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Gwen doesnt really know why she picked up the pictures. It's the late evening of an uneventful school day, and she'd just been on her computer at her desk when she'd gotten sick of her constant glancing at the box on her table and finally gone over to grab it.
The box is one she had in the rust bucket-- back in 2006, during that summer. Shed used it to store all her photos, polaroids she took of her and Ben, and grandpa, and campfires and aliens and exotic bug-filled stews.
She only has the dim light of her lamp and the chirping of crickets outside as company as she flips through the photos. June 2006, Sparksville, her and Ben posing behind cardboard cutouts, serious expressions on their faces. Ben making fun of an employee, goofy smiles on their faces, Gwen, attacking Ben with condiments from a hot dog stand, and Ben screaming after her.
She cant help the chuckle that leaves her throat when she sees that one. She wipes a thumb gingerly over the shiny surface of the photo. Her and Ben looked so young back then.
It's only been two years since 2006, but to her, it feels like a lifetime. It feels like shes aged decades in just those handfuls of months. She looks at the ten year old girl in the pictures, smiling wide with crinkles at the corners of her eyes, and barely feels like they're the same person.
A familiar ache quickly enters her stomach, and her smile fades. Her thumb stops caressing the picture, and she let's them fall back into the box.
She doesnt know why she misses that summer so much. She and Ben just today ate lunch together, Ben catapulting food into the back of other kids heads with his spoon, and before heading home he'd attempted to do a kick flip on his skateboard and-- once again, toppled to the ground on the concrete.
Gwen had to have laughed just as much then as she did in these photos. It doesn't make sense, why shes felt this strange feeling at every glance shes sent to that box of memories. She and Ben had roadtripped with Grandpa just last summer. They're supposed to do it again this year, too.
Theres nothing to miss.
Ben's still just as much of a doofus now as he was back then, isnt he? Sure, hes changed-- she has too, but that isnt any cause for feeling this-- this bad, is it? It should be a good thing. Gwen from the summer of 2006 would have been glad to be rid of the Ben that disagreed with everything she said just for the sake of doing it, disrespected her privacy, took her belongings, ridiculed her without a care for her feelings.
But Gwen isnt stupid, and she certainly isn't oblivious, and she knows that maybe she does miss the Ben from back then. Maybe she misses when he wasnt so mellowed out-- when he always had this grin on his face that used to make her sigh in exasperation but now just makes her sad. When he'd giggle at stupid, gross jokes and play pranks and mess with her and she used to hate it, but even back then she knew she secretly enjoyed it, her squabbles with Ben.
She cant ignore how much life in Bellwood has changed. It's like something in the air changed, when the end of Summer had been just around the corner when the Omnitrix had entered self destruct mode, and then she got separated from Ben and when she saw him next, he was different. Gwen could count on one hand at that point how many times she and Ben had hugged, and all times it had been her to initiate it. But Ben had run up to her on the battlefield, through explosions and bullets and kicked up dust, and hugged her while crying.
And things hadnt been the same, after that. What used to be hisses of doofus at eachothers backs became hushed conversations in the middle of the night, jabs that dont feel half as genuine as they did before, a deeper, rougher voice than the one from two years ago.
She wasnt there for the direct aftermath, but shed learned after, that Ben had believed she died.
She remembers that one point in July, where she'd become Lucky Girl for the second time, and prepared herself for more complaining from Ben, but when she'd butted in to help he didnt give her any crap, just said he was happy to have backup.
She hadnt thought much of it at the time, just happy that Ben wasnt being so much of a jerkwad, but maybe that's when it started. Maybe she misses the old Doofus because it was before the Omnitrix started to weigh on him, when he was just happy to have backup, finally not the only hero, when he believed his cousin died because he wasnt good enough.
He thought she didnt hear him, two years ago in the middle of the night, when it was one of the first few nights after the Omnitrix' self destruct was triggered, and Gwen couldnt sleep because she heard Ben trembling in the bunk above her, old wood rattling and creaking with his tossing and turning, sleeptalking about sorries and it should have been me.
