Warning: Angsty, fluffy, Judah and Benjamin and a lot of plot based on theory.

-:-
Dear, It took so long just to feel alright
Remember how to put back the light in my eyes
- Jar Of Hearts

He kept a close eye on Benjamin from almost the moment he came into the world. It was the closest thing he felt he could get at a shot at redemption.

With Rachel exhausted after the birthing (that had taken the length of time from the sun coming up to setting in the sky to show off every visible star in the heavens) and their father worrying over his wife, it fell directly to Judah to clean up the tiny little thing and hold him pressed gently to his chest (secure and safe and much smaller, he felt, than Joseph had been when he was born; at least four pounds lighter and not crying exactly). It took about four hours or so before Rachel was awake enough to nurse the infant, but Benjamin hadn't complained (certainly, he had made the usual uncomfortable noises that babies made when they first entered the world and were confronted by chill and open space, but those were mostly gurgles and a noise a dog might make when it couldn't find a bone it had buried) to Judah until he had been moved from the sturdy, muscled chest and unto his mother's soft curves and unclothed arms so he could nurse. At that point, Benjamin had cried out like he had been confronted by a burning flame and wouldn't stop screaming until Judah rubbed the back of his head and the infant discovered the warm milk of life that would make him strong enough (he needed as much help there as he could get; he was a replacement, after all—even if, in his life, neither Jacob nor Rachel would ever say so).

All of the others—Reuben, Levi, Simeon, all the rest—made sure that Benjamin was safe and sound and wanted for nothing (guilt, guilt, guilt, but trying to atone for the worst mistake in the world they'd ever made alleviated the thoughts every one of them had of killing themselves), but Judah was the one that he kept to. Their father commented, when Benjamin was seven and started following Judah everywhere in the fields and almost ignored his schooling altogether to help tend the sheep and carry things around, that Benjamin was just a moon following what he felt must have been the sun. Rachel said that, no, it was more like a lamb that knew it was safer near a bear. Judah didn't say anything about either thought, but he did make sure, when Benjamin did come out to the fields with them, that he was behind him (it was wise to do so; taking away the extra weight Benjamin tended to pick up to lessen his brother's load) and, three times, he'd had to kill and drive wolves away from his brother when they thought he would be an easier meal than the sheep (there had been so much blood on Judah's hands the second time—a wolf that had gotten lucky and bit Benjamin's ankle and brought him to the ground had been met with Judah picking up a large rock and bashing it all over its body until Benjamin pulled him off, "It's alright, Judah! The wolf is dead, it's dead—you'll hurt yourself!").

When all ten of Benjamin's older brothers had families of their own, children and wives and in-laws to look after, he still kept close to Judah and Judah made time for him almost every day. That didn't change.

Then the famine came. Canaan had done well the previous years and had stored some grain and such to keep them going (odd, Benjamin had raised a fuss over not wasting the good fortune the first year that their crop came up three times better than the last and had convinced everyone to store up what they could and not just sell and eat the excess; Judah hadn't needed that much convincing—the boy was fragile as that had been the year that Rachel had died, he would have agreed with the teenager if Benjamin thought they should only eat every four days and drink every five at that point) but when the crop grew too thin to sustain all of their families and their stores dwindled, they decided to go to Egypt where they had heard that Pharaoh had a servant that had predicted seven years of plenty and seven years of famine. As it appeared that, if what that man predicted was true, then the sons of Jacob would not be able to get by the remaining two years without help. So they gathered up the silver they'd received for selling their brother (only Simeon had spent any of his share—one piece to buy the best alcohol he could find, drink all of it in one go and would have gone to jump off a very large ridge near the date when Joseph had been handed to the slave traders had Levi not caught him and took him to his own home to cry in shame for a couple days) and told Jacob that they would go and beseech for enough grain to last the remaining years.

Benjamin had not liked all of his brothers leaving ("Why cannot I go with you?") but had stood with their father and a teary good-luck, goodbye when Judah had hugged him and whispered, "You are a man, Benjamin, so I'm trusting you to be strong for yourself and be stronger for father. We will be back."

The youngest of all the brothers, Judah knew and felt with everything in his soul and bones, had cried when the older brothers had disappeared from sight, but not near Jacob and had done so in private.

