A/N: WHOA. SURPRISE. I'M ACTUALLY STILL ALIVE AND WRITING. With many terrible and wonderful things planned. Again, take that as you will. I really hope you guys enjoy this update! And I will try not to take so long with the next one!

Chapter title is from the song Hollywood by Death Cab For Cutie.

Chapter Twenty Two

Take Me Back To The Age Of Innocence

It was barely five minutes after Gerard had finally gotten himself to eat something that Bert's very presence nearly made him choke it back up. Frank saw his boyfriend's face go pale white, eyes fixed behind the shorter Killjoy, and he turned around to face Ashton's friend. Bert gave Frank a snide what-the-hell-are-you-looking-at? expression, and Frank frowned. Gerard let out a soft moan, putting an arm around his stomach, and Frank touched his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"'m gonna be sick."

"What? Fuck, Gerard." Frank muttered in disappointment, grabbing his wrist as he stood, following beside him to the bathroom and then shutting the door as Gerard coughed and sat down heavily on the rug, leaning against the bathtub and breathing hard, staring at the toilet as his stomach flipped, ready to lunge forward if his nausea worsened.

Frank placed his back to the mirror, blocking it entirely (something the older was thrilled about) and then slowly rubbed at his face for the longest time until he finally looked up, meeting gazes with the twenty-four-year-old, who's eyes were half-closed in fatigue. "Are you okay?"

Gerard shrugged his uncertainty, relieved that it did seem that his ill feeling had faded considerably.

Bert. That fucking bastard. This was all his fault. If he hadn't opened his Goddamn mouth in the first place, he wouldn't be in this position, and he probably wouldn't have...Shakily, he looked up, and murmured, "I want to take a shower," like that was going to get rid of the memory going on in his mind right now.

Frank gave a little shrug. "I can't leave you."

"Then turn around."

Frank blinked, a little confused, and then— "Oh. Okay." he said, obeying the request, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and blushing as he heard Gerard undress and then turn on the shower. Like he really wanted to relive this part of their relationship.

Gerard sighed, stepping underneath the stream of water, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry." he finally murmured, and Frank cleared his throat. "Please don't say that. You don't have anything to be sorry about."

I do…He winced, shaking his head. "Sorry." He frowned. "I—"

"Shut up," Frank laughed suddenly, and Gerard shyly peered out at him from behind the curtain, looking him over for a long moment. "Frank?"

"Mm-hm?"

"Kiss me." Gerard at once replied, and Frank narrowed his eyes without saying a word, turning to face him, his expression as confused as it would have been had Gerard asked for the meaning to life.

"Please. I want…I want to feel something." He sounded on the verge of tears. "I want to feel anything."

"Gee," Frank murmured cautiously, taking a few steps closer, and then before he could make a move for himself, Gerard released the curtain and grabbed his shirt, pulling him until their lips met. Frank draped his arms lightly across his love's shoulders, stepping back in surprise as Gerard jerked away and gasped like he'd been electrocuted.

"What's wrong?"

Gerard gave him a little stunned smile. "Nothing," he said, and truly meant it. He bent forward and kissed him again, reaching out and caressing the other's hair for a long while, quickly lifting his shirt over his head as they broke to breathe. Frank's eyes widened, but he didn't protest, his entire body tingling in longing as Gerard blinked at him and then began slowly messing with his belt, smiling, and it was so thrilling to know he was happy, at least for now, that Frank slid the rest of his clothes off, carefully getting into the shower with him.

Once the water had run cold and they'd gotten out, sitting on the edge of the tub, Frank finally noticed the older no longer looked pleased. Instead, he was staring at the floor, regret filling his voice as he again whispered, "I'm sorry."

Frank hesitantly reached out, relieved the older allowed him to wrap his arms around him without shrinking away. "You didn't do anything."

"No, I…I didn't." The twenty-four-year-old winced and then took a breath, gently pushing Frank away. He had to tell him. He couldn't bear it anymore.

