Shards: Evergreen

Evergreen “The chessboard is the world, the pieces are the phenomena of the Universe, the rules of the game are what we call the laws of Nature, and the player on the other side is hidden from us.” ~ Thomas Huxley There are always two players in the game, one light and one dark. The game is always worth studying, even if he doesn't understand the most esoteric aspects of it. He's mimicked it against multiple opponents – against Jack, who didn't understand the import of him taking the black pieces (Anderssen did, it was the way then. dark that moved first, just color to color, the light's advantage came later); against Tom, who held no patience and understood defeat after the eighth move; against Richard, who held the patience if not the tactics. Each derailed; Ben could not maintain the structure to the fourteenth move so that he could study it properly. Beautiful sacrifice, and the lead to a double check. He could see it, could use it, but did not entirely understand it. He contrasted the tactics with the other, more famous game – the immortal one. Again, sacrifice, and assuming control of a developed situation with an inferior force. The astonishing win that destroyed a queen to accomplish it. It unsettles him, that amount of sacrifice. Ben is uncomfortable with giving that much away. To fail in such a tactic would ensure the bettor's destruction. He admires the courage Anderssen showed in his games, and thinks of Fischer's declaration that the game itself is but war on a board. Sacrifice was crucial for war. What can an enemy win if you're willing to give it all? Still. Terrifying, when you have so little to give to begin with. Little that is yours. (I gave you everything, Jacob.) Pawns were always to be reckoned with. He could take that away from the table after each match, clearly understanding its fundamental truth. Even the pawn in the weakest position could be dangerous in time, if not prepared for. If not watched. He could do that, prepare. And yet, there were always surprises. Those he had to scramble after. Those scramblings did not have the structure that made him feel safe. He was always displeased with himself when the game fell to instinct and chaos. As if there was clearly something he missed. ~*~ Keamy's outside. He's inside. The others bitch, it's a distraction and he ignores it. Sawyer discusses sacrifice and that draws his attention back a little. (I'm trying to help you. rabbits, Lenny, rabbits.) This is the moment. His blue eyes flick around the room, darkened in rapid thought. His chin rests against the butt of a rifle. He's thinking of the game. How much will be wagered? How much can be won – if something else is lost? He hates to think on it, but he's prepared ahead as best he can. Everyone who counts is surely safe, behind their own lines. Here he is, knight sacrifice. He can move, he could wager everything and step forward, if he dares. All he has to do is walk out of the house. All he has to do is give up everything that he has. If he can do that, then there is nothing Charles can truly win. And then the game changes. Beautiful sacrifice, the young queen. (no, please, no. I didn't choose this!) Ben knows devastation now, of the gambit broken and scattered. In rage, he clears the board knowing that he'll have to begin anew in its wake. Knowing there will likely be more cost. He leaves Keamy and his men shattered and dying. Meanwhile, his opponent has taken what he did not want to sacrifice and forced him to lose the rest anyway. It's a horror to him, and he doesn't understand. And there's that sense again, as he kisses his daughter's forehead in the only goodbye he'll have time to give. Was there something he missed? ~*~

It's all been on his instincts since. Ben's plans go only from moment to moment, leading from desert to city and then back, somehow, to island. He's got that back, sort of. He didn't, deep down, really want it. Or maybe he did. He doesn't understand, sometimes both sides are just one player. But he's got this much, island ground under his feet again. Something familiar, and he thinks of a body held in its soft grip; a body he's seen recently much, to his dismay and shame. It's the rest of the surprise that's got him moving fast again, a timed game against another player. He's in thrall, and he hates it. Nothing he can do – costs paid, the board reset, and now he's nothing more than Locke's favorite new pawn. But pawns are to be reckoned with. The question he doesn't understand – who's the dark and who's the light? Which one is he? Does it even matter, or they all just colors on a board? Locke is telling him things he didn't want to hear, didn't want to think about. He thought he was serving the light, but now he's unsure. He's unsettled, and it's all just part of another immortal's game. It's risky, giving a pawn a knife and sending it after the win, fighting for the checkmate, but Locke's doing it to him anyway. He could turn on Locke; he's done it before. But he won't this time. Now it's against the rules. (does that really matter? could I dare? do I even have a choice?) He feels trapped, cornered into barrows of his own make, all his gambits turned against him. A few hours later, and the body's at his feet. His skin tingles like it never has before, with the rich, ripe smell of blood all around him, and there's a crawling horror in his belly. Is this what it is to take the king off the board? To have taken part in the destruction of something so much larger than yourself? Ben looks at Locke – is it Locke? (what do I see? chiaroscuro light and dark, what is going on? Richard, why haven't you ever told me anything?) And he understands the game, its field cleared again, in one bleak moment. Two sides. One light and one dark, but it doesn't matter. All pawns, but for the kings. He has always been outmatched.