A million thanks to FraidyCat for betaing. This chapter is mostly interaction between Oswald and Frank. Starting with chapter seven, there will be a lot more involvement with the brothers, and of course, Fenton and Alan. Please keep up the reviews. Fell free to copy "This Rox" or "this sux". Lol. (How long can that POSSIBLY take? Be warned,... I might get out my PUPPY DOG EYES!!!)

Chapter 6

Oswald was secretly happy that Charlie seemed to be finished needing his help for a while. Damned if he knew where the professor got his energy; Oswald was more than ready to spend another day kicking back with Frank. They hadn't really made any plans, but he was pretty sure Alan would go for it, considering the things he had said to Oswald yesterday. So, he headed for the Eppes house again early the next morning, deciding on the way there that maybe Frank wouldn't mind going to the batting cages with him.

Worried that he might be taking advantage of Alan's hospitality just a little, Oswald had waited until after breakfast – but just barely. Frank was in the kitchen helping Alan put away a load of dishes from the dishwasher when Oswald knocked on the back door.

Don would have given his father all kinds of hell if he had heard his friendly yell. "Come on in," Alan cried, opening a cabinet to place a glass inside. "Door's open!"

Even Oswald was a little taken aback and he cracked the door tentatively. "Alan? Shouldn't this be locked, or something? And do you always yell at strangers to 'come on in'?"

Alan smiled. "I've been expecting you. Charlie went into Don's office alone this morning, and he said you'd mentioned spending the day with Frank again when he talked to you early this morning. I'd rather hoped you'd join us for breakfast."

Oswald shook his head, rolling his eyes at Frank as he fully entered the kitchen. "So I take it you don't mind? Me 'n Frank hangin' again, I mean?"

"Of course not," Alan assured him. "I need to go to a consultation with Stan this morning myself, anyway. Have you enjoyed working with the boys on this case, Oswald?"

Oswald sighed. "It's okay, I guess. I'm not really comfortable with the way those two have been going at each other, though. Charlie's still stuck on his theory that one dude's behind the whole thing, and of course Don's saying, 'it's 50.000 people, how the hell is that possible?!' It's exhausting. Neither one of them ever wins."

Alan laughed. "Don't I know it,"

Neither one of them noticed the slight frown passing over Frank's face. I know!, his mind screamed at him. I know! That's why I can't tell anybody – his power is too much!

Oswald and Alan chatted a bit longer, and finally the dishes were all back in their homes. "Hey Frank," Oswald addressed his new friend, "Are you up for the batting cages? Maybe we can catch another movie later, too."

Frank shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shrugged.

"That sounds like fun," Alan encouraged, "although you probably shouldn't mention the batting cages to Don when he's in such a 'foul' mood." He laughed happily at his own joke, drowning out Oswald's groan.

Alan started to reach into his back pocket for his wallet, but Oswald held up a hand. "We've still got some from yesterday," he assured him. "Besides, I've done some…" – suddenly, he looked a little embarrassed -- "…well, some stat work for the owner, and he lets me in the cages for free, during off hours."

Alan clucked and shook his head. "Oswald. You're not still involved in gambling?"

Oswald shook his head vehemently. "Hell – I mean, heck no, Alan. It's kind-of an old debt."

Alan smiled. "Right. Well. Whatever you do, you boys be careful, today."

Frank crossed the floor to follow Oswald out to his car. "Don't worry," Oswald tossed back over his shoulder, "'Careful' is my middle name!"

"Why do I not believe that?" Alan muttered to himself as he started packing up his briefcase for a day with Stan.

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"Do you like baseball?" Oswald asked as they walked onto the compound.

Frank had found his voice again on the way to the cages. "It's okay," he answered.. "I played football at home..." His voice grew sad and dropped to a near-whisper. "At least, I was until I got kidnapped."

It was a pretty long sentence, for Frank, and definitely the most personal thing he had shared with Oswald yet. The statistician found himself floundering for a response. He didn't want the kid to clam up, again, so he sure wasn't going to press him. "Um… you do know the basics, though, right? How it's played, I mean. You must, 'cuz I know you hit that ball game software I loaded on Charlie's old computer – I saw it on the screen." He shut up abruptly, feeling himself start to ramble.

