"Here," Tina hands Hughie a burger and a coke, smiling.

"Oh, um. Thanks," he takes them. She leans against the dusty bar counter upstairs, opposite Hughie, pulling her own sandwich out and peeling away the wrapping-paper. "This is what you went to get?"

"Yeah. I mean. Who knows how long it'll take Frenchie to find a fix," she replies, taking a bite. Hughie does the same. After swallowing, he awkwardly asks:

"How long does this kind of stuff usually take him?"

"There really isn't a timespan. It can take from an hour to a day. Hopefully less than a day," she chuckles. Hughie is not amused, visually tensing. She notices. "Relax, Hughie. It'll be fine," she tells confidently. "Once this blows over, you can get back to your life. It'll all seem like a bad dream-"

"I can't go back," Hughie cut her off, brows furrowing. Tina's smile melted, pursing her lips as she started putting together a convincing reason of why he really should.

"Listen, Hu-"

"No, you don't understand…It's A-Train. You – God…" Hughie sighed, sounding greatly exhausted.

Tina thought for a moment, before putting her sandwich down. She approached Hughie, taking his sandwich from him and putting it aside as well.

"Hughie. I think you already know that I'm gonna say staying is an incredibly shit idea. So why don't you convince me why you should?" she crossed her arms, waiting patiently. Hughie's gaze was disturbed, disturbed by the question, by the answer, by it all.

"I just…" his features suddenly hardened with a sense of frustration. "He laughed."

"Laughed?"

"A-Train. I saw him laugh, about what he did to Robin, with another fucking supe – They laughed, like it was nothing, like it was funny!" his voice had escalated, eyes involuntarily tearing up. Tina eyed him sympathetically. "Like – Like it was a joke! Like she was a joke!"

On instinct, she stepped up and pulled him into a hug, subconsciously noting he was ridiculously tall. Hughie couldn't understand why he seemed to be already hugging her back. It didn't feel weird. She rubbed up and down his back soothingly as he tried to even his breathing. "I can't leave. I can't leave her…like this."

"I get it," Tina nodded, then pulled away, facing him once more. "I do, Hughie. But…" she started, then stopped herself…She could see his eyes reflect how set his mind was. He wasn't going anywhere if she'd carry him out (though that would surely be impossible giving his height).

"We are going to kill Translucent. You have to accept that," she decided a more blunt approach was suitable.

…It took him a minute, but he nodded in understanding. He'd thought about it hard…Maybe they were right. Maybe it was necessary.

"Okay," Tina smiled softly at him. "Finish your sandwich then come down to the basement. I'll take Frenchie up for a break when you're done."

XXX

"I mean, I'm gonna have to talk to him about it when he gets back. The kid's smart, sure. But what we're doing, and how he is," Tina argues.

"I know," Frenchie nods in agreement, taking a drag from his cigarette.

The two were seated in the restaurant. Tina had her legs up on the chair opposite her, facing sideways Frenchie, who was across from her, with the laptop showing camera feed of the exterior of the building on the table.

It was dark outside now. Butcher wasn't back yet. Tina had left briefly to get them 'stay-the-night' stuff, including drinks, food, two sleeping bags, etc. She was always the 'prepared' one of the four.

Hughie was lingering about, currently stationed in the basement watching Trans.

"He's just never taken a life…It's understandable," Frenchie resumes.

"I get that, but the thing is I don't want him to. He seems like a genuinely good kid, ya know? You don't find many of those left," Tina rubs her arm tensely, facing in the direction of the basement.

"Mm," Frenchie smiles thoughtfully. She barely knew the kid, and already she was fussing over him, making his emotional and physical safety her business. Maybe she was a bit nosy, but Frenchie loved it about her.

Speaking of. "So…" he started, trying to get past the uncertainty, trying to retain that sense of unfiltered speech the two often engaged, back then.

Tina faced him once more curiously. "How, uh, did it feel?" he gestured with his hand, trying to form a 'subtle' question. "Seeing Butcher after all this time."

When her features grew plain, Frenchie realized his 'subtlety' fell quite flat. She looked down, showing a newly found interest in her nails. Frenchie was at least relieved she didn't seem to suspect anything of him, of the purpose of his question.

"I don't know. Surprising, I guess," she gave, sounding uncertain.

"Happy surprising?" Frenchie pushed, despite his brain encouraging shutting up.

"Um…heh…Yes? I guess – I mean. It's just been so long, ya know?"

"Mm." '(No. Don't say that.)' "But are you," he fixed his posture, breaking eye-contact. '(Don't.)' "still attracted to him?" '(…Way to be subtle, idiot.)'

Tina's eyes widened at the unexpected question, and Frenchie tried to remain as casual as possible. She broke the tension by chuckling humorously, though she couldn't hide the blush creeping up her cheeks.

At that point, Frenchie didn't need a verbal answer. It was staring him in the face.

He tried to quickly brush off the rising disappointment as she jokingly said: "Well, I mean. He hasn't stopped being attractive, has he?"

"Ah, right," Frenchie plasters on a grin, trying not to let that statement get to him.

"So, what about you, hotshot?" she cocked a brow. Frenchie raised one in turn.

"Me what?"

"That girl in the workshop," she wore a smug look on her face, and her tone was audibly suggestive. Frenchie shook his head dismissively.

"Nothing serious." Tina giggled.

"Why am I not surprised?" she asked sarcastically. Frenchie gave her a playfully unamused look.

'Why am I not surprised indeed?' her mind wondered. She felt a sudden pinch in her heart, like knowing the obvious – that specific obvious fact, bothered her. Like she wished he had changed. 'He really hasn't?'

"Something's not right," he interrupted her train of thoughts, and she looked to see him frowning at the laptop's screen.

"What?" she worriedly asked.

"This RV has been past here three times already."

As if on cue, they hear it drive by again, dangerously near.

Frenchie and Tina act coordinatively, and quickly. The laptop was already shut and on the ground. The two were at opposite sides of the room, taking cover, peeking through shut window blinds with guns raised.

Frenchie has eyes on. He watches the car anxiously as it slowly drives, away.

Releasing a breath of tension, Frenchie faces Tina, who had an all-clear on her side, about to nod reassuringly,

when just in the other area of the building, they see beams of flashlights, and quickly duck out of sight. There was this indistinct sound of radio transmission, a line of back-and-forth orders between the 'agents' who'd just infiltrated their safehouse.

Frenchie pumped his shotgun, and Tina pulled the trigger. Hearts were beating fast now. Any minute it could all hit the fan.

Thankfully, such a danger was not lost on either of the two, or maybe its unfortunate that their lives were always under threat.

Frenchie spots lights right next to Tina, hastily warns her, and quickly moves to the other side of the window, next to her to stay out of sight.

The window between them breaks down, and the barrel of a gun pokes in. Tina and Frenchie eye it warily as it scans the area across it, hopefully missing them both.

"It looks like we're losing him," they hear from the agent's radio. "The signal's going in and out…" The man turns his flashlight to the side, edging to catch Frenchie's arm. Tina panics, needing to act. Frenchie sees this and quickly raises his other hand at her to still. Slowly, and thankfully, the agent backs out. "Keep searching."

The two remain statue-still as the flashlights dissipate in the distance alongside radio static.

When they're sure they're alone, they both exhale heavily in relief.

"Fuck," Tina whispers, more angry than scared. She'd had so many close-calls throughout her life; it was becoming a habit, a bad one.

XXXXX