Chapter Text
"This is... a lot to take in, Ben," Sheila said quietly after Ben was done talking.
"I know," Ben said apologetically. "I never meant for this all to happen. I had no idea they would go after you or I'd never have done the show. Please believe me."
"I do, babe," Sheila said with a sigh. "But that doesn't change the fact that it sounds like we're in more than just a little danger. You said Chief McCone's—"
"Evan's," Ben corrected.
"Evan's family was killed due to his involvement with the show," Sheila said. She bit her lip. "It doesn't sound like we have any choice but to flee the country. But Ben. How on earth are we going to manage it? This is so much. I never thought...." She trailed off, pressing her lips together nervously.
"I know, honey," Ben said apologetically. "But Evan said he'll help us. And I trust him with my life. No, it's more than that: I trust him with yours and Cathy's."
Sheila bit her lip again.
"Ben...."
Ben could barely breathe. He could already hear her refusal coming. He could already hear her digging in her heels, distrustful of Evan and of Ben's relationship with Evan.
"If you really trust him that much," Sheila said slowly, "then I suppose I do, too. You've always been a good judge of people, Ben. Don't sell yourself short."
Ben exhaled hugely.
"So he can come along?" he asked a little shakily. He really, truly had not expected Sheila to be okay with Evan, not after the story Ben had woven for her.
"You really care about him, don't you?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah," Ben said just as quietly. "Yeah, I do."
"Do you... love him?" Sheila asked.
Ben hesitated.
"Yeah," he whispered, hating how much he truly needed to be honest, not just out of fairness to both Sheila and Evan but because of his absolute devotion to Sheila. "But— but if you're not okay with me dating him, then we'll— we'll keep things professional. I swear, Sheila." It broke his heart to even offer, but he had promised Evan. He loved both Sheila and Evan too much to even consider lying to either of them.
Sheila sighed tremulously.
"I'll admit," she said, smiling, her lips trembling, "I never really expected you to be able to just have a fling with a guy. You love big, babe. You always have. It's one of the reasons I love you so much."
"That doesn't mean I have to date him," Ben insisted, hating himself for having to say the words. "I can—"
"No, Ben, that's not fair to you," Sheila said softly. "Just— promise me Cathy comes first, okay?"
"Babe, Cathy will always be my absolute top priority in my life, no matter what happens. And you're second only to her. Evan knows that. He knows I'd choose you two over him any day, no matter how much I love him."
Sheila's eyes glossed with tears, and she smiled shakily.
"You don't have to promise that," she said honestly. "If he makes you happy, that makes me happy."
"He does," Ben said solemnly. "He makes me so happy. So do you."
"That's all I can ask," Sheila said, leaning forward and kissing Ben's cheek. "Alright. Let me pack some things. When are we meeting him?"
"Today," Ben said grimly. "We have to get out of the States as soon as humanly possible, which means we'll head down to see Molie tonight and be on the road by morning."
Sheila looked frightened by this, but she nodded decisively.
"And I assume we won't be coming back?"
"I'm sorry," Ben said, brow furrowing with compassion. "Take everything we need."
Sheila nodded again.
"Give me an hour and we'll get out of here," she agreed.
Forty-eight minutes later, Ben had diapers and snacks and medicine stuffed into his backpack. Sheila carried a rolling bag full of more diapers and a couple of toys and clothes for Cathy plus some clothes for herself and her lucky earrings. She gave the pretty, sterile apartment one last, mournful look, but then she nodded to Ben.
"I'm ready," she said fiercely, and at that moment, Ben had never loved her more.
They took the stairwell out the back, Ben carrying her bag down the stairs for her while Sheila carried Cathy. Cathy fussed a little, overly warm because of the layers of clothes they had dressed her in — they had chosen to layer her in clothes to save on space in the rolling case — but was otherwise docile. She seemed to understand that Mommy and Dada needed her to be quiet. Cathy wore an adorably solemn look on her face.
Ben pulled the cowl back up over his nose and mouth before they got onto the street, and Sheila put on the medical mask he gave her, and they walked down the block towards the Four Seasons where Evan waited for them.
