A/N: Back from my holiday, unfortunately. Tomorrow I'm starting a new job, though, quite excited. Wish me luck!

So, this is THE chapter, finally. It's the longest in the whole story, and it hopefully does a half-decent job at explaining what the heck's been going on.

Enjoy!


[3. FRIDAY]

Frankie and Miles are wandering around the City Park just neighbouring Queen's with a cup of hot coffee in their hands. The warmth radiating from the steaming liquid feels pleasant on their fingers against the chilly February air. It's still proper winter in Kingston, snow covering the ground at either side of the paths. It's not a particularly sunny day either, and everything around them looks kind of monochrome — white all over. It's beautiful, in its own way.

Hunter has classes all morning, and it's the first time the two of them have dared to venture outside to explore the coffee options on campus. Yesterday they wound up spending all day in Hunter's room, Frankie adamant she didn't want to see anyone or be seen, and now they feel like if they stayed inside that shoe-box for five more minutes they'd probably start eating each other's heads off. So they're out.

They walk down the paths till they reach a little clearing with a few wooden benches. It's quiet, and secluded, and it seems like a good spot for them to stop and enjoy the fresh air without having to run into anyone.

They take a seat on one of the benches and for long minutes they just sit in silence, occasionally sipping from their coffees. Miles keeps sending sideways glares at his sister, testing the waters. They haven't really talked much in the past few days, and Miles has been biting his tongue to stop himself from asking her any of the million questions he has. He'd rather just leave her space, and time, and wait till she's ready to talk. The last thing he wants is to force her to do anything.

Frankie shivers in the freezing cold morning air, and she pulls her legs up on the bench in an attempt to keep warm. Miles takes off his scarf and wraps it around her neck, on top of hers.

"Thanks," she says.

"Don't mention it."

She leans back against the seat of the bench, her eyes wandering to the frozen nature in front of them.

"I... uhm," she starts, and Miles sits up a bit straighter as he picks up on the tone in her voice. "I guess I should talk to him at some point… right?" Frankie asks, tentatively.

Miles doesn't answer straight away. Truth is, this is not exactly what he was hoping she would say. Yet, it doesn't escape him that it is the first time she mentions Max at all since Miles got here two days ago. And this is huge. So he just asks, "Why, has he tried contacting you?"

The mere idea makes him feel sick. He doesn't want her anywhere near him, not ever, not even on the phone.

"Honestly, I don't know," she says, "I switched off my phone after I got here, and I haven't turned it back on since."

Miles nods at her, somewhat relieved to learn that. Come to think of it, he hasn't seen Frankie on her phone at all yesterday, which is… just not like her. It makes sense, now.

"Well, you don't have to talk to him if you don't want to. Ever. You don't owe him anything, Frankie."

Frankie looks at him for the briefest moment before returning her gaze to the cup of coffee she's nursing in her hands. She doesn't sip from it, though, just takes a deep breath.

"It's just… I don't know. I think I need to clear my mind before calling him, realise where we stand."

Her last words register weirdly with Miles and he sends her a suspicious look. "You dumped his abusive ass. That's where you stand!"

Frankie instantly freezes at his words. Her head shoots up and she looks him dead in the eyes.

"Well… it's not that simple, Miles, is it?"

"What do you mean? Of course it is!"

"I mean, we live together. I can't just… run away and disappear."

"Are you seriously considering going back to him?" he asks her, incredulous. A sense of pure dread is growing at the pit of his stomach, and he sees Frankie flinch under his bewildered stare.

"That's not what I said! It's just… I don't know, okay? I don't know how I feel right now!"

Miles turns abruptly away from his sister, feeling his blood boiling in his veins. He hasn't felt this angry in a very long time, and it scares him a little. He clenches his hands around the edge of his seat to try and calm down. The last thing he wants is to scare her into not talking, now that she's finally opening up, and he realises he's doing a lousy job at making her feel comfortable. So he takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he murmurs, eyes on the ground. "It's not you I'm mad at, you know that."

Frankie sits quietly for a long few minutes, and Miles thinks, That's it, she won't talk to him again. But then, when he's pretty much given up all hope, Frankie surprises him.

"I keep scanning my memories," she says, "Going over every little detail looking for the red flags, all the signs I must have missed."

And that is not what he expected to hear. Miles glances over at her, trying and failing to hide his concern.

"What signs?" he asks, doing his best at controlling his voice.

