I just got into Falling Skies this morning and I knew I had to write something about the show. It's great and so far I love all the episodes. So I made one for Ben, though it will be told through the perspective of somebody else most of the time. This guy has his own back story and own personal demons to deal with. The story may go a little A/U, so be ready for that.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN FALLING SKIES OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS IN THE SHOW. I ONLY OWN THE CHARACTER'S NOT FEATURED IN THE SHOW. ALL CREDIT GOES TO TNT.

Chapter 1 Their More Like Pins then Razors

The Cafeteria

"I'm telling you Cid! The sooner we get those… those razor backs out of here the better!" My uncle whispered fiercely, "And not just Mason's kid, I mean all of them! Even the ones that lost their razors."

"James cut that out! You know I hate that term!" My aunt Cindy said, her dirty blonde hair shaking with her head in disgust. I tried to block out the voices of my new family and focus on my food. It was half cooked however and I wasn't that interested. Nobody was judging by the looks of disinterest and my younger cousin moving her food around on her tray.

"What term? Razor backs?" Uncle James asked oblivious.

"Yes!" Aunt Cindy said frustrated, "Are we now some sort of Nazi group that profiles those poor children based on their unfortunate fate!"

"Oh come on Cid! This isn't anything like the Nazi's paranoid ramblings. Those 'poor children' were living with the enemy! I even heard that they found them sleeping underneath one of those four leg bastards!" Uncle James protested, seemingly disgusted by any thought of sympathy for the kids.

"Wouldn't be surprised if they were doing more than just sleeping under them…" my cousin Terry said into his cup, though loud enough for the table to hear. My aunt shot him a stern look and then returned her gaze to her husband.

"You see what you're doing James?" Aunt Cindy said. Uncle James just shrugged his shoulders at his wife.

"I'm telling them the truth of the matter. Those razor backs will betray us the second they get. They probably were getting some from their overlords." Terry smiled, happy that his fathered agreed with his sick joke. It was Aunt Cindy's turn to look repulsed. I smiled to myself.

'A little late for a divorce.' I thought to myself. I don't know why I'm thinking such bad thoughts, but recently I have been more than usual. Maybe it's just cabin fever or something. Probably the 'or something'.

"I thought they had six legs Daddy." My cousin Bethany said, looking up from her over mashed mashed potatoes, if that's even possible. Uncle James' hostile look evaporated into one of caring, the way a father should look, as he turned to his daughter and embraced her.

"Doesn't matter how many legs they have. All that matters is that they can kill us." He said, kissing his daughter on the cheek. It took everything I had not to laugh at that stupid statement. My uncle was not a leader, which is probably why the Boston police force turned him down for a command position and he spent most of his time as a patrol cop. After the aliens came he thought he could get a leading position in the resistance.

He couldn't and on his first patrol as a lowly grunt he almost killed a fellow fighter. Now he spends his time bad mouthing the people who defend us, scratching his unkempt black beard, and refusing to have his precious son serve in the resistance force. "God forbid something happen to me, I need my son safe. Only he can carry on the family name!" He told us one day, when we both asked to join the fight.

When I asked to go out and fight, however, he said to go ahead and waste my life. He couldn't give a shit about me. But my aunt stopped me from joining, saying that my parents wouldn't have wanted me to fight. Like she would know what my parents would have wanted, the only time she talked to them was during Thanksgiving, and even that was forced.

"Terry, Bethany, listen to me." Aunt Cindy said, leaning in closer to us so they could hear her over the clamor of the cafeteria, "Those children may be different in their appearance, but they are the same on the inside as you and I."

"Not likely." Uncle James muttered. Aunt Cindy gave him another stern glare, her most powerful weapon in the arsenal. For once I had to agree with my uncle, who knows what's latched onto their spine still, underneath their skin. So technically their not the same.

But nobody would want to hear that so I didn't say anything and just listened to Aunt Cindy's lame speech about respecting other people. "You have to treat them with respect. They have been through a lot and they don't deserve your father's scorn. Understand?" Both children nodded and I nodded as well. I liked to feel as though I was part of this screwed up family in a way, they're all I have left. To even attempt to deny their existence or pretend I don't know them would be my first steps toward insanity.

"Even so, I want you kids to stay away from them. Understand that?" Uncle James said, pointing a finger at his children. Both of them nodded while Aunt Cindy sighed in frustration. I chuckled; Uncle James always undermined his wife in front of us all the time. It's too bad too because she's a much better leader than her husband.

My chuckle was too loud as Uncle James noticed my existence for the first time today. He gave me a death glare. "The same goes for you. I won't have you putting yourself in harm's way." I snorted at that, remembering how he said he would be fine with me running off to fight. No doubt Aunt Cindy had remained him of the promise they made my parents.

"Can I be excused, I need some air." I said, speaking now for the first time. It was usually the only thing I said at our "family meals", and it was becoming my catch phrase around my extended family. My uncle nodded, forgetting what he just asked of me. My aunt however did not.

"Promise us Michael." She said, moving her hand towards my arm to grab it, but retracted it at the last second. Sometimes she acted like I was plagued. And why shouldn't she? I was the reason her brother was dead.

"I promise."

The Library

The Library was the best place for me to go, no matter what the time of day.

It was quiet here, just as it usually was. Nobody had time to come to the library except for the minors and some of the elderly people. But the kids would prefer to play outside or hang out with their families than read, and the elderly even seemed to have things to do now and days.

