After all their years together, Kerr was fluent in Ben subtext; what he heard, despite it sounding mild, therefore scared him.
If Ben wanted to get out of the district, that meant that whatever had transpired was ongoing - possibly at the White Rabbit right now. For him to nominate the Sacramentum estate as the place for them to go, it meant Ben was afraid that the trouble was powerful. He wanted protection, so he thought they should run to the strongest player in the city. That didn't bode well.
And then there was that declaration of love. For many couples, it was an offhand statement of emotion, something said frequently and from the heart. Not for them. They weren't words Ben said excessively nor flippantly. Moreover, the tone that the words were delivered in told a deeper story, one of apology and guilt, a plea for forgiveness and understanding. Kerr knew Ben truly loved him but that tone was one he'd heard too many times before; it came from an empty place, where Ben feared all he had left was a love he didn't deserve.
Something truly terrible had happened to him, for him to reach that point.
Kerr knew one thing for certain: he wasn't going to Charon's home without giving his love a chance to forgive himself and regain some sense of his equilibrium. He owed it to the man he loved to protect him, even if it was from himself. Besides, Charon hadn't earnt the right to see Ben at his lowest, nor to bear witness to the most vulnerable depths of his soul. Kerr wouldn't allow anyone to see Ben weak like that.
"I love you, too. Always," he responded quietly, squeezing Ben's hand. "We'll go to Penbrook but we'll go home first."
Without pressing for anymore conversation, Kerr turned the car homewards, thinking as he drove. Ben remained quiet and introspective, responding to squeezes or caresses physically but his gaze declared he wasn't there. When they pulled into the beach house's driveway, Kerr turned the car around but left it in the driveway for an imminent departure. He led Ben to their room and encouraged him to pack a suitcase, as he did, sidling glances at his love as he robotically collected toiletries and zipped them into their case before placing them on the clothes he'd chosen.
It broke Kerr's heart that they wouldn't have the sanctuary of their own home during the first day Ben was returned to him. More than once during the packing process, he found himself fighting off tears of despair and rage. He needed resolution, too.
When they put their belongings in the car, Ben moved towards the passenger seat but Kerr grabbed his hands, waylaying him. "Not yet," he murmured, cupping Ben's face. "We're not ready. Trust me?" he queried.
Ben nodded, a quizzical look in his eyes.
Kerr led him inside and out towards the back terrace. Before they left the house, he shucked his jeans and indicated that Ben should take his clothes off, too. He was reluctant; Kerr was tender but determined. He waited. When Ben complied slowly, his lower lip trembling, Kerr knew it was something personal, to do with Jake or Lazarus, and any internal balance he'd managed to find slid askew again.
When they were both naked, Kerr took Ben's hand and walked beside him across the terrace to the stairs built into the cliff face, down to their private beach. "Take a breath for a bit of buoyancy," he advised, doing so before he walked out into the water.
Despite their lungfuls of air, their feet remained on the sandy seabed as they fought their way through the battering waves. The moon was almost full, the ocean was energised. Once they got past the breakers and were standing fully submerged, Kerr released Ben's hand. There was a brief moment where he fought the mortal urge to surface but it passed as the peculiar tranquility of the sea snatched their attention.
This was why he'd brought Ben here. Streaks of moonlight sliced through the swirling water, assisting their vision. Above their heads, the waves gathered and twisted, drawing their bodies slightly upwards as the force required to lift and dump a wall of water pulled at their frail bodies. Ocean life glinted in the kaleidoscopic fractures of light, small fish darting after one another, a crab trundling over their feet. A curious dolphin swam by, noticed them, circled back around for a better look. Noise was muted except for the rumble of gathering waves and the occasional wet swish of a creature.
It was a distorted, muffled, blurry world of indifference and rhythms so ancient, they had existed long before people or supernaturals and would go on well beyond them, too. It was a different world, one of isolation and seclusion, yet vast and connected, a place to be humbled as an insignificant being. Here, it was clear they were of little consequence to the Eternal Order of Nature. They were in a place that would absorb screams of anguish and salty tears, become a cocoon to encapsulate, buffer and protect at a time when everything within felt stripped bare and raw and vulnerable. A place to heal.
Nothing reduced Kerr to his fundamental self and humbled him faster than immersing himself in the ocean and he hoped it worked the same for Ben. He wanted his lover to understand, in that eerie silence and watery beauty, that there were problems in his heart but that life always found a way. It always had and always would. If he surrendered to his central and core being, accepted his humility and embraced the notion that he was but a speck of sand in a vast and endless continuum, then he could begin to build himself up again, to find the strength he needed to release the pain inside and go forward.
They floated there out of time and space, two Vitruvian Men with limbs extended, rising and falling with the swell, until Kerr sensed they were ready. Although he could've spoken into Ben's mind, he didn't wish to penetrate his bubble, and so he merely took his fledge's hand and gestured with his head towards the shore. They didn't speak when they emerged into the windy night, nor even when they got inside the house and Kerr drew Ben into the shower with him, washing the salt off both of them with soap beneath scalding water. They dried and dressed in silence but once they were clothed, Kerr gathered Ben into his arms and sat with him on a soft, cosseting chair, curling himself around his love.
He waited - though he wasn't sure if it was for words or merely a signal that Ben was fortified enough to move ahead with their plan, only that he would wait as long as it took.
