"other people wouldn't stay,
other people don't obey,
you and me are both the same
you should really run away."
- Oxytocin, Billie Eilish

╳

"When I saw Bill.. he looked at me like nothing changed, you know? Like we were still friends." Frank reflects, his voice so low it's almost a whisper. "When I drew on him, he was shocked. It's like he was hurt. He was all confused, like I had betrayed him.."

Curtis and I both give Frank our undivided attention.

Leaning forward from the backseat, I study the forlorn expression on Frank's face, longing to comfort him in a tight embrace. Because Billy's not the only one that looks hurt and confused..

Frank looks down as he continues. "..When I looked at his face I saw Maria, I saw the kids. I saw how we always used to be together. We were family.." He looks at Curtis. "I'll tell you right now, he does not know what he did. He doesn't. I saw that."

So Dinah is wrong. Billy isn't faking any amnesia. He really doesn't remember the cruelty he participated in.

"I had the shot.." Frank adds quietly. "..and I froze. It was just for a second, but then it was too late."

Chatter on the radio breaks the silence in the car with mention of a found getaway vehicle, and a location. Curtis starts the engine and we head off.

As soon as the car is parked, Frank's seatbelt is off.

"I'll go, you stay." I offer, earning myself a standard annoyed look from Frank. "You can't walk right up to a building full of cops looking for you." I explain.

"Yes, I can. And you can stay in the car and do what your damn told." his quiet voice rasps. He gets out and slams the door shut.

I follow him with a glare until he's out of sight.

"God!" I exclaim breathily. "I'm practically begging this man to use me to his advantage."

Curtis chuckles under his breath while I let out an exasperated sigh.

"Stubborn ass." I grumble, removing my jacket. I lay it across my lap and survey the damage.

Five bullet holes in the back.

I curse under my breath and Curtis turns around to look at me as I check the back of my leg.

There's three bullet holes, from my calf to my upper thigh.

"Whatever." I sigh. "Clothing with holes and tears is a look, right?"

"Sure." Curtis says with a soft smile. "..You know, seeing you get up and run after being shot up.. that's something I won't forget anytime soon."

I snicker. "You're welcome." I grab hold of the rifle beside me. "You're the reason the sniper stopped snipin', huh?" I ask with a smile.

Curtis nods.

Then we're both ducking down in our seats as police cars pass us on their way to the scene.

A few minutes later, Frank makes it back to the car.

"Let's go. We gotta drive." he says, shutting the door.

"What's up, man? What did you see?" Curtis asks.

"A body.." Frank replies. "Bill shot the hostage, Curt."

Curtis's body stills for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel. Then he drops his head.

"Curt, we gotta move, come on." Frank says gently.

"I had a shot.." Curtis says, and slowly lifts his head. "When he was on the street coming at you, I had a shot." he confesses, instantly blaming himself for the hostage's demise. "I could've killed him.."

"Hey, hey, hey, don't do that." Frank tells him.

"That hostage would be alive right now-"

"Stop that. Shit happens." Frank cuts Curtis off. "..I told you to stay in the car."

"I did." Curtis nods. "Until I saw a sniper about to blow your head off." He looks to Frank. "See, here's the thing, Frank.. You keep tellin' people to stay out of it, but they care about you. Whether you like it or not. And I wasn't about to see you die."

"Eh, I'd have been alright." Frank dismisses.

"Bullshit!" Curtis says, raising his voice. "If it wasn't for me and Jena, you'd be one of the bodies on the street. Or you'd be in custody. Shit!" he exclaims, giving his head another shake.

"Curt.. we need to get off this road." Frank says, almost pleadingly.

Curtis is silent and stone faced as he starts the car, and Frank glances remorsefully at him.

"I could've killed him, too.." I comment quietly, as we drive away. "When I tackled Billy.. I could've killed him."

All I would've had to do is tackle him with my claws out. But I didn't.. I wanted to take him alive. Why?

Because he is not mine to kill.

But I could've at least injured him..

Fucking shit.

We're silent for the rest of the way home, the three of us drowning in our own guilt. It's hard for me to dwell on my own guilt though, because my thoughts are consumed with Frank.

He hesitated and I know he's going to hate himself for that. Especially with this hostage being killed. Even though Billy betrayed him in the cruelest way possible, it's hard for Frank to end his life. Especially when Billy doesn't even know why Frank wants him dead..

This is fucked.

Curtis finally pulls up in front of his trailer and the relief of being home visibly falls upon us all.

"What do we do now?" I ask quietly.

"You're gonna go inside that damn trailer and stay there, that's what." Frank grumbles from the front seat.

I roll my eyes and get out of the car.