It must have been awful for Benjamin when they all (but one) came back with weary steps and Judah had hugged him as though he would die, to whisper, "Now you needto come with us."

Enforced by the burning desire to get back and help Simeon out of prison (he wasn't angry that his brother had been thrown in jail, but then he, unlike his older brothers, could see it from to Egyptians' point of view; foreigners asking for grain and thought to be spies made sense—he was just worried for his brother) he had helped Judah to convince their father to let him go. He might never have done it if Judah hadn't been there (warm standing beside him, strength that was both firm and comforting) but soon the brothers managed to leave with the promise to Jacob that they would look after Benjamin and would be back (yes on both counts, all of them promised with the resolve of mountains that stood the test of time and the Nile River full of bounty and danger).

Benjamin was pleasantly surprised by the man that had put Simeon in a cell. Not only because he seemed kind and compassionate almost immediately, but also because he seemed familiar in some way that Benjamin couldn't explain. Even when he'd brought all the brothers back, cut into their bags of grain, and threatened Benjamin with slavery for discovering the cup, it didn't seem as though his anger was directed at him—more like at some silent force circling around him and Benjamin's brothers

He only truly disliked the man when Judah begged—as did all the brothers, but Judah was the loudest—him to let him go. Then he had insulted Benjamin in calling him "a half-brother who was spoiled by their father" and Judah looked like he wanted to either cry or…something worse that involved grave bodily harm. Benjamin had wanted to do something but all thoughts had ceased to be when Judah told of exactly why they couldn't let him be put into slavery.

("If if anyone should be punished, it should be us.")

Benjamin had thought in the few moments before the man (threatening, confused, grave…sad) had revealed himself as Joseph (the favorite one, the miracle child, the shame all of the elder brothers had carried around like their own private stigma,) of the scars Reuben had on his wrists, of the way that Issachar held himself rigid and didn't seem to feel anything, the times Simeon had gone out drinking to make himself into a complete fool and worked through the day after despite the agonizing headaches (or because of them, really), the way Asher seemed happy to make food for everyone but rarely seemed to eat food to delight himself, how none of the brothers ever seemed happy. He had looked at Judah and thought, 'You have already been punished, you have already been hurt.'

Their families had been rounded up and made the way to Egypt in supreme joy. Benjamin had helped their father every step of the way, but every night when Jacob fell asleep (he didn't seem to have nightmares since he'd heard indeed that Joseph was alive and better still in some ways) he snuck out of their tent and went into the tent Judah slept in. He didn't have to worry about his brother's children as they and all the brothers' wives tended to sleep in the same tent to be wary of wolves and brigands and such.

"Judah?"

As usual, because he didn't sleep well, because even if they were on their way to better lives he was still the oldest brother and had the responsibility to watch out for everyone, he woke up at the slightest nudge and looked up at Benjamin with expectancy for him to get to the point of why he had come as he had so often since he was old enough to walk, "Yes?"

It was immature and not proper, but the dizziness of elation for everything had worn off that evening, a day from entering back into Egypt and all Benjamin was feeling was uncertainty and want for something he couldn't pin-point unless he went to Judah, "…Everything is going to be okay, right?"

"…What?"

"Joseph is alive, so you and our other brothers can be happy now. It's going to be okay."

The skin around Judah's eyes stretched as they widened and blinked back little tears. He didn't ever cry (not before they'd found Joseph and not after) and Benjamin found both his hands wiping them away before they made the journey over his cheekbones.

The tears fell even more once Benjamin touched him and soon, without preamble and without invitation, Judah raised his covers and brought his little (so little, so tiny, and yet stronger than any of their brothers had thought when he had been born underweight and got sick so often when he was little it was often thought that he might not survive to adulthood) brother into the bed with him. Big arms wrapped around a much smaller midsection, small head tucked into the skin of a tanned neck that smelled vaguely of musk and sweat and the sands of the desert, tears slid into locks of hair much finer than just dark brown and three times softer.

Judah fell asleep wrapped around Benjamin like the protective bear and sun everyone said he was, but Benjamin was that night the comforting moon and lamb that he had wanted to be since as long as he could remember.