[ he hadn't been sure if diarmuid had known what'd happened to him, but if he didn't, a part of him wasn't sure he wanted to tell him β hypocritical, of course, but then that wasn't anything out of the ordinary with frank. in any case, the journey to recovery was a slow one by frank's standards, the week expanding to what feels more like a month, and he definitely hasn't been in a rush to talk to anyone while he's feeling and sounding as sickly as he is.
but that doesn't mean he'll ignore the call when diarmuid reaches out, even if he tenses a little at receiving it. it isn't just about the death but what came before that, what frank had done to make up for diarmuid's accident. ]
Yeah, I'm β I'm alright. [ not necessarily a lie. he's alive, and recovering in the same timely matter as anyone else who's gone through this week-long process. better than dead.
but it's the second part that worries him. ] What happened?
[He'd seen. But there's no point in lingering on it. He's fairly certain Frank wouldn't want him to; he's already said enough there. Now he just. Has to make sure to approach this delicately.
... There's at least one upside: if Frank has a negative reaction, maybe he'll be too bedridden to do anything about it! Is that a bad thought to have? ... No, not really, not if you've met Frank for long enough. He clears his throat, feeling a little anxious.]
Nothing bad happened.
... Quentin, he reached out to me. He would like to meet with me in person.
and he can feel the growing lump in his throat, swallows it down, tasting the disgusting pairing of medicine and chicken soup still lingering there. he almost feels sick again.
he doesn't want to talk about it, and maybe that's the upside to not staying on that topic.
but somehow the one the does carry feels even worse. ]
What? [ his voice isn't angry, possibly too tired for that, but confusion remains heavy in the word, silence following briefly as he tries to piece what he'd just heard.
of course quentin is back. considering his own return, he knew he would be, but he hadn't wanted to dwell on what that would mean, what he'd eventually have to confront, uncertain of which quentin he'd be seeing when he returned.
but it's the request to see diarmuid that has him turned around. and though the kid hasn't said it, frank knows exactly what his answer is. ]
You're going. [ not a question. he knows the boy too well. ] You can't go alone.
[If he sounds nervous, small, worried it's because that's precisely what he feels.
But... it isn't something he feels he can run from. Even if the 'rabbit' in him wants nothing more to flee β even now, a lot of horrible, paranoid thoughts keep lancing through him, running him into the ground every night when he just wants to sleep and be at peace for a moment.]
... I won't go alone. I've asked someone who has defended me before, if he can accompany me.
Aβand. It'll be in a cafe. Where other people will be. So we shall not be isolated.
[ he doesnβt want him to go. and a part of him is tempted to say just that, to scold, to reprimand, to tell him itβs not happening.
maybe heβs still too tired from his own death to make those arguments.
maybe heβs simply changed.
in either scenario, heβs sighing, listening to diarmuidβs plan. having back-up. being in a public place. heβs certainly got the steps right. ]
Good. [ itβs all he can say for the moment, his voice quiet enough that it only barely even gets caught by the audio of the fluid. he finds a silence then, momentarily, lips parted as if prepared to speak, though it takes him a while to. ] Diarmuid, you β if at any point, you donβt feel safe, promise me youβll get out of there as soon as possible. If he feels like a threat, donβt try to talk him down. Just ... just run, okay? Promise me that much.
I swear it. Believe in me when I say I'm more than happy to flee from danger.
... It's taking everything I have to ignore the abilities ascribed to my team.... but I must try, at least. We are all trapped in this place together after all, aren't we? We've little choice in seeing or speaking to one another in so small a space.
If I don't do this now, I feel it will just make things harder the linger we live among each other.
[ he knows diarmuid could be plenty stubborn, but he trusts him when he says heβd run, that heβd recognized the real danger if it comes to him.
and he damn wishes he was in better shape for this, that heβd be some sort of back up to keep him safe, even if he knows he wouldnβt be asked to join him in meeting quentin. but even knowing he canβt just run to keep him safe if he calls while heβs sick like this, he hates it. ]
I know. [ because heβs right. even if they wanted to avoid one another, this townβs small enough to always bring them all back together again. frank knows that plenty well. ] You β you got this, kid. I know you do.
