Conan

She wasn't there, not there, not there...

The single phrase kept him going, kept him staggering toward Ben's, leaning on Aralyn's rifle. It had been a difficult climb, for he was still quite weak from his long hospital stay, but he'd... he had to find...

Conan was a pitiful sight, indeed. His left arm cradled his midsection, which had begun to cramp painfully around the old bullet wounds as the wounds leaked blood out onto his shirt. It was barely a spotting of blood, but it was enough to make it obvious that he'd been moving too much.

Aralyn was missing, and so were Freya, Spencer, Sanuye, and Raimi. Where, he didn't know, but he knew who could find out. He had figured a few things out for himself: Ben had connections, all kinds of connections. If his friends were anywhere in the Valley, Ben could find out.

So it was that his desperate worry drove him to seek out a man whom he hadn't yet begun to trust, but whom he had discovered cared very much about Aralyn. Gasping, Conan sank down in front of the door, putting all his remaining strength into banging on the door.

Benjamin Linus & Hydra

Almost fully recovered since her encounter with the mare in the prairie, Hydra had since been allowed to roam free again. Of course, she never went too far from the house or the protection of Ben's hunting dogs. The creamy draft mix always stayed within sight of the orange house where her master lived.

What do we have here? She wondered to herself, when a human figure made his way across the lawn, obviously in poor condition. Ear pricked and head raised, the mare trotted slowly towards Conan, trailing a few yards behind him as he headed for the door.

Ben was also nearly healed, and able to move at a quicker pace than before. The bruise had completely faded away, leaving only a slight pain when he made too quick of a movement. Another week or two would find him completely healed from the kick.

Raising his head at the sound of the knock, Ben set down the novel he was reading and adjusted his glasses. A glance was thrown to a nearby clock before he stood up and headed for the door. Conan?. Recognizing the boy when he looked through the door's window, Benjamin instantly set his eyes into a suspicious glare. He himself had had troubles getting ahold of Aralyn, though he had gotten word that she had been at the Cafe the other day.

Given that Conan was plainly weakened, Benjamin opened the door after a moment of thought. "Something tells me that you aren't here for a friendly hello." The man looked down with a cool, undecipherable gaze, devoid of concern over the other's health. If Aralyn had been with him, he would have acted different, but that wasn't the case. Rather than lend a hand to help Conan up, Benjamin just stood there, arms held still at his sides.

Hydra bobbed her head once, taking a few steps closer to the house when she spotted her master. But she didn't move much closer, having gotten no greeting from Ben.

Conan

His weight was leaned against the door, so as it was opened he nearly fell through it, barely catching himself on the door jamb and stifling the cry that attempted to wrench itself from his chest. He didn't need Ben to know just how badly off he was: he hadn't come here for help for himself. The older man's words caught his attention as he fought the pain, and he turned his face up so that his eyes rested squarely on Ben's cold ones. He did not speak, but he didn't need to. The pools of blue said enough. No, I'm not, and don't bother with the tone.

But soon, more important issues took hold of his brain, and the red-haired teen reached around to claw at his pack, the rifle laying forgotten on the ground as he fumbled for several moments before he managed to get it off of his back and find what he wanted in its depths. When his hands emerged again, he held a pad of paper and a pencil that the physicians at the hospital had provided him with. Hands shaking, he began to write, large and blocky capital letters that were nearly unreadable due to his trembling hands. When he'd finished, he handed the pad to Ben. And it read thus:

ARALYN'S GONE! THE FARM HASN'T BEEN LIVED IN FOR MONTHS. RAIMI, AMMIT, FREYA, SANUYE, SHANTII, MALON, INFERNO, PSYCHE, RA, THE LADY... GONE!

His eyes traveled up to Ben's face again, trying to let them speak for him. Please... please. We... we don't get on, you and I... but... Aralyn... He was swaying gently now, back and forth, back and forth, but he couldn't tell and wasn't about to let Ben see how badly off he was. No... finally, he broke down a bit, and moved his left hand into a c-shape, bringing it to his lips as though holding something to drink. His pride had cracked, just a little. Water... he needed something to drink, and even if he had to beg for it, he didn't care.

Benjamin Linus & Hydra

There was a touch of amusement that tugged at the corner of Ben's thin lips. He revelled silently in the way the situation was turned around, with him being the capable, in-control figure, while Conan was on the ground, at his mercy. A series of snide remarks played through his mind, though as much as he'd like to dish one out, the gravity of the situation held him back. Given that Aralyn was missing, and she was the common link between him and Conan, Ben figured he'd wait and see what the boy was up to first. He knew that only something drastic would warrent Conan's visit to his house, especially in the condition the kid was in.

