[65] Moonlit Night

Chapter 65: Moonlit Night

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Dinner was another problem. Back at the campsite, the tension morphed from cold war to magical arms race. Grandpa asked for help setting up, and suddenly the girls were competing to out-magic each other.

Gwen used telekinesis to efficiently arrange the camp chairs and table. Charmcaster responded with a lazy flick of her wrist that conjured purple flames around the fire pit, flames that burned without fuel and gave off no heat.

Not to be outdone, Gwen created a barrier against insects. Charmcaster summoned tiny, glowing familiars that ate mosquitoes and looked like fireflies.

The one-upmanship escalated until dinner prep became a disaster zone. Gwen's telekinetically controlled cooking utensils collided with Charmcaster's magically animated ones, sending spaghetti sauce across the campsite like modern art.

"That's it," I muttered, slapping the Omnitrix. "I'm getting coffee. Anyone want anything?"

The transformation hit, time slowed, and I was gone before either of them could answer. I did not care. Hopefully, that annoyed them a little.

I ran through forests and fields, past sleeping towns and empty highways. XLR8's speed was exactly what I needed, movement without thought, action without consequence. Just the rush of wind and the blur of the world going by.

When I finally returned, two cups of steaming coffee in hand, I found Grandpa alone by the fire. The flames painted his weathered face in shades of orange and gold, highlighting just how tired he looked.

"They're in the RV," he said before I could ask. "Opposite corners. Détente achieved, for now."

I handed him one of the coffees and dropped onto the log beside him. For a few minutes, we just sat in companionable silence, watching the sparks rise toward the stars.

"I underestimated how difficult this would be," he admitted finally. "I've negotiated peace between warring alien factions, but little girls with magic powers and trauma? That's specialist work."

"You're doing fine, Grandpa."

"Am I?" He took a long sip of coffee. "I should have told Gwen about her heritage years ago. Prepared her. Maybe then she wouldn't have…"

"Lost control when she thought you died?" I finished for him. "That wasn't about her powers, Grandpa. That was about her loving you."

The smile he gave me was sad but genuine. "When did you get so perceptive?"

"Must be all the alien DNA," I joked, and got a small chuckle in return.

The silence stretched between us, comfortable this time. When Grandpa spoke again, his voice was quieter, more serious.

"The Ancient One asked me to watch over Charmcaster. Not indefinitely, just... make sure she doesn't fall further into darkness. She has no one, Ben. No family, no home, no purpose. That's a dangerous combination."

"Is that why you're being so patient with her?"

"Partly," he admitted. "And partly because I look at her and see what could have happened to either of you without support. Power without guidance rarely ends well."

The thought hit harder than I expected. Me with the Omnitrix but no Grandpa or Gwen? No anchor, no compass? It wasn’t even a hypothetical question. I’d seen the results of it in Ben 10 Omniverse. Evil Bens who grew up without Grandpa Max.

No, even this me. I was not a good person in my previous life. I don’t want to go too much into detail, but… Did I feel any remorse when I killed Killgrave? Yes, sure he wasn’t a saint, but that was a human life. I just wasn’t bothered by killing. After I got the Omnitrix, if not for Grandpa’s presence, among other factors such as the innocent memories of this life, I might have done some drastically different things.

I made a decision. "Grandpa, leave the girls to me. I'll check on them," I said, standing. "Make sure they haven't hexed each other into oblivion."

"Ben." Grandpa's voice stopped me at the RV door. "Tread carefully. They're both... raw right now. In different ways. If you try to talk to Gwen in particular, she’d be quite mad and blame you for taking the new girl’s side."

I nodded and stepped inside. The RV was dark except for a small reading light in Gwen's bunk. I could hear her breathing, not quite asleep but pretending to be. The pull-out couch was empty.

I found Charmcaster outside, on the opposite side of the RV from where Grandpa was sitting, sitting on a boulder about fifty feet from the campsite. Moonlight reflected on her silver hair as she had her knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, looking smaller than I'd ever seen her.

I walked up to her. “Hey.”

****

Charmcaster heard the footsteps before he spoke. She'd known he would come – the hero type always did. Predictable. Useful.

“Hey.”

"Come to check on the charity case?" She kept her eyes fixed on the sky, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her face. The night air was cool against her skin, a welcome relief after the stifling atmosphere of the RV.

"Come to check on a friend," he corrected, settling onto the rock beside her. So earnest. So naive.

"We're not friends, Tennyson." She let the words fall flat, emotionless. Better that way. "I'm just someone with nowhere else to go."

"Maybe. But that doesn't mean we’re not friends. We fought side by side. Remember how you helped me against Ah Puch’s Avatar? If we hadn’t worked together, we might have died there."

"My father taught me about the stars," she interrupted, not wanting to hear whatever comforting platitude he was about to offer. The memory surfaced unexpectedly, a rare clear moment in the fog of grief and rage she'd lived in for years. "There are no stars in the Ledgerdomain. Yet, he knew every constellation. Used to say magic lived in the spaces between stars. That even darkness had patterns if you knew how to look. I… always wanted to see the stars. But I hated them the first time I saw them. Because then, my father wasn’t by my side."

She felt Ben shift beside her, the warmth of his body radiating in the cool night air. Too close… Not close enough.

Charmcaster brushed away the unwelcome thought. “You probably don’t even know what the Ledgerdomain is, though. It’s a pocket. Some people call it the Limbo, but the name doesn’t matter. It’s a hellish place.”