Much to his chagrin, Frank seemed to become even sadder. "Yeah," he said, quietly. "My brother Joe really likes baseball…"

Oswald led the way to an outside cage after chatting with the manager. "Brother, huh? That's cool. I'll bet you miss him. I don't have any brothers, but I always thought I'd like one. That's why it bothers me so much when Don and Charlie fight."

Frank just nodded and wouldn't even look at him, so Oswald figured brothers were not a safe topic, either. He ended up feeling like a fool, and there wasn't much more talk from either of them over the next few hours. Around noon, the cages began to fill up, and the manager came by to remind Oswald that he needed their cage for paying customers. Oswald immediately dropped the bat to his side, letting a pitch whiz by him, and thanked the manager for letting them get in a few hours that morning. Oswald still wasn't feeling all that great about how things were going until Frank shyly handed his bat to the dude, smiled, and said, "Thank-you", clear as a bell.

Amazing what two words could do to cheer a guy up. Oswald smiled broadly at Frank. "Hey! Let's hit another movie, man!"

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The crowded theater had closed Frank's mouth again, and he stood nervously beside Oswald in the line at the snack bar. Didn't anybody in L.A. besides the FBI and Charlie ever work? Why was this place always so jam-packed?

When it was finally their turn at the counter, Frank just pointed awkwardly at a few things on the menu, while Oswald interpreted for him. They were both surprised to suddenly hear a disgusted voice behind them. "Come on, man, tell him what you friggin' want!" It was a low, masculine voice, and Frank flinched visibly, thinking of the men who had kidnapped him. He refused to look, but Oswald turned and confronted a sneer, as a complete stranger, who looked to be about twenty years old, continued. "You some kind of idiot from the State School, or something? Your buddy here got you checked out for the day?" He laughed cruelly. "Come on, idiot, point to the menu again, just like a Big Boy!"

Frank still refused to turn around, and just stared miserably at his feet. He didn't even notice when Oswald casually picked up his soda from the counter – although he did hear his friend warn the stranger. "Back off, dude."

The man pushed at Oswald. "Don't tell me what to do, Geek! You're probably on a Day Pass from somewhere yourself!" He tried to reach around Oswald to shove at Frank. "I said, hurry the hell up, idiot!"

The last word came out a bit garbled, since he was suddenly wearing Oswald's soda. Frank looked up fearfully as he heard the odd sound and felt Oswald firmly place his body right next to him. "I said, 'back off'."

The young girl behind the counter, eyes wide and bubble-gum popping, had pushed the button for security when the argument first began, and the next thing Frank saw was a beefy hand stopping the stranger's fist, which was flying at Oswald's face. "I don't even want to hear who started what," yelled a uniformed security officer. "You're outta here. All three of you. NOW!"

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Security had escorted them to front glass doors of the theater, and made sure they went in opposite directions, so they wouldn't continue the fight on the street. Oswald climbed silently in his car, waited for Frank to buckle up, and mentally kicked himself. Great. Probably set the kid back, again – but what was he supposed to do? He couldn't let some asshole diss Frank – or worse, slug him. Terrified of the answer – or lack of one – Oswald started the vehicle's engine and glanced at Frank. "Uh… sorry. Wanna get some lunch, instead? Subway's just down the street."

Frank didn't exactly jump for joy, but he didn't demand that Oswald take him home, either. He just mumbled a low, "Okay" to his shoes, and Oswald almost didn't hear the second word. "Thanks."

Oswald decided then and there that he would never have children. This ying and yang stuff was killing him. He was starting to wonder which end was up. Game as ever on the outside, Oswald soon delivered them to Subway. Even though the small restaurant was busy with thee lunch crowd, the two managed to place their order, complete with Frank's now-signature pointing, without another incident.

They even managed to snag the last open table. As he slid into the booth, Oswald looked at Frank, sitting opposite him. He still felt badly about the whole theater-thing. "You okay?"

Frank nodded, peering at Oswald intently. If Oswald was a part of the gang, wouldn't he have let that guy in the theater go ahead and beat him up? Frank felt a tiny surge of hope. Could he really trust Oswald?

His intense stare was making the other man uncomfortable. Oswald reached toward the napkin dispenser. "We should probably eat and let someone else sit down," he suggested. "Your sandwich okay?"

