Chapter 5

Frank was visibly excited about spending the day with Oswald. He was beginning to trust him, even though his mind screamed at him not to trust anyone. He was excited that he wouldn't have to spend the entire day in the FBI office, too. While he was there he was either bored or terrified that he would run into that attorney, again. He shook himself from his thoughts when he heard Alan's voice.

"Frank!", he called. "Please come and eat your breakfast."

Frank took one last look in the bathroom mirror, and was surprised to see himself smiling. He liked Alan; he had thought of him as an uncle since they had met in the hospital so long ago. And even though Don had grown up into someone who scared him, a little, Frank respected both him and Charlie.

He headed for the kitchen, and the smile was replaced with a slight frown. He was still afraid to talk, no matter how much he liked these people. He had been severely punished for speaking his mind when he had first been kidnapped. Worse than the beatings, the men had promised that his little brother Joe would suffer an even more painful fate, if Frank so much as hinted at what he knew. He had seen enough of the interaction between Don and Charlie to know that Don would respect him for his decision, if he knew. Even though the brothers had often been at each other's throats on this one, anybody who spent any time with them at all could see how protective Don was of his brother.

Frank had been stupid; at the first "prison" he had been too. He had let himself talk to one of the nearby people about the kidnapping, not understanding that he, too, was part of Fenton's organization. Benny had actually arranged the gang attack, standing at the end of the alley and watching while Frank was nearly beaten and kicked to death. That time, he learned his lesson: Trust no one.

"Frank!" Alan called again, coming around the corner and nearly running right into him. "Oh! There you are. Hurry up, the eggs are getting cold!"

Frank's frown deepened. Eggs where on his list of things never to do again, if he could help it…but he wasn't about to indicate that to Alan. The last time he had refused to eat what he was offered, back home, Fenton had refused to let Laura give him anything for two days. Joe had tried to sneak him a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, and he, too, had ended up with similar punishment.

Frank stiffened as Alan draped an arm around his shoulder, but he let the older man lead him into the kitchen. His frown left as quickly as it had appeared when he spied Oswald sitting at the table, already demolishing a plate of eggs.

Oswald swallowed and smiled. Frank tried to ignore the yellow bits of yolk on his teeth. "Morning, Frank." He laughed and looked at the empty chairs. "I know – it's kind-of weird…the Eppes kitchen is usually Grand Central Station!"

Alan let go of Frank, who sank quickly into the closest chair. Tentatively, he reached for the last egg on the serving platter in the middle of the table.

He heard Alan sigh a little behind him, but when he spoke, it was with fondness. "Oswald, you need to eat here more often – and I need to remember to make more, when you do!"

Oswald turned a crimson shade of red. "Oh. Oh geez, Mr. Eppes, I'm sorry. Did I eat too much?"

Alan laughed and dropped a hand on Frank's shoulder, not saying anything when Frank nearly jumped out of the chair. "No, no, son, there's plenty more where that came from. And my name is 'Alan." Frank, would you like me to make some more eggs? Or perhaps you'd like some cereal, or something else, instead?"

Frank found himself in the awkward position of making a choice without speaking. In a near-panic over such a simple decision, his fork clattered to the table, and he grabbed his spoon.

Oswald smiled at him and looked up at Alan. "I'm thinking that means cereal." Frank looked at him as if he was a genius – which he probably was -- and actually smiled.

Alan hurried to fetch a bowl and some milk, and every kind of cereal they had in the house. He was even happier that Oswald had asked to spend a purely recreational day with Frank. He was obviously good for the boy. Charlie and Don were so busy fighting with each other right now, they were useless at helping with Frank. Besides, as Oswald had said, they were kind-of old! Alan grinned wickedly at that thought, as he sat the jug of cold milk in front of Frank. "So…what do you boys have in mind for today?"

Oswald drained a glass of orange juice and Frank was happy to see that the egg yolk was gone. "I thought we'd see a matinee, hang at the mall for a while – there's this really cool store called Hot Topic I want to show Frank. It sells Goth clothes. Of course, we're gonna have to eat. A lot."

"Goth?" Alan raised his eyebrow at Oswald.

"Yeah. Goth. It's really cool. I mean, suits are okay and everything, but some days you just wanna scream!" Oswald chuckled as he buttered a slice of toast. "We'll be back around five or so – is that okay?"

"That's perfect, right around supper time," Alan said. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. He carefully plucked out three $20-dollar-bills and laid them next to Frank's cereal bowl. "Is that enough to see you through the day yet not enough to get you in trouble?", he joked.

When Frank looked up at him and frowned, Alan reassured him. "Don't worry. Fenton has me on a strict accounting schedule – this will be reimbursed."

Frank looked at the money with even more unhappiness. He knew now where Fenton's money came from. He regarded it warily and half-heartedly lifted a spoonful of cereal to his mouth.

Oswald noticed his hesitation, and decided to make light of it. He pushed back his chair a little from the table, finally finished eating breakfast. "Dude," he said to Frank. "Take your old man for as much as you can, while you can."

Frank looked at him so sharply Oswald was afraid he'd gone too far. Then the younger boy found himself thinking that whatever he spent would not be used to put drugs on the street, and his expression relaxed a little. He laid a hand almost protectively over the money.