Feeling irritation edging at him, Frank frowned. He'd thought his love was getting better, not remaining how he'd been! "Gerard, come on! You—"

"N-not Korse."

Frank squeezed him gently. "Who?"

Gerard averted his gaze, his mouth open but at a loss for what to say.

"Gee, please. Tell me. I want to help."

The older pressed his lips together in the beginning of a reply, and Frank stiffened, piecing everything together before the other could go on. "Bert?" He paused as Gerard flinched. "Did he hurt you?"

"Please, I'm…I didn't want to…"

"What did he do?"

"I can't…"

"What? Gerard, stop it! Just…tell me what he did."

With a voice so quiet it was hardly audible, Gerard briefly explained in a few, vague words, stuttering to a halt at the end. Frank was furious, and he could only believe it was towards him. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No, I'm not…I just…why didn't you tell me before?"

"B-because he'll…"

Frank shook his head before he could continue, scowling and releasing him to grab his clothes. Gerard blushed furiously and reached out for a towel to cover himself the moment the comforting heat of the other's body left his side. "Y-you can't tell anyone!" he said. "Frankie, please—where're you going?"

The moment he was dressed, Frank slipped out of the room without a word, despite knowing it was leaving his love alone, far too irate to think much about it as he walked into the living room. He glared at Ashton, about to ask where Bert was, and then saw the twenty-nine-year-old by the door, like he was on his way out. "Hey!" he shouted angrily, uncaringly gaining everyone's attention.

Bert turned around, frowning. "What do you—ooh!" He cut off with a cry of pain as Frank's fist connected with his face, falling back against the door and sliding to the tile in shock.

"You fucking piece of shit," Frank hissed, raising his arm again, only to have it grabbed and wrenched behind his back. "Fuck you! I can't fucking believe you—"

"Ghoul! Stop it—what the hell is wrong with you?"

He disregarded Ray's voice, continuing to fight to free himself as another grasped him and began trying to drag him away. "He—" He looked to Bert again, who hadn't moved an inch, blood trickling through his fingers now as he held his nose. "I'll kill you!"

"…The hell did I do?" Bert moaned, and Frank cursed, the fact that he was pretending to be innocent nearly as horrible as what he'd done, lashing out with his foot in an attempt to kick him before he was lifted completely up and hauled back, where Ashton tossed him down almost carelessly onto the couch. "Hey! Knock it off!"

"Goddamn it!" Frank mumbled breathlessly, aware of nothing except how angry he was, even trying to get up again until Ray grabbed his shoulders from behind and jerked him back, and he finally looked up.

"What the fuck was that about?" Ashton demanded, and Frank only glared. "Why'd you hit him?"

Frank glanced at all of them before lowering his gaze, unable to bring himself to give the reason and so refusing to answer at all. Ashton didn't seem to notice, leaning forward. "What the hell is your problem?"

Frank scowled and then looked straight past him, to Dr. D, who was frowning at him in disappointment. "I need to talk to you."

Dr. D's frown deepened, but he said nothing, and Frank shrugged to get Ray to release him. "Let go!" he ordered, and the older hesitantly did, stepping in front of where Bert was sitting as Skye bent beside him and offered tissues.

Frank stormed into the hallway, Dr. D following, and then stopped dead as he saw Gerard, leaning against the wall and looking downright terrified. "W-what'd you…?"

Grabbing his hand, Frank pulled him into the bedroom, waiting until Dr. D had gotten in before he shut the door and locked it.

"What happened?" Dr. D asked, and Gerard sat on the bed, trembling. "No…Frank, what'd you do?"

"Tell him what you told me." Frank said, and Gerard shook his head no, spraying water droplets everywhere. Frank only repeated himself, and after a moment Gerard finally looked up. "I…I can't—" he choked, grabbing Frank's wrist as he opened his mouth like he was going to say it for him. "Don't! He'll—"

"He'll what?"

