OOC - Songfic - "Ben"
Mar. 28th, 2011 12:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yesthatsmyname ((Abusing my journal here to have somewhere to stick this for now. =D This is just a drabble songfic I did very late at night. Yay? <3))
Title: Ben
Author: Lady Vincira (me!)
Warnings: It's...kinda sad. And there's death.
Fandom: Psych
Disclaimer: I do not own Mary Lightly, Psych, or the song "Ben" by Michael Jackson. I'm just a crazy fangirl.
---
Ben, the two of us need look no more
We both found what we were looking for....
'Meet my little buddy Ben,' the note had said. The little white rat was only part of the clue - wasn't even the point of it. Just a deterrent. A means of delivering the next hint, the next riddle. No one really cared about the hapless animal as soon as they realized it wasn't the key...they were so quick to cast it aside, just as soon as it was deemed unimportant. He reached out to take the rat, speaking in his soft, monotone fashion to it, petting it, letting the others work out the clue.
It had just been part of the larger puzzle, but it was a living thing. It had a name. He wouldn't cast it aside. He let Ben ride in his coat pocket until he could get him into a little box. Just for a little while. Just until the day was done...just until he could get back.
Now as he pushed his way through the door, cradling the box in his arms, taking a seat on his hotel bed with a deep sigh. It was all over. They had caught Mr. Yang. They had finally caught her. He caught a glimpse of her only very briefly as she was ushered into the police car...a wiry woman with a sharp face, a toothy grin, crinkled black hair...a face he had never known, but had tried to picture for thirteen years of his life. That moment, that look - it had been an eternity. And then it was gone. It was over. His case was over, and the moment it was, the others had been so quick to tell him goodbye. 'See you around.' Half-hearted well-wishes and quick dismissals. As always, only this time they wouldn't need him again. He knew it.
But Yang had left him a gift in parting.
"...It's all over, Ben," he sighed, opening up the box and cradling the rat in his hands. Flopping backward on the bed, he let the rodent sniff about on his chest, tiny feet catching in the fibers of his shirt. The small furry creature shuffled here and there, moving up to sniff at his chin. He smiled, in spite of himself. At least SOMEONE would come near him willingly. He brought one hand up, limp at the wrist, fingers dangling downward to stroke the creature's back.
"Don't worry, though. I'll take care of you. You can keep me company."
With my friend to call my own I'll never be alone
And you my friend will see, you've got a friend in me...
Life without Mr. Yang, admittedly, felt a bit...hollow. He tried to find other things to focus on. He settled down in Santa Barbara, got a little house of his own. Worked on new things. Hobbies. Puzzles. He even tried racquet ball, like Shawn and Gus had suggested, but he couldn't bear the uniforms. And so he shuffled from one day to the next, unexcited, unmotivated. He dwelled on the case, collecting newspaper clippings, bits and pieces...writing and re-writing the riddles out, re-interpreting them, wondering about things that just didn't matter any longer. Occasionally, he would get a call from the police. Someone to profile. A second opinion. It was always the same request, however.
E-mail the results. You don't have to come in, Lightly. Just e-mail the results to us. Wasn't really a surprise. He worked better on his own, anyhow.
It wasn't like he was alone.
He had Ben, after all.
Ben, you're always running here and there
You feel you're not wanted anywhere...
It was the middle of the night when it struck him, finally. He sat up in the lamplight, feverishly scribbling in his notepad as his icy eyes danced between the pages of Mr. Yang's autobiography and then back down to his own words. It couldn't be JUST Mr. Yang. There had to be a Yin, too. It wasn't over. It just couldn't be over. Ben looked on from his cage, squeaking and standing on his hind legs with his paws on the glass.
"I can't be the only one who sees this, Ben. There's just no way Mr. Yang would have had time for everything. She can't have been working alone. There has to be another. There HAS to be a Yin. They need me for this - they need me before it all starts again."
