[He understands, then. Almost. Nearly. It's close enough that she shines again, yes she does, just for him, her warden, her friend. Her smile is bright and wide and pure as a summer's day. For him, she is guileless; she never hides. Not anymore.]
[He taught her how to tell the truth when it was the safe thing to do, how to make safety when it could be made, how to walk away when it couldn't. How to live without family if need be, how to become not a monster or a victim but a true postmortem survivor. Her Ben.]
[She knows him. He knows her, more to the point, better than anyone.]
You're older than you are now when we meet. I'm younger. Eighteen. You're-- [Her smile softens, becomes old at the edges. She remembers how he told her - I was 21 when I died - how it struck her. She wonders when he'll start counting again.]
You're older than you are now. But not by much. Maybe a year.
Do you understand the story, even if you don't understand the mechanics of it? Can you trust that it's a true story, Ben?
no subject
[He taught her how to tell the truth when it was the safe thing to do, how to make safety when it could be made, how to walk away when it couldn't. How to live without family if need be, how to become not a monster or a victim but a true postmortem survivor. Her Ben.]
[She knows him. He knows her, more to the point, better than anyone.]
You're older than you are now when we meet. I'm younger. Eighteen. You're-- [Her smile softens, becomes old at the edges. She remembers how he told her - I was 21 when I died - how it struck her. She wonders when he'll start counting again.]
You're older than you are now. But not by much. Maybe a year.
Do you understand the story, even if you don't understand the mechanics of it? Can you trust that it's a true story, Ben?