Miserably shaking his head again, Gerard softly moaned, "Please…"

"What happened?" Dr. D said again, though his tone was no longer upset, instead deeply concerned. "Did he do something?"

"He…hurt…me." Gerard managed through clenched teeth. "And…he'll do it again…if you tell anyone."

Frank recoiled a little as the older took his hands, gaining coherency. "He'll hurt you. Please…what'd you do?"

Again enraged from the mere fear that was evident on the beautiful face before him, Frank scoffed unapologetically. "I fucking decked him."

"He hurt you; what does that mean?" Dr. D asked seriously. "What did he do?"

With an ashamed glance at both him and his boyfriend, Gerard lowered his head. If he did tell, and Ashton found out, he would make Bert leave and never come back, right? His threats had been nothing—he couldn't carry shit out if he wasn't even around...right?

Taking another deep breath, Gerard finally spoke, something they may have been confidence buried in his tone despite the words that made him want to vomit.

Dr. D exhaled sharply, quiet for the longest time. "I have to tell Ashton."

"Just…please…not in front of him. I don't know…I don't want him doing anything."

Dr. D nodded, taking all this a bit too calmly, or else was simply too much in shock to show emotion. That wasn't too far-fetched; after all, it had only been days before they'd admitted Korse had abused the both of them, and while he had suspected it before...it had been an entirely different kind of shock to have it confirmed. He heaved another breath and bent forward slightly, putting his hand to his mouth for a moment in thought, and then looked at Frank. "He didn't touch you?"

"No." the twenty-year-old shook his head. "I wish he'd've tried it on me instead, though. He wouldn't've been able to walk."

"Stop," Gerard suddenly muttered. "You wouldn't have."

"Wouldn't have what?" Frank looked like he wanted to laugh. "Fought back? I—"

"Don't think I fucking didn't, Frank," he spat back. "I didn't want it to happen. He just…" he trailed off and placed his hands over his face, muffling his next words. "He was stronger than me, and every time I tried to fight he just hit me until I stopped. And it hurt, Frank—don't fucking pretend like you wouldn't have wanted to stop, too. Not if you were trying to make him let go and he—he just wouldn't, and—I couldn't yell, and—"

Frank couldn't move for a long moment, even as he realized Gerard had begun to cry, and then the moment he reached out to comfort his love, the older jerked away from his reach and crawled further back onto the bed, burying his face in the pillows, shuddering in his efforts to remain silent. It hurt to see him break down again after seeing the progress he'd made over the past few days, and Frank swallowed his urge to try and comfort him again—as he clearly didn't want it—and instead turned to Dr. D, who was focused on the ground, probably contemplating how exactly he was going to explain to Ashton what had happened, how he was even going to repeat what had happened. He glanced up at last and cleared his throat, looking almost like he wanted to ask for advice, and then turned his scooter back towards the door.

Reaching out to open it for him, Frank was tempted to follow him, but as he peered out into the living room after him he saw the twenty-nine-year-old lying on the couch, a wad of bright red tissues pressed to his nose, and he let out a satisfied grunt before walking back into the room and shutting the door behind him.

Gerard had quieted, on his side now but still facing away from him. Frank crossed his arms and awkwardly shifted his weight.

Finally, Gerard spoke up. "Sorry."

Frank sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. "Don't be."

The older mumbled something incoherent in reply and vaguely shook his head. Frank looked him over. "Please don't…" he trailed off.

"What?" When there was no answer, Gerard repeated it, louder.

"I just…I don't want you to—"

"Hurt myself?" he interrupted coldly, and Frank squirmed uncomfortably. "Yeah. That."

Gerard took a deep breath, hesitating before talking again. "I...I won't."

Seeming relieved, Frank leaned back a little and then lay down completely on his side, propping himself up with an elbow, watching the other breathe.

"I didn't like it." Gerard said at length. "You can hate me if you want, but I didn't want him to do what he did."