As for the rest of the minors, some of them were joining the fight and spent hours training outside. Those that didn't fight formed their own cliques and their spent hours prattling on about useless information that had nothing to do with their current situation. I didn't join a clique because Terry was part of those and I didn't want to spend more time with my cousin then I had too, though I was friends with people in cliques and sometimes went to their 'social gatherings' as they called them.

I wanted to be part of the fight; to train to fight the six legged bastards from God knows where. Unlike many of the teens joining the resistance, I have fired a gun before. A pistol and a shotgun.

I did miss all my shots but one with the pistol, but my shotgun blast did connect with some skitter flesh, blowing it back a couple of feet. I went flying also in the opposite direction from the blast recoil and my arms were on fire for the next twenty or so minutes. But that didn't matter! I had fired guns and seen people die. I was already several steps ahead of many of the recruits! But instead I was forbidden to fight by my aunt and uncle so they could feel good about themselves.

'Promise me… Promise me that you'll look after Michael… that you'll keep him alive.'

I threw the book I was reading down the aisle of books I was sitting in, rage filling up inside of me as I remember the promise my parents made my aunt and uncle take before they were killed. Before they were killed because of me.

I heard footsteps coming towards me and I buried my face in my hands. The last thing I need is some old guy telling me to 'watch the binding' or to 'stop making so much noise'. Something stupid like that.

Instead a kid came around the corner, bending down to pick it up. He was teen with messy hair that I guess some could call dirty blonde. A much different color than my dark brown hair, though mine did look just as messy. He was fidgeting slightly like he was afraid to be here.

"Did you throw this?" He asked, I nodded. "My dad wouldn't be happy with that. He loves books."

"Whoopi fucking doo." I responded, pulling out some random book and opening it. I just wanted this kid to go away. I came here to get away from people, not engage in one on one conversation. Unfortunately the kid didn't seem to realize that. He sat down across from me, staring at me. I tried to ignore him but finally I had to say something.

"Do you want something?" I asked, not rudely but with a little bit of an edge.

"I… I just wanted to know if you wanted to talk." He said unsure of himself. I raised my eyebrows, laughing lightly.

"We're in a library. Shush!" I said, turning my attention to the book which was talking about the parts of the human heart. Boring overall.

"I just thought that maybe you wanted somebody to hang out with." The kid said again. I looked up at him.

"What would give you that idea?" I responded a nastily. He shrugged before responding softly.

"I just see you around here, in the hallways and stuff. You usually aren't hanging out with people and I thought you might need a friend."

"'Might need a friend'?" I said laughing again, "What are you? Who are you? Just leave me alone, ok?" He looked at me for a little while longer and then sighed. He got up began turning slowly away when I saw it. The spikes, the razors.

He was a Razor Back.

He must have seen the shock on my face because his face become sad, as if he had hoped I wouldn't react with disgust or horror like so many other people probably had. "I'll just leave." He said, standing up fully.

"Their more like pins." I said, stopping him in his tracks. He turned around to face me.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"I said they look more like pins than razors. People should start calling you guys 'pin backs' instead of 'razor backs'." His face tightened into an angry glare, but I just shrugged, "Are you sure it's me that needs the friend?"

I knew I had gone too far there. His face seemed to slope and he moved away slowly. I hit my head against the back of some books behind me. I don't know why I said that, but guilt began to well up inside of me.

'God Damn it!' I thought, throwing down my lame book and I moved quickly to catch up with the guy. "Hey! Wait!" He turned around to look at me, his face still sad and vacant of expression. I remember what Aunt Cindy said this morning and then what Uncle James said. 'To hell with them!' I thought.

"Listen I didn't mean that. I'm Michael." I said, sticking out my hand for him to shake. He looked at it and for a second I thought he was going to swat it away, but he put his hand in mine and we shook.

"I'm Ben. Do you have a last name?" he asked.

"It's… It's not important." I said. "Do you have one?"

"Is that important?" He asked coolly. I shrugged at that.

"Touché." I said. Free of my guilt a devious idea came to my mind.

"Hey, do you want to come to a social gathering with me?" I asked casually. He raised his eyebrows in shock.

"Um… what? Seconds ago you were just insulting me."

"I was giving some advice. Next time tell the jerk who is actually insulting you that they are pins in your back and not razors. Those don't look like they could cut anything."

"You'd be surprised." Ben said. "I've already ripped a ton of clothes and my bed several times." He laughed and I laughed a little also, though it was forced.

"So what do you say?" I asked, wanting to move this conversation along.

"This isn't like a date or anything?" He asked slowly, wondering what prank I was pulling.

"I'm as straight as an arrow." I said.

"I think those can bend though." He said, to which I sighed in frustration. He's not going to win many friends with that attitude and those pins weren't helping his chances either. Poor bastard.

"The gathering is tomorrow night at six. You can invite anybody you want. If you know any good looking girls they can come too." I turned to leave but he called out a question before I could leave.

"I have some brothers, can they come?" I sighed again in frustration.

"Sure they can. I just hope they aren't as annoying as you." He looked confused again and I walked away back to my reading place, sitting down on top of the heart book. I pulled it out from underneath me and opened it again.

'Maybe one more chance, eh Michael?' I thought as I reopened the book and diverted my attention away from the pin back.

Thanks for reading. I don't know how many more chapters there will be, but I'll try to be quick about writing them.

Please REVIEW, I enjoy hearing from the readers for ideas and praise. It helps me keep going.