"are you strong enough
to stand protecting
both your heart and mine?"
- Heavy In Your Arms, Florence + the Machine

╳

"This is what it feels like.." I mutter from the back seat, watching the roof of Curtis' car illuminate periodically from the passing street lights after regaining consciousness.

"What?" Frank questions from the drivers street.

"..Dying."

"Stop that. You're gonna be fine." he denies. "Curt's gonna patch you up."

"I'm not the one that dies, I'm the one that does the killing?" I offer, in a weak but light hearted tone, while my eyelids battle to stay open.

"Damn right." Frank replies and I chuckle quietly.

The small laughter turns into a splutter, bringing the taste of blood into my mouth and making me grimace.

Shortly after, the familiar clatter of junkyard gravel rattles beneath the car, signalling we've made it home.

Frank's quick to scoop me back up into his strong arms like I'm feather light. Pain all but forgotten, I rest my head into the crook of his neck and inhale his sweaty, masculine scent, content to have him so close.

But that changes once we enter the trailer.

Frank yells for Curtis's help while Curtis clammers about with his medical supplies, and my attention is brought back to my injuries.

Frank lays me on the ground and Curtis gets to work. Cutting the sleeve from my jacket to get to the bullet wound in my right bicep, tightening the belt on my thigh, lifting up my shirt to reveal the stab wound in my ribs, and cursing under his breath at the revelation of each injury. But then he falls silent and his eyes focus as his medic training takes over.

Frank wraps a bandage tight around my knuckles and holds my hand in both of his, applying pressure.

"Wait.." I breathe.

"Jena, I have to do this now." Curtis insists.

"Just let me go." I say and they stop and frown at me. "This is my way out. This is how I s-stop this.. Let me go."

"Do it." Frank orders Curtis, and he start's digging for the bullet in my arm, the both of them ignoring my protests.

"No, Frank.." I mumble, trying to push his hand from my knuckles.

"I have to keep pressure on this, Jen."

"No.. just let me die." I plead and Frank shakes his head. "Don't you see? This is how Stryker loses."

"Yeah, and who wins?" he asks, pinning me in an intense gaze that's begging for me to reconsider my line of thinking.

"Everybody wins." I pant. "Everyone will be safe, he won't be able to control me, you guys can go back to your lives-"

"No."

"Frank-"

"No, stop that shit." he demands lowly. "This ends with him dead. Not you."

I grimace at the uncomfortable feeling of Curtis digging for the bullet, but my eyes stay focused on Frank's face.

"You're gonna be fine. We're gonna fix you up. Then we just need to find out where he's hidin' and we end him. He loses. And you're free." he insists, before leaning in closer. "I'm gonna do whatever I can to make that happen for you." Frank promises.

"..Why?" I breathe, giving a weak shake of my head.

"You deserve better." he quietly answers.

A short cry escapes me as Curtis removes the bullet from my arm.

"Shh, shh, shh." Frank soothes, his grip tightening on my hand. "You're okay."

A groan hums from my closed mouth when Curtis starts stitching the small wound.

"So do you." I say through gritted teeth, breathing heavily through my nose. Frank furrows his brows. "You deserve better." I elaborate. "I die, you don't have to see me again-"

"No-" Franks eyes squeeze shut and he shakes his head. "That shit I said today- I didn't mean it." he insists, eyes locking back onto mine.

"Doesn't mean it wasn't true." I whisper.

"Yes it does." he declares. "..I'm just an asshole."

"An asshole that couldn't stay out of trouble?" I ask quietly, a hint of a smile brushing my lips as I repeat his words from when we first met.

"That's right." he replies, the tiniest glint of humour reaching his dark eyes.

"Frank, switch." Curtis says. He and Frank get up and swap sides of me, for Curtis to examine the stab wound in between my left ribs.

Frank envelopes my hand once again, returning pressure to my knuckles, as I look down at the angry stab wound, one and a half inches wide, and I don't know how deep.

"..You're lucky." Curtis mumbles. "Don't think it hit any organs.. but you've still lost a lot of blood." He takes a quick scan of my assumedly pale face, before grabbing a surgical staple gun. He sends me an apologetic look. "..I don't have any pain meds or sedatives." Curtis adds regretfully.

I set my jaw and gaze up at the ceiling. "Just do it."

My muscles tense with each staple he gives me, and the tensing of my leg reminds me of the bullet it still holds, hurting far more than the staples.

But the pain is good, it means I'm alive.

For the time being.

I take the pain, scowling up at the ceiling but my eyes betray me, sending tears down the side of my face, running to my ears.

"I'm sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry." Frank whispers insistently.

I turn to him, and the remorseful look on his face has me frowning. "You didn't do this."

"If we didn't fight, you wouldn't have left and this wouldn't have happened-"

"Stryker was always going to happen. I'm glad I was alone when he did resurface." I mumble weakly, looking Frank up and down. "I've been through worse than this." I add, as Curtis punches the final staple.

