Embers and Icicles

Chapter Eighteen

Y'all sorry this one took so long. Lowkey forgot I never finished it school has been wild 😬😬

His mouth was dry as fuck. That was the first thing he noticed. The second was that he was no longer in the same place as when he fell asleep. A mattress was under him instead of cold tiles. He flexed his fingers and toes, sluggish feeling rushing into the areas as he moved. His leg was bandaged where the shot had entered it. He lifted the blanket to look at it, and found that the wrapping was still a pristine white.
Someone must have changed it while he slept–during those uncountable hours when he was completely defenceless. The thought brought a wave of panicked awareness through him, and he rushed to sit up. His head swam, but he managed to rise onto his elbows. He tried to ignore the cramping in his leg, the pain that was almost as bad as the initial shot. While the pain hadn't set in as quickly previous times he'd faced bullets, the cramping was a constant. Experience told him the next few days would be worse, but he had more important things to think about.
The room around him was large, furnished elegantly with a desk at the large window. Wide shelves mirrored the dark colour of the accent wall behind him, while every other wall was painted a soft cream.
He was lying in a stranger's bed, and he was alone in the room. It wasn't the first time.
Frank debated getting up and trying to escape, possibly out the window, but a creak at the door told him the time for running had passed. He didn't want to be caught vulnerable with his back to the door, so he stayed in bed.
The door opened to find Frank shut-eyed and limp on the mattress. His lungs rose and fell with the soft breaths of sleep. Slow steps travelled across the room. Frank coiled up what little energy he had left.
When the mystery person was close enough, he sprung. All his weapons had been removed, but that didn't make him powerless.
He went for the sensitive parts first–the throat, and something lower. He would have reached for the mystery person's eyes if they hadn't been wearing a mask, but instead he was working with the options he had. There was a time and place for playing fair, but Frank had never experienced it.
Where Frank's hands should have met soft flesh, they hit rough calluses that stopped his momentum cold. Slight pain rippled through his knuckles.
"Not quite quick enough, Frank. You'll have to work on that." The voice was deeply familiar. He studied the masked man again, now taking note of all the details. Auburn hair jutted out in two braids at his shoulders, which were ornamented with colourful beads. The tilt of the mask's mouth curved up a little bit, morphing the face into a constant half-smirk. It seemed fitting for the kind of asshole that would work for Silver.
Jake dropped Frank's hands with a chuckle. The pulsating pain in Frank's leg tugged at his attention.
"What do you want?"
"Ah, I see you're quite the conversationalist. I can't imagine why all your friends abandoned you to bleed out and die."
The sting of the betrayal was still fresh, and anger flared in Frank's chest. "Just tell me how soon you're planning on killing me, so I can take you out first."
"Bold words for a bedridden man. Feel free to run, but I won't have my healer chase you down. Where would you even go? Back to Silver, maybe? Oh wait, you hate him." Jake rolled his eyes behind the mask. "Honestly, your list of enemies is almost as long as mine. I'm giving you the opportunity to either add another name to that list, or to start a new one. We would be powerful allies." He leaned back against the wall.
"Why would I ever want to be on the same side as you?"
Jake's next inhale seemed a little shaky. "You're right. I haven't given you a lot of reasons to trust me. What if we just exchange favours instead? I'll give you anything you want, in return for one favour of my choice."
It sounded like a good offer in theory. Jake's resources were impossibly expansive, and the fact that he was just offering them up was too valuable for Frank to pass on. On the other hand, there was no way of telling what Jake's favour would do to him. His own life was of little value to him, but if he was forced to hurt someone else ...
"I would never make you hurt an innocent, if that's what you're thinking. Unlike Silver, I have a heart somewhere in here." He rubbed a hand over his chest.
"Okay." Frank said, because there had never really been another option. "But I want infinite access to your resources until you name your favour."
Jake didn't hesitate for a second. "Done. Whenever you need something, activate this," he held out a device about the size of a fingernail with a small button in the middle, "and I will do my best to fulfill your request. I'm assuming your first wish is to be healed fully." He waved in a healer.
Okay, that was weird as hell. Frank didn't understand why Jake would agree to something like that unless something was going on behind the scenes. Still, he wasn't in a place to say no.
Frank felt instant relief when the healer's hands smoothed over the skin of his calf. The cramping in his leg disappeared. He caught a glimpse of the wound beneath the pristine white bandage–no scar. In fact, it seemed like a couple of the other scars in that area were gone, unblemished skin in their place. Jake had a hell of a healer on his hands.
The second the healer was done working their magic, Frank was on his feet. He positioned himself between Jake and the door. He was ready for a fight.
Jake just shook his head. "You're free to go, Frank. I'll let you know when I'm ready to call in my favour. Until then, I have a task for you that you can consider more of a request, from one potential ally to another."
Frank quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. If Jake thought Frank would do anything for him for free, the double agent was delusional.
"Keep yourself safe. This world doesn't deserve to change you." Of all the things Jake could have said, Frank would never have guessed those.
Was it a misguided bid for trust? An insult so subtle Frank couldn't find it? He took a wary step back, towards the door. Jake made no move to stop him. Frank was a step away from making a run for it when Jake spoke again.
"One last thing. If you try to back out of our deal, I will find you. In all my time as Silver's vision, I have only ever given him one eye. You have no idea how much I can see with the other."
Frank didn't bother to stick around and hear about it. He sprinted down a hallway, past a few doors until he reached a set of stairs. He took them two at a time, amazed at how he managed not to fall. The front door was right in front of him, and there were still no signs of a chase.
