A/N: Jennifer Nocturne had some wild episodes. Since she only made a cameo in one episode of Omniverse, I'm going to be using the Ultimate Alien canon for this chapter. She's only in two episodes, so if you haven't yet seen them, I highly suggest watching them. They're two of my favorites. The episodes are Ultimate Alien: S1 E9 — Hero Time and Ultimate Alien: S3 E15 — Catch a Falling Star.

The first time that she saw Ben Tennyson again, he was waiting outside when she left the counseling office.

At first, Jennifer wasn't sure what to think. He was alone. No friends, no entourage, no paparazzi. She had never seen Ben by himself before. There was always someone shadowing him, from his teammates to old enemies to the cameras that had recently become obsessed with him.

Then again, she supposed, the same could be said about herself. The only reason that these therapy sessions weren't already on the front covers of tabloids was that her team of publicists had paid millions in order to turn the reporters away and convince the magazines that the official police report was the only "truth" that they needed to worry about.

It seemed that they hadn't managed to turn away everyone, though. It was hard to refuse the boy with an army attached to his wrist.

Still, Jennifer scowled. Seeing him brought back a fresh wave of tears. She was caught between anger — because he tore away everything that she was living for — and grief — because, fuck, she had almost killed him.

Before she could yell at him for daring to show up and confuse her more than she already was, Ben surprised her by speaking first.

"You okay?" He had left his spot by the curb while Jennifer was lost in thought. Now, Ben stood in front of her, bending down a bit to look up at her overcast eyes. Seeing the look on her face, he straightened and held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry. Standard question."

She tried to find the right words. Should she apologize for trying to kill him? Would it change anything if she did? Jennifer didn't want to let the words pass her lips. That would be admitting that she had done something wrong, but all she had wanted was for him to go away. If he had just left when she told him to, if he had just let her be with Carl, then she wouldn't have been forced into a situation where killing Ben was even a possibility.

Her eyes narrowed in indignation. That must be why he had shown up here, where he knew she would be vulnerable and alone. To berate her. To make her feel guilty for something that he had caused.

"What do you want?" Jennifer snapped. Her composure, so carefully crafted for the cameras, slipped whenever she thought of his emerald eyes. And she hated using such a romantic term for someone she loathed, but really, what other description could describe a gaze that was so unnaturally, perfectly green? Greener than his out-of-style letterman jacket and his clunky watch. "If you're here to chew me out, forget it. My agent already read me the riot act and I can't go anywhere without a police escort."

Ben gave a fugitive glance towards the limo parked up along the curb, eyeing the stone-faced officer waiting patiently for Jennifer to finish her conversation. "Yeah, I noticed," he muttered. Then, louder, "But I didn't come here to lecture you or anything, I wanted to—"

"Save it." She brushed by him, stalking off towards the limo. "That hack my manager hired can't convince me of anything and neither can you."

His brows drew together in confusion. "'Hack'? You mean Dr. Borges? She's just a therapist, and she wants to help—"

"I don't need any help!" Jennifer shouted, whirling on him. The only thing that kept her from clawing his eyes out with her perfectly manicured nails was the knowledge that an officer was watching her like a hawk. She really couldn't afford another slip-up. Her career in acting was hollow, but it was all that she had. "Why can't you just listen to me? You and everyone else! I don't need help, I just need to be left alone!"

Something about that saddened Ben. He looked at her long and hard. She had to fight the urge to look away. It felt like he was peeling away her skin, staring into the parts of her that were too unpleasant and ugly for the cameras. It was like he was laying her bare, and all Jennifer could see through the prickling tears was green, green, green.

"I think that the last thing you need is to be left alone," Ben said finally.

She couldn't take it anymore. Where did he get the nerve to stand there and tell her what she needed? How did people let him get away with being too damn in-tune for his own good?

Jennifer wasn't sure whether she was going to cry or scream or punch him. She curled her hands into fists at her sides, pointed nails digging into her palms and leaving deep indents. "Don't come here again, Ben," she whispered. "I don't want to see you. For once, think of someone besides yourself."

Without sparing a look at his face, Jennifer turned on her heel and walked away. It took an enormous effort to keep her chin held up high, but she didn't slow her stride and she didn't turn back.

But, unfortunately, Ben had never been a very good listener.