Theyd woken up the next day, and Ben had acted like everything was fine, insulting her bedhair before jumping at the opportunity of cereal, but Gwen had seen a different quality to his eyes that day that never really went away afterwards.
Maybe she misses the old Doofus. Maybe she misses when he-- and she-- were ten years old and crossing the country for the first time, the deadly, dangerous alien encounters more of an annoyance than anything, and Ben hadn't believed he killed anybody, and Gwen hadnt watched the stars leave his eyes at the idea of being a hero, and Gwen hadnt faced danger and almost-death over and over and over again.
She gets lonely easily, staring at these pictures, nothing but the phantom echo of a boisterous, young laugh, the smell of campfire smoke and gas on the road and the stink of stinkfly, the crunch of bugs in exotic pies, and the messy mop of brown hair and red floral print in her minds eye.
She steps away from the box of photos, her body creaking from where she stood rigid, just staring at the younger faces of her and Ben. She opens her door, a quiet click of the knob, and tip toes down the stairs of her house to the living room, careful not to disturb her sleeping parents.
She reaches her landline phone and reaches for it, dialing Ben's number. She knows it by heart. Ten year old Gwen would be gagging at the mere idea.
Its multiple rings before he finally picks up. Gwen paces silently in her empty, dark living room until Ben's tinny, rough voice answers, "Hello? Gwen?"
"Ben," Gwen says, voice barely above a whisper. He's almost definitely used to this by now, with the amount of times shes called him when she remembered one of their adventures endings wrong, and got too panicked to remember the truth.
"Sorry... I..." She trails off, not even exactly sure herself what she wants to say.
"No biggie." Ben answers. He sounds like he just woke up, and Gwen worries she disturbed his sleep. "You gotta have a reason you called me so late. You wouldnt postpone your beauty sleep, for nothing, would you?"
It's the exact kind of jab she needed. She smiles a little, sitting at her dining table when her pacing gets tiring. "Dweeb."
"Doofus."
"Geekazoid."
"Half a brain."
The smile stays on her face, even as she picks at a knick in the wooden table and fumbles for what to say next. It drops quickly after.
"I'm sorry, I-- I dont really know why I called." She admits.
Theres a second of silence over the line. "It has to be something, Gwen." He says, playful tone dropped.
That's another thing that's changed about Ben. When Gwen tries to be serious, he actually matches her. The very concept used to be impossible.
Her lip twists a little. She picks harder at the knick in the wood.
"I..." She trails off. "I was looking through my box of pictures, yknow, the ones I take every summer? And-- I saw the pictures of us at Sparksville in 2006."
Ben chuckles a little. "That old place?" He asks. "That place shouldn't have been called Sparksville. It was more like, uh, Snoresville."
She smiles half-heartedly at the lame pun, but it doesnt last. Theres a burning question she wants to ask that she never has before, now that shes here, in the quiet, dark, empty dining room, just her and Ben, and an ache in her chest.
"Do you ever--" She blurts it out before she can lose her nerve. "Do you ever miss that Summer?"
Theres another beat of silence, this one longer than the last, then Ben pffts, and he says "Miss it? Why would I miss it? I didnt know what I was doing back then."
Of course, she thinks. Ben tennyson, always living in the moment, never looking too far ahead towards anything wouldnt do something as sentimental as missing the past.
But theres a certain edge to his voice, an undertone anyone else who isnt Gwen Tennyson would miss, because they arent an expert in Ben like she is, that says otherwise.
She tries not to think about it too hard. That even Ben noticed.
Theres a moment of silence, and the ache in Gwen's chest gets stronger. She keeps picking at the table.
"We were so happy back then." She says. "We were just kids having fun, we didnt-- we barely had any problems. We were so carefree."
Ben is quiet on the other end.
