A/N: The POVs in this story are all over the place, I'm sorry; so far I had it almost evenly split between Frankie and Miles, but this is all Frankie. It just came out this way. I hope it's not too distracting!


Chapter 3

...

They all rushed into Miles's room, where they finally stopped to catch their breath. The twins looked scared and shaken, not really knowing how to process what had just happened. Frankie thought back to the sense of fear and disbelief she had felt only yesterday, as she learned that their dad had hit Miles, and now this, and she wondered how many other times something like this had happened before. The thought made her feel sick. She looked up to Miles, who was leaning against his desk for support, palms clasped around the edge, apparently lost in his own head. From what she could see, for sure he wasn't having any nice thoughts.

Hunter walked up to him until he stood right next to his shaking figure, not quite touching him, but close enough.

"You okay?" he asked, hesitant.

Frankie shot him a look of disbelief. Okay? Seriously? What kind of question was that? How could he be, their brother had just been shoved into a freaking bookcase, sure as hell he wasn't okay!

But Miles just nodded, eyes fixed on the clear table top, and Hunter shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clearly not knowing what to do with himself.

"Okay… good," he added, nodding. "Do you need… anything? Some ice, maybe?" Miles just shook his head, barely acknowledging him. "Okay, then…" Her twin turned his head back towards her, searching for support, but she honestly didn't know how to help, too shaken herself.

"How about I'll just go to my room and grab a few DVDs?" Hunter finally suggested. Speaking directly to Miles, he added, "It'll take your mind off things."

Again, as Miles failed to acknowledge him, Hunter turned to her in search for approval. Frankie just nodded, feeling like a hurricane of emotions was happening inside her, and not really knowing if she could do anything about it. She locked eyes with her twin, and they didn't even need to speak up to know what they were thinking, right now. Yes, of course she would stay here with Miles, there's no way in hell she could leave him alone. Hunter better be quick in getting those movies, though, because she needed him. They all needed each other, tonight, and she honestly couldn't imagine ever stepping out of this room again. Hunter nodded back at her with a blank face, and then he took off, leaving her alone with Miles and her unresolved feelings.

In the newfound quiet, Miles took a couple of deep breaths, before letting go of the support offered by the desk. He took a few steps, slowly and somewhat rigidly, his shoulders tense, and he sat down at the foot of his bed, right on the edge of the mattress. He wasn't looking at her, he looked like he was staring right into the back wall, but without really seeing it. Frankie had to force herself to calm down, push her rollercoaster of emotions aside, and focus on her brother. He hadn't let out as much as a sound, since before, and she was starting to worry about it: it certainly wasn't healthy, to get stuck in his own head like this.

"Miles," she called him, softly, "Please say something…"

But he kept staring into nothingness, without showing sign of having heard her. Frankie walked towards the bed and crouched down in front of him, placing her hands on his knees. She tried to get a hold of his gaze, from that position, but his eyes were elusive, almost determined not to look at her. This close to him, she noticed he was breathing heavily, although very quietly. He kept contracting and releasing his fists, and he looked like he was concentrating very hard on keeping himself together. She didn't know what to do: she got it, that he didn't feel like going over what had just happened; she understood she wasn't supposed to push him, if he didn't want to talk. But she needed so desperately for him to say something, anything, really, just to hear his voice. Just to convince herself he will be fine – they will all be fine.

"Miles…" She tried again, moving her hands up to his forearms, not really knowing how to continue.

But then, something else happened. At first he was just panting, like gasping for air. His face contracted in a way she had never seen before, and a choked sound came out with his breath. His eyes wandered towards her for the briefest second, and then, suddenly, he started crying.

Frankie didn't remember ever seeing her brother cry, not even when they were little; not even that time he had crashed with his skateboard down the driveway, when he was seven, and he had broken his wrist and there was blood everywhere. But he was definitely crying now, wet tears and red skin and that painful expression, and to be completely honest it looked terrifying. She got up to her feet and reached out to him, holding him close to her. He buried his head in her chest, and clutched on to the back of her dress like his own life depended on it, and Frankie experienced a pain she had never felt before – it was visceral, inescapable, and it expanded throughout the nooks and crannies of her own soul. She held his head in her arms, running her fingers through his hair, kissing him softly wherever she could reach. And the entire time, she felt like she was about to lose the fight against her own tears, pushing for her to let them out. But she couldn't let them out, because she was the only person in the room with her brother (her scared, hurt, terrified brother), and so she just needed to get a grip on herself and stop being this damn selfish.

