Georgetown

Washington, DC

Le Café du Quartier

December 31st, 2015

1245 hours

[WARNING: FOUL LANGUAGE!]

Ben POV

The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful. The Hales were bonding well (with Catherine and Alexander apparently getting engaged), Mike and Zoe were bantering more than ever, and Chip and Jawa were... well, Chip and Jawa.

At least, it was uneventful up to New Year's Eve.

After exchanging gifts on Christmas, Erica and I were in an awkward position. Neither of us were making a move, stepping forwards or backwards. I still liked her, but I wasn't sure what to do.

Throughout the time I'd known her (post-Washington Monument, in particular), she sent mixed signals: one moment she liked me, the next she didn't even acknowledge my existence, and so on. Hell, it seemed as if right at the end of every op, she went right back to ignoring me until the next threat showed up. Her mind was more confusing than a nuclear bomb!

And I can't believe I can even say that!

But, after much deliberation, a decision was finally reached, with the hopes of settling the matter. Yesterday, I managed to ask Erica to... well, "meet up for coffee." Somehow, she said yes, though I could register both shock and nervousness in her reply.

I ended up going without her, since Catherine pulled her aside for whatever reason, but because of Alexander's buddy system rule, Chip and Jawa came along. They really liked the cocoa and pastries of Le Café du Quartier.

"Lighten up, Ben! You'll be fine!" Jawa reassured me as we completed our order and sat down. "She'll be here in another fifteen minutes, and you two have your thing!"

"That's just it, Jawa. I don't know what we're doing," I shot back, tapping the table anxiously.

"Well, hate to break it to you, but you gotta face the problem head-on. Speed, surprise, and violence of action," Chip said with a shrug, with Jawa subsequently elbowing him.

"Dude, this is a date, not a firefight!"

"Okay, leave that last bit out. But doggone it, I can't help you with regards to females! I barely understand 'em myself!"

"Yeah, well—"

"You're in no position to give him advice! You've never been on a date either!"

"Fine, fine! Yes, neither of us have been on dates, thank you. But we both understand meeting etiquette."

"Well, when you put it like that... Sit up straight—" the North Carolinian advised.

"Eye contact is good—" the Californian added.

"Firm handshake—"

"But don't be like this meathead and try to break that hand—"

"Hey, it was an accident—"

"Bullcrap. Anyways, compliments are good—"

"Know when to speak, but also know when to shut up and listen—"

"Guys, guys!" I interrupted, cutting off their somewhat-helpful barrage of information. "I appreciate it, but I'm just gonna talk, and we'll try to figure this out."

The brothers-in-arms glanced at each other for a moment before looking back at me and nodding. Just then, the waitress delivered our food.

"Good luck bucko," Chip said as he picked up his food, patted me on the back, and walked for the exit. Jawa simply smiled and gave me a fist-bump of encouragement before he too left the restaurant.

Many nerve-wracking minutes later, Erica rushed in, panting as she opened the door to the little shop. She looked relatively normal, but something was off about her face... perhaps it was makeup, but I couldn't be sure from a distance.

"Ah, good afternoon! What will you be having, jeune fille?" the nice old French lady asked behind the counter.

"J-just a small hot chocolate, please," Erica gasped, sounding out of breath.

"Of course! Er, are you alright?" the barista asked, concern growing on his face.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine! One second, please..."

Here's the thing: not only is Erica in pretty good shape, but she adjusts better to the cold than most of us, prompting me to wonder how she sounded like she might possibly require a tank of oxygen.

"Did you sprint all the way here?" I asked as I stood, intending on pulling out her chair, but she sat down before I could do so, continuing to wheeze out of exhaustion.

"No," she coughed before finally recomposing herself. "Okay... yes. Mom insisted that I put on some better makeup and gave me pointers."

"Erica, relax. This isn't a mission, or even a game," I sighed as I sat back down. "We're just... here."

"Oh... right."

"Yeah."

"So..."

We fell into awkward silence as we tried to figure out what to do next. The noises of customers and staff faded into the background, being replaced only by Erica's incessant tapping of her fingers on the table—a common nervous tic out of place on the generally unflustered girl.

"Er... how're you doing?" I finally asked, trying to break the ice.