[ he nods, even though he knows he can't see him, but it proves to be more for himself than anything, trying to pull himself together with something he's not accustomed to. ]
Yeah. Yeah, good. Just β just get back to me.
[ because they both know he'll lose his damn mind if he doesn't hear from him. ]
I'll wait. [ which is his own sort of promise that he won't do anything reckless, or try to charge in on his own accord as he's been prone to do. ]
[Diarmuid signs off β and the waiting game begins.
Itβs some time later (but as promptly as Diarmuid can, as is his way) when he sends a quick text message, his nerves shot but his heart a little less mangled.]
finished speeking with him.
Itβs ok now, you dont need to worry any more, I ashure you.
[ of course he's damn nervous the whole time. because he isn't there and he's desperate to be, but he knows diarmuid wouldn't want that (it's not even like he'd know where to go, but the town is small enough that he could probably find them if he dug a little).
but he tries to maintain himself β patience, as he remembers.
and then the text comes, and he releases a breath he'd been holding for far too long. ]
[Patience is a good virtue to have, Frank; Diarmuid's more than relieved to see Frank's practicing it, and hadn't burst into the cafe at some point despite his best attempts.]
I don't know yet. It's complecated, I think.
We talked about books. He wants to give me a rabit that can deliver messages if I need it. I think he
really is just a good person.
I don't know how to feel about it, when I still feel some mesure of fear when I look at him.
[ it's weird to read diarmuid's description of what happened; most people don't chat about ordinary things like books and animals with their torturers, and for a minute, frank even wonders if the kid's still talking about the same person.
but he knows diarmuid, and he evens knows quentin, and if the dome hadn't happened, this description would read normal without a doubt in this mind.
still, he can't rest easy. ]
it's gonna happen that feeling
that battle in your head about one image you got versus another
[ he'd had that before too. with bill.
when your best friend in the whole goddamn world turns out to be the reason your family's dead, it's a lot to try and separate those two different images. ]
take it one step at a time, yeah? it's gonna take a while to figure out how you really feel
[They're all words that resonate with him, appease his concerns, and most certainly make him wonder what the future may bring now; he prays it's something better than nearly getting killed in a forest by men who were once pleasant acquaintances. Biting his lip, he replies with some concern:]
... just talking, right? nothing too intemidating? Give him a chanse before you give him any scary looks.
[Yes, this is a boy who is trying to help out the guy who shot him through the shoulder.
[ he doesn't have the answers on how to heal, still struggling to figure that out for himself, but he knows diarmuid's got a strong head on his shoulders. that kid will get through this. ]
hey
it ain't like i can help the rough road look it's just my face
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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but that doesn't mean he'll ignore the call when diarmuid reaches out, even if he tenses a little at receiving it. it isn't just about the death but what came before that, what frank had done to make up for diarmuid's accident. ]
Yeah, I'm β I'm alright. [ not necessarily a lie. he's alive, and recovering in the same timely matter as anyone else who's gone through this week-long process. better than dead.
but it's the second part that worries him. ] What happened?
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[He trails off a moment.]
I'd heard.
[He'd seen. But there's no point in lingering on it. He's fairly certain Frank wouldn't want him to; he's already said enough there. Now he just. Has to make sure to approach this delicately.
... There's at least one upside: if Frank has a negative reaction, maybe he'll be too bedridden to do anything about it! Is that a bad thought to have? ... No, not really, not if you've met Frank for long enough. He clears his throat, feeling a little anxious.]
Nothing bad happened.
... Quentin, he reached out to me. He would like to meet with me in person.
To talk about what happened.
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and he can feel the growing lump in his throat, swallows it down, tasting the disgusting pairing of medicine and chicken soup still lingering there. he almost feels sick again.
he doesn't want to talk about it, and maybe that's the upside to not staying on that topic.
but somehow the one the does carry feels even worse. ]
What? [ his voice isn't angry, possibly too tired for that, but confusion remains heavy in the word, silence following briefly as he tries to piece what he'd just heard.
of course quentin is back. considering his own return, he knew he would be, but he hadn't wanted to dwell on what that would mean, what he'd eventually have to confront, uncertain of which quentin he'd be seeing when he returned.
but it's the request to see diarmuid that has him turned around. and though the kid hasn't said it, frank knows exactly what his answer is. ]
You're going. [ not a question. he knows the boy too well. ] You can't go alone.
