A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Thirty Eight - The World Is Ugly/But You're Beautiful To Me

  It had been another week or so, and they were now in Holbrook, Arizona. The name didn't mean much to Frank - he was thousands of miles away from home no matter how he looked at it, on the run from the government with a mass murderer. He'd been very worried over that for a while, but eventually decided to drop it - being incredibly anxious wouldn't do anything to change the situation.

Besides, the mass murderer wasn't very scary after all. The cross pendant which had initiated their first...physical encounter didn't hold much fear for Frank anymore, either - and certainly not now, as he turned it over in his hands, the cold gold heavy in his palm. Gerard was next to him, absentmindedly stroking his hair. Normally, if it were anyone else Frank would've pushed them away, but...this wasn't normally and Gerard certainly wasn't anyone else.

Gerard didn't wear the cross these days - Frank wasn't sure why, but he didn't question it. All he asked when he touched the ornate metal was, "In hoc signo vinces? What does that mean?"

Gerard hummed, tracing the letters. "In this sign, you will conquer. It's Latin."

Frank nodded, quiet. Then he looked up. "Gerard?" he asked, already expecting the answer to his question. "Would you tell me about your other boyfriend?"

Frank had put together the pieces - the scars, the whip marks, Gerard's instinctive submission replaced by desperation to be in control. The drawing in his sketchbook - the drawing of the evil man's face. Gerard hadn't always been the way he was now.

Gerard's peaceful expression was replaced immediately by one of shock and nervousness. "What boyfriend?" He shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, Frank - you saw my sketchbook. Just one-night stands." He licked his lips, glancing away.

"No," Frank told him patiently, touching his wrist softly. Gerard flinched away, frowning. "Gerard, the picture of the man's face - he wasn't just a one-night stand."

"You don't know that," Gerard snapped, angry now. Frank sighed, slipping a hand through Gerard's hair. He shivered and hung his head. "Fine. But I'm not telling you anything about him."

"You don't need to," Frank whispered. "You were with him when you were young - you said younger than me. He...he was your dom, right, but either you disliked it or he was too rough with you or both and you had to end it."

"That's the simple version, anyway," Gerard muttered, not looking at him. Suddenly, his head jerked up and he was staring at Frank, eyes wild. "We had a safeword," he snapped, brows furrowed. "We had a fucking safeword, and he didn't care. He never stopped." Gerard's shoulders were hunched and his mouth was twisted. "And he never made me feel anything but pain." On a quieter note, he added, "That's why I started drinking so much."

Frank shuffled closer to his side, still petting his hair. "What was the safeword, Gerard?"

"Ultimatum," Gerard said, deflating a little. He quoted in a bitter tone, "A final demand or statement of terms, the rejection of which will result in retaliation or a breakdown in relations." He snorted. "Completely fitting for the situation, although he didn't seem to find the irony in it. Besides, my attempts at retaliation never went well, and we didn't have a "breakdown in relations" until years later."

"I'm sorry," Frank mumbled, kissing his cheek. Gerard slumped down into the touch. He hesitated. "Thank you for listening to me."

Gerard laughed regretfully, touching Frank's chest. "I didn't always listen, though. And sometimes I shouldn't have." Frank knew he was talking about the knife and the shower afterwards.

"But you do now," Frank said seriously. "You do listen and you do stop, and that's more than...more than any of my other boyfriends did."

"But I hurt you," Gerard said, still touching the scars. "I hurt you so much. I was....I am kind of a dick, if you hadn't noticed."

"But you're not being one now." Frank sighed. "When we were in California, and it was the day before we got Mikey, I went to this bookshop. There was a girl there named Jamia."

Gerard instantly stiffened, but he didn't move away.

"No, no, we didn't do anything, I swear, she just gave me books to read, but...when I had to go, I told her that it was nice to have someone like her around. And she asked me what I meant, and I said "Someone who cares.""

"Frankie," Gerard said miserably, his eyes sad. There were few times Frank had seen Gerard show sadness genuinely, and every time, it made his own chest ache.

"No, wait. She told me that she knew you cared, even when I said that if she met you, she'd never say that. She said, "Who wouldn't care about you?" And that stuck with me, I guess, so when we went to get Mikey, that's why I shot that guy who would've killed you, and why I carried you out of there. Because I hoped that maybe you did care, somehow." Frank sucked in a breath, glancing at him.

