Chapter Text
"Very soon I'll be
at your side over there.
Don't doubt
that I'm yours until the end
if I go."
Reality
Predicting when exactly he’d be arriving in another dimension couldn’t be done with precision or consistency. Sometimes, he would get there at the wrong hour, while Ben was asleep in the dead of night. Somehow, he always knew when he was there despite his visits never being planned. On instinct, he would snatch Rex at the hips and drag him down into his bed, draping his body over his. If Rex wasn’t tired, sleep would quickly find him anyway. The warmth of the man's body blanketed him in a calmness that soothed the nerves caused by interdimensional travel, but oh, how he detested arriving during the night.
Their fleeting, precious time together was wasted on sleep.
“How do you always know…” Rex yawned, struggling to finish his sentence. Ben's face pressed into his chest.
“Your eyes,” Ben complained. “They glow blue in the dark. I can’t sleep when you’re lighting up the room.”
Other times, he would get there when Ben was still away on patrol, attending an important meeting, or some other function. Rex couldn’t claim to know his schedule very well, perhaps another strike against him, adding to his long streak of being an inattentive boyfriend. Whatever. Ben probably had enough people who obsessively stalked his schedule without needing to add him to that list.
He set Caesar’s portal gun down on the nightstand by the bed, rooted in place by the sight of the disgusting master bedroom. Never before had he been given the opportunity to process just how bad it was. Now, left to his own devices where the portal had spit him out, he was able to see the room for what it really was. Squinting, he leaned in to examine a patch of mold on a pizza box and scrunched his nose.
Yeah, no. That never would have been permitted back at Providence.
A militaristic upbringing had instilled a modicum of tidiness in Rex. He had inherited from his mentor the discipline to organize his personal belongings, and because of his germophobic boss, his understanding of what constituted “clean” differed from the average civilian. But Ben’s room was awful, even by civilian standards. The floor was littered with dirty laundry and food packages. He read the foreign logos, genuinely half-interested in what they said. In Ben’s universe, brands were strange, always nearly similar to things he could remember from home, but never quite the same. One candy wrapper immediately caught his eye because it was designed like a Milky Way chocolate bar, but it read Andromeda instead. On the walls and ceiling were various posters from franchises he had only heard of through Ben, but there were hardly any personal photographs on display.
Lightly, he kicked away a pair of shorts and made his way over to the shelves pushed up against the wall. Finally, he was able to spot some pictures. Rex’s attention was primarily called by his charming green eyes and the high arches of his brows. Lifting a hand, he traced the frame of the first photo on the shelf: Ben as a teenager in a group photo with some members of the Plumbers. The second photograph hung on the wall above the shelf: a group photo of Ben, his cousin, and her boyfriend. It seemed pretty recent or more current than the other picture. The last photograph shared space with Ben's old collectibles at the bottom of the shelf, as if hidden away out of embarrassment.
A baby picture. Rex picked it up with a frown, inspecting it more closely.
A younger Ben scowled back at him in annoyance from within the frame. He clearly didn’t want to be in the picture, a petulant look fixed on his face. On either side of him were two strangers who Rex assumed were his mother and father. The woman didn't resemble Ben very much. She was blonde with tired features, her expression far too serious. Her eyes were warm, though, and he could see they were a familiar, lovable green. The likeness between Ben and his father was easier to see, both brunettes with high-arching brows.
Both parents were exasperated with Ben’s bratty behavior, but it was fond exasperation, love written on both their faces. Rex smiled softly and placed the frame back onto the shelf, moving it to the top instead of the bottom.
Something yanked him backward away from the bookshelf. At first, Rex’s heart leaped with fright, fearing he was caught, but loving arms slipped around his torso from behind, pulling him into a warm chest.
Years of fighting had given Ben the height and bulk advantage. While his nanites kept Rex at the peak of human performance, lack of regular combat after the worldwide cure caused Ben to outpace him, a far cry from the scrawny boy he had been when they were teenagers. Sometimes, he missed when Ben had been a beanpole, and it had been easy to lift him like a sack of feathers over his shoulder. When Rex had been taller, he’d not been afraid to lord it over him, mocking him repeatedly for being so short.