Franks eyes widened as Oswald's sweatshirt pulled up his arm as he stretched it toward the dispenser. At first Oswald was confused. "What?"

With a shaking finger, Frank indicated an ugly burn scar on Oswald's forearm. "What is that?", he whispered.

Oswald followed Frank's gaze and reached over to pull his sweatshirt sleeve down. Embarrassed, he shrugged. "No big deal. Long time ago. My dad sometimes used me as an ash tray."

Frank glanced at the floor, then back up at Oswald, then back down at the floor. He seemed to be making up his mind about something. He was thinking about the things Oswald had told him about his life, and about the way he had protected him at the movie theater. He remembered all the times in the last few days the man had gone out of his way to be kind to him.

Frank buried his hands in fists under the table, on top of his lap, and took a deep breath. "Um," he started. Oswald looked at him, eyebrows in a questioning arch. Frank tried again. "Uh…" He finally located his courage and rattled off the longest speech he had made in weeks. "I know sort-of how you must feel. My Dad never hit me, but I'm almost positive he smacks Joe around…I've seen bruises, and my brother won't talk about them. Plus, my father had to know what was happening to me at my uncle's house. When I was kidnapped, 'don't speak at all' was strictly enforced. I got lots of beatings because I spoke my mind. Then one night I stepped too far out of line, and the next day the leader of that arm of the organization came with his half-brother. They let him…" Frank looked nervously at the floor, then back up at Oswald. "They let him…do what he wanted to with me. You know. And they told me if I spoke again, they would make me watch them do it to Joe." He stopped to take another breath, knowing if he didn't plow right through the speech, he'd loose his nerve. "I didn't talk a lot after that, but I became close friends with his half-brother, Jason. I didn't speak out loud after that, but sometimes I would whisper with Jason, at night. He was one of the guards, and he wasn't as mean as the others. I liked him. One night he told me he was an informant, and he would get me out. We didn't know that Benny, the guy who…well, you know…we didn't know Benny was coming back in for another turn, and heard him. Benny went crazy, screaming and yelling and cursing out his own brother…." Frank's eyes teared-up. "He shot him, Oswald. He killed him right in front of me."

Frank gulped. He knew this would be the hardest part. Luckily, he had pretty much stunned Oswald into silence, by now, and was able to continued uninterrupted. "Not too long after that I was supposed to be asleep in this little cell-like area in the warehouse, when all of a sudden, my own father came in! At first I thought he had someone find me, and was there to save me, but then he started talking to my captors and it was obvious he was their boss! 'How's the boy', he asked. 'Alive,' Benny sneered, 'and very entertaining, too!' My dad laughed, Oswald, he laughed – then he said Benny could do whatever he wanted with me, as long as he kept me alive. 'He's his mother's favorite,' he said. 'Eventually I'll have to bring him home. If you break him first, he'll be easier to deal with. Later, when you grab Joe; him, you can kill. Brat doesn't do me any good.'"

Tearing-up again, Frank looked at the formica table-top. "Eventually, I did go home. The story was that a ransom was paid. I was terrified to let Joe out of my sight, and my Dad noticed – that's why he sent me to my Uncle's. I'm pretty sure the whole biker gang thing was arranged by him to teach me a lesson, keep me quiet." Suddenly, Frank locked desperate eyes with his friend. "God Oswald, I can't let anything happen to Joe! I can't protect him, while I'm here and he's there…what am I going to do?"

Oswald shuddered. He felt as if he'd fallen down a rabbit hole. No wonder Frank was such a mess. He reached across the table to touch Frank's upper arm, lightly. "Frank – I really don't know what to say. 'I'm sorry' just doesn't cut it, you know?" He swallowed nervously and pulled his hand back to run it through his hair. "Dude, we've really got to bring Don and Charlie in on this. Don's FBI, man, he can put your Dad away! He can help you protect Joe!"

Frank pressed back against the booth and shook his head. "No. No. They won't believe me! Why would they believe me? Fenton has been a friend of Alan's for years, and a respected P.I. He plans to run for the Senate next year, and is paving the way, now, schmoozing everybody!" Frank's voice rose as he became more and more upset. He couldn't believe he had told Oswald this much – and he still hadn't told him Fenton's organization was the one Don and Charlie were looking for! "Oh, man, Joe's gonna get hurt! You've got to help me get back!"