"Gwen, what brought this on?" He asks, with such a lack of humor that it almost jars Gwen. But conversations like this arent half as rare as they used to be, nowadays. Gwen thinks about how much things have changed again, comparing Ben from the summer of 2006 to Ben now, who actually asked her if she was okay.
Gwen stares at the table, flexing her fingers. "Its just-- dont you ever think about how much has happened? How-- how sometimes I wake up and cant remember that things are okay, and sometimes you can't breathe, and-- and that all that stuff with aliens, and the Omnitrix... that it... that it was scary?"
Ben is silent on the other end. Gwen inhales a breath, slightly shakey. "Just..." She trails off. "It wasnt scary yet, that summer. It was just annoying, but-- I saw you suddenly change after you thought I died, but I think things changed before then--"
"Gwen--" Ben cuts in harshly.
"Do you ever think about taking it off?" Gwen blurts out, cutting Ben off mid sentence. "The Omnitrix?"
Theres a thousand other words and questions hidden beneath that sentence that she didnt even realize. She thinks Ben realized it, too, when he doesnt respond right away.
Then, in a small, quiet voice, "Sometimes."
Something about that shakes Gwen. Because before, two years ago in the summer of 2006, Ben made such a big deal every time the Omnitrix would almost be taken off, or he almost broke it, or he thought he could lose it. I'm just a plain old kid without the Omnitrix he used to say. I'd be going from hero to zero.
Used to.
"It wont come off anyway, so I couldnt even if I wanted to." He says. "Besides, I couldnt just-- just take it off. Even if I could remove it."
Gwen doesn't ask why. She already knows. It's a conversation they had a long time ago, in the dead of night like now, except in person. Ben had told her what it was like being a hero, having the Omnitrix. About how once you're a superhero, that's it. There is no backing out, no matter if you chose to be one or not. You have the power to save people, you have the experience. its apart of you now.
Gwen thinks about how being a superhero is apart of Ben, like the Omnitrix is apart of ben, how even two years later, it hasnt come off. Ben said it felt like an extension of him once, when Gwen finally wasnt so uptight to refuse to admit she was interested in something Ben was interested in. He'd said it felt like another limb, like it bent and moved with his own flesh, how it ebbed and flowed with his own movement. I can't even feel it he'd said. Not a thing.
He told her about the pain in the null void, how he never told anyone, but he still feels the agony, sometimes, when he remembers it but cant clamp his hand around his wrist, because of the Omnitrix. Its like a permanent itch, a constant dull fire scorching his skin. How it being removed felt wrong. How he'd still felt it, even when it was gone, and then Gwen had read a Wikipedia article about phantom limbs not too soon after.
"...Do you regret becoming a hero?" She finds herself asking. It seems to echo in the dining room, even though she doesnt have high ceilings. "Do you ever wish you could go back? Change things?"
Ben doesnt respond.
"What happened to the Gwen Tennyson who was always looking ahead and stuff?" Ben asks, any remnants of seriousness gone. "You're always going on about sophisticated stuff like college and tests and junk. You remember what Grandpa used to say; you cant live in the past."
She knows he didnt answer her. She knows he feels deeper about it, because shes Gwen Tennyson, fluent in Ben Tennyson, but she let's it go.
"Yeah." She agrees. "You're right."
Ben cracks a joke about "Wow, things really must have actually changed if youre actually willing to say that without throwing up in your mouth.", and Gwen laughs, and then they end the conversation, and she hangs up.
She goes back to her room, brushes her teeth, and settles in bed, but she glances back at the box of photos when she clicks her light off, and the serious, defeated, "Sometimes" echoes in her head until she finally falls asleep.
The ache in her chest follows her into her dreams, when shes by a very familiar rust bucket, trees all around them, grass being kicked up from XLR8's traction, and soon after, a ten year old, young, scraggly Ben with messy hair and a scuffed up jersey stopping in front of her, his rough laughter echoing through the forest.