"Jena, can you roll onto your side for me? I need to get to your leg." he asks.

I give my head a little nod and do as Curtis asks, as slowly and gently as possible. But pain shoots up my leg, and my vision doubles and blurs.

I hold back a cold shiver while Curtis examines my bullet wound, and try to focus my attention on Frank. But there's two of him and I can't tell which one is real. Neither look real and the edges of my vision start to darken.

"It's too deep." Curtis states. "But the bleeding's slowed, so it'll be okay. If I go diggin'.. I could be unpluggin' a cork."

I hear his voice, but I don't feel it. I don't feel Frank's grip on my hand, and I don't feel the presence of their bodies.

I blink at the blurred image of Frank's hands holding mine, not feeling it, or the blood soaked fabric between our skin.

"But then she's open to infection.." Frank's low rasp rumbles, music to my ears. But I think I revel too much in the glorious sound, because my head starts to spin.

One thing I do feel, is the sweat forming on my clammy forehead.

"Bleeding out is faster than infection." Curtis replies. "Patch her up and keep her still until her healing's back? Or.. take her to a hospital?"

I want to protest but the search for my voice has my body losing the fight to keep myself from shivering. My body shudders as Frank answers for me.

"No, no hospitals."

The black edges of my vision swoop in and claim it all, leaving me in silent darkness.

╳

I finally beat the darkness, blinking as I gather my bearings.

I'm no longer on the floor. I'm on the thin mattress of the trailer's bed, and low light shines in from the kitchen.

Sitting up, I shuffle to the edge of the mattress, only sensing one person inside with me.

"Curt-" my call of his name is cut off by a sharp gasp as a stabbing pain rips up my left leg. I stumble and catch myself on the door frame of the little bedroom.

"Woah, hey-" Curtis jumps up from the couch, reaching me in four long strides. "You gotta keep still- lay back down."

"Where's Frank?"

"Just lay back down." he repeats, and tries gently ushering me back to the mattress.

"Curtis-"

"He's alright, okay? Just get off your feet and then we'll talk."

He holds onto my arm as I hop the short distance back to bed. I sit back down and Curtis helps me elevate my leg.

"How long was I out?" I ask him, panting through the pain as my other injuries make themselves known. I can't have been out long, considering it's still dark outside and I'm clearly not healing yet.

"'Bout six hours." Curtis answers, after a momentary glance at his watch. I stare up at him in surprise.

I was expecting one hour at most..

Ignoring Curtis' protests, I rip the bandage from my hand. My knuckles are the same, completely unhealed, like I've just used my claws. No signs of any regeneration at all. The opposite really. The skin around my split knuckles is inflamed..

"Where's Frank?" I whisper, not wanting to acknowledge my predicament.

"He's just on a little stake out. I had to send him away. This was all too close to home. Him holdin' on to you, covered in blood and riddled with bullets. Like his family was.." Curtis tells me mournfully, with deep sympathy for his friend. "He'll be back in the morning." he adds.

I remain silent while my thoughts are consumed with Frank, and soon Curtis insists I need to rest. He helps me get comfortable, then brings me a glass of water.

"..I hope you know he didn't mean the those things he said to you." Curt comments as I drink. "I've known Frank a long time, and there's one thing for sure.. he cares about you."

I lower my glass, staring up at Curtis, longing to believe him.

"He's not like most people." he continues. "He doesn't want to feel for you, because he's scared of getting hurt. He'd rather stay mad at the world than risk being a part of it."

Frank's heart has been brutally broken, of course he's going to keep it tightly locked away. But Curtis believing Frank cares for me warms my aching heart. I have felt he cares, but his behaviour has made me doubtful. But now, hearing Curtis explain.. it's all so obvious.

Frank hasn't been pushing me away because he doesn't like me. He's kept me at arms length to protect his heart, and by extension, mine.

Overwhelmed with affection for him, my desire to see Frank increases ten fold.

"Well.. he definitely must care a lot about you, too." I say to Curtis, a small smile playing on my lips. "'Cause you're the only other person I've met that's stood up to Frank and didn't get killed."

Curtis chuckles under his breath.

"Thank you, Curtis." I state, soft but firm, reaching over to take his hand in mine. "You and Frank, you saved my life."

I'll owe them forever.

Because for the first time since meeting Stryker, I'm grateful to be alive.

╳

The next time I wake is when Frank returns.

He brings me something to eat and sits on the edge of the bed, checking me over, asking if I'm okay. I feel more than okay now that he's here.

The day goes by much the same. Frank brings me food and water, while Curtis does the day stakeout on Billy's warehouse. Frank and I both rest as much as we can, then night falls, and he and Curtis swap.

Frank returns the next morning, and off Curt goes again.

And still, I don't heal.

But when night falls this time, things are different. Frank is gearing up.

"I can help you, Frank." I tell him, leaning on the kitchen bench to support my weight as subtly as possible.