"I do care," Gerard said harshly, after a few moments of heavy silence. "I fucking...why would you think I didn't care?"

"I didn't think that," Frank told him honestly, "I haven't thought that for a while now. I hoped you did. I..." He broke off, the words caught in his throat.

Gerard didn't say anything. The slump was gone from his shoulders, and his expression was determined instead of helpless. Frank had cracked his shell for a little bit, but Gerard healed fast.

"Did you have any other relationships?" Frank asked him, wanting to break the awkwardness.

"I had a girlfriend," Gerard said mildly.

Frank made a choking noise. "You what?!" Because. What? Gerard was definitely gay. Gerard was so gay it wasn't even funny most of the time. "When we were in Vegas-"

"I was young and my sexuality had less defined boundaries," Gerard huffed, crossing his arms.

"Okay, who was the lucky woman?"

"Lindsey Ballato," Gerard said casually, and Frank almost choked on air again. "Frank, are you quite alright?"

"Agent Ballato?! The one who got us out of the electric chair, bossed you around, and shot the suits with a dart gun?"

"The very same," Gerard nodded, his face composed as Frank gaped like a fish.

"So...what, it didn't work out because you were too forceful or mean or what?"

"Quite the opposite, really," Gerard chuckled. "Lindsey was never known for being docile or submissive, which created some problems. She wouldn't stand for being a sub, or having a dom, or even a lighter version of that. Still, we respect each other. She's a remarkable woman." He looked a little upset then, his facade broken by a frown as he looked down at the sheets.

"Are you still friends?"

"Not exactly." Gerard sighed again, looking at Frank. "So. Frankie, dear. Tell me about one of your...relationships."

Frank gave him a scathing look. "You know how all of those ended."

"Humor me. C'mon...you must've had a good relationship somewhere along the line."

Frank hesitated. "Well...okay. Zacky Baker...he was my fifth boyfriend, I thought things would go really well with him. He wasn't super tall...I mean, same height as you, probably. Uh, he had tattoos, two sleeves and a chestpiece, and he had snakebite and nose piercings. But I mean, he was a really sweet guy. Funny, pretty outgoing, always up to something." Frank shrugged. "I guess one of the things which made me like him the most though was the fact that he let me fuck him. And none of the other ones let me do that."

Gerard raised an eyebrow. "Was it your first time doing all the work?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "No, you jerk. I had girlfriends before." He flushed. "But with a guy, yeah."

"And?" Gerard's face wasn't mocking anymore - it was open and almost curious.

"I don't know, it was...better in a lot of ways, less painful obviously. And it made it harder for him to hurt me in the way that the others had. I definitely enjoyed having at least a little power, and...well, I must've been decent at it since he stayed with me." Frank chuckled dryly. "We had a good relationship for the first six months."

"And then?"

Frank's face darkened. "Well, long story short, little Zacky got in with the wrong kind of crowd. I never really liked his friends anyway...they were too big and loud, too much like my other boyfriends, and I knew they didn't like me. They started goading Zacky on, I don't even know what they told him exactly, but he got into drugs and he drank more than before. And one night, not too far away from our eight month anniversary, Zacky came to my apartment, stoned and intoxicated out of his mind."

"Frankie," Gerard whispered, just like before, but firmer this time, without the tremble.

"No, no, Zacky wasn't the dangerous one, not really. He'd always been a prankster, but he was a good kid. I brought him inside, trying to be a good kid, too...and that's when he started coming onto me, well, more forcing himself onto me. I didn't want it and I knew he just needed to rest, but he started getting insistent, and I freaked. I got a knife from the kitchen and herded him out of the apartment...only to find that his friends were waiting when I opened the door, and they were much better armed. Four gangsters up against one pretty little punk? It wasn't a fair fight." Frank sighed. "So yeah, gang rape, real classy."

"Did Zacky...?"

"Oh, yeah," Frank muttered, "I don't know if his friends brainwashed him or if he was really that desperate to top, but yeah. He got me first, while all his fucking friends watched."

"I thought you said you only killed eight people...just your boyfriends. What happened to the other guys?"

"Oh, I killed them, too. They weren't my boyfriends, though, so I don't count them. I don't even remember their names." He waved a hand dismissively. "I was nineteen."

"Fuck." Gerard rubbed his eyes. "How did all that not seriously mess you up?"