Frank frowned. "Hate you? Why the hell would I hate you?"

Finally rolling over to face the younger, Gerard bit his lip, never raising his gaze from the sheets. "'Cause I didn't fight back. I mean, I did…but I stopped. All because I couldn't handle a few punches."

Frank noticed another few tears find their way down his cheeks.

"You'd think I'd be used that kind of shit by now…And anyway, I'm supposed to be…some kind'a leader, to be looked up to."

"You are. You always have been!" Frank protested.

"I thought so, too. But I'm not. I'm pathetic, I'm weak, and I'm fucking afraid, Frank." He let out a humorless chuckle. "I'm afraid of BLI, I'm afraid of Korse, I'm afraid of Bert—I'm afraid of myself." He blinked more tears out of his eyes. "I'm afraid to let everyone down again."

"You never let anyone down," Frank tried, scooting a little closer.

"You. Missile Kid. And the girl Korse made me kill; her brother and sister, too. Almost the entire A.P., when we were with them before. I almost failed…I would've ruined everything—gotten some of them captured, even."

"But you didn't!" Frank slowly reached out to take his hand. "Everything then went perfect, and when you're better, maybe we can—"

"What is 'better', Frank?"

The younger paused. "When you're eating again…when you're not like this anymore."

"Like this?"

"Sad." the younger immediately responded, and Gerard closed his eyes. "Maybe that's how I am now. Maybe it'll never change." He shrugged. "I haven't felt anything since we were rescued. Except before and…" he shuddered. "And with what happened with...with Bert."

Frank looked at him funny. "Like…bad?"

The older shook his hand free and tucked it to his chest. "When I did it to him, yeah."

Frank shifted, probably just as uncomfortable as Gerard was, and held his tongue. As if having read his mind, without even glancing at him, Gerard murmured, "Yes, Frank. I guess I...I liked it. Just like a little whore."

"Don't call yourself that."

"Why not? It's what he called me, and it's damn true."

Scowling, Frank glared at him unintentionally. "Stop. You're not anything like that."

"Okay," Gerard spat, "because you don't want to believe it? You don't want to believe I liked someone else other than you touching me?"

"Because you're fucking not!" Frank sat up, jarring the whole bed. "Are you really going to believe that because he told you? Are you gonna believe everything he called you?"

"Korse, too. Because it's all true. Shit, you have no idea how Goddamn true all of it is…" Gerard winced and swallowed the sob that tried to escape his throat.

"Gee," Frank whispered, "baby, it's not. None of it. Not one word. Are you listening?"

Gerard at last made eye-contact with him as his voice went loud and harsh, startled. Frank moved until he was sitting in front of him, taking his hand and muttering an order for him to sit up.

Gerard obeyed, his eyes a bit wide, and Frank touched his knees to the older's, holding both of his hands in his own between them.

"You're not a whore, you're not worthless, you're not nothing, and you haven't failed anyone." He saw Gerard begin to speak, and he reached out, pressing two fingers to his lips before he could. "No. Listen. You're Party fucking Poison, okay? You're our leader, our friend, and we all love you. We're worried about you, and we want you to be better already! You're my boyfriend, no one else's. Rape doesn't count, Gerard. You hear me? You're worth everything, and you mean even more than that—to me and all of the others. You've fought harder than anyone I know would have. You let them hurt you instead of giving up where anyone was for fucking days—no one else I know would have tried that hard. Everyone looks up to you, Gerard. Then, now, and way after you're gone." He slowly ran his fingers down and off Gerard's lips. "I love you, Gerard. More than anyone and anything. You're my fucking everything, and I need you to get better! I miss you...I miss you laughing, I miss your smile—I need you to be yourself again!"

Gerard blinked, thoroughly thunderstruck.