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I'm going.
[If he sounds nervous, small, worried it's because that's precisely what he feels.
But... it isn't something he feels he can run from. Even if the 'rabbit' in him wants nothing more to flee β even now, a lot of horrible, paranoid thoughts keep lancing through him, running him into the ground every night when he just wants to sleep and be at peace for a moment.]
... I won't go alone. I've asked someone who has defended me before, if he can accompany me.
Aβand. It'll be in a cafe. Where other people will be. So we shall not be isolated.
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maybe heβs still too tired from his own death to make those arguments.
maybe heβs simply changed.
in either scenario, heβs sighing, listening to diarmuidβs plan. having back-up. being in a public place. heβs certainly got the steps right. ]
Good. [ itβs all he can say for the moment, his voice quiet enough that it only barely even gets caught by the audio of the fluid. he finds a silence then, momentarily, lips parted as if prepared to speak, though it takes him a while to. ] Diarmuid, you β if at any point, you donβt feel safe, promise me youβll get out of there as soon as possible. If he feels like a threat, donβt try to talk him down. Just ... just run, okay? Promise me that much.
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I swear it. Believe in me when I say I'm more than happy to flee from danger.
... It's taking everything I have to ignore the abilities ascribed to my team.... but I must try, at least. We are all trapped in this place together after all, aren't we? We've little choice in seeing or speaking to one another in so small a space.
If I don't do this now, I feel it will just make things harder the linger we live among each other.
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and he damn wishes he was in better shape for this, that heβd be some sort of back up to keep him safe, even if he knows he wouldnβt be asked to join him in meeting quentin. but even knowing he canβt just run to keep him safe if he calls while heβs sick like this, he hates it. ]
I know. [ because heβs right. even if they wanted to avoid one another, this townβs small enough to always bring them all back together again. frank knows that plenty well. ] You β you got this, kid. I know you do.
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[He repeats it, as if Frank's a coach in his corner of the ring.
Only this kid can't fight off someone with his fists.]
I'll report back to you after, okay? So that you know I'm unharmed, and that it's... it's resolved.
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Yeah. Yeah, good. Just β just get back to me.
[ because they both know he'll lose his damn mind if he doesn't hear from him. ]
I'll wait. [ which is his own sort of promise that he won't do anything reckless, or try to charge in on his own accord as he's been prone to do. ]
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Itβs some time later (but as promptly as Diarmuid can, as is his way) when he sends a quick text message, his nerves shot but his heart a little less mangled.]
finished speeking with him.
Itβs ok now, you dont need to worry any more, I ashure you.
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but he tries to maintain himself β patience, as he remembers.
and then the text comes, and he releases a breath he'd been holding for far too long. ]
okay
you're alright?
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I don't know yet.
It's complecated, I think.
We talked about books.
He wants to give me a rabit that can deliver messages if I need it.
I think he
really is just a good person.
I don't know how to feel about it, when I still feel some mesure of fear when I look at him.
It's foolish to feel guilty about that, isn't it?
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but he knows diarmuid, and he evens knows quentin, and if the dome hadn't happened, this description would read normal without a doubt in this mind.
still, he can't rest easy. ]
it's gonna happen
that feeling
that battle in your head about one image you got versus another
[ he'd had that before too. with bill.
when your best friend in the whole goddamn world turns out to be the reason your family's dead, it's a lot to try and separate those two different images. ]
take it one step at a time, yeah?
it's gonna take a while
to figure out how you really feel
[ and after a beat, ]
i'll try talking to him too sometime
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... just talking, right?
nothing too intemidating?
Give him a chanse before you give him any scary looks.
[Yes, this is a boy who is trying to help out the guy who shot him through the shoulder.
He's an odd thing, he knows, he knows.]
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hey
it ain't like i can help the rough road look
it's just my face
[ it's not like he tries to look intimidating.
most of the time. ]
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Nooo
you have
a very frendly face.
[Does he sound convincing enough?]
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kid you're a damn terrible liar
even in text
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I just... prefer not to lie. That's all.
[He's a terrible liar.]
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liars are assholes
never be an asshole
[ says the king of assholes. ]
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Some one has to be the machure one around here.