The same couldn’t be said of Ben. He never teased Rex over their obvious visible differences. It wasn’t as amusing to him. If ever asked, he would explain that his indifference was due to his constantly shifting forms. Ben never felt he belonged to one single height, always borrowing different skins for different occasions. Some days, he was the size of a pea. On other days, he was large enough to topple skyscrapers. The only time he used his original human body was when he was with friends or family, but those moments were few and far between now that everyone he knew was busy with their own lives.
Being a hero was lonely work. Maybe absence made him too much of a sap to properly take advantage of the opportunity to make jabs at the other man. He didn’t care what he looked like, but he knew Rex cared. He noticed the way the other man’s eyes darkened when cornered, or the hitch in his breath when pressed up against him, but there was nothing particularly humorous about that.
“Stalker…” He teased, running an open palm up and down Rex’s chest, his scruffy chin resting comfortably on his shoulder.
“Not my fault,” He scoffed, fighting off the shivers. “All your stuff is out in the open and all over the floor. You’re such a pig, dude.”
“It’s not out in the open,” Ben retorted. “This is Tennyson Tower, my private residence, and I don’t remember giving you a key…”
“Don’t need one.”
“Not beating the stalker allegations, baby.”
Embarrassed, Rex couldn’t deny it. After all, he’d been looking through Ben’s photos. Private family photos. Lightly, he shook him off his back, turning around to face him. “Shut up. Wasn’t like I’ve been here long enough to spy.”
“I don’t spend a lot of time here either, so I don’t get a lot of time to clean up. I only come by to sleep, really.” Ben shrugged shamelessly, grinning at Rex and wiggling his brows. “Or, when mysterious handsome strangers trigger the security sensors.”
Rex smirked. “Yeah? You get those often?”
“No, but maybe if I did, it’d give me a reason to clean house…”
Rex’s eyes flitted away, his heart quickening in his chest. “You should keep tidy for your own sake, not anybody else’s. Six always says—”
Ben rolled his eyes, tugging him closer by the waist, kissing him to shut him up. Rex stopped talking, returning his kisses because it had been forever since the last one. The frustration was obvious in the hasty, sloppy movements of Ben’s lips and the way his thick fingers couldn’t stop touching every part of him to ensure he was really there: up his sides, along his stomach and chest, and all through Rex’s slicked-back hair.
Rex made a noise in the back of his throat, pushed back into the shelf. Wood trembled behind them. He was reminded thoroughly of why he continued to risk his life to be there. Ben’s hands made him forget about the threat of world collapse, fears chased away with a few flicks of his tongue.
When Ben pulled away, his arms remained tightly wound around him to prevent him from disappearing.
“I don’t care what your ninja nanny told you,” Ben made a face, reminding Rex of his sulky childhood photo. “You’re just telling me no again…”
Apologetically, Rex buried his face into his shoulder, choosing not to respond.
“I could always visit you,” Ben offered hopefully. “I’d be there every day if you got me one of those nifty little portal guns.”
Rex knew he wasn’t exaggerating.
“Can’t,” He half-lied, guilt gnawing at the pit of his stomach. “Property of Providence. They’re, uh, really strict with their gear… White Knight’ll murder me.”
Ben tried again. “Y’know, there are plenty of people with extraterrestrial diseases and problems for you to fix here. You’d never get bored. Not to mention all the alien criminals you’d have to keep in check every week.”
Rex pondered that statement. “Hey, are they considered alien criminals anymore if a bunch of them have lived among you guys for so long? When do you become an official Earth resident around here?”
“You’re dodging the question again!”
“What question? You never asked one.”
“I can’t believe I have to spell it out for you. ” Ben sighed dramatically, dragging his words out with exaggerated slowness, “Why not stay with me?”
“I can’t just leave my whole life behind.” That was partially true, even without mentioning the fact that Rex would always be on the run if he tried. “I’ve never asked you to do that.”
“Whether you ask or not, I would make all the time in the world for you if I could. If you’d let me. But you won't. You make it extremely hard. I don’t even know how to reach you, and don’t tell me it’s because we’re worlds away. Your brother rigged you a portal gun; I’m sure he can manage a communicator.”