No. They didn't. At least, they didn't want him. Didn't want to hear it. Mr. Yang was in solitary confinement. It was over, finally over, and they could all rest easy. He was just having trouble letting go. Of course he was, and that was all it could be. Go home, Lightly. Go home and get on with your life. The requests stopped. The e-mails ceased, and his own went unanswered. Much like the rat, he was just part of something that didn't matter to them anymore. But he had taken Ben home, given him a chance. Someone had to.
He would go to Shawn and Gus in a few days. They would listen. They had to listen.
No one else would.
If you ever look behind and don't like what you find
There's something you should know, you've got a place to go...
"Okay, Ben. It's now or never." He paced around nervously, reading and re-reading the note that had been left for him. 'It's time we met in the flesh, don't ya think? 736 La Porte Ave Industrial Lane. Curtains at 9 P.M. Mary, come alone.' His own name was on it. It was for him. Mr. Yin was asking for him...and it was his time to shine. His turn to help. His hand was shaking as he slid it into his pocket, checking to make sure the flare gun was there and loaded. He didn't own a firearm - but if he could catch him off-guard, maybe he could take Yin down. Maybe he could be the hero for a change, and then maybe they might listen to him again.
"Now...I'll be back later. And I'll tell you all about it. You keep wearing that hat in good health, okay? Don't you worry about me. I'll be okay."
Smiling, he reached into the cage to scritch the Rat under the chin...then turned on his heel, taking the helmet for his scooter down from his hat rack as he went.
It was his time.
I used to say, "I", And "Me..."
Now it's "Us", Now it's "We..."
He knew something was wrong from the moment he entered the building. It was still, quiet - he was right on time, but there was nary a soul in sight. He passed through the small, dark entry room, eyes flicking over the monitors that watched another part of the building...then walked out into a larger room, looking about the staircase that loomed above. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage...hear the blood pulsing in his ears. There were cameras, all over the place...he looked into one of them, wondering if Yin was watching.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called, his voice a soft murmur. Moving to the staircase, he began to climb, slowly, deliberately. His hand slipped into his coat, ready to pull the flare gun from his pocket. He thought he could hear shouting from somewhere far-away, but the pounding in his head drowned it out. This was it. He was ready. He reached the top of the steps, moving to turn the corner....
And there he was, moving forward as the world ran in slow-motion. He froze as the man approached...Mr. Yin himself, stalking towards him in his fedora and his mask, the flash of a blade arcing through the air -
Everything went cold. The world blurred and shifted out from under him, and he was falling. He couldn't hear anything but the rush of wind, the dull thunk-thunk of his own feet on the steps, the loud crack of his own body colliding with the concrete floor. Suddenly there was Shawn, and there was Gus...the two of them, right at his side. He mumbled an apology for not telling them, but he could hardly hear his own voice. It echoed strangely, and the light turned hazy, as if his glasses were fogging up. He could vaguely feel tears running down his cheeks. He could hear Shawn say something about 'not first drafts.'
Everything clicked. Everything clicked, just as the other detectives ran past, not so much as stopping to check on him - just as Gus ran after them. He had been a suspect. They thought he was Mr. Yin. They wrote him off until someone had died...and then when someone had, they rounded on him. And now he would be just another victim to them...his death broadcast across the monitors in the entryway for them to see.
He couldn't really blame them, though. He wasn't angry. They didn't understand things like he did. He knew that. He always knew that. They could only see in black and white. They couldn't see the colors in-between that filled in how everyone worked. Couldn't see people objectively. Couldn't see him for what he tried to do for them. Maybe they still wouldn't.
The world was frigid. His body felt broken, heavy. He knew what was going to happen...he knew he wasn't going to make it out of this place. His voice came out in a faint rasp, choked with pain. His hand tensed around Shawn's, eyes bleary as they struggled to focus just one more time.
"...Could you...take care of Ben...?"
Ben, most people would turn you away
I don't listen to a word they say...
It was really over. Mr. Yin was caught. Mr. Yang had helped. Shawn sat alone in the Psych office, remote in hand, eyes resting upon the television screen. They had found Mary's video journals, and they had gotten what little important information they could out of them...but now that all was said and done, he felt like he should at the very least give it all one more look.