He went for about two weeks without pestering her again. During that time, Jennifer had regular appointments with Dr. Borges. She was the best therapist in Bellwood, so normally, getting an appointment with her was a long, drawn-out ordeal. Money was a language that every professional spoke though, and Jennifer's agent made sure that she had appointments as often as possible.

They were awful. Every session, Dr. Borges would describe Stockholm syndrome and try to convince Jennifer that, somehow, this "disorder" had any bearing on her love for Carl in the slightest. No one would listen to her, though. No one wanted to hear that she was only in love.

It was more convenient to tell the police and the tabloids and her fans that Jennifer had simply been a victim of circumstance. They wouldn't discuss how Carl got a bomb big enough to blow open the prison and kill most of the guards. They never mentioned that Jennifer had never once struggled or tried to escape. How Ben Tennyson broke his arm in the first place was completely glossed over. It was a more romantic story this way — if she played helpless like she always did and put up a smile when someone stuck a camera in her face.

When she saw Ben for the second time after what Dr. Borges liked to call "The Incident," Jennifer was about at her wit's end.

As soon as she stepped outside and saw that awful shade of green, her blood was boiling. Instead of a shout of anger though, what came out of her mouth was a little gasp of surprise. She went cross-eyed trying to stare at the cup being shoved in her face.

After a beat where Jennifer just stood there and refused to take it, Ben pulled it back. He had a second cup in his other hand, taking a sip from the red plastic straw and tilting his head at her quizzically. To her shock, he actually looked amused.

"What? Too rich to recognize a smoothie?" He joked. Again, it was offered to her, though Ben kept it at a more respectable distance this time. "It's just grape. Take it. On the house."

And, in a move that surprised both of them, Jennifer actually took it. She frowned at him, but Ben only shrugged. For someone with such unusual eyes, they sure were hard to decipher. Tentatively, she brought the straw to her lips, taking an experimental sip. "It's good," remarked Jennifer with mild disbelief. She took another gulp. "Why are you here?" It couldn't be to just give her a smoothie.

Ben grinned. "Smoothies always help me relax. You've got more than enough on your plate right now. I thought it would help." He turned suddenly, giving a parting wave as he started down the sidewalk. "It was nice seeing you, Jennifer, but I'd better get going. See you around."

Like that, he was gone. Jennifer watched the corner he had disappeared around until her smoothie had gone warm and the officer watching her finally gave up on waiting and forced her into her limo.

The days passed in a blur, one after the other, all the same. Hours became days and days became weeks. Before Jennifer knew it, the leaves were browning and the temperature was dropping. Autumn had arrived. She had a new movie lined up, but Jennifer barely knew what it was about. There was no substance to any of it. She memorized her lines, tolerated her coworkers, ignored the pity that she got at every turn, and sometimes, she was so good at acting that Jennifer could almost convince herself that everything was normal again.

They wouldn't let her see Carl. He was being kept in a high-security prison out of state. Jennifer wrote to him daily, but she never got a response. Three months after The Incident, she stopped expecting one.

After giving her that smoothie, Ben had left her alone. Jennifer spent days at a time trying to puzzle through the reason why. Had he realized that trying to get through to her was pointless? Was he bored with trying? Had the few interactions they'd had just been the result of a prank or joke? Each possibility frustrated her more than the last one. She was wasting far too much valuable time thinking about someone that she would have been willing to kill.

And why wouldn't that little detail get out of her head?

She never spoke to Dr. Borges about what happened when Ben and his cousin finally tracked her and Carl to the man's underground lab. No one had been told. It was as though by not telling anyone, they could pretend that it hadn't happened. But Jennifer remembered.

At night, she could lay awake for hours with the memory of breaking Ben's arm and letting Carl pull her away while the hero slowly stopped breathing. She could remember being surprised to find him still alive, angry to see him, but underneath that, relieved. Glad that he was alright. Regretful for being forced to hurt him. And when she finally did wrestle her wild subconscious to sleep, it was to horror stories of what would have happened if Ben's cousin hadn't stopped her in time. Jennifer would have become a murderer. That is if planting the bomb that freed Carl from prison hadn't already done that.

Jennifer wanted to apologize. She wanted to do it all over again. She wanted Ben to pay.

She wanted things to make sense again.

It was December when Jennifer saw him the third time. Leaving Dr. Borges' office, she hadn't even noticed Ben until he was right in front of her. When she lifted her head, gaze taking in every bit of bright green all the way to his eyes, he burst out laughing.