"I miss you, Gee." Frank quietly repeated, and Gerard finally reacted. He squeezed Frank's hand, leaned forward, and kissed him, closing his eyes, completely and willingly allowing himself to enjoy it, aware of the happiness he vaguely felt that grew stronger as they continued.

They went no further, but even as they finally broke apart for more than a few seconds, what seemed like hours later, neither pulled too far away. Frank settled next to him, resting his head on his chest as Gerard gently trailed his fingers over his body, only now realizing how much he had missed just holding him, being near him.

"I love you," he murmured shakily, and Frank nuzzled him. "I love you, too."

Frank didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up, Gerard's arms wrapped loosely around him. He smiled vaguely, watched him sleep for a little, and then at last slipped away to return to the map he had promised he'd finish, grabbing the pencil and then squinting at the destroyed version, drawing a few more lines and then sitting back, rubbing at his face. Looking anywhere but where he should have been, he ended up glancing the slightly crumpled pieces of paper at the edge of the desk, the ones Gerard had put there and asked Frank not to touch. It wasn't that he wanted to go back on a promise, but it was a distraction, and he was still curious. He'd been curious since he'd caught Gerard staring at him while writing the night before, like was trying to figure something out, shaking his head when Frank had questioned about it.

With a sigh and a fleeting glimpse back at Gerard's still body, Frank hesitantly reached out and took the top paper between his fingers, bringing it close enough he could read the print.

"I hope you're ready for a firefight, 'cause the devil's got your number tonight…"

Frank made an odd sound in his throat as he read through the lyrics, recognizing things he'd said, clear references to things that had occurred back in Battery (including a very failed attempt to steal Frank's parents' vehicle) and, above all, how absolutely hopeful it sounded.

Maybe Gerard was getting better faster than he'd thought. In fact, maybe he was already better than he'd thought. That was all he truly cared about right now, even more than getting the world back to how it had been. He couldn't do it without Gerard, and maybe, at this rate, he wouldn't have to. With a long sigh, he stood and went into the hall, pausing a moment to further blink lingering sleep from his eyes, and then started towards the kitchen, in desperate need of a drink. He paused again when he heard Ashton having a soft conversation with someone unseen, frowning, and then leaned closer to the room. Then, in response to whatever the man had said, he heard the voice of—Bert?

What the fuck is he still doing here? Frank scowled, clenching his fists and ready to finish beating the shit out of the twenty-nine-year-old, but stopped as their words finally registered in his ears.

"Keep your voice down, idiot," Ashton hissed. "Last thing I need is one of them hearing us."

"Then fucking turn them in already!" Bert replied, sounding impatient, and Frank felt his heart stop.

"I am. Later this morning." There was a soft clinking sound, and then Bert gave a little huff of laughter.

"And," Ashton continued, even quieter, "when we find out where the A.P. hides out—at least, some of them—we can get them, too. One of their houses goes down, I'm pretty sure they won't have the guts to try anything else for a while. At least until we can get the information on where those are."

"You think he'll tell you?"

"Not me. I believe that's Mr. Adams job."

"He knows?"

"I've already alerted them all about it. We're taking him, and then whatever they need to do, I'm sure they will."

Petrified, Frank struggled to steady his breathing. They were working for BLI? And him, who was that? Gerard? No, he wouldn't let them! He would wake him up, wake them all up—he wouldn't let this happen again! He stepped back, ready to turn around and wake the Killjoys in the living room, and then stiffened as he bumped into the bookshelf beside the wall. It scratched against the wall, knocking a book down from the top shelf. He caught it at the last moment, fumbling to put it back and leave, and—

"Did you need something?"

Shit! Frank turned back to see Ashton looking at him in confusion, a hand casually resting on the wall.

"Uh—I, uh—no," Frank stammered, moving away slowly. "No, I didn't, I—um…I couldn't sleep…"

"Aw, poor baby," Bert murmured, appearing beside Ashton, and without a moment's hesitation, he reached out and grabbed Frank's arm. He clamped a hand over the younger's mouth as he drew a breath to scream and held his nose at the same time so he could make no sound at all, wrapping his other arm around the twenty-year-old's waist and dragging him into the kitchen.