Taking the note, Benjamin's mouth grew more taunt as he read through the hurried words. His own carefully built wall of indifference was shaken at what the message said. Alarm broke through his icy stare, as he felt his hold on the situation faulter. Damn Mikhail! He had told that man to keep an eye out on Aralyn, and to keep tabs on the shady figures in town.

Alarm quickly shifted into accusing anger as he glared down at Conan. For a moment, he almost blasted the teen with accusations, but he stopped himself. As much as he distrusted the red-haired kid, he had no hint of evidence that he was responsible for Aralyn's disappearance, and angering him wouldn't help.

"Can you stand?" Ben asked in sharp voice as he took control of his emotions once more. If he wasn't so worried, he would have taken further delight in ignoring Conan's request for water. "You'll come with me and we will start checking around town."

The man turned away from Conan, disappearing around a corner. A moment later, he returned, setting a glass of water and a pistol on a nearby counter. "I assume you know how to use that?" Ben offered a fleeting glance in Conan's direction, before he rummaged through a shelf to get his own hand gun out.

While preparing things, Ben went over various suspects in his head. Mikhail reported seeing her at the Cafe not too long ago, with one of the Red Dragon members. They'd be top priority, especially since they were relatively new in town, and unpredictable.

Conan

Conan gazed up into Ben's face, watching the tiny, subtle, and almost unnoticeable changes in the man's face as he read the note. Such little things that changed in the man's face... but he knew already that the sharp voice betrayed worry. By God, he was going to figure this man out if it killed him. He memorized the half-expressions that appeared on the face above him, filing them away for later.

When Ben finally returned his attention to Conan, the boy nodded faintly and grasped Aralyn's rifle again, using it and the door post to rise. Once he'd steadied himself, which took more effort than was pretty, he shuffled inside to the counter, grabbing hold of the glass and swallowing its contents with a gulp. He placed the glass down again, nodding his thanks, and reached for the pistol, moving his arm around to attach it to his hip in a cross-draw position. The question, he did not dignify with an answer, for Ben of all people knew that he knew how to use a gun.

Finally, not caring what Ben thought, his hands turned to the buttons on his long-sleeved shirt, fingers fumbling a little as he unclasped them one by one. He wasn't really keen on letting Ben see his back, but he had to put something on his stomach to stop the bleeding.

With a last sigh for his dignity, Conan took the shirt off, instantly revealing the many welts that cross his person. Knife marks, burn scars, his back covered in raised, red whip lines... the most startling a thin, white scar that ran from right shoulder clear across the body and vanished into his jeans, where it ended over the left hip. Even now, the fingers of his left hand reached up idly to rub at his right shoulder, a nervous gesture, betraying how worried he was. But his attention was always on Ben, knowing that Ben would spot the bullet-holes in his anatomy and place a significance on them. Three across the chest, one in the lower abdomen... where his father Michael had tried to shoot Aralyn, only Conan had gotten in the way.

He bent his head over his pack, coming up with several bottles of medicines, heart panging a little bit to realize that several of them were Aralyn's mixtures. He took little time in dressing the tiny bleeding wounds in his abdomen and pulling his shirt back on, moving back to the pad and pencil.

NOW YOU KNOW WHY I AM WORRIED. THE MAKERS OF THESE SCARS WOULD STOP AT NOTHING. THEY HAVE GREAT REASON TO HATE ARALYN, BECAUSE THEY HATE ME.

He did not know that his mother now lay dead, accidentally murdered by Aralyn, because he'd been in the barn during the fight. It was his fear that they had come back and taken Aralyn in order to hurt him, which was not above them. His eyes met Ben's as he handed the pad to the older man, and he did not need to write it down to say, Let's do this.

Benjamin Linus & Hydra

Sliding a pistol into his holster, Ben then turned his focus back on Conan. There was no surprise, sympathy, or littlest bit of empathy to be seen; he had already let his emotions faulter once and he wasn't about to let it happen again. He himself was still trying to gage this kid and figure out what made him tick. Concern for Aralyn obviously, but now he had another look into Conan's past.

Benjamin looked away a moment, almost as if he were trying to distract himself from the sight. If mental scars could be seen like physical ones, he would be a mirror image to the teen. For a moment, he wavered on the aspect of being on the same level as Conan; perhaps even sympathizing with him. But that was all blown to hell when he read the next note.

