fandomhighdorms | The gym [afternoon]

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@gym,
ben skywalker

The gym [afternoon]

Ben's already terrible mood had not been improved by hearing about John and Hurley on the radio.

So there he was, down in the gym despite the workout he'd gotten with his grandfather earlier in the day, kicking the ever-loving crap out of the heavy punching bag.

He was getting the feeling that he'd need his instincts to be sharp in the next few days.

[OOC: totally open omg]

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"It doesn't help that I've got people from home--but different timelines--are here. And I can't--won't--tell them what just happened," Ben said.

"Oh, that problem." The look Jen gave him was completely sympathetic. "I hate that."

"You're from a wonky time thing too?" Ben looked distinctly relieved. "My grandfather teaches here."

"Your grandfather? Not Master Skywalker?" Jen asked, grinning slightly at him. "And yeah, I have all kinds of time travel problems. My ex-fiance from the future was here for a while, and so was my ex-boyfriend from the past, and I knew everything about what was going to happen to both of them and it was the worst thing ever."

Ben blinked. "Wow. Are you sure we're not related somehow?"

"I can say for sure there are no Jedi in my world," Jen told him. Although that didn't rule out the possibility of someone crossing over worlds somewhere, which led to the inevitability of brain breakage if she thought about that too much.

"You're missing out on all kinds of drama," Ben said with a completely mirthless smile. "Really."

"Sounds fun," Jen said in a tone that meant anything but.

"Loads," Ben said. "I was named after a Jedi Master who was my father's first teacher and my grandfather's best friend. He was killed while my dad watched, and that's pretty much been the way things work for the last, oh, hundred years."

"It's sad, isn't it?" Jen gave the dummy a solid kidney punch. "I'm from a thousand years in a version of this world's future, and it seems like there are some things we never learn, ever."

"That's because we're all stupid," Ben said, sending the bag flying across the room again.

Jen snorted and gave the dummy a good hard roundhouse kick. "And no amount of technological advancement ever fixes that, does it?"

"We just find new and better ways to wipe each other out," Ben said. "During the last few months, I've seen a planet set on fire, another good-sized moon blown up, and a nanovirus tweaked to exterminate very specific families. How civilized."

"If it's not that --" Jen slammed an elbow into the dummy's chest. "It's finding ways to control people. Make them what you think they should be. Or just refusing to see beyond the immediate problem. We just don't ever learn."

"And if horrified silence is what peace feels like, I have no idea why we want it," Ben said, reeling the bag back with an impatient flick of his fingers.

"That's one where I think your world has it worse off than mine," Jen said thoughtfully. "Or . . . I don't know. Most of the people in mine tend to pretend the problems don't exist in the first place, and leave us to pick up all the pieces. They go on like everything's okay, but . . ."

"Most of the trillions only noticed there was something going wrong towards the end," Ben said bitterly. "Most of them don't think it's their problem. For me...it was a family fight. And it got really, really ugly."

Jen had never been in one of those, but it had happened enough in the histories she'd read. More than enough. "Those usually do," she offered quietly. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Ben shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. "It's one way to grow up."

Jen knew better than to push someone in this situation; God knew her social skills were horrible. Even if she did want to protest that he was too young to be growing up that fast.

"I guess it is." Didn't mean she wasn't genuinely sorry, still.

"It's practically a family tradition," Ben said. "Maybe this means I can skip losing a hand."

"That does tend to really screw up your balance," Jen noted. "I'd recommend against it if possible."

Jen kind of failed at defusing situations with humor.

"Plus there are all these parts you have to carry around to fix your fake hand and people give you looks," Ben said with a very, very tiny smile.

"And I don't know about your world, but even a thousand years from now in mine that still makes travel security a bitch," Jen added, the corner of her mouth twitching.

"Metal detectors are a pain," he agreed.

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