Ashton eyed them both Bert leaned against the counter and then grabbed Frank's chin, forcing him to look up, a chilling smirk on his lips. "You have great timing, you know that?" he said quietly. "We were gonna wait till later, but…"

He then turned around and grabbed the little vile that was sitting on the table, making the same clink Frank had heard before, and reached past them to grab a paper towel, folding it nonchalantly and holding it to the bottle and shaking it.

Bert felt the Killjoy shudder and go limp, his lips moving wordlessly against his palm as he tried to breathe, and he glanced at Ashton, who simply watched them for a moment, the smile never leaving. Then he stepped towards them, nodding ever-so-slightly, and Bert released him. Frank hardly had time to grab a half a breath before Ashton pressed the towel in place of Bert's hand, struggling and yet unable to break free as Bert held both of his arms behind him. He gave a muffled cry, causing Ashton to apply more pressure, and then his eyes lit up as Bell suddenly appeared behind him, her arms crossed tightly, obviously discontented. Help me! he pleaded silently, and yet the girl didn't move. In fact, she averted her gaze from him completely after a moment, like she was trying to ignore the entire scenario taking place before her.

His spirits dropped through the floor.

No…not you too…

"Damn it," Bert hissed impatiently next to his ear, and then brought his knee up into the younger's back. The Killjoy gasped and then moaned, twisting in order to get away from whatever was on the towel, but after a moment he stopped moving, wincing.

"Tired now, little Killjoy?" Ashton taunted, but Frank hardly heard it. He mumbled for help, far too quietly for anyone but them to hear, his senses reeling and then fading into a blur until he knew nothing more, slumping forward in Bert's grasp.

His smirk having vanished, Ashton stepped back. He looked up at Bert and then faced the table again, capping the small bottle and sliding it into his pocket along with the towel. Then, he crossed his arms and turned again, leaning against the table and staring at the Killjoy.

"What?" Bert grunted softly, shifting the deadweight in his arms.

"Nothing," the man hissed back, reaching out to yank the twenty-year-old from him, putting an arm around his waist to hold him in front of him, and then glared at Bell. "Just stick to the plan. It's all just a little earlier."

Bell swallowed hard and slowly nodded as he went off towards the door, wincing as Bert put a finger under her chin, smirking, looking her over suggestively. "Careful, sweetheart," he murmured, placing his other hand on her hip, an action she flinched at yet did not protest. "I saw how you wanted to help him." He leaned close to her, kissing her cheek and whispering into her ear. "Remember why we took them in. It wasn't to make friends."

He pulled away and released her, watching in amusement as she wiped the sleeve of her jacket across her cheek in disgust, and then he followed Ashton out the door, eyeing the Killjoys still sleeping before quietly clicking it shut.

Bell slumped into one of the chairs as she was hit with a pang of guilt, resting her head on her arms. The boy who'd trusted her, who'd she'd seen save his boyfriend and done everything he could to make him better since…she'd just allowed him to be kidnapped, directly in front of her. How could she not feel awful?

It wasn't like she wouldn't have helped him—she'd honestly grown to trust him, to no longer believe what she had been ordered to go along with from the beginning was right—but she was afraid. Afraid of not getting what had been promised if she went along with what she had been told to do; what Elise had been promised. She was really doing it for the twelve-year-old, anyway—everything about how they had met that they had told the Killjoys was true. She truly did see the girl as her sister, and to be honest would do anything for her well being.

And unfortunately, everything she was doing now fell under that category of 'anything'.

She hated it, of course. She'd come to not only develop an aggravatingly big affection for Ray, but had also gained respect for the lot of them. She fucking despised BLI, but they had Elise's parents, and until this was all over with, until all the Killjoys and A.P. members were dead, they would remain locked up and away from her, tortured and whatever else they wanted to do to them.