Now the man rounded on Conan with a look of pure fury, having new reason to direct his anger, "If anything happens to her, it's your fault." Ben shook his head, keeping his icy stare glued to Conan's eyes as he tried to hurt him with simple words, knowing how much Aralyn meant to him. After a tense moment, he broke the stare and headed for the door, "Hurry up, we're going to a friend's of mine. And if you happen to have any more important information you haven't shared yet, feel free to enlighten me."

Much to Hydra's disappointment, Ben didn't approach her. Instead, he headed to the driveway where his car was parked. Not bothering to open the door for Conan, he slipped intot he driver's side and waited for the teen to get in.

Conan

Ben's anger awakened a like fire in the boy, and if he'd had a voice he'd have screamed his frustrations to Ben. Instead, he matched Ben's look of malice, reached for the pad, and began to scribble again.

I'VE BEEN IN GREAT SPRINGS HOSPITAL, UNCONCIOUS AND SEIZING, FOR FOUR MONTHS NOW. MY FATHER TRIED TO SHOOT ARALYN, SO I GOT IN THE WAY AND CAUGHT MOST OF HER BULLETS. MY MOTHER PUT CHEMICALS ON MY WOUNDS THAT MADE ME SEIZE, AND ARALYN WENT TO STAY WITH NADEEM WHILE FREYA TOOK ME TO THE HOSPITAL. I DON'T THINK EVEN ARALYN KNOWS WHERE I'VE BEEN, AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE SHE IS. DON'T YOU DARE ACCUSE ME!

His hands shook as he fought the urge to throw the pad at Ben, but finally supressed it. This wasn't about his rage, about all the years of not being able to freely express what was wrong with him. He needed Ben, needed him as he needed nothing else at this moment, and insulting the man was not likely to get him the help that he needed. He suddenly found himself debating whether to even give the pad to Ben, but decided it contained vital information and so made a last scribble before packing up his pack and heading to the car, bringing Aralyn's rifle for luck.

As he pulled himself into the car and settled his things, he handed the pad to Ben, with its one addition.

IF THERE IS ANYTHING YOU WANT TO KNOW, ASK. I DON'T FANCY THE TOPIC YOU HAVE IN MIND, BUT IF YOU THINK IT WILL HELP US FIND ARALYN, I WILL TELL.

A small, small step... he hadn't even given the details of his parents' torture to Aralyn, wanting somehow to protect her from it. He didn't really want to tell Ben either, but he knew that part of his experience might help Ben figure out what was going on with his parents. A small trust, a small confidence... he didn't like it at all, but he was discovering that their common love for Aralyn was much more important than their distrust of each other, and beginning to suspect that Ben thought the same, or the man wouldn't be helping him. He braced himself against the car door to absorb some of the jostling from the road and waited for Ben to depart.

Benjamin Linus & Hydra

He took in the worldess, fiery response from the boy, watching him grapple with building rage. If not for the dire situation they were in, Ben would have given a sly little smile to show his pleasure in stirring the other's anger. Instead, he kept to the unspoken truce of not crossing the line too far. They could not afford to push each other too far, or it would hinder their search for Aralyn.

Reading the newest note, Ben succeeded in concealing his reactions for the most part, aside from a slight widening of his eyes. The previous accussing look melted away faintly as he went over the part where Conan allegedly sheilded Aralyn from a bullet. That was warrant enough for Ben to lax his anger on the kid somewhat, though he still held it against Conan for getting Aralyn in that situation in the first place. And why hadn't Aralyn told him about this incident? That struck the man particularly hard.

Tossing the notebook back to Conan's lap, Ben turned the car in and began to head down the road. "Your parents' names would be helpful."

Conan

Instantly, Conan took up the pad again, writing against his knees to brace them from the bumping of the car.

I AM RASPUTIN REMINGTON CARLYLE, ELDEST LIVING SON OF MICHAEL AND RAYNA CARLYLE, BROTHER BY BLOOD OF THE DECEASED RATRI AND RAVEN, AND TRUE BROTHER TO RAIMI, A BOY OF TWO WHO STILL LIVED WHEN I ENTERED THE HOSPITAL.

His two elder brothers, both of whom had been involved heavily in local gangs, who had used their brother for the same purpose as had their parents. His brothers only by blood, who lived for the gang... and died for it. And Raimi... the youngest, the one who was a surprise, and the only one in the Carlyle household who still held part of Conan's heart.

Handing the pad back to Ben, he rode quietly, still watching the other's face.