Frank snaps his eyes to mine, surprised by my presence. He looks me up and down, and scoffs. "That right?" he asks sarcastically, looking back to the guns, bullets and magazines in front of him.

"You know I can."

"I know you still can't stand on your leg. And you shouldn't be standing at all." he says, before turning to me. "It's been 48 hours.." he adds quietly, more serious than mocking.

"Yeah.." I nod my head slowly. "..guess he kinda OD'd me on the serum."

"What if it's permanent?" he asks. "He can't catch you, can't control you.. Maybe he's tryna get rid of you."

We stare at each other for a moment, before I turn the conversation back around.

"Just wait a day. I'm sure I'll be good as new. And now Evan's gone, Stryker can't track me." I say, feigning optimism.

"That Evan.. Thought he was one of the good ones?" Frank queries gently.

"He was. Evan was the only doctor that showed me any kindness in the lab." I answer. "But Stryker erased his memory, used him as an example of what I am to be, if he gets his way."

"I'm sorry.."

"I'm good at getting people killed, right?" I shrug and Frank grimaces. "Just one more day, please." I plead.

"..This is something I have to do." Frank replies, his eyes filling with that all familiar intensity.

"I know. I get that. I can help take out the others and I'll leave Billy for you." I tell him.

"What you can do, is get your ass back to bed." Frank says dismissively. We stare at each other, neither one wanting to fold. "Go on." he adds, nodding his head in the direction of the bedroom.

One moment longer and I finally concede, tearing my eyes from Frank's. I slowly turn and begin my hobble back to bed.

When I no longer feel his eyes on me, I decide to test my leg. Slowly placing my foot on the ground, I begin to shift my weight, but the breath is sucked from my lungs as sharp pain shoots up my limb, and I have to catch myself on the door frame again.

Frank is beside me in an instant.

My initial reaction is to rebel against his aid, but when he holds me, I melt into his touch instead. With one hand on my left arm, the other on my right hip, he guides me to the bed where I sit on the edge of the mattress.

"I'll get you some water." he mumbles, picking up my empty glass.

When he returns to the low lit room, he sets the water down beside the bed and fidgets with his hands.

"Look.. Curtis and I, we got a plan. We've scoped out the place, we know what we gotta do." he assures me. "We gotta do it now, incase Billy decides to move."

"It doesn't feel right, Frank.." I say lowly, as I look up at him. "And I'm not just saying that. I.. Just wait. Please." I softly beg.

"Jen.."

"Don't go." I plead, a tear suddenly escaping down my cheek.

"Shh, shh, shh." Frank soothes, squatting down before me and looking up into my eyes. "Hey-" he reaches a rough hand up to caress my cheek, his thumb wiping away my tear.

I lean into his touch, while my eyes beg him to stay. And his dark eyes are begging the same of me. Because he knows, bullet in my leg or not, if he walks out that door, I will follow.

But every thought leaves my head when he suddenly leans in and presses his lips to mine.

This caress of our lips is everything I've longed for and more. He's tender, yet dominating, and I am putty in his hands, ready to fold to his will. All I can do is lean into the kiss, deepening it, enraptured by the taste of him.

As we kiss, his hand slowly drops from my face, fingers gripping onto my forearm instead. I revel in his touch, until something sharp pricks into my arm, and I jerk away from him.

I look down at the needle Frank pulls from my arm, at the thin and now empty syringe in his hand.

"You're gonna be okay.." Frank tries to reassure me.

I brush his words off with a shake of my head, anger coursing through my veins along with whatever he's just injected. I snatch onto his wrist and lift his hand up, the syringe still in his grip.

"The fuck is this?" I growl. All bliss is gone, swiftly replaced by anger and hurt.

"Sedative." he admits lowly.

"You fucking-"

"I'm not takin' any chances." he cuts me off.

I let go of his wrist and shove his chest with both hands, but I push myself away more than I do him. When I try to get off the bed, he's quick to stand up out of his crouch.

"Easy-" he mutters, hands on my shoulders, trying to lay me down. But I recoil from his touch, ignoring the pain in my ribs from the jolting movement. "Easy.." he repeats.

The fight starts to leave my body, my arms feeling more and more like jelly than limbs. With my healing still suppressed, I'm no match for the sedative.

I give up trying to push Frank away, and start trying to pull him closer instead. My fingers grab his shirt in the tightest grip I can muster.

"Frank, don't do this-" I plead, breathing erratically.

"I have to." he replies, finally laying me down.

He hovers close, my nose flooding with his scent, it alone nearly knocking me out.

"Please- it's not safe." I whimper.

"Shhh, shh." Frank soothes, stroking a hand down my face. "Imma go finish this, and then be straight back, alright? I'm gonna be here when you wake up." he assures.

"..Asshole." I breathe, before my eyes close. My hands lose their grip from his shirt and fall limply to the bed.

"Damn right." he mutters, and I feel his lips press to my forehead.

Not all the rage or panic in the world can help me win this battle. I succumb to the darkness, a fool played.