Other Side Of The Line



Scene Title Other Side Of The Line
Synopsis In the early morning, Ryans reflects on what happened the night before.
Date September 1, 2010

On a dock

The gentle lapping of water against the thick wooden pylons of the small dock, reaches his ears from under his booted feet. The sky is a deep midnight blue and slowly lightening, the sun is hinting that it will rise soon. Benjamin Ryans doesn't really feel the chill of the morning, he really doesn't care. Nor does he care when he hears the birds slowly waking and starting their day singing their songs that seem to bright for the old man.

It's been a very long night on cots within' a warehouse on Long Island. The people there happy to help the refugees, the pity on their faces clear. There was no hiding their pain and the people protecting them could see it plainly edge on worn faces. Silence had reigned that night, tho' he could hear the sniffles and hitched breathing of those in mourning.

Finally, Ryans had climbed out of his cot, stamped on his boots and gone for a walk. The bloodied suit had been replaced with jeans, t-shirt and a red flannel, with thick work boots on his feet. His suit jacket had been left behind, to cover the head of poor Martin Crowley. His father's fedora his hands, slowly turning between his fingers as he now stands on that lonely dock. His hair still mussed up, think locks of it brushing his forehead when the breeze picks up, his blue eyes stare empty at the dark murky waters.

He swears he can almost see the faces of those lost and left behind reflected back at him. So many were lost that night. The fact that he can count their numbers on two hands bothers him. The government had sent everything against the Company.

His face is only a stony mask, but the emotions that boil deep within his gut, hatred… fear… and searing need to avenge all the fallen agents. Fingers tighten on the brim of the fedora for a moment, as he continues to watch what little light there is dance across the peaks that form in the salty water.

The memories play on the surface of his head, memories older then he looks. Such as the day he was hired. He clearly remembers the two agents that came into the little auto shop he was working at. He was still fresh from the war, recovering from the horrors of being there and knowing that when he left… so many of his brothers in arms died, due to one man. He was floundering, his life was slowly falling apart. He needed a purpose

The Company supplied it.

He thinks about the when he was introduced to Ivan Spektor, who told him he would not be easy on Ryans. Ex-Seal or not, in the older man's eyes, Ryans knew nothing. The rigorous training and on the job training taught him that he had truly had a lot to learn.

Other things such as the shenanigans of Claude and his eventual defection. The first time he met Noah Bennet, a man who had proven to be one of the best of them. He had gotten to know so many of them and yet, still barely knew them. They all had a purpose then, one they could be proud of.

But then came the betrayal of Adam Monroe and the first time that Ryans almost stormed out of the Company, but he was convinced by his partner to stay. While his partner didn't agree with what the Company had been doing in secret, they still had an important job.

"Ben… man… if we leave now. Things could be so much worse." His partner at the time lamented, while they drove along the highway out in Texas on a case. "Just because the core is rotten, doesn't mean the rest of it is. What we do… Ben, it's important. Remember that. That shit their doing in those labs? That don't concern us… we're the fucking evolved police."

A life time of memories.

The good and the bad.

In one night, the very government they worked for drove the knife in deep and gave it a deadly twist. Even knowing it was coming, it still hurt like a son of a bitch. It should have never happened, all those people should not have died. Too many good people.

He looks at the fedora in his hand, it belonged to his father, but it was a symbol of his life as a Company agent.

Slowly, one hand brushes along the rough felt, frown deepening a little and brows furrowing. His hand then wraps over the crown of it and slowly holds it over the water. Already the metal DHS badge has made it's way to the bottom of the bay. Chucked there not long after he arrived, intent on getting rid of everything that symbolized a dead organization. The fedora was the last item. He wore it everywhere when he was an agent, even when he returned he pulled the old thing from a box.

He stands there, the hat held out, arm beginning to tremble, as something deep inside him won't let go of this one thing. He hesitates and the hand falls to his side again, fedora still within it. He just can't do it.

It doesn't get places on his head, only held with both his hands, his gaze going back out the inky waters again. He'll tuck it away, he decides. With hope, one day he can pull it out… the day he goes up against the Institute again.

Cause this wasn't over.

Their numbers are small, but… maybe one day, some of the agents that survived the fall will help to rise up and take down the bastards. Ryans knows for certain, he'd give his life to make sure they are no longer a threat. The mistakes of the past are poised to begin again under a new flag, with the complete backing of the government.

Benjamin Ryans now stands on the other side of the tracks, where he now knows he should have been long ago.

It's simply the right thing to do.

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