The noise was so sudden, so unexpected in her mute, black-and-white existence, that it popped Jennifer's bubble instantly. The sound of wind came to her, followed by cars racing down the highway. For the first time, she noticed the piles of snow everywhere. It was snowing now, little flakes catching in her thousand-dollar curls. Dimly, she knew that the moisture would ruin the hold, but she couldn't bring herself to move. All Jennifer could do was clutch her arms tighter around herself while Ben laughed and laughed and laughed.

"I'm sorry," he said once he'd finally calmed down enough to speak. The grin on his face looked like it was going to split his skin. "I shouldn't've laughed, I just— wow, you look awful."

Jennifer wasn't sure what to say to that. She didn't reply at all for a moment but then arched a slender eyebrow. "I'm flattered." God, even her voice was terrible. There was a reason that her agent wanted her getting eight hours of sleep a night, but she couldn't do anything about it. If she said that she needed sleeping pills, her label would only think that she was getting worse. They were already talking about dropping her. And if that happened, then there was nothing left for her. Not even the meaningless things.

Ben laughed again, more forced this time. He averted his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry about that. I didn't come to laugh at you. I actually wanted to ask... Why don't we go do something? It's the middle of winter and you're wearing a tube top. Do you want to get some hot chocolate? I know a place nearby."

He offered his hand to her. And at first, Jennifer wanted to refuse. Her mouth was already forming the word "no" when she suddenly clamped her jaw shut. What was there to gain from refusing him? She was tired of being stubborn and alone and cold. When was the last time she had left her house to do anything besides work or go to therapy? Jennifer couldn't remember. A part of her didn't see the point in trying anymore, but the other part of her…

That part was tired of waiting for something to change. Carl wouldn't be breaking out of jail on his own and she was being too closely monitored to even think about seeing him. She had finally reached a crossroads. Accept Ben's offer, or continue miserably existing from each day to the next.

But Jennifer wasn't even miserable anymore. She was numb like someone had hollowed her chest out and remade the world with grey and distant sounds. Ben was right — it was freezing, but she was wearing as little clothing as possible and barely felt it. She didn't feel much of anything these days.

She didn't smile and she refused to so much as look at Ben's extended hand, but Jennifer nodded and did her best to stand up straight. "Hot chocolate sounds nice," she agreed in a cracky voice.

Ben smiled, so genuine that it made her empty chest ache. He shoved his hand back into his jacket pocket, stepping away and waving her along after him. "Here, it's not far. Don't worry about your guards. They've already agreed to leave you in my capable hands for the afternoon." And true to his word, the officers standing by Jennifer's limo watched them go without interjecting.

Jennifer did her best not to stare over her shoulder at them, but the feeling of being unshadowed was bizarre to her. How long had it been since she'd been allowed to be alone? Months, easily. And even now, she still had Ben watching her. But at least he wasn't hovering. He didn't order her anywhere or instruct that she maintained five feet of distance between herself and others at all times.

Unlike her agent and her sponsors, he didn't expect anything. Unlike Dr. Borges, he didn't take her silence as a problem. Unlike the public, he didn't care if she was smiling or not.

For whatever reason, Ben was okay with Jennifer just… being.

The silence between them lasted all the way to the restaurant, but it wasn't tense. On the contrary, it was sort of nice. Jennifer seldom ever had a moment of peace and quiet to explorer her thoughts. And when they finally stopped at the cafe that Ben wanted to go to, she was pleasantly surprised to find that it was just that — just a cafe. It wasn't "the most luxurious restaurant in all of Bellwood!" where only "the brightest stars congregate!" No, it was a small, quaint place with about five customers.

Of course, attention automatically came once they stepped in. But other than an interested stare or a muted whisper to a friend, the lack of response floored Jennifer. She was so used to being mobbed everywhere she went that she froze up. Ben had to tug on her wrist to get her to step forward.

"Two hot chocolates," Ben told the girl behind the counter. He was already pulling money out of his wallet before Jennifer could think to offer.

It looked like she was the only one working there. The girl couldn't have been older than nineteen. She had gauges in her ears, two lip piercings, deep purple hair, and a scowl so set that it might as well have been carved into her pale skin. Her name tag had been crossed out with a key. If she recognized either of the celebrities in front of her, she made no mention of it.

"Cash or card?" She drawled in an uninterested voice. Ben handed over the money and she gave him his change and receipt without looking at him. All she did was muffle a yawn and turn to make what they had ordered.