"It's… it's okay," she tried, and her voice came out rusty and broken, and it hurt her in her throat. "It's okay. Shhh, Miles… I'm here, it's okay…"

Nothing was okay, obviously. But again, it's not like Miles was paying any attention to what she was blabbering, anyway. His shoulders kept contracting in her arms, and she could hear him breathe in heavily, like it was such an effort, and sobbing desperately, but without making any sound. She kept rocking him slightly back and forth, gently stroking his shoulders and upper arms – not his back, she was very careful of that, too afraid he would flinch at the touch, and then she would for sure lose it. She didn't have a clue what she was doing, obviously, it was all improvising, and as much as she wanted to be there for her brother, she found herself intensely wishing there was someone else, there with them; someone better, more qualified, someone who would know what to do.

It seemed to be working, though. Miles slowly got a grip on himself, the crying toned down, the sobbing stopped. His shoulders relaxed a little, and he eventually let go of her dress. She hesitantly pulled back from him, letting him wipe away his tears, and noticed how he was very intently not looking at her. He looked… ashamed. He probably was as well, and again she felt a sharp pain hitting her in the guts, for it wasn't him who should feel ashamed, for this, ever.

Without a word, she headed to his bathroom, at the back of the room. She wanted to give him some space, and at the same time she kind of needed a little alone time herself, to pull herself together. Once inside, the door still half open – for she didn't want him to feel alone, ever again, and especially not now – Frankie let a few tears roll over her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly with her hand: she couldn't start crying, not now, because she knew she wouldn't be able to stop, and one meltdown was enough for one night. She gulped down an entire glass of fresh water, welcoming the soothing feeling it gave her. Now would have been a great time for Hunter to get back, she thought, because she didn't know if she could hold it together for much longer.

With one last deep breath, she rinsed the glass in the sink, filled it up again with fresh water, and headed back out. Miles was still sitting on the same spot of the bed where he had been before, his eyes locked to the carpet. He gratefully accepted the glass she was offering him, and drank a few sips from it. It seemed to be working, he looked a bit better than before, a little calmer.

"I'm sorry, Franks." he whispered, his voice rusty. "I'm…"

But he didn't seem able to finish the sentence. He just kept breathing, slowly and heavily, in and out, like it was a chore. She placed her hands on the sides of his face, and kissed him softly on the forehead. Miles reached out to hold her forearms, keeping her from pulling away. His eyes were closed, his breathing getting more regular.

"It's okay," she repeated, for what felt like the millionth time, "I'm glad you could let it all out."

He didn't respond to that, and she just held him in her arms, silence around them. For a few minutes, that was all that happened: Miles kept holding on to her, and she kept stroking his hair lightly, as he calmed himself down.

...

A knock on the door suddenly broke the silence, shaking them out of their embrace.

"Miles, honey, can I come in?"

It was their mother, calling through the door. At the sound of her voice, Miles raised his eyes to Frankie's, and she was once again surprised to see how big and scared they looked (of their mother? She thought, and was slightly taken aback by the idea).

"Please, please Frankie, don't let her in, please…" he almost begged her. He suddenly seemed on the verge of breaking down again, it made her feel uneasy.

"Just a moment, Mum!" she called out, to stop her from entering. His eyes were still on hers, desperate.

"Franks…" he pleaded, but she gently stroked his hand, reassuringly.

"Don't worry, I won't let her get in here." She spoke softly, and he gave her a nod, eyes wide with fear.

Feeling slightly disoriented, Frankie slipped through the crack of the door and closed it swiftly behind her, her own body in between her mother and the entrance to her brother's room.

"He doesn't want to see you, now," she said, matter-of-factly.

Her mother closed her eyes shut for a second, inhaling deeply. When she reopened them, she nodded in understanding, giving her a tired smile.

"I brought this, for him," she said, showing a small tube of some sort of ointment. "If he fell on that bookcase… this will help, you know, if there's bruising."

Frankie took the tube, gazing hesitantly at her.

"Mum… he didn't exactly fall…" she remarked, slowly.

"I know that, honey," Diana replied quietly, sadness in her voice.

The images from before started replaying like flashes in Frankie's mind, making her shiver through the bones. Her brother, lying on the floor. Her mother, walking straight up to their father, placing a hand on his shoulder. All came rushing through her, again, the same confusion as before: why had she not gone to Miles, why had she not hugged him, comforted him? Why had she left them alone to take care of something this huge?

"…You didn't even look at him!" she accused, a mere whisper.