Irritated, Ben softly pushed Rex away to stop him from hiding his face in his shoulder.
“What takes up so much of your time that you can’t even visit regularly?” He demanded an answer, taking Rex’s face in his hands so he couldn’t avoid his gaze. “I’m doing my best to give you as much space as you want since I know what it’s like to have people nagging you when you have other responsibilities, but it’s radio silence for months, and you can’t say you’re busy fighting monsters. EVOs or whatever. You said you cured them all, didn’t you?”
“I don’t want to fight with you, Ben.” Especially when they had so little time together.
“Who’s fighting? I’m just trying to work out a better arrangement than this. I’m not one of your robots. I'm not a machine that can just sit here and not miss you. Or is that how you see me? Something to just put away and forget about when you're too busy?"
“No!” Rex assured hastily.
The worst part was that he understood how Ben felt entirely. There were few heartaches worse than being considered a low priority in the eyes of a loved one. As much as he loved his brother, Caesar had the insensitive habit of pushing him aside, often making decisions on his behalf and never bothering to explain himself properly. Rex’s emotions, perspective, and confusion just didn’t matter all that much. All of his “not now "s and “I don’t have time for you "s. He didn’t care. Or at least, Rex wasn’t as important to him as other, more pressing issues. To his horror, he realized he was making Ben feel as unimportant as he had been made to feel before.
“Ben, things aren’t as simple as you’re making them seem. The reality is that we are worlds away from each other.” Rex hesitated but allowed more of the truth to come out. He hated having to keep him in the dark. “Visiting you isn’t easy; you don’t even know the half of it. I could be doing serious damage to the space-time continuum.”
Ben’s eyes clouded over with new apprehension. He had not considered the harm they were doing at all, wondering privately if there were any forces out there in the great beyond that would care. He had been put on an intergalactic trial once before for toying with reality. At first, the idea that anyone would have a problem with his personal relationships was ridiculous, but he knew the real issue would be about more than just his personal life.
Rex was an interdimensional interloper.
Lightly, Ben attempted to diffuse the tension he had created, but still looked unhappy. “Do you know how many Doctor So-And-Sos I have after my head? It's like hating me is a requirement for getting a PHD. Doctor Psychobos. Doctor Animo. Doctor Viktor."
“Sounds like you haven’t been eating your apple a day. Might solve your problems.”
“Not really,” Ben disagreed, kissing the top of his head and resting his cheek there. “I’m trying to convince my doctor to stay longer. It’d be nice to have one on my side for a change instead of trying to kill me.”
It was better not to get too greedy. He should have been grateful. They were incredibly lucky. The fact that they even got to see each other at all should have been enough for him.
It wasn’t.
Rex was selfish, too, and he was afraid to divulge the reason why he was being such a shitty boyfriend, lest the world come crashing down around them. The balancing act was accompanied by dozens of excuses and handfuls upon handfuls of apologies for not being there when it mattered most. What he wanted was impossible: to become a permanent yet unimportant fixture in Ben’s life. He wanted to matter, but not so much that it would greatly impact Ben's timeline. Such a thing could not be done. It was paradoxical. If he occupied any space in Ben’s heart, it meant he would always matter. But he continued believing that as long as he didn’t draw attention to himself, he could visit Ben whenever he wanted without alerting the wider universe to his presence.
How sneaky he was; he could almost call himself a certified Time Walker in his own right, except that he would never say such a phrase aloud, afraid of summoning the creep in the flesh.
Rex avoided the interdimensional gatekeeper like the devil himself. The mysterious entity always misdirected him back to his own home world under the guise of aiding him in the direction of Ben’s. The entity called itself Paradox, always passively discouraging his little jaunts through space-time. After Rex had wised up to the entity's dishonesty, the air around him had changed, all the playfulness about him gone.
It was of utmost importance to proceed with caution when walking through the dark corridors between worlds. Rex knew each time he was caught by the tell-tale sign of a blue light flooding the passageway and the way every cell in his body began singing along to an unknown frequency, humming, thrumming painfully beneath his skin. Unlike Ben, he was never greeted by the harmless sight of an aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, a perfect posture, and a pleasant smile. The torturous image of Paradox’s true eternal form filled his skull with burning white, a torrent of scorching nonsense overloading his brain. Symbols. Words. Colors he’d never known.