Bewildered, Jennifer let Ben take her by the wrist again to lead her over to a table. He made a beeline for the small booth tucked in the corner, away from the windows and the other customers. She wondered how often Ben must come here. It seemed like a great place to get away from the crowds.

"It is," Ben confirmed. When she realized that she had said that last thought out loud, Jennifer turned pink. "I come here sometimes when I don't want to fight the hordes of fans that wait outside of Mr. Smoothie. You know, maybe they should start paying me for advertising."

How long had it been since Jennifer had a normal conversation with somebody? She had forgotten what it felt like to be near someone who didn't want to use her to make money or wasn't always poking and prodding at the frayed edges of her thoughts. Jennifer had forgotten how nice it felt.

She scowled. Jamming an accusatory finger in Ben's face, Jennifer leaned over the table to get in his face. "Listen, Tennyson, if you think that I'm going to talk about Carl, I—!"

"Woah, slow down!" Ben smiled good-naturedly, if a little forced. "I didn't say anything about Captain Nemesis. This is just about two friends getting hot chocolate. That's not a problem, is it?"

Friends?

Jennifer blinked. She knew that her jaw was hanging and she probably looked like a bug-eyed fish, but she couldn't think of what to say. No one had ever called her a friend without some sort of motive behind it. Slowly, she sat back down, though she didn't relax. One slender eyebrow was arched in disbelief. "You… don't want to hear about what happened with Carl?"

"Nope," Ben announced cheerfully. He grinned, tossing in a wink.

The woman who was working behind the counter approached them then. She set their cups down without comment before stalking off. Jennifer knew that hot chocolate was just as bad as coffee — dark in color to stain her teeth and purely sugar to ruin her figure — but when Ben offered her one of the warm cups, she took it without a second thought. It felt dirty. Like she was disobeying everything her producers and agents and directors had told her since she was fourteen. Taking a sip felt liberating.

"Here, how about this?" Having already swallowed half his cup, Ben leaned back and slipped his green letterman jacket off. He wrapped it around his left wrist, hiding the Omnitrix from sight. "Look, see? Now you don't have to be Jennifer Nocturne and I don't have to be Ben 10. We can just sip hot cocoa and not think about any of that stuff."

It had been a while since something sounded that comforting. Jennifer faltered, hesitation in her eyes. She looked at his bound wrist for a long while. "Promise?"

Ben's expression softened. "Promise," he replied earnestly.

Instead of responding to him, Jennifer smiled faintly around the rim of her cup and took another sip.

If there was one thing that Jennifer's short time dating Ben Tennyson had taught her, it was that he was stubborn as hell. Their first kiss had been a spontaneous bid to catch the media's attention in light of the attempted hostage situation he'd rescued her from. And, yes, of course Jennifer had tried to kiss him more often to push the idea that they were a couple. Nothing got attention like a new celebrity item.

But Ben had never let her. "That first kiss was just supposed to be a thank you," he would say every time Jennifer tried to get a little too close. "I have a girlfriend. I'm not going behind her back like that." It didn't stop with their pretend relationship, though. If paparazzi and fans were giving them a hard time, Ben wasn't above scaring them off with an alien to give Jennifer some breathing room. Once he made up his mind about something, he followed through. Always. If he wanted to give up their reservation at one of France's finest restaurants to a married couple who's date had gotten lost, then he would. If Ben felt that using his aliens took up her spotlight, then he would ride in a showy, golden helicopter before simply flying somewhere himself. And if hanging out with America's Sweetheart cut into the time he spent with his friends and family, then not even her agent's promises of millions could dissuade him.

Before, Jennifer had never decided if this little quirk of his was a good thing or not. Now that a year had passed, she'd finally settled on an opinion.

His stubbornness was the worst blessing Jennifer had ever had.

Giving into him and getting hot chocolate once was, in Ben's mind, permission for whatever he wanted to drag her off to. It wasn't routine or anything. They both had such unpredictable schedules that it was impossible to be regular. But somehow, Ben found the time to track her down once a week and get her somewhere away from the prying eyes of the cameras. If she just got off of a shoot, if she was getting home after a long day, if she was out eating with her coworkers and director as expected — it didn't matter. A flash of green out of the corner of her eye would be her only warning and then Ben would be dragging her off, talking animatedly all the while.