Ben saw the Family Alliance guy through the lobby door of the apartment building. The man was dressed in uniform and reading some magazine on a chair in the lobby; he didn't look up as Ben and Sheila passed, thankfully.
They didn't speak much as they walked quickly to the hotel. When they got there, Ben tugged down his cowl and nodded at the woman at the front desk but otherwise did not engage with her. She nodded back with a smile and didn't appear to recognize him nor care that she didn't recognize him or Sheila and Cathy.
Ben brought Sheila and Cathy up to room 329 and knocked on the door, three raps followed by two raps. There was a quick shuffle behind the door, and then the door was being yanked open by a wide-eyed Evan.
"Well, shit. You came back," he breathed. With a small shake, he came back to himself. "Come on in."
They did, and Evan closed the deadbolt behind them.
"Evan," Ben said shyly as he set the rolling bag off to one side, "meet Sheila and Cathy."
"Ben told you who I am?" Evan asked immediately. "Because if you're not okay with me—"
"He told me," Sheila said with a nervous smile. "You were the chief hunter on The Running Man. Don't worry. He even showed me the scar you gave him. But he trusts you, so I do, too."
Evan's expression went scarily flat.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Richards," he said gravely. "I have no excuse for almost taking your husband from you."
"Ben told me what happened to your family," Sheila said softly, compassion in her eyes. Evan flinched minutely, almost invisibly, but Ben could see it. "It doesn't make up for it, but for what it's worth, I understand, at least a little. I was devastated when I thought I'd lost Ben. Thank you so much for bringing him back to me."
Evan nodded.
"I'm glad I could," he said sincerely. "He's a very special man."
"I'm right here," Ben interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Evan, Sheila pointed out something I hadn't thought of, which is that she and Cathy don't have papers." He winced. "We need to go back to Molie."
Evan winced mildly, too.
"Dangerous," he observed. "The more times we go across the border to Co-Op City, the higher the chance we get spotted."
"So what do you suggest?" Ben asked.
Evan shook his head.
"I don't have a better alternative," he admitted. "That doesn't mean it's not dangerous."
"Do all of us need to go?" Sheila asked hesitantly.
"Not necessarily," Evan said thoughtfully. "You might have better luck if I don't go along."
"No," Ben said firmly. "We have no way of contacting each other if we get separated."
"Would your friend Molie have burner phones?" Evan asked curiously.
"Yes," Sheila said, rolling her eyes. "Yes, that he would have."
"Alright, listen," Evan said. "You three go to Molie and get papers for Mrs. Richards and Cathy. And get three burner phones, too. I'll wait here. Come back tonight, and we'll leave here in the morning during rush hour."
"Why during rush hour?" Ben asked. "Wouldn't it be better to leave earlier?"
"Less chance of us getting pulled over," Evan explained, "when we're part of a mass of commuters. Until we get out of the city proper, rush hour is an asset to us."
"Where will we all sleep?" Ben asked rhetorically.
He and Evan traded a look, silently arguing.
"I'll sleep on the chair with Cathy," Ben said at the same time that Evan said, "I'll sleep on the floor."
"Men. Don't be ridiculous," Sheila told them, "no one's sleeping on the floor or the chair. We can all fit on the bed if we squeeze together. We'll buy a travel crib for Cathy."
"Right," Evan said, flushing the faintest bit. "I guess that works."
"Of course it does," Sheila said primly. "Now, Ben, let's go see Molie. How do you propose we get there?"
"Let me put on one of my disguises, then we can take a taxi," Ben said, already opening his bag to dig out his wig, contact lenses, and glasses for his John Springer getup. He decided against wearing the suit, though; it would stick out too much in Co-Op City. He'd just have to wear his usual hoodie and spring jacket.
"It might be a good idea to do something different with your hair, if you can," Evan said to Sheila while Ben changed in the bathroom. "It won't do much, but it might help, since you don't have a disguise."
"Alright," Sheila said. "Do you think it would help if I cut it?"
Ben mourned the thought of her cutting her beautiful hair, but even he had to agree with Evan's, "Yes, I do."
"I don't suppose either of you has scissors or a knife I could use?" Sheila asked.