A few blocks away he finally accepted that no one was going to hunt him down. He was safe. What did he do now?
Going to Silver's place seemed to make sense. It sucked that Silver was no longer the person he hated most, but that didn't change the fact that it was true. His fucking abductor was the person he was going to run back to. He wasn't even ashamed–You played with the cards you were dealt.
The one thing he regretted was losing the delivery boy's car. Nick was going to have enough to deal with when Slate came back and found him lounging on the couch. If he was even still there.
So Frank travelled by foot. He tested the new leg gently at first. Quickly, he found that he didn't need to baby it. The cramping and pain he should have felt after being shot was nonexistent.
He broke into a jog, which flattened into a hard run. The leg showed no strain from the injury. Frank had to hand it to Jake's healer. They had true talent, the kind that came from hours of studying the craft. The heal was flawless.
Frank summoned his flame for the first time since his meltdown in Helium's apartment. There was so much of it aching beneath his skin. He thought of the power Silver had, the only one he had ever seen that seemed to perfectly match his own. It was such a fucking shame they found themselves on opposite sides of a moral line.
Worse, he didn't always see the line as a clear division. Sometimes he felt himself swaying towards Silver's hunger for power. For Silver, there were no cages. No rules. He took what he wanted.
It was appealing as hell.
At the end of the day, what had Frank earned from trying to play the game the "right" way?
He had lost a brother, friends, status. His dream career had been in the palm of his hand, and his stupid fucking ethics had forced him to drop it.
Why? So that he could make one life marginally better, for a short time?
His breathing staggered from his lungs. He was close to Silver's house. He recognized the houses, the way they grew larger and more luxurious the farther he got from the main city.
It was a few blocks away, and then one, and suddenly he was standing at the door. It swung open before he had time to knock. A cold, indifferent looking Silver stood on the other side.
"Do your knees hurt?" Silver's tone was the ice Frank had come to recognize. "From crawling all the way back here?"
Frank grinned, all teeth. "Fuck you." Silver may have been ice to the core, but Frank was molten lava. They weren't so different, after all. And one could not exist without the other.
Silver stepped aside to allow Frank entry.
As he walked in, Frank was astounded at the sense of familiarity. In four years, this house was the place he had stayed the longest. The high ceiling, the flawless modern furniture. He recognized a scratch in the paint.
He walked straight to the kitchen, ignoring the look Silver gave him. The one thing he would always know around Silver was that he owed the man no explanation. Nothing he ever did would be worse than Silver's best.
The cabinet of whiskey was cracked open. Half the bottles were gone, and an empty glass stood on the counter. Frank grabbed it and filled it. He couldn't give fewer fucks about sharing a bit of saliva with Silver.
He poured a couple fingers. Chugged them. Poured some more. When he was satisfied with the gentle buzz in his head, he turned to Silver.
There was a look in Silver's eyes that he couldn't quite place. That he couldn't bring himself to fear. He stepped closer.
"I want to stop running." He said it like it was a secret he was trying to keep, even from himself. "I always thought I could avoid becoming you. I thought the way my brother turned out was a one-off. But we're all the fucking same."
Silver stood silently. Watching.
"And every time I did anything–all those times I fucked up your shipments or stopped some elemental from having their power taken, it was never for the right reasons. It was because I couldn't pull a trigger the one damned time I needed to, and I thought it made me a good person. What it really made me was scared."
"So why are you here now? You think being like me makes you brave?"
"I think it makes you powerful, and I know it means you never have to be afraid."
Silver shrugged. "A brave declaration. I'm going to need to see some action to back it up."
He grabbed Frank's wrist, and the touch was branding. Frank jerked back. It wasn't enough to loosen Silver's grip. But a breath later he found himself leaning into the touch.
"How can I prove it to you?"
"You're going to take the shot you couldn't, on your very first hunt." Silver pulled out a gun, seemingly from thin air, and shoved it into Frank's hand. "Follow me."
They walked down the familiar hallway, stopping at the room where Daniel had been staying. Until Frank helped sneak him out, and then got betrayed with a shot to the leg. Ah, memories.
The room looked a little different now. There was a unicorn plushie on the bed, and some talented little artist had decorated the walls, almost fully covering them with drawings. Frank's eyes travelled down, and he spotted the future Michaelangelo herself drawing on the floor.
She was tiny. That was the first thing he could think about her. Like a little puppy, he got the feeling that it wouldn't be too much trouble to pick her up with one hand.
"Sophie, could you come over here for a moment?" Silver called.
The girl listened, dropping her pens to walk over to Silver. "What is it?" Her voice was so small. And those eyes—they took up half her face. Frank hid the gun behind him on instinct. That wasn't the kind of thing you showed a little kid.
"I'd like to show you something." Silver pulled a small mechanical unicorn out of his pocket, like the fucker prepared for this or something. How did he always predict the future?
He manoeuvred Sophie so that she was fully focused on the unicorn, her back to Frank. Then he nodded, his eyes flicking to the gun at Frank's side.
Pull the trigger, he mouthed.
Frank's hand shook as he tried to rationalise it. This girl's life with Silver would be miserable. She would be used for everything he saw in her, and then discarded without a second thought. And that was who Frank was trying to be, right?
Unfeeling, cold, calculated—invincible. He raised the gun, pointing the barrel at the child's head. Fuck. If he did this, there was no going back. There was no more being the hero. He would be irredeemable.
His eyes met Silver's, and that was a mistake. The cool confidence he saw in those eyes was a drug. One he would never get another hit of if he played the coward now.
Frank pulled the trigger.