'mon," he said aloud and stood. He could play the part of the good, supportive best friend; he'd been doing it for years. He led Ben down a darkened hallway to the guest room. "Do you want the lights on?" "No." Ben snagged Leo's hand when he started to walk away. "Please. I need..." His voice cracked, and Leo's reserve cracked along with it. He savored the feel of Ben's sports-rough fingers over his own for a minute before he stepped back. "I'll stay, I promise. But, let me at least get you something to sleep in." Ben nodded, and Leo escaped the room on legs that shook. His own clothing would be far too big for Ben – besides having a good couple of inches in height, Leo was also broader through the shoulders and chest. But Leo's younger brother was built much like Ben, and had left behind a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt during his last visit. Leo grabbed them both and went back down the hall. Ben was still standing where Leo had left him. He looked so fragile, so lost, and Leo felt a fresh wave of hatred for all that Ava had destroyed with her greed, for taking one of the most decent and honest men Leo had ever known, and turning him into a wounded, vulnerable shell. "Here," he said, and held out the clothes. "Thanks." Ben looked down at the items like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. "There's a bathroom there –" Leo pointed at the door "— if you need it. I'll just, um...I'm gonna go get changed." Panic flared in Ben's eyes. "You are coming back?" Leo nodded. What else could he do? "Of course," he replied, and forced a smile. "I promised, remember?" Once inside the privacy of his room, Leo put his hands to his knees and bent, taking breath after deep breath. Then he prayed to a God he didn't believe in for the strength to survive the night. There was something Sartre-esque in the irony that he was finally getting Ben alone in a bed, and the only thing he wanted to do was run. He took as much time as he could changing into his own pajama pants and t-shirt, hoping Ben would already be asleep when he went back into the other room. Hating himself for the cowardice, and for failing to live up to his promise as a friend. But he needn't have bothered. Ben was wide awake, face freshly scrubbed, dressed his brother's clothes and sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked young – so unlike the affable, laughing man that Leo had fallen in love with at first sight so long ago. Slowly, he stepped into the room. "Hey, Ben." Ben's head snapped up at his name. "Hey." He still looked tired, grief-stricken, but the relief and welcome on his face at seeing Leo made Leo feel about two feet tall. "Feeling any better?" he asked, and sat next to Ben. "A little." The corners of Ben's mouth twitched in something that might've been a smile. "You probably think me weak." "On the contrary. I think you're the strongest man I know." At Ben's scoff of disbelief, Leo tapped Ben's knee. "I'm serious. You've survived so much, and you've always, always maintained your positive outlook. You'll get through this. Your uncle raised you to be the kind of man who could face this, and still thrive." "Thank you." Ben laid a hand over Leo's, the soft touch burning clear to Leo's core. "You've always been a great friend – the best, in fact. I don't know what I would have done the past few days without you." Leo looked down at their hands, Ben's pale skin contrasting with the cocoa-color of his own. He wanted, with a desperation that scared him, to pretend that the touch meant something else. "You don't have to worry about me," he said quietly, playing the part. Burying everything else until all that remained was simple affection. "I'll always be here for you." God help him.
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