"We have both," Ben called from the bathroom. "You don't have to cut your hair, babe."
"It'll grow back," Sheila said simply. "Oh, those scissors are tiny." Evan must have pulled out his multitool. "I'd better use a knife. Oh. You boys don't do anything in between. It's honestly all or nothing with you!" Evan must have pulled out the Knife of Destiny. Ben winced at the thought. Even he found the hunting knife pretty intimidating.
"Would you like any help, Mrs. Richards?" Evan asked politely.
"No, thank you," Sheila said, sounding a hint nervous. "Goodness. I haven't cut my hair in years. Alright. Can you please keep an eye on Cathy and make sure she doesn't roll off the bed, actually?"
"Yeah," Evan said, and then Sheila came into the bathroom carrying Evan's knife in one hand.
Ben moved over so she had space, looking sorrowfully at her beautiful hair. It might grow back, but she had been growing it out for years. She loved her hair. But even he had to admit that short hair would make her look much different.
While Ben adjusted his wig and put in his contacts, Sheila began chopping off braids one by one in the mirror. She didn't cut them straight off, Ben noticed; she sort of tapered each cut. Her mouth was set and tight in the mirror. She looked determined as hell, and all the more beautiful for it.
"Let me get the back ones for you," Ben offered gently when it became clear she was having trouble cutting them evenly.
Sheila nodded and set the knife on the counter beside the pile of braids she had already cut off.
She looked so different with her braids cut short, the tapered ends curling where they worked themselves free of the braids a little. Still gorgeous, but utterly different.
They cut her hair to shoulder length. Ben set down the knife when he was done, and Sheila pulled her hair back into a short, perky ponytail. It made her look younger.
"Good," Sheila declared. "Oh, it feels so light. Does it look okay?"
"I'll bet," Ben agreed. "It looks good. You look beautiful." He caught her in a kiss, then, brief and chaste but loving all the same.
"You look different, too," Sheila said shyly. "Not like my Ben."
"I go by John Springer in this disguise," Ben explained. "Alright, honey, let's get Cathy and get out of here."
They went out into the room proper and stopped. Ben had to bite back a laugh. Evan looked absolutely fixed into place, hands outstretched to prevent the very happily stationary Cathy from rolling off the bed.
Sheila burst into a giggle.
"She's not a bomb," she said, still giggling at poor Evan's expense. "I didn't mean you had to watch her that closely."
"Oh," Evan said, awkwardly lowering his hands to his sides. "I... haven't been around a lot of babies."
"She's a toddler," Sheila corrected, clearly trying to swallow down her laughter and failing. She went over to the bed and picked Cathy up, settling Cathy on her hip. "Thank you, Mr. McCone."
Evan grimaced.
"Just Evan, please," he said quickly. "McCone was my name on the show. It's not my actual name."
"Wait, it's not?" Ben asked, startled.
"No," Evan said, lips quirking into a lopsided smile. "I was born Evan Michaels. Not a very catchy name. The Network changed it when I signed on as Chief Hunter."
"Evan Michaels," Ben echoed. "I like it."
Evan shrugged.
"Evan Michaels died in a fire six years ago," he said. "Just Evan is fine."
"Then I suppose you'd best just call me Sheila," Sheila said. "Thank you, Evan."
Evan hummed acknowledgement.
"I'll have dinner ready when you get back," he said, "so don't worry about picking up food."
"Thanks, Evan," Ben said. He hesitated, then he leaned forward to give Evan a quick peck on the cheek. It didn't escape his notice that Sheila looked away rather innocently.
"Ben—" Evan started, and then he stopped. "Mrs. Richards, you...."
"Sheila, please," Sheila reiterated. "Yes, sorry, I should've said something before, but I wasn't sure how to bring it up," she said embarrassedly. "I'm fine with you two dating, but Ben's promised me that Cathy comes above all else."
"As she should," Evan agreed instantly. "Thank you, Sheila," he added a little gruffly.
"No need to thank me," Sheila said with a small smile. "He's a difficult man not to love."
"He is," Evan agreed quietly. Ben felt himself flush. "You two had better go if you're going to be back by evening."
"Right," Ben said. "See you tonight, Evan."