Alan didn't even pretend to know what was going on. "Oswald," he said, "Why don't we let Frank finish his breakfast. Can I talk to you for a moment before you leave?" He started walking toward the swinging door into the dining room, and Oswald quickly followed.

Alan smiled as he heard the young statistician whisper to Frank on his way past. "Don't worry. Probably just wants to make sure I burp you after we eat."

When the two had reached the living room, Alan turned to Oswald. "I just wanted to thank you for spending time with Frank. I love the boy, and I want to help – that's why I agreed to have him here, after all. But you could be right about all of us Eppes men being a little too old, for this one."

Oswald protested. "Ah, Mr. – I mean Alan – that's not what I meant!"

Alan smiled. "I know, son. But seriously, Frank seems to lighten when you're around.

He's making progress. I know there's something hidden there, something he wants to say, and it's on the tip of his tongue. I think your friendship will help him a lot. When he first came here, extreme mood swings were apparent, even without words. He seems much more stable in your company."

Oswald shifted uncomfortably. "Geez, Alan. It's no big deal. I feel badly for the kid – and I don't even really know why. I'm not sure I'm ever doing or saying the right thing – are you sure it's okay if we hang out?"

Alan smiled at him. "Oswald, I think it's the best thing in the world and exactly what he needs, right now."

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Frank had a good time at the movie. He hadn't seen it before, and found himself struggling not to laugh. In a couple of scenes, though, he couldn't help himself and laughed quietly. He half-expected Oswald to hit him each time, but everyone in the theater was laughing. His mind gave a mental sigh of relief when he walked out of the theater. Okay, maybe he wouldn't talk about what happened…. But he could talk about small things. Maybe.

"If we don't get pizza again, is that okay with you?" Oswald asked. He felt like a million bucks – he'd gotten Frank to laugh. He'd picked the movie for a reason.

Frank nodded and smiled at him as they made their way to the car. "So, where do you think? Wendy's sounds pretty good," Oswald said. "That okay with you?"

Frank hadjust started considering the possibility of talking. He wasn't ready yet, by any means, so he just nodded. He had seen that Oswald wasn't going to hit him, so he at least felt a little safer. Once they were there, Oswald had Frank point to what he wanted on the menu. He got a funny stare from the clerk, but Oswald didn't care one bit. When they got their food, Oswald sat down and unwrapped his burger. "What did you think of the movie?"

He immediately mentally kicked himself for asking a direct question to a virtual mute, and almost fell off his chair when Frank actually answered him. "It was good," he said, with obvious effort. His voice was raspy and hoarse from misuse. It took all of Oswald's strength not to let his jaw drop down in shock.

"I'm glad you liked it," he said, quickly taking a bite of his burger and chewing quickly. "What was your favorite part?"

"The end," Frank said. Oswald is safe, he reminded himself.

"The end? When she was havin' her baby?"

"No, the end when they all teamed together. I hate it when people fight."

"Me too, dude." He took another bite of his burger. Me, too. "So. You know that Goth place I was telling Alan about?"

Frank nodded.

"I thought we'd go there next, if it's cool."

Frank nodded again. "OK," he agreed, "sure." They finished eating the meal in silence, and walked out to the car. Frank was feeling much better, and he even chose a clearance pair of pants and a shirt at the store. As Oswald returned to Alan's house, the atmosphere in the car was considerably lighter than before.

Alan was just returning a watering hose to its reel as Oswald pulled into the driveway. He greeted the boys with a smile as they exited the car. "Hey, you two. How was your day?"

"Fine," Oswald said, looking at Frank, wondering if he would talk to Alan. He felt a little disappointment when Frank only shrugged.

It didn't seem to phase Alan, though. "Great!", he said, leading them toward the kitchen entrance. "Frank, would you mind setting the table for supper? For five, please, in the dining room. Oswald will stay, and I'm expecting Don and Charlie." He mumbled the last word under his breath. "Eventually."

Frank nodded and pushed past them into the kitchen, single-minded in his pursuit. Alan shook his head, smiling a little, and turned to Oswald. "So how was it, really?"

"It was awesome, man," Oswald answered. "Frank talked."

Alan's jaw dropped open and he stopped walking. "He talked?"

"Yeah!", Oswald beamed, excited. "And he laughed, too. At the movie."

"That's wonderful!", Alan crowed, nearly crushing Oswald in a quick hug. He pulled back and slapped a hand on Oswald's back heartily. "I'm so pleased to hear that!"

Oswald stepped between Alan and the kitchen. "Look," he started, embarrassed. "I know this sounds weird…but could you not tell the kid's father, yet?"

Alan's joy turned to surprise. "Why? I'm sure Fenton would be just as happy…"

Oswald sighed. "I'm not really sure. I can't give you anything concrete. I know this sounds crazy, but I just…. I kind-of sense it, man. Frank's not near ready to go home yet, and I hope he'll trust me enough soon to tell me what's really bothering him. He's hiding something, something big. He just wants to tell someone, but he can't, yet."

Alan frowned. "Surely you don't think Fenton is involved in some way?" He couldn't believe that was possible – but he had to admit, Oswald had shown great instincts with Frank, so far.

Oswald shrugged. "Like I said, I'm not sure. It's just…something in his eyes."

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