Her words hit her mother hard, she could see it, Diana was speechless for a second. Frankie gave her a scrutinizing look, like she was seeing her for the first time. She looked tired, and a bit shaken herself. The whole ordeal must have affected her just as much, after all.

For a moment, Frankie hoped against all hopes that her mum would hug her, kiss her on the cheek, whispering softly that everything was going to be okay – just like she had done minutes before with her brother. She needed her to do it, because she was scared, and hurt, as much as Miles was. But it didn't happen. Instead, her mum took an imperceptible step back, almost distancing herself from her, from the door, from her brother behind it.

"I was… just trying to remove your father, so he wouldn't hurt him again…" she whispered back, her voice cracking on the last few words.

And there was nothing to add to that. Frankie fidgeted with the ointment in her hands, her eyes low.

"I'll make sure he uses this," she said, and her voice had lost the harshness of before. She had almost opened the door when she changed her mind, turned around again and added, "Maybe tomorrow he'll talk to you. When he calms down."

Her mother smiled a sad smile, gave her a little caress on the cheek, and walked down the corridor, leaving Frankie alone in the dimly lit stillness.

Back in the room, she closed the door behind her, quietly, trying not to make any noise. She couldn't tell why, but she felt like she wasn't supposed to break the silence. Even as she breathed deeply, in and out, filling her lungs to the point they almost hurt before releasing the air, she still tried to do it in a way that was as silent as humanly possible.

Her brother was still sitting on the edge of the bed, exactly where she had left him. His shoulders towards the door, he had just turned his head slightly in her direction as she walked in. His right leg was fidgeting nervously, but in every other way he was still, rigid. She walked down and sat on the edge of the bed, right next to him, so close that their arms were lightly brushing each other.

"She's gone," she said, looking for his eyes. "She left this," she added, playing with the little tube still in her hands. Miles followed her gaze, looking slightly amazed at the sight of the ointment, but he didn't make a sound. He was calmer, now, she noted, the fidgeting had stopped since she sat next to him. He wasn't crying anymore, nor he looked on the verge of breaking down again, and his breathing was back to a somewhat normal rhythm, steady.

"She thinks it would help, you know," she explained, but Miles still didn't seem to acknowledge her, nor want to take what she was offering. "Please, Miles… would you let me…?"

At her pleading voice, he finally looked at her, and whatever he saw in her eyes – how scared she was, how much she wanted to help, how lost and useless she felt – his expression changed slightly.

"Okay." He said.

"Okay?"

He nodded, staring at the floor. He slowly pushed himself up – she noticed again that his movements were stiff, and the sight caused her literal pain in her stomach. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and started to remove it, but the masked pain on his face hit her like a train, and she jumped to her feet.

"Here, let me help you."

He let go of the hem, docile, and she carefully helped him get out of his shirt, gently removing his arms from the sleeves, one at a time, then rolling it up to his neck, before pulling it over his head. Miles didn't look at her once, he just turned around as soon as she was done, exposing his bare back to her.

When she didn't react, his voice barely audible, he asked, "What's the verdict?"

"It's… it's okay," she answered.

It wasn't okay. There were red, angry marks at different heights throughout his back, in the spots where his skin had impacted with the wooden shelves. There were darker patches, as well, blue-ish and purple, around the edges and close to his spine. It looked awful, but what was she supposed to say? She collected herself, pushed down the tears that were ready to roll out, took a deep breath.

"Here, let me see what I can do. This will make it a little better."

She didn't believe her words herself, but what else could she do? The damage was done, the pain was here to stay, for all of them. All that was left was trying her best to comfort him a little. She squeezed a generous dose of the thick gel out of the container, scooped a little bit of it on her fingertips and gently started to spread it over his offended skin. She was afraid of causing him more pain, but he didn't flinch at her touch, so she kept applying the medication on the rest of the marks, a little more confidently. Maybe it didn't hurt as bad as it looked, she thought. Maybe he was just very good at bottling up his pain, by now.

Once she was done, she patted him lightly on his upper arms. Then, suddenly remembering something from when she was little, and her mum would medicate her wounds, she leaned in closer and softly blew some air over the gel. It was supposed to give it a nice, cooling feeling, even if just for a second. She hoped it helped.

Miles turned around to face her and looked straight into her eyes. Without a sound, he pulled her in a tight hug, his arms clasping around her shoulders, his chin resting on top of her head. She could feel him breathing, so close to her. He inhaled deeply, once, twice.

"Thank you," he whispered, finally. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you, it wasn't fair. I know I scared you."