Fast-forwarding beyond the point where they had found Mary frightened over the revelation that Mr. Yang wasn't really a killer, beyond where he mentioned that he was scared Mr. Yin would take his own revenge...he found one more little piece of video. A day before his death, Mary Lightly sat in a chair before the camera, letting a little white rat run across his hands as he spoke. His tone was somber, but he was smiling...faintly, sadly.
"Hello, Shawn. If you're seeing this...Mr. Yin probably took me out. Or we decided to watch these just for fun. But...y'know, I'm probably kidding myself on that one." He laughed a little - Shawn was struck by the sound. He'd never heard it before. "...People don't really...do things with me for fun. Since I...well, since I might not get another chance, I just...wanted to say something. At the risk of sounding like an after-school special." Ben jumped onto his shirt. Chuckling softly, he tugged him off, making him run over his fingers again.
"You remember Ben, right? You remember when we met him? He did his part, and then...that was going to be it. But I said no. It shouldn't be that way. He had a life. Sure, he's just a rat. People don't like rats much, as a rule. Kind of a natural instinct. They used to carry disease. Infest places. Some wild ones still do. Ben here is just a pet rat, but people still recoil from him. Just because he's a rat. His just being a rat is off-putting. He would have just gotten thrown away. But...I think he was meant for me. Yang knew what she was doing. She knew me." Letting Ben drop off onto his lap, he watched fondly as the small creature sat there, content to pick at a hole in his slacks.
"...Ben and I have a lot in common, Shawn. I'm just...me, and for some reason, I get avoided. Overlooked. Even you recoiled at first, but...today, you asked me to come with you. You asked me because...you could see that I wasn't...just a pest. Even if...just for a little while, you tried to overlook that I'm just a Mary, and people don't like me very much, as a rule."
He picked Ben up, settling the rodent on his shoulder as he leaned towards the camera, limp-wristed arm extending to place his thumb over the power button. He smiled, eyes bright and shimmering with moisture.
"In case I don't get another chance to say it...I know you're not...really my friend...but thanks for giving me a chance, anyhow."
The tape ended.
They don't see you as I do I wish they would try to
I'm sure they'd think again if they had a friend like Ben...
Title: Ben
Author: Lady Vincira (me!)
Warnings: It's...kinda sad. And there's death.
Fandom: Psych
Disclaimer: I do not own Mary Lightly, Psych, or the song "Ben" by Michael Jackson. I'm just a crazy fangirl.
---
Ben, the two of us need look no more
We both found what we were looking for....
'Meet my little buddy Ben,' the note had said. The little white rat was only part of the clue - wasn't even the point of it. Just a deterrent. A means of delivering the next hint, the next riddle. No one really cared about the hapless animal as soon as they realized it wasn't the key...they were so quick to cast it aside, just as soon as it was deemed unimportant. He reached out to take the rat, speaking in his soft, monotone fashion to it, petting it, letting the others work out the clue.
It had just been part of the larger puzzle, but it was a living thing. It had a name. He wouldn't cast it aside. He let Ben ride in his coat pocket until he could get him into a little box. Just for a little while. Just until the day was done...just until he could get back.
Now as he pushed his way through the door, cradling the box in his arms, taking a seat on his hotel bed with a deep sigh. It was all over. They had caught Mr. Yang. They had finally caught her. He caught a glimpse of her only very briefly as she was ushered into the police car...a wiry woman with a sharp face, a toothy grin, crinkled black hair...a face he had never known, but had tried to picture for thirteen years of his life. That moment, that look - it had been an eternity. And then it was gone. It was over. His case was over, and the moment it was, the others had been so quick to tell him goodbye. 'See you around.' Half-hearted well-wishes and quick dismissals. As always, only this time they wouldn't need him again. He knew it.
But Yang had left him a gift in parting.
"...It's all over, Ben," he sighed, opening up the box and cradling the rat in his hands. Flopping backward on the bed, he let the rodent sniff about on his chest, tiny feet catching in the fibers of his shirt. The small furry creature shuffled here and there, moving up to sniff at his chin. He smiled, in spite of himself. At least SOMEONE would come near him willingly. He brought one hand up, limp at the wrist, fingers dangling downward to stroke the creature's back.