Frankie evades his gaze, and Miles's heart drops in his chest. He thought it was bad enough that his sister's asshole boyfriend freaking hit her, he certainly isn't ready to learn there might be more. She nervously fidgets with the hem of his scarf, and when she starts speaking again it's so quiet he almost misses it.

"It was never perfect, you know?" Clearly, Miles catches himself thinking, but he bites his tongue and lets her talk, "Max can be incredibly sweet and romantic, but then sometimes he gets so mad about the smallest things…"

Miles finds it hard to swallow, his throat as dry as sandpaper. "Like what?" he asks her, as softly as he can.

"Like… I don't know. It's hard to explain."

"Try me."

She takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she leans on the back of the bench, staring vacantly at the naked trees in front of them.

"Like… he's got quite a temper, when things don't go his way. And he can be a bit possessive, at times." She lowers her eyes to the ground and crosses her arms in front of her chest, as if trying to make herself smaller. Even her voice drops to merely more than a whisper. "The other night we had a huge fight while we were in his car. I mentioned I'd like to go home a few days during Spring Break, and he like… completely lost it. I don't know if it was that I didn't tell him sooner, or just the fact that I was going at all, but… He kept shouting at me the entire drive to his parents' house, I was basically still trying to get myself together as we rang the doorbell. It was awful."

All sorts of red flags are waving inside Miles's head, but he tries to stay focused, keep talking. Keep her talking.

"Does he have these fits often?" he asks, fearing for the answer.

She hesitates. "Sometimes," she says, evasive. "Actually yeah, we argue quite often," she finally admits. She sighs, her shoulders slumping down as she raises her eyes to the sky, blinking a few times too quickly.

"He full-on yells at me, for hours sometimes," she whispers. "It makes me feel horrible. Like… completely worthless."

Miles finds himself staring wide-eyed at her, incapable of uttering a single word. Frankie drops her eyes once more, closing in on herself.

"Have you talked to anyone? About any of this?" he finally manages to ask her.

Frankie shrugs, her eyes avoiding his. "Not really."

"Why not?"

He gets it, nobody really wants to spew their problems on other people — Miles for once has never been good at asking for help. Yet, he can't help feeling a little disappointed to learn that Frankie didn't reach out to any of her friends. You'd think that all the crap their father put them through in high school would have taught her that you can't get through this kind of shit alone.

Frankie just scoffs, though, her head shaking slightly. "It's not like I have all these people in my life," she says in a bitter tone that doesn't sound like her, leaving him even more confused.

"What are you talking about? You have plenty of friends!"

Frankie glances away, avoiding his insistent gaze. "Not really, no."

"What about Shay, or Lola?" he suggests, but Frankie merely shakes her head at him, a sad smile on her face.

"High school is over, Miles. I barely get to see Lola when I'm back in Toronto, and Shay is so far away, and so busy all the time I never even hear from her. And I guess I have distanced myself, too. It just never seemed right to call them out of the blue."

"What about your friends in Montreal?" he tries again.

Frankie pauses, tormenting her fingers in her lap. "I guess I'm just not as popular as you thought, uh?"

Miles is at loss for words, this is news to him. Frankie, the social butterfly, doesn't have anyone to talk to? Not a single soul in Montreal that she trusts enough to open up?

"What about the… the societies, the clubs, weren't you into, like, a ton of them?" he searches his memory for clues, insistent, "The... Debating Union, wasn't it? Or… any of the other 1000 activities you're involved in?"

Frankie shakes her head, a tired look on her face. "That was last year. I've dropped out of most of those things. And well… people don't really stick around, when you don't stick around."

He finds it hard to read her tone, which is an odd feeling, because Miles knows Frankie like the back of his hand. It feels off-balance, like something still doesn't add up.

"...you quit all the clubs?" he asks her. "Why? You loved that Debating Union, last I saw you you wouldn't shut up about it!"

Frankie shrugs, dismissive. "Max didn't like me staying out late. And I wanted to be home with him after work, or I wouldn't see him at all, you know?"

Now the alarm bells are blasting full volume in his head, what Frankie is saying definitely doesn't sound right.

"I don't know, I… I was just tired of fighting, I guess."

"Jesus, Frankie. He did a number on you, didn't he?"

He's looking at her in dismay, and he can see she notices it. Frankie suddenly pulls herself up a little straighter, a guarded look appearing on her face.

"I didn't just quit everything," she says, "I still volunteer at the Charity every Wednesday. Although..."