Now, though…now she wasn't so sure about any of it. Obviously she wanted Elise to be with her fathers again, and she was still willing to assure that happened, but…there had to be some other way, right? One that didn't include allowing the others to be killed off, one by one?

She hung her head, ashamed. She was in this for the long run, now. She could've stopped them just then, but she hadn't. She could've refused from the very beginning, during the day all of this had been planned out, right down to the twenty-year-old being kidnapped, but she hadn't. And as she thought about it further, she realized she wouldn't.

It's us or them, she told herself. Elise and I, or the Killjoys and A.P. They have no family. They have no one left. No one is going to miss them if they die.

"Oh, God…" she mumbled under her breath, dropping her head onto the table at the selfish, awful words. She really was turning into one of the heartless, emotionless agents that worked for BLI.

And the worst part was that she almost didn't care enough to truly want to change it.

"State your name and business."

"Ashton Marks," the man said into the speaker connected to the wall next to the BLI building's gate. "And I was ordered to bring something here."

The speaker crackled with static, and then; "State your business."

Ashton clicked his tongue. "Just let me talk to K—"

He cut off as the gate rattled and then began to slide to the side, and he eyed the camera above him, cocking an eyebrow and then driving on through. He parked to the side of the place, got out, jerked open the back door, and smirked down at the Killjoy lying across the seat,dazed, wild-eyed, and, most importantly, helpless. He'd made sure of that. The twenty-year-old was handcuffed, his ankles restrained with as many as ten zip ties, and his mouth was taped shut, something Ashton had done solely because as soon as Frank had regained consciousness halfway through the ride here, he'd done nothing but spit vile curses at the man and kick the seat, insulting and threatening him in any way he possibly could, prompting Ashton to pull over and put an end to the irritation.

"Headache?" he murmured tauntingly as the boy winced in the bright lights that made it seem like it was daylight solely in the lot, and then grabbed him by the back of his shirt, dragging him out of the car and to his feet, frowning when he immediately fell to his knees. "Right."

Frank gave a muffled shriek of detest as Ashton grabbed him around his waist and lifted him over his shoulder, kicking the car door shut and turning towards the building. "I swear to God, Killjoy, if you don't shut the fuck up…"

Frank continued to protest desperately as the man reached out to the door of the place, and Ashton scowled, releasing his hold on him entirely and rolling his eyes as the Killjoy instantly ceased moving, crying out when even that didn't stop him from sliding off the man's shoulder, hitting the concrete with a grunt.

"Will you stop fucking fighting now?" Ashton demanded after a moment of getting the door open, turning back to the boy, who looked up at him with a wince, his eyes giving him the determined message of absolutely not!

"Do you really wanna go through this again?"

Frank only glared at him, watching as he reached into his pocket and held out the towel he'd used before, and then the younger flinched, averting his gaze and mumbling. If he could just—

Just what? he asked himself suddenly, and to be honest, he knew he didn't have an answer. He was completely bound; lashing out would only anger the man, and if he were to knock him out again, he'd be even more helpless than he was now. No, he had to think something through—something that would actually work, not just a spur of the moment plan he hoped would work, which was practically what they had always survived on.

He glanced up at the man he'd once called a friend and shook his head once. Ashton shoved the towel back in his pocket, grumbling curses under his breath and reaching down to haul Frank up again, purposely smacking his head against the frame of the door on the way through it and smirking a bit when he groaned. "Fuckin' brat."

He climbed up three flights of stairs and then finally into another hallway, at last pausing in front of one of the doors and pushing it open and then grabbing Frank and holding him on his feet. "You asked me to bring something?"

"Oh, Frankie!"

With a violent flinch, Frank managed at last to raise his head, blinking at the man standing before him, scowling to mask the sudden fear he felt.

"Hello again," Korse smirked, his eyes as cold as ever and yet extremely amused. "What a pleasant surprise."