"Just fine," she replied, her tone clipped, the nervousness suddenly gone, replaced by confidence... though I had a hard time telling if it was a front or if it was genuine.

"Okay... well, thanks for accepting my invitation."

"The hot chocolate is good here."

"It is. But we need to talk, Erica," I said, trying to steer the conversation back towards the underlying issue. "About us, I mean."

"What's there to talk about?"

"You know what I mean. We've been dancing around each other for what, three, almost four years? Where do we stand relationship-wise?"

"Ben, I'm not sure you understand me. We can't do this sort of thing."

"Wha—when you were doped up on that truth serum crap during the POTUS incident, you indicated otherwise!" I hissed, dropping my volume to a whisper level. "Even Chip seemed to notice, and he wouldn't know romance if it hit him in the head!"

"What, the 'truth serum?'" Erica scoffed. "Truth serum doesn't completely inhibit a subject's ability to lie!"

"So that's it? You were lying?"

"I never said that, I just said that truth serums haven't been proven to be reliable. Rather, they've been found to not be."

"So how the hell do you explain that kiss in Colorado, huh?" I questioned, my volume rising towards that of a normal voice.

"I told you, it was because you were going to die—"

"Bullcrap! A move like that is not in your playbook!"

"What are you implying, Ben?" she asked, her argumentative side showing.

"I'm implying, Erica, that you did it because you wanted to, but you refuse to admit it!"

"It's com—"

"Don't give me that 'complicated' shit!" I interrupted, feeling fed up with her not getting to the point. "Why can't you give me a straight answer?"

"Aren't feelings supposed to be complicated?" she shot back, her argumentative tone intensifying. "At least, that's what everyone says!"

"This isn't about everyone else, it's about you and me. You've been sending me different signals and I'm calling them like I see them—maybe I'm wrong, but I need you to either confirm it or deny it. Now: do you like me?"

"Well..."

"So you don't."

"No, that's not what I said at all!" she replied angrily. "Relationships are never a good idea in our line of work!"

"Erica, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but the Company's work is literally centered around making relationships to get info! You've literally used your relationship with me while we were on jobs!"

"That's not the same thing!"

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean you get to refrain from giving me a straight answer!"

"Ripley, you are so full of shit!" Erica hissed, slapping the table and making the background noise grind to a halt. Without another word, she got up and stormed out, leaving me alone at the table. The cheery French music playing over the speakers seemed rather ironic, considering the turmoil I felt at that moment.

But then, I remembered what my mother said in my dream: Remember, if she's a bitch, stay the hell away. You don't need that toxicity in your life.

It wasn't jest. It was a premonition.

Jawa POV

"Seriously? He commissioned?" I asked, astounded. Chip recounted his conversation with Hank as the two of us walked in a practically deserted park not far from the cafe. "Gotta admit, 'specially with him barking orders at us at camp, I would've taken him for the NCO type."

"You and me both, man. But there he was, a butter bar" Chip replied with a shrug. "Wait, scratch that. He's an O-2, just without a promotion ceremony to get his Hershey bars."

"Sheesh, and I thought I was unique by finishing up all of my bachelor's credits in high school. Didn't know someone else already did the same thing."

"Well, you ain't the only nerd in the world. And it wasn't something stupid like the arts or some other namby-pamby social science."

"Yeah... most of the social sciences are kind of stupid. Y'know, when my mom came from India to the US for graduate school, she was incredibly surprised at the number of stupid degrees offered in Western universities," I chuckled, recalling one of my mother's talks with me. "'Jawa,' she said. 'I'm not asking you to be a doctor or lawyer, but please don't do art or fashion or sociology or journalism or any of that nonsense.' I think she'd lose her mind if she saw what was offered in colleges now."

"Your mother is a genius, I'll tell you that!" Chip laughed. "Ma said somethin' along those lines too. I can't believe such nonsense exists in our education system."

"Yeah, bro... wait, is that Erica?" I asked, seeing the girl some distance away. "That was quick."

"I see her too. Hey, Hale!" Chip bellowed, waving as the two of us walked over. "What's up?"

"'What's up' is that Ripley doesn't understand shit!" Erica hissed, making me freeze in my tracks.

"Uh, Erica? Where is this coming from?" I asked hesitantly.

"He doesn't understand that relationships are a problem!"