She briefly looks at him with her big, weary eyes, only to focus back on the tips of her shoes straight after.

"What?" he encourages her, as softly as he can.

"His mother is there too. And I don't mind, I like her a lot, but… I never felt like I could really talk to anyone, there, you know? Like she was watching me. Man, I sound paranoid now, I-"

"No," he interjects, "No, you don't. Gee, Frankie, I… I had no idea…"

Frankie exhales slowly, looking pretty defeated. She curls up on the bench, almost shrinking in front of him, and Miles feels completely inadequate. He feels like screaming, like kicking something; he just wishes there was anything he could do to go back in time and prevent all this from happening, but there isn't. He clears his throat, trying to think of something to say to diffuse the discomfort at the heavy silence around them. But what, that he's sorry? That he wishes she trusted him enough to come to him when all of this was happening? It doesn't seem right, doesn't seem like any of it would make Frankie feel better.

Frankie hugs herself tighter, making herself even smaller on the wooden bench, and Miles has to fight the urge to pull her into his arms. Everything in Frankie's body language is telling him to back off. So he just waits.

"I knew it was bad, you know? I knew that something wasn't right," she finally says, quietly. She takes a deep breath, glances up to him briefly. "I didn't want to admit it to myself, but a part of me still knew it."

Then why did you stay with him? he wants to ask her, but even Miles understands it's not that simple.

"It sounds like he was trying to isolate you," he tells her instead. Because it's true, and he hopes she realises it.

Frankie sighs, shuddering slightly. A single tear falls over her lower lashline and onto her cheek, and Miles's heart aches at the sight. His sister takes a deep breath, steadying herself, and she stares resolutely ahead, shaking her head.

"I've painted him like a monster, but he's not," she says. "He always apologises after we fight, and buys me flowers, and takes me out for dinner. He's always so happy when we make up, and I know that he hates it when we're mad at each other. I don't want to make it sound like our entire relationship is horrible, you know? There are good parts, and they're very good. And he loves me, because I know he does."

"Frankie-"

"No, I know it's messed up, it's not healthy. It's just…" she seems at loss for words, and raises her big doey eyes to him, as if to ask for help in articulating her thoughts. Finally, she admits, "It's so hard when you love them, too!"

And Miles doesn't have anything to say, to that. Her words hit a bit too close, they stir up uncomfortable and yet familiar feelings. His heart aches for his sister as he remembers how he, too, never quite managed to stop loving his father, despite all he had done. Despite how much he'd hurt him, over and over again.

Miles suddenly shivers, whether from the cold or from the memories, he doesn't really know. He closes his coat tighter in front of himself, trying to fend off the winter air. Next to him, Frankie takes a deep breath.

"When he… you know, the other day, when he…"

She stumbles on her words, unable to continue.

"...hit you?" he offers, a solid lump blocking his throat at the words. She recoils slightly at his bluntness, and Miles feels like the worst human being on Earth for it.

"Yeah, I… I didn't even do anything, you know?" she goes on, staring blankly ahead. Miles nods to her, and he wants to tell her he understands. He knows what it feels like, to be so utterly frightened you can't possibly move. But Frankie seems to be getting restless, frantic. "I didn't scream, I didn't even say anything. I should have done something, shouldn't I? I should-"

She stops abruptly and raises big pleading eyes to him, filled up with tears. She's breathing fast — too fast, she's practically hyperventilating, working herself up to a frenzy.

"Frankie," he says, placing both hands firmly on her shoulders and turning slightly to face her. "Frankie… look at me. Take a deep breath," he models it for her, inhaling and exhaling slowly. He urges her to mimic, until she does. In and out, in and out, until her breathing goes down to a normal rhythm and she finally starts to calm down. He takes her face between his hands, gently, and he wipes her tears away with his fingertips. He pulls her towards his chest and starts rocking her back and forth, running his fingers through her hair.

"You left," he whispers in her ear. "You came to Hunter. You asked for help. You did everything right, everything!"

She closes her eyes and new tears start flowing down her cheeks once more, her body shaking with silent sobs. He keeps her tightly wrapped in his arms and leans in to breathe in the familiar scent of her hair. His eyes are burning uncomfortably, a painful feeling crushing his insides.

It takes several minutes until he finally feels her relaxing against his body. She scoots even further into his arms, letting him comfort her. And Miles holds on to her, as long as she needs.