He kept the promise that he had made when they got hot chocolate. During these little outings, there was no Jennifer Nocturne or Ben 10. She still called him "Ben," but he went out and bought her a cheap brown wig and had taken to calling her "Jenny" — even when no one was around. He wasn't the first to give her that nickname, but it was the first time that Jennifer had enjoyed it.

She hated enjoying it.

It felt like she was betraying Carl by doing this. All he talked about for the months that she visited him in prison was Ben Tennyson — how all the awful things in their lives were because of his interference, the gruesome things that he wanted to do if he ever got his hands on that "hero," the way Ben had been manipulating Jennifer the entire time they'd been together, and so much more.

His rants had been the sermons and Jennifer, his loyal disciple, had memorized every last word.

Being with Ben the way that she was felt like a sin. Sometimes, after really good days, Jennifer woke up in tears after nightmares of her lover choking her out for her betrayal.

As much as Jennifer complained though, she loved it. Even annoyance and anger was an improvement over the featureless world she'd drifted through for so many months.

The improvements in Jennifer's mood hadn't gone unnoticed by Dr. Borges. She liked to ask questions about whoever was causing the change. Of course, Jennifer never mentioned Ben's name, or even that it was a guy. She kept it vague, but talking about something besides Carl actually made the sessions bearable. It was frustrating that Ben could improve situations that he wasn't even a part of.

Spring came quickly. And, with it, Ben took the opportunity to make a change of his own.

"You remember Gwen and Kevin, don't you?" He asked with a smile, gesturing to his friends with his free hand while the other remained loosely entwined with her fingers.

Nervousness fluttered in her throat. A few months ago, she doubted that she would have been able to face his friends after what she did. And there was still that undeniable anxiousness, of course, but also something hopeful. She had almost begun to think herself incapable of the emotion.

Despite the matching looks of unhappiness on his friend's faces, Jennifer faked a dazzling smile and waved. "Yes, of course. It's great to see you both again. Ben never stops talking about you."

That deflected the attention from herself, albeit it temporarily. It launched Kevin into a rant about what a sap Ben could be, how he was always helping people who didn't deserve it, but that Jennifer was at least "the hottest one so far." This, of course, prompted Ben to snark right back to him, which turned into a fight that ended with Kevin getting Ben in a headlock and giving him a noogie, while the Hero of Earth cried "uncle" and Gwen used her pink magic fields to try and pry them away from each other, berating Kevin for being insensitive all the while.

Jennifer was an outsider looking in. These weren't her wasn't something that she had the right to laugh along with. They were separated — not by something physical, but it had sway on her all the same.

The barrier had been keeping her closed off from everyone without distinction for months. Watching them, Jennifer had the oddest feeling in her chest. It wasn't quite hope, but as she turned it over in puzzlement, she decided that it didn't have to be for her to decide that she wanted that barrier gone.

With conviction that Jennifer hadn't felt since before The Incident, she stalked forward. Gwen's hands glowed — not with a threat, but with a promise. Jennifer ignored her.

In a move that she should have done back in December, she threw her arms around Ben's neck and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she muttered, her lips barely brushing his ear. She said nothing else, but she didn't need to.

They weren't alone, but Jennifer thought that she could get used to Gwen's and Kevin's prying eyes if she could keep feeling this. She felt strong in a way that she'd thought herself incapable of ever having again. Slowly, smiling against her cheek, Ben hugged her back and the rest of the world fell away.

"I think I'm in love," Jennifer admitted to Dr. Borges one afternoon in May. It was the most vulnerable thing that she had ever told the women, even after nearly a year of sessions.

The woman hummed. Not as though she was being judgemental or even curious. It was just that — just a hum. "And do you feel that this is a good thing for you?" She asked. "You're a smart girl, Jennifer. Does this person inspire you to do better? Encourage you at every turn? Do they support you through the worst?"

Jennifer didn't need to think about it. "Yes," she whispered, choking back a wave of years. "All of that and more."

She was in love. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

As their time together grew more frequent and more enjoyable, Ben stopped wasting time by dodging the paparazzi. It became something of a game, actually. If they were interrupted, he would have Jennifer pick what alien was used to avoid them. If it was a difficult one and he still managed to get them both away with minimum pictures taken, then he got to pick what they did the next time they hung out. If he failed or a story was published about them the next day, then it was Jennifer's choice.