"Don't worry, though. I'll take care of you. You can keep me company."
With my friend to call my own I'll never be alone
And you my friend will see, you've got a friend in me...
Life without Mr. Yang, admittedly, felt a bit...hollow. He tried to find other things to focus on. He settled down in Santa Barbara, got a little house of his own. Worked on new things. Hobbies. Puzzles. He even tried racquet ball, like Shawn and Gus had suggested, but he couldn't bear the uniforms. And so he shuffled from one day to the next, unexcited, unmotivated. He dwelled on the case, collecting newspaper clippings, bits and pieces...writing and re-writing the riddles out, re-interpreting them, wondering about things that just didn't matter any longer. Occasionally, he would get a call from the police. Someone to profile. A second opinion. It was always the same request, however.
E-mail the results. You don't have to come in, Lightly. Just e-mail the results to us. Wasn't really a surprise. He worked better on his own, anyhow.
It wasn't like he was alone.
He had Ben, after all.
Ben, you're always running here and there
You feel you're not wanted anywhere...
It was the middle of the night when it struck him, finally. He sat up in the lamplight, feverishly scribbling in his notepad as his icy eyes danced between the pages of Mr. Yang's autobiography and then back down to his own words. It couldn't be JUST Mr. Yang. There had to be a Yin, too. It wasn't over. It just couldn't be over. Ben looked on from his cage, squeaking and standing on his hind legs with his paws on the glass.
"I can't be the only one who sees this, Ben. There's just no way Mr. Yang would have had time for everything. She can't have been working alone. There has to be another. There HAS to be a Yin. They need me for this - they need me before it all starts again."
No. They didn't. At least, they didn't want him. Didn't want to hear it. Mr. Yang was in solitary confinement. It was over, finally over, and they could all rest easy. He was just having trouble letting go. Of course he was, and that was all it could be. Go home, Lightly. Go home and get on with your life. The requests stopped. The e-mails ceased, and his own went unanswered. Much like the rat, he was just part of something that didn't matter to them anymore. But he had taken Ben home, given him a chance. Someone had to.
He would go to Shawn and Gus in a few days. They would listen. They had to listen.
No one else would.
If you ever look behind and don't like what you find
There's something you should know, you've got a place to go...
"Okay, Ben. It's now or never." He paced around nervously, reading and re-reading the note that had been left for him. 'It's time we met in the flesh, don't ya think? 736 La Porte Ave Industrial Lane. Curtains at 9 P.M. Mary, come alone.' His own name was on it. It was for him. Mr. Yin was asking for him...and it was his time to shine. His turn to help. His hand was shaking as he slid it into his pocket, checking to make sure the flare gun was there and loaded. He didn't own a firearm - but if he could catch him off-guard, maybe he could take Yin down. Maybe he could be the hero for a change, and then maybe they might listen to him again.
"Now...I'll be back later. And I'll tell you all about it. You keep wearing that hat in good health, okay? Don't you worry about me. I'll be okay."
Smiling, he reached into the cage to scritch the Rat under the chin...then turned on his heel, taking the helmet for his scooter down from his hat rack as he went.
It was his time.
I used to say, "I", And "Me..."
Now it's "Us", Now it's "We..."
He knew something was wrong from the moment he entered the building. It was still, quiet - he was right on time, but there was nary a soul in sight. He passed through the small, dark entry room, eyes flicking over the monitors that watched another part of the building...then walked out into a larger room, looking about the staircase that loomed above. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage...hear the blood pulsing in his ears. There were cameras, all over the place...he looked into one of them, wondering if Yin was watching.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called, his voice a soft murmur. Moving to the staircase, he began to climb, slowly, deliberately. His hand slipped into his coat, ready to pull the flare gun from his pocket. He thought he could hear shouting from somewhere far-away, but the pounding in his head drowned it out. This was it. He was ready. He reached the top of the steps, moving to turn the corner....