She didn’t have any hope that he’d understand. She and he were fundamentally different, after all. While she was a Sorecress, he was a tech-reliant Superhero. This wasn't about connection; it was about survival. These people were a resource, nothing more. The boy was a means to an end.

Yet when she finally turned to face him, something cracked inside her. Why did he look so understanding?

“Yeah. Doesn’t sound like a fun place.”

"I can't remember his face anymore," she admitted, the confession dragging itself from somewhere deep and wounded. "I've forgotten what his laugh sounded like. I spent so long trying to bring him back that I lost what I had left of him."

Her voice broke, and she hated herself for it. Hated the tears that came unbidden, hated that they were real. This wasn't part of the plan. Ugh. She wasn't supposed to actually feel these things, just use them.

Ben's arms came around her awkwardly, and for a moment, she allowed herself to collapse into him. It was to bait him into liking her, but it backfired on her. The comfort of human contact was a shock to her system after years of isolation. Her cold-hearted uncle never bothered to give her a hug, after all.

So when she finally got a hug, her body betrayed her, trembling with sobs she couldn't contain.

"I have nothing," she whispered, and for once, she wasn't acting. "No family, no home. I threw everything away for revenge, and now I don't even have that."

She felt his hand on her back, hesitant and gentle. Pathetic how much it affected her. How desperately she wanted to believe someone could care.

Stop it, she told herself. Focus. Use this.

"You have your magic," he said. "You have your knowledge. You have–"

"You?" She looked up, calculating the exact expression needed – vulnerability mixed with hope. Not too much. Just enough to hook him.

"Hope..." His voice carried a warning, but also concern. Perfect.

"Come with me," she said, the urgency in her voice only half-manufactured. "I'm leaving soon. There's someone I need to find. Something I need to finish." She reached for his hand, hating how her fingers trembled. Was it part of the act or something more? Even she couldn't tell anymore. "I can't do it alone."

He was strong. Unbelievably so. Unless she set a trap, she had a feeling even ten of her might not be able to bring him down. Wasn’t someone like him perfect to use as a tool? With him, revenge against that old turtle bastard was feasible.

But… his face fell, and she knew she'd miscalculated.

"You're going after whoever killed your father."

The accuracy of his guess startled her. "I– No, how did you…"

"It's what I'd want to do," he admitted, and for a moment, she glimpsed something darker in him. Something that recognized the rage in her. Then it was gone, replaced by that infuriating compassion. "But revenge won't bring him back."

"Don't." She pulled away, anger flaring hot and clean. This she understood. This was safer than gratitude or need. "Spare me your hero's lecture. You have no idea what it's like to lose everything."

Oh, she felt pathetic. Lashing out at him for rejecting her, she felt her face burn. She hid it under the mark of anger.

"You're right," he said simply. "I don't. But I know wherever you're going, whatever you're planning… it'll just create more pain."

"Maybe the world deserves more pain," she shot back, the words tasting like ash on her tongue.

"Maybe. But you don't. Come on, Hope. Don’t be this hard on yourself. If you truly want revenge, we can find the culprit together someday. It doesn’t have to be today. Breathe. Relax. Enjoy life."

Something about his certainty, the quiet conviction in his voice, made her falter. For a heartbeat, she imagined a different path. One where she stayed. Where she let go of the past.

It terrified her more than any monster ever had.

"Come back to the RV," he said. "Get some sleep. If you still want to leave tomorrow, I won't stop you. But don't disappear in the night."

She considered running right then, her heart burning with embarrassment. She wanted to disappear into the darkness before she said or felt anything else real. Before these people with their concern and their kindness could weaken her further.

Instead, her shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her.

"I despise you," she muttered, but couldn't summon any venom.

"I know."

She laughed despite herself, the sound raw from crying. "No, you don't. I despise that you're making me question everything. That you treat me like I'm worth saving when I've given you every reason not to."

"Seems like a you problem," he said lightly.

The unexpected response drew a reluctant smile from her. Clever boy. Using humor to defuse tension, to build connection. She should be taking notes.

They walked back toward the RV, and she found herself reaching for his hand in the darkness. A tactical choice, she told herself. Maintaining the illusion of vulnerability. Nothing more.

At the door, she paused, knowing the moment needed a final touch. Something to ensure his continued investment in her wellbeing. Something to plant a seed of conflict between him and his perfect little cousin who was lucky with everything.

She rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cheek, letting them linger just a fraction too long.

He held her waist, and she smiled. "Careful, Tennyson," she whispered, close enough that her breath would warm his skin. "Keep holding me like that, and I might forget I'm supposed to be the villain in this story."

She slipped inside before he could respond, privately satisfied with the stunned expression she'd left on his face. But as she settled onto the pull-out couch, her fingertips traced the curve of her lips, and she wondered why the deception felt hollow.

Through half-closed eyes, she watched him enter, saw his gaze flick toward Gwen's bunk where green eyes gleamed in the darkness. Good. The cousin had been watching. Another complication to keep these Tennysons distracted while she figured out her next move.

Charmcaster turned her face into the pillow, manufacturing soft crying sounds until she heard Ben climb into his hammock. Only then did she allow herself a small, satisfied smile.

Tomorrow, she would continue this performance of redemption. She would gain their trust. Learn their weaknesses. Take what she needed.

And if some small, traitorous part of her wished the performance could be real? Well, that was just another weakness to overcome.

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