"What do you think?" He asked one night, ducking under the table as reporters pressed their cameras to the window. The first time they'd done this, Jennifer had balked at the idea of being on her hands and knees on a restaurant's floor. That time, she was right there beside him, reaching without hesitation to flick through his aliens.

"This one," she settled on, smirking as she stopped on a very distinguishable silhouette.

Ben let out a low whistle but only grinned. "A challenge, huh? Alright, follow me. We gotta get out the back if we're going to be using this one."

She didn't miss the way he said "we," implying that they were doing this together, or how he automatically grabbed her hand to lead her out of the restaurant. In their months spent together, Jennifer had gotten quite good at running in heels.

Darting through the kitchens, Ben shouted a quick apology over his shoulder but didn't stop. They burst out of the stuffy, five-star restaurant that Jennifer had insisted on and into a wide alley.

Hand on his watch, Ben looked around with relief. "This should work. Just remember to hang on tight, Jenny." And without further ado, he slammed down on the dial.

Not a moment too soon, as reporters rounded the corner then and immediately started towards them, waving microphones and cameras and shouting questions that Jennifer could barely make out. She was lost in a sea of green as Ben grew bigger and bigger and bigger still. Mid-transformation, he'd managed to get his hand under her, and she was shooting up so fast that the wind sheer cut into her cheeks and she had to pop her ears several times.

With one foot in the alley, Ben, as Way Big, stepped clear over the building and onto the grassy field on the other side. A mile from them was the beach, though, for Ben's current alien, it was more like two steps.

So Jennifer watched the sunset over England from a cozy position perched in a giant alien's hand. They were so high up that the water vapor from the waves barely ruffled her dress. Funnily enough, Jennifer couldn't help but think that she wouldn't care if it did.

As the sky turned from blue to indigo and the moon peeked out from over the waves, she took a seat on Ben's enormous palm. Gently — very gently — Way Big's thumb folded over her head to shield her from the worst of the night chill. It was too difficult for them to talk, what with the noise of the ocean and how small Jennifer way, but she didn't mind. The steady rocking of his arm kept her dozed and content, smiling until the sunset was over and Ben eventually circled back around to their hotel.

Compared to all of the clichés Jennifer had lived through — from the chocolates and roses to candlelit dinners to stopping at the top of the Ferris wheel — it was probably the most genuinely romantic night of her life.

"Can we talk?" She asked Ben one day because it was July already and shit, how had the time passed? Three of her movies were already done and she could barely remember them because all she could recount was the way her heart fluttered in her throat when Ben agreed to be her plus one to all three red carpet premieres.

He nodded, chuckling as if to say, "Do you even have to ask?"

They were sitting on the roof of her penthouse, watching traffic while they waited for the last of the paparazzi vans to clear out. They had been planning to go roller skating with Gwen and Kevin, as Ben had been appalled to discover that she had never been. But after hearing about how crowded the place was from Gwen and finding the media vans already camped outside of her building and waiting, Ben suggested staying in to make fun of awful shows on Netflix. Her sides still hurt from laughing.

Jennifer wasn't used to smiling this much. She hadn't thought about Carl in weeks and, for once, she didn't feel the slightest bit guilty about it.

"I've wanted to tell you for a while," she started quietly, looking down, "but I never knew how until now. The thing is, Ben, when I was… with Carl, I—"

"Stop." Their hands had been resting near each other but at that moment, he suddenly places his over top of hers and curls gently to give her fingers a squeeze. "Jennifer, don't. You don't have to feel obligated to tell me any of that stuff."

"But I want to," she insisted as she turned to face him.

Ben arched an eyebrow. "Yeah? Why's that? Why now? It's not because of something that your therapist told you to do, is it? You don't…" he hesitated, "you don't have to justify what happened, Jennifer. I get it. I used to really admire him too, remember? And I know that I don't look it, but I've seen some pretty messed up things before. If you think that you owe this explanation to me, then you're wrong. It's in the past. So… what brought this on?" His hand came up and Jennifer held her breath, hoping that he was going to cup her cheek, but he placed it on her shoulder instead.

She swallowed thickly, Guilt churned in her stomach. Ben was being a good friend — a great friend, actually — and all she was thinking about was getting him to kiss her.

"I don't want to be defined by him," she whispered, closing her eyes against the threatening tears. "I like you, Ben. I really like you and I don't want to feel like— like it's just some sick, subconscious attempt to replace him. I want this to be real. This whole thing has felt like a dream." Jennifer blinked hard, glancing back to him. To her relief, there was no pity in his eyes, only concern. Her voice wavered. "I'm not dreaming, right?"