And there he was, moving forward as the world ran in slow-motion. He froze as the man approached...Mr. Yin himself, stalking towards him in his fedora and his mask, the flash of a blade arcing through the air -
Everything went cold. The world blurred and shifted out from under him, and he was falling. He couldn't hear anything but the rush of wind, the dull thunk-thunk of his own feet on the steps, the loud crack of his own body colliding with the concrete floor. Suddenly there was Shawn, and there was Gus...the two of them, right at his side. He mumbled an apology for not telling them, but he could hardly hear his own voice. It echoed strangely, and the light turned hazy, as if his glasses were fogging up. He could vaguely feel tears running down his cheeks. He could hear Shawn say something about 'not first drafts.'
Everything clicked. Everything clicked, just as the other detectives ran past, not so much as stopping to check on him - just as Gus ran after them. He had been a suspect. They thought he was Mr. Yin. They wrote him off until someone had died...and then when someone had, they rounded on him. And now he would be just another victim to them...his death broadcast across the monitors in the entryway for them to see.
He couldn't really blame them, though. He wasn't angry. They didn't understand things like he did. He knew that. He always knew that. They could only see in black and white. They couldn't see the colors in-between that filled in how everyone worked. Couldn't see people objectively. Couldn't see him for what he tried to do for them. Maybe they still wouldn't.
The world was frigid. His body felt broken, heavy. He knew what was going to happen...he knew he wasn't going to make it out of this place. His voice came out in a faint rasp, choked with pain. His hand tensed around Shawn's, eyes bleary as they struggled to focus just one more time.
"...Could you...take care of Ben...?"
Ben, most people would turn you away
I don't listen to a word they say...
It was really over. Mr. Yin was caught. Mr. Yang had helped. Shawn sat alone in the Psych office, remote in hand, eyes resting upon the television screen. They had found Mary's video journals, and they had gotten what little important information they could out of them...but now that all was said and done, he felt like he should at the very least give it all one more look.
Fast-forwarding beyond the point where they had found Mary frightened over the revelation that Mr. Yang wasn't really a killer, beyond where he mentioned that he was scared Mr. Yin would take his own revenge...he found one more little piece of video. A day before his death, Mary Lightly sat in a chair before the camera, letting a little white rat run across his hands as he spoke. His tone was somber, but he was smiling...faintly, sadly.
"Hello, Shawn. If you're seeing this...Mr. Yin probably took me out. Or we decided to watch these just for fun. But...y'know, I'm probably kidding myself on that one." He laughed a little - Shawn was struck by the sound. He'd never heard it before. "...People don't really...do things with me for fun. Since I...well, since I might not get another chance, I just...wanted to say something. At the risk of sounding like an after-school special." Ben jumped onto his shirt. Chuckling softly, he tugged him off, making him run over his fingers again.
"You remember Ben, right? You remember when we met him? He did his part, and then...that was going to be it. But I said no. It shouldn't be that way. He had a life. Sure, he's just a rat. People don't like rats much, as a rule. Kind of a natural instinct. They used to carry disease. Infest places. Some wild ones still do. Ben here is just a pet rat, but people still recoil from him. Just because he's a rat. His just being a rat is off-putting. He would have just gotten thrown away. But...I think he was meant for me. Yang knew what she was doing. She knew me." Letting Ben drop off onto his lap, he watched fondly as the small creature sat there, content to pick at a hole in his slacks.
"...Ben and I have a lot in common, Shawn. I'm just...me, and for some reason, I get avoided. Overlooked. Even you recoiled at first, but...today, you asked me to come with you. You asked me because...you could see that I wasn't...just a pest. Even if...just for a little while, you tried to overlook that I'm just a Mary, and people don't like me very much, as a rule."
He picked Ben up, settling the rodent on his shoulder as he leaned towards the camera, limp-wristed arm extending to place his thumb over the power button. He smiled, eyes bright and shimmering with moisture.
"In case I don't get another chance to say it...I know you're not...really my friend...but thanks for giving me a chance, anyhow."
The tape ended.
They don't see you as I do I wish they would try to
I'm sure they'd think again if they had a friend like Ben...