"Uh-huh... did you at least tell him your feelings on the matter?"

"There's nothing to tell!"

"But you've told him that you liked him before... several times... and you kissed him. You don't just kiss people you don't like."

"It's complicated."

"Wait, so did you just leave him there?" Chip interjected, his eyes widening. "Or did you stand him up?!? Pardon my interventionism, but what kinda behavior is that?!?"

"It's not your problem, Schacter. Besides, shit like this gets people killed... How do you think Ben's in the position he is today?" the girl coldly replied before storming past us further into the park, leaving me and my buddy standing in shock.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Chip muttered once Erica was out of earshot..

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Then what the hell were you doing, joining in on the Berica betting pool and joking about them being an item?" I argued.

"Please, you think I understand romance? I barely understand females, how would I understand amorous interactions with 'em?!? I'm a hypocrite that just tagged along with y'all!"

"So you never believed in any of it?!? Then why would you get involved in such discussions?"

"I dunno, I guess I just wanted to be included or somethin'. Truth be told, I never believed that Ben and Erica together were a good idea," he admitted, shaking his head. "It seemed like a disaster in the makin'. Ben would do better to find a different gal. Hale's a lost cause."

It was at that moment that it finally sunk in: all of our antics, all of our bullcrap, all of our shipping—it was all foolishness. Chip isn't the kind of guy that gets feelings, but he does get facts and logic. Our teenage view of love and relationships was ultimately stupid: ships, moments, and the like were naught but farces we used to pretend as if we actually understood the complicated subject.

Love is messy, and—I really hate to quote Erica—complicated. There were failures in actions, signals, reactions, you name it, plaguing the connection between Ben and Erica. Failures that we hadn't understood. But now, I did.

Ben and Erica were both at fault for the failures, but undoubtedly it was Erica who took the prize. And thanks to Chip, I finally understood why.

"I'm gonna have a little chat with her," Chip muttered, cracking his knuckles as he stepped forward.

"Easy, bro!" I exclaimed, stopping him. "What're you doing?"

"I don't believe in gettin' involved in matters of others' heart, but we made a plan to not screw with Ben. Erica didn't honor that. And did you hear what she said about his family?"

"I get it, I'm pissed too, but let me handle this. Get back to the cafe and watch out for Ben so we can maintain the buddy system."

"Why you?"

"Because if you do, you'll kill her," I answered before walking off, moving at a brisk pace to give Erica Hale a piece of my mind.

Erica POV

The inner machinations of my mind were an enigma: my mind was warring with itself over everything that had transpired. Part of me was screaming at my words, while another section was defending it.

The trouble was, I couldn't shut down the voices in my head. But I still felt that relationships were not a good idea—the murder of Ben's family proved that. At least, that seemed to be the case.

"Erica! Erica! HALE!" someone shouted behind me, making me grind to a halt and turn around. A glance downward revealed none other than the resident Californian, Jawa. And he looked pissed.

"What?" I tersely replied.

"You and I need to have words, Erica."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Are you—" he began testily before sighing and facepalming, switching to a calmer tone. "Erica... what I'm about to do, I'm doing as your friend for your own good."

"What the hell are you—ow! Ow, ow, OW!" I yelped as Jawa—I shit you not—grabbed my ear as if I were a child and dragged me off the sidewalk and into the trees, probably for privacy. After a few moments, he finally released me, but the pain still persisted. "What the hell—"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" he growled, stopping me in my tracks. "I've met plenty of shitheads in my life, but you take the cake!"

"Wha—"

"I'M NOT FINISHED! What the hell did you say back there? 'That's how Ben's in the situation he's in right now,' or something like that? Because of relationships? News flash, Hale: if there's ever a prime example of using relationships against a person, it's you!"

"Me?!?"

"Yes, YOU! How many times have you used your relationship with Ben for your benefit! And don't give me crap about how 'it's for the mission!'" he mocked me with a horrible falsetto. "You kept pushing your mission bullshit and were always ready to sacrifice others—let me be clear, others—if it meant you'd get credit for the op. You gave your dad so much shit about dramatics and vanity, but you'd find the same things if you LOOKED IN A DAMN MIRROR!"