I swing the trailer door open as I enter, part of me silently hoping it hits Frank on his way inside. But I'm glad that it doesn't.

"That stunt you pulled with Mahoney, he's gonna be lookin' for you now, too. I hope you're happy." Frank chides.

"Well, I'm not mad." I shrug. "Happy's a bit of a stretch, though."

"Christ." Frank mumbles, shaking his head.

"I hope you're happy he didn't arrest you." I tell him, before dropping down onto the couch. "You're welcome, by the way."

"What, you want a thank you? I never asked you to get involved." he retorts, looking very much annoyed.

"You don't have to ask. I was literally built for this shit, why won't you just let me help?"

"I don't want your help."

"It doesn't matter whether you want it, you need it." I counter. "Do you see Billy fighting on his own?"

"You want me to be more like Bill?" he argues, taking a step towards me.

"No- you know that's not what I'm saying." I say, trying to remain calm. "We just- we'll learn from our mistakes-"

"Mistakes-" Frank scoffs. "We make mistakes and people die. They die!" The loud timbre of his voice fills the small space. "A man died today because I dropped the ball, and you did, too. All of us did."

"So, we look at where we went wrong, and make sure it doesn't happen again-"

"Yeah, you're an expert on things goin' wrong." Frank sneers. "How many people have died because of you?"

My body stills and I narrow my eyes at him.

"Fuck you." I spit.

"Yeah, you'd like that." he snaps back.

My jaw flexes and my nostrils flare as I remain silent.

Because he's not fucking wrong.

I'd really like it.

Frank leers at me victoriously, stepping closer to snatch his gun back. Then he turns and goes to the cupboard.

"Give me the keys." he mumbles to Curt, while he grabs more ammo from the shelf.

"Where are you going?" Curtis asks.

"I'm going to find Bill." Frank declares.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. Where?" Curtis asks, stepping towards Frank.

"I'm gonna go see Jake." Frank states.

"Okay.. I'll drive." Curtis tells him.

"Give me the goddamn keys, Curtis." Frank growls.

"Or what? You're gonna shoot me?" Curt remarks.

Frank reloads his gun and turns to his friend. "Your funeral."

"I'm coming with you." I say, standing up from the couch.

"No!"

"Please.." I move for the door and Frank brushes past me as he exits the trailer. His scent fills my nostrils, stronger than usual. It's laced with pheromones and sweat, and has me halting in place.

I swallow the lump in my throat, as well as my next words. I close my eyes and give my head a quick shake, attempting to rid myself of arousal. But I recover from my momentary lapse too late. I step outside to watch Frank and Curtis hop into the car and drive away.

My body gives an involuntary shudder.

Angry, annoyed, embarrassed, aroused and unsatisfied..

..I think it's time to redecorate.

This poor junkyard has become my rage room.

I clamour about the yard, punching, kicking, throwing and breaking what I can. Until I come across a large tyre. I drag it out and stand it up against a still standing pile of junk and use it as a punching bag.

My rage session turns into a training session.

I set up small pillars of junk to be my adversaries, and practice my tucks, rolls and jumps. I hold my punches, practicing my swings before taking out the junk with hard kicks. I play with my flexibility, practicing multiple flips. Front handspring, back handspring, backflip, b-kick and even cartwheels, and revel in the burning of my muscles.

Hours later, I pace around the yard with my hands on my hips, warming down.

Frank, Curtis and I all being former soldiers, we don't take well to failing a mission. It doesn't feel good. Only, this wasn't much of a mission. Communication sucked and there was no real plan. Frank just knew he wanted Billy gone, and went for it.

We're all very capable people, and yet none of us managed to take Billy down.

This mission is personal for them. Which has made it personal for me, only on a different scale. I hate that this is hurting all of them, and that Billy is a threat to their lives. I want to take their hurt away, and make everything better for them. I want to keep them safe.

I've always been a little protective, but it's more stronger of an instinct now. I don't believe that was intended on Stryker's behalf, just something else that was heightened along with my senses.

I'd assume my libido's been heightened too, but it only seems to be Frank that arouses my carnality. Curt doesn't affect me that way, and he's very attractive. And no other man I've encountered since I've left the lab has made me feel this way. Not even Evan, or any of the other doctors.

Just Frank.

Annoyingly.

I'm drawn to him. It's something unexplainable. And strong. And primal.

I head back into the trailer for a cold shower, scrubbing the dirt and stray blood from my knuckles. As I let the cool water run over my face, I hear the sound of a car pulling into the yard.

My senses go on high alert as I quickly turn off the water.

A/ N

references: adapted dialogue from "My Brother's Keeper," episode 8 of The Punisher, Season 2.