And, to her surprise, Ben reached up and pinched her, right on the cheek. She was too taken aback to smack his hand away, wincing as she stared at him, stupefied.

"You're awake," he said with a soft smile. When she didn't laugh, his expression turned serious. "Look, Jennifer, have you ever considered that… that maybe you don't need to convince anyone of that? You've come so far since what happened. You don't… have to be scared that you're not good enough, Jenny."

This time, she didn't catch herself in time to stop the tears. Ben didn't try to brush them away, keeping that same infuriatingly patient smile on his face as she used her free hand to wipe them off. "I…" Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat before trying again. "You don't know what you're talking about," she whispered as if that would convince him to stop.

But Ben Tennyson never listened to anyone, least of all her.

"You don't need to search for some proof that I should care about you. That you're even worth caring about." This time, when he reached up, he really did cup her cheek. Jennifer leaned into the touch, doing her best not to start crying again. "I mean… I think that what we've got right now is pretty good."

Jennifer smiled against his palm, biting back a sad laugh. "I never thought that, after all I did, someone like you who would care… But you're the only one who's really seen me and you… you like me for me and nothing else — no matter how rich and famous I am. That's all that I really wanted, Ben."

He nodded sympathetically. "Yeah. And that's what he promised you, right? I don't need more reminders of all the mistakes that we've both made. I think the problem is that you've been trying to fix something that's better left forgotten. So can we start over or something?"

It sounded too good to be true. Ben was right. Her thoughts and regrets and mistakes were too much to compete with. Jennifer had never considered that she could cut them out. Nothing that they'd done in the past had to matter when what they had, holding hands on a dirty roof, was perfectly good as it was.

"What do you think?" Ben held out his right hand, waiting. "My name is Ben Tennyson. I know we've never met before, but there's something really amazing about you."

Smiling, Jennifer took his hand. "I'm Jennifer Nocturne. You've probably never heard of me, but I was wondering if it'd be out of line to kiss you."

Ben laughed, dropping her hand. He turned back out towards the street, leaning over to gently nudge him with his shoulder. "I think I'd have to take you on a proper date before something like that. I mean, we barely know each other."

"Maybe," Jennifer agreed. She leaned in, pressing her lips gently to his cheek. He stiffened, turning pink, and she leaned her head on his shoulder with a pleased hum. "I've got to admit though, I'm kind of looking forward to changing that." She twisted her hand underneath his to entwine their fingers, giving a reassuring squeeze.

It wasn't perfect. But suddenly, the busy schedule she had in the morning and the smeared makeup running down her face and the inevitable upcoming day that she would have to spend facing Dr. Borges all fell away. It didn't matter what else existed. For the first time in a while, Jennifer thought that she could handle it.

A/N: Fun fact. Jennifer Nocturne is voiced by Tara Platt, who is married to Yuri Lowenthal (Ben's voice actor) in real life. So that's pretty neat.

Here's a preview for the next chapter! I'll be doing this at the end of every segment leading up to when we finish off with Kai.

Eunice.

Galvan Prime was caught in the throes of celebration. One of the greatest threats to the planet had just been defeated and they would never have to hear from Malware again. For such a proudful species like Galvan, it took a lot to get them excited. But when they did, the parties could last weeks.

With her luck, Eunice would probably end up cleaning the microscope slides again. Azmuth had never been the type of employer to issue "spur of the moment" breaks. Eunice wasn't fully convinced that he wouldn't disable her and put her back into storage if he was pushed to, so she didn't complain. Well, not to his face, anyway.

"Azmuth?" She came up to her creator, who was directing the troops on clean-up duty to the areas that needed attention the most. They would work diligently, but as soon as their shifts were over, it would be back to celebrating. "I crunched the numbers from Malware's attempts to invade the core. It shouldn't be difficult to install upgrades. Possibly, we could improve core defense by— oh." Eunice blinked, cutting herself off as she took in who was approaching.

Ben Tennyson. He hadn't been on Galvan Prime since… well, it had been the last time they saw each other, actually. He was dropping her off from their little adventure on Aranhaschimmia. It looked like he hadn't changed at all — the same confident swagger, same ever-present smirk, same long hair that she just wanted to brush out of his eyes and...