I tried to argue, but my words failed me as Jawa continued his relentless hammering, complete with a slew of curses fit for a sailor—none of which I can even repeat because of how foul they were. Not only was Jawa's behavior shocking, given that he was a relatively relaxed person that refrained from cursing, but the section of my mind berating my actions was getting louder.

'YOU JACKASS! YOU DESTROYED WHATEVER YOU HAD WITH THE ONE PERSON YOU CARED ABOUT—PROBABLY EVEN MORE THAN YOUR OWN FAMILY!' the voice in my head screeched.

"Well... congratulations, Erica. You have revealed your true self: a stuck-up, cold-hearted bitch," Jawa hissed as he came to the end of his rant.

"What... did... you... say?" I responded, fuming at his words.

"Read my lips, Hale: STUCK-UP, COLD-HEARTED, BITCH!"

"That's bullshit!"

"Hah! As if! Do you really think people call you 'Ice Queen' behind your back?" he sarcastically laughed. "Some people have a more colorful vocabulary than others, and I'll be damned if they're not right! Facts don't care about your feelings, Hale!"

My mouth opened to reply, but no words came out of it—because at that moment, I felt my heart sink as it hit me like a freight train: what I had said, both to Ben's face and behind his back... Jawa was right.

I was a stuck-up, cold-hearted bitch.

"You're nothing but a bad influence on Ben," Jawa grumbled, disgusted. "I'm ashamed I ever thought you and he were a good idea. Y'know, Chip—that big lug—never believed in it after all. He may not get emotions, but he does get facts and logic. And the fact of the matter is... it's time to settle this shit once and for all. So listen up: 2016 begins in less than twelve hours. By midnight, you pull your head out your ass and make or break it."

I looked at him in confusion, unsure how—and honestly afraid—to respond.

"You and Ben need to talk this through and decide how you're going to play it. I don't care anymore if you date or don't—hell, I'd be happy as a clam if you didn't—but you gotta decide by midnight."

"... suppose I don't."

"Then I will personally do everything in my power to ensure you stay out of his life, as well as to make your life at the Academy a living hell."

"What—you can't do that!" I exclaimed.

"Oh no? Look, I hate romantic interventionism, but this has gone far enough! Ben's an honorable dude, and he's been through hell—much of it because of you. You've screwed up his life enough, Hale. Besides, we're in the Company. Our job is manipulation and making relationships. And trust me, Erica, when I say I can make your life at the Academy awful, I mean it... from the students to the faculty, people like me a lot more than they like you. Hell, it's no contest. I'm pretty sure they liked Warren more than they liked you. Midnight, Hale! Adjust yourself or I will..." he growled before he spun around on his heel and stomped off. "Bitch."

And there I stood in that park by the city, under the tree with snow everywhere, my eardrums and earlobe throbbing from Jawa's rage. His words stung just as bad as some past wounds, but what made them truly worse was that I had no way to refute his harsh statements.

I wanted to call Mom to ask for help on the matter, but for some reason, my mind—which now seemed to be unified—said not to. It was my problem, and I needed to come up with a solution.

And quick.

My thoughts on everything have changed since this story began, and I'm fairly certain it shows. Frankly, at the very beginning, it was more of an imitation of other writers. Now that I've somewhat gotten the hang of writing, my opinions on the material have changed significantly (emphasis on somewhat, since I'm still pretty bad at writing dialogue that isn't mission-based).

As such, I'm certain this will be the single most disliked chapter of the book. But it does address a couple of problems that I've discovered in canon: in particular, the fundamental flaw within Berica centers around communication—haywire signals, interpretations, and reactions.

These issues are exactly where Zen has its logical foundations. Not only are Ben and Zoe a little more similar to each other, but Zoe actually gives him the time of day—unlike Erica, who apparently is running some harsh bullcrap (apparently referred to as being a "tsundere..." I don't watch anime, I don't know). Logically speaking, it would be a better idea for Ben to go for Zoe than Erica, assuming Mike didn't come into play.

But I'm just some random yahoo on the Internet with no understanding of romance, so what the hell do I know?

Sorry for such a short chapter, but I'm having a bunch of other ideas completely unrelated to this that I want to handle. As always, don't forget to leave a comment. Stay tuned for further updates, and make sure to also check out Mind the Gap!

Until next time,

- ADF-2