And this time it was her turn to tighten her grip on his shoulders and hide her face against his collar bone. She didn't even try to respond, as she knew she would have lost the battle against her tears once and for all. Instead, she lingered in the scent of her brother, the familiar mix of his skin, and his aftershave, and the fabric softener on his clothes. She inhaled it deeply until it calmed her down, until she felt like she could pull herself away from him, and smile, and she wouldn't break down.

...

Hunter came back a few minutes later, carrying the entire box set of The Avengers in one hand and The Walking Dead in the other. He was also bringing food, a shopping bag full of popcorn and cookies and sugar-coated peanuts and a giant bottle of coke. Miles had put his shirt back on, by then, and every trace he'd been crying was gone from his face. He smiled the first half-hearted, tired smile of the evening – but a smile, nevertheless – and started playing with the various disks his brother handed him.

"I feel more like a movie, than a series, I think." He said.

Hunter smiled back, a bit more convincingly. "Dude, whatever you say, tonight you've full TV-control. Just don't get used to it, okay?" And he took the first disk from his hands to place it in the blue-ray reader.

They all snuggled on the bed together, Miles in the middle, the twins at his sides. It was quite unusual for Hunter to behave so affectionately, and again, like last night, Frankie was quite surprised by it. Not that he went on to hug Miles or anything, but the simple fact that he laid down on the bed with them, instead of sitting at the foot of it like his usual loner self, was telling of the night they'd just had. As for herself, Frankie felt like she couldn't be too close to her brother, tonight; she held on to his arm and rested her head on his shoulder, absentmindedly stroking him with her fingertips. She didn't care too much about the movie, to be honest, she had seen it already plenty of times, but it was kind of nice to have something distracting going on, to take their minds off things. They could all use it.

They ate the pop-corn, and the peanuts. When the movie ended Frankie asked if they could watch another one, and Hunter silently went on to change disks in the reader. Miles said he just needed a toilet break, pushed himself up with some effort, and disappeared in his washroom. It was the first time that Hunter and Frankie were alone since – well, since before. Hunter came back to the bed and sat next to her, concern in his eyes.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she lied. He knew that, too. He pulled his legs up on the bed, turning slightly to face her.

"I saw him crying, before," he confessed. At her surprise, he added, "I came back, earlier, but as I opened the door I saw you two. And, well…" He seemed at loss for words. Frankie looked hurt, and she knew it. She couldn't help it: it had been so hard, and he had left her, alone to handle it. She really wished he hadn't. Unless…

"I though he wouldn't let himself, if I were there," he finished, and then straight away added, "I'm sorry I left you by yourself, I didn't know what to do…"

He seemed really worried. She must have looked incredibly tired. Or drained, or empty. That's what she felt, anyway.

"That's okay, Hunter," she reassured him. "I mean, I really wanted you to come back," she clarified, "But you're right, he needed it." She knew he was right: Miles would never cry in front of him. For some reason she didn't quite understand, he had let his guard down with her, but she knew it was not something that would normally happen.

"There's something else," Hunter continued. He stopped himself to check the bathroom door, but when they could hear the tap running he went on. "I've overheard Mum and Dad arguing. Like, really arguing. I don't want to say it in front of Miles, because I'm not sure of what I heard, but… I think she's kicking him out."

The last words came crashing on Frankie, in a way she hadn't expected. She felt… relieved, of course. Her father had properly scared her, tonight, and if this were true, it was good news they wouldn't have to face him in the morning. At the same time, she couldn't help feeling confused, and sad, and hurt. And she didn't want to think about it, but she knew she had no choice.

"…That bad, then, uh?"

He looked at her knowingly, and was about to add something more, but in that moment they heard the bathroom door opening, and Miles walked back towards them. Frankie managed a smile, and she and Hunter moved to make space for him between them. He smelled of toothpaste and hand soap, Frankie noticed as she laid her head back on his shoulder. She found it strangely soothing, and snuggled a bit closer to him as the movie started.

...

Twenty minutes into the third disk, Frankie noticed Miles had fallen asleep. She checked the alarm clock on the nightstand and saw it was 1:37 a.m.; quite a long day, indeed. She poked Hunter's arm to catch his attention, and silently pointed at their sleeping brother. He nodded back, found the remote, and stopped the film, turning the room into silence. It was completely dark, by now, the only source of light being the screen of the TV, and some feeble moonlight coming through the curtains. Frankie gestured in the direction of her own room, and pointed meaningfully at her clothes; Hunter nodded back, and she silently sneaked out to go get changed for bed. She wouldn't think it possible, but she was feeling even more exhausted than yesterday. It had been an incredibly long and draining day.