Paradox hurt. His presence hurt him every time.
“Star-crossed love,” sighed his familiar accented voice, echoing, echoing, echoing in his eardrums, beating against the inside of his brain. “Young star-crossed love. The most idiotic kind.”
Panicked, Rex writhed in place like a stuck lamb, choking, gagging, and gasping for air. Involuntarily, his body jerked erratically, convulsing against invisible strings that plastered him in place. He barely mustered the strength to reach up and clutch at the sides of his head, wanting desperately to make it stop, squeezing his eyes in vain to block him out.
Paradox continued unsympathetically: “Doctor Rex Salazar. I would say it's a pleasure to see you again, but you’ve been overstaying your welcome.”
“W-Wh- I…” Rex couldn’t breathe, exhaling desperately through his nose, fingers trembling where they clutched at his scalp.
“I would be more polite and adjust my presence for company,” The entity informed, “but I was kind to you, and the hint didn’t seem to penetrate your thick skull. You’re also not my responsibility, so I needn’t bother with making sure you’re more comfortable.”
In disdain, Paradox plucked Rex’s portal gun out of his hands and inspected it. Yet another example of his family’s hubris. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. You don’t belong here, to this timestream, or any of its connected worlds.”
Unable to answer, Rex’s mouth began opening and closing, suffocating, watching helplessly as life was squeezed out of his mortal frame. The portal gun Paradox held began deteriorating, floating away into the dark.
“We both know you are not as clueless as our mutual dear friend. Ben could claim ignorance, but you certainly can’t. Tell me, how long do you believe you could meddle with the fabric of reality and get away with it?”
In his veins, his nanomachines vibrated, held still by the unseen power emitted by the creature before him. He could not construct weapons to defend himself against the interdimensional onslaught. Rex’s body threatened to burst like a bloody grape, rippling, his pulse throbbing in his temples, pounding behind his eyelids. He couldn’t even scream.
“Or, perhaps it is cluelessness. How could I expect you to know any better when your foolish bloodline had the idea to meddle with the fabric of your own reality? One tragic accident, and your family would have been responsible for completely undoing your entire realm.
“Here, there are standards we all must abide by, Dr. Salazar. Unlike your lot, we don’t alter space-time on a whim. Everything has its place in this universe and for good reason. Not even I can change that. Do you understand?”
He spoke sternly, as if the world Rex belonged to was beneath him: worthless, insignificant, and low quality.
In Ben’s world, there were standards.
“I assure you, it’s not out of malice when I tell you there is no happy ending for you here, Rex. Your presence disrupts the timestream. Go home. If you care at all about Ben, you’ll preserve his world and do him the cruel mercy of never seeing him again.”
Paradox stepped closer. Blood began leaking out of Rex’s ears and eyes, dripping down his nose. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, only the whites visible under the crushing torture. His ribs began to ache, every bone creaking as Paradox invaded his personal space to drive the point home.
“And if you don’t care enough about Ben to do that much, then I’ll ensure you never interfere with this world again. Permanently. As I said, you are not my responsibility. I couldn’t care less what becomes of you.”
Without leaving a trace, he vanished, but his warning hung in the air, an interdimensional ghost that would haunt Rex for as long as he remained. He crumpled to his knees, falling onto his palms, taking large lungfuls of air. The blood trickled from his face, mixing with his tears of asphyxiation. Coughing, he worked at composing himself, spitting up flecks of red. He reached up to wipe his face on his sleeve. Fear should have been running through him, but he couldn't find it. Instead, he felt like a teenager all over again, chastised by an angry parent. All he could do was roll over onto his back in the empty void, laughing hysterically at the idea.
A fatal flaw that marked him and all of his ancestors was how they never knew when they were flying a little too close to the sun. Unfortunately, he took after his parents in that regard. Rex persisted portal hopping, playing a perpetual game of cat and mouse with Ben’s resident Time Walker.