As she closed her bedroom's door behind her, Frankie leaned her back on it, and let the silence of the night surround her. Suddenly, all the emotion of the past weekend hit her again, all at once, and she knew for a fact she wouldn't be able to stop the tears, this time. Hell, she had no clue how she had managed the entire evening without crying, to be honest. She held on the canopy of her bed for support, just to avoid crashing on the floor that very second. She then let herself gently slide down, braced herself and cried all the tears she had been holding back.

She didn't think she was making any noise; she was careful not to. Still, in a matter of seconds, Hunter came rushing through her door. He saw her on the floor, curled up and sobbing, and his expression softened, and saddened, at the same time. He knelt down next to her, his legs bent under his body, and he reached out to her, without a word. She abandoned herself against him and cried, and cried, without restrain. She sobbed, and panted, and grabbed his shirt, and there was absolutely nothing, nothing she could do to stop it, now that she had let it start. Hunter held her tight, hesitantly rubbing a hand up and down her back. He ducked his head close to hers, holding on to her as her body was shaken by the sobs.

"I can't… stop!" she apologized, because she knew it hurt him, to see her like this. And she wanted to stop, she was trying, but her body wouldn't let her. It was like the dam she had painfully built the entire night had finally cracked, and now all the tears that had welled up behind it had to flush down, all at once.

Hunter didn't respond, he just tightened the grip around her ever so slightly, letting her be. She took in the soothing feeling of his familiar, skinny limbs around her, and quit any remnants of fight she had left, finally embracing the tears. At some point she would have to stop, she thought. At some point, she would just dry out.

It took her several minutes to calm down, and they felt like several hours. First the sobbing faded, slowly. Then the tears, as well, just ended. She felt completely exhausted, like she had just run a marathon. Her body ached, her throat ached, and she didn't feel like doing anything a part from curling up into a ball and fall asleep, right then and there. Hunter squeezed her gently, and moved some of her hair away from her face.

"Feeling a bit better?" he asked, softly, but his voice still came out somewhat cracked.

She looked up at him, and even in the darkness of the room, she could see his eyes were watery, and a single tear had left a trace down his cheek. She reached out, and gently wiped his face dry with her fingers. No words were needed, with Hunter. He didn't move his gaze from her eyes, not even for a second. When she was ready, he helped her to her feet. When she didn't move, he crossed her room without hesitation, even in the darkness, and retrieved a clean pair of pyjamas from her dresser. He sat on the bench at the foot of her bed while she got changed, staring at the moon outside her window. Once she was done and dressed, he patted her lightly on her shoulder and preceded her to the door.

"Wait…"

She stopped him, as his hand was already on the doorknob. He turned around to face her, surprised, and Frankie threw her arms around his neck, pushing her head close against his.

"Thank you, Hunter," she let out with a sigh. "I really needed it."

He gently pulled back, pinching her lightly on her cheek. "I know," he said simply, with a little tired smile.

They crossed the hall in silence and locked themselves in Miles's room, again. Their brother was still fast asleep, his battered back sunk in fluffy pillows, his arms resting on his chest. He was still wearing the grey chinos and white t-shirt he had worn all night, which definitely didn't seem like a comfortable outfit for the night, but there was no point in waking him up for this, better let him rest. He was lying on top of the comforter, too, so Frankie headed to his closet to retrieve a spare blanket. As she was in there, she also grabbed a pair of comfy lounge clothes and handed them to Hunter.

"I don't think he'd mind," she told him in a whisper.

Hunter smiled to her, then retired to the washroom while she draped the blanked on her brother's sleeping body. She then joined him in the bathroom, as they both borrowed some mouthwash and rinsed their faces in the sink. It felt surreal, to do such simple, everyday movements. Rinse your mouth. Wash your face. Drink some water. Frankie felt like she had aged ten years in the past ten hours, and she could see the same feeling mirrored on her twin's tired face.

"We should try and get some sleep," she told him, gently.

He nodded back at her, absentmindedly. As she was leaving the bathroom, though, he grabbed her by the wrist, silently catching her attention.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered, dead serious. "We'll get through this, together. I promise."

She closed her eyes, letting the words sink in. Tomorrow was going to be another tough day, but right now they could look forward to a few hours of sleep. Together.


A/N: This chapter was quite emotionally draining for me to write, and I really hope you enjoyed it! Reviews mean the world, so please let me know what you think if you have a spare minute :)