Frank looked at him with disbelief. "You kidding me? Gerard, I went to prison for four years and had sex with all my inmates just because I wanted the sick pleasure of knowing they were going to die. I was like, a fuckin' incubus or something - everyone I slept with died at basically my own doing."

"Except me," Gerard said, looking at him in that weirdly intense way of his.

"So far," Frank said lightly, and Gerard snorted, rolling his head back on the pillow he was propped up on.

"So far," he agreed.

xoxoxo

"This is beyond weird. I don't even...fuck, how are those trees?" Frank stared out the car window, eyes fixed on the various scattered rocks on either side of the highway. They were shaped like tree trunks, and from their broken edges gleamed bits and pieces of color - purples, pinks, greens, blues, yellows, oranges, reds. There were entire rainbows contained inside the trees, frozen in time.

It had been a day or two, and they'd decided it was time to leave Holbrook and move north again. "Welcome to Petrified Forest National Park, Arizona." Gerard was staring out his side of the car, and there was a long, long silence. It was a strange silence in some ways - just the wind rushing past from the rolled down windows and the dust swirling far in the distance and the careful, measured breaths from both of them. The car's engine was just a distant purr of white noise. But in other ways it was comfortable, because Frank didn't feel the need to fill it with empty words. Neither, it seemed, did Gerard. He seemed content to grip the steering wheel and watch the otherwise vacant road and the massive fallen trees which kept them company.

Frank smiled.

xoxoxo

"Frank," Gerard said in a strained voice, "I was trying to draw you. Stop that."

"Stop what?" Frank asked innocently, palming over his cock in his sweatpants. He wasn't even that hard (yet), but it was just too fun to be the one doing the teasing for once. Besides, the hotel bed in Tuba City, AZ (yes, that was the town's real name) was probably the most comfortable one yet. Gerard looked at him with dark, frustrated eyes.

"You know what. Come on Frank, just hold still and let me finish this."

"Why?" Frank raised his brows. "I'm sure you have a whole gallery of me in there by now." It was true; Gerard had been drawing him an awful lot lately. Not that Frank had any complaint....if he was being honest, it made him fill up with fucking butterflies and rainbows. Really badass butterflies and rainbows, though. Probably with raunchy tattoos and piercings. And pirate hats.

Frank was too wrapped up in designing his inner beasts to notice the red flush on Gerard's cheeks as he slammed the sketchbook shut. "Yeah, well, whatever, I'm done with that one anyway."

Gerard walking over to the bed though, that snapped Frank out of his insect and spectrum drafting immediately. He put his hands on his hips, glaring unconvincingly down at Frank, who shot him a winning smile. "Care to join me? I'm a little lonely."

"You seemed to be doing just fine on your own," Gerard grumbled, but Frank's soft lips and hands soon convinced him otherwise.

xoxoxo

"Frank? Either I'm dreaming or you made French toast again."

Frank smirked, turning to see a sleepy but eager Gerard leaning against the doorway to the kitchenette. They were in Page, Arizona now, and Gerard wanted to stay for a little while longer. It was the middle of October, with Halloween not far in the future. Frank missed the vibrant autumn leaves - here there was nothing but deep canyons and cacti - but he was happier than he'd ever been before.

"Not dreaming," Frank informed him, returning the kiss Gerard placed on the back of his neck, but this time right on the lips. "I was hoping that this time we'd actually eat it while it was still fresh, instead of going through a lot of drama."

Gerard slumped against him. It seemed so long ago when all that had happened - when Billie had happened. But there was no Billie now - there was no anyone now, nobody except him and Gerard. "Right," was all Gerard murmured, turning his face into his throat. "Well, then let's eat it before I get distracted."

Frank briefly fantasized doing both things Gerard had in mind - Gerard's pale skin would taste even better sprinkled with powdered sugar and milk - but Frank didn't feel like cleaning up big messes right then, and he knew they'd do it some other day. It seemed like they had all the time in the world.

So he just pointed at Gerard, said "Rain check on that, okay?" and got two plates and forks, taking as many pieces of toast that the plates would hold.

xoxoxo

Frank hadn't considered himself a very romantic person for a long time. He hadn't, simply because he wasn't. He likedsex, who didn't - rough, quick, fantastic sex. Sometimes long and careful sex...although that was much more rare in his life. But, sex aside, he wasn't as attracted to romance simply because he hadn't experienced it much. Even with Gerard...it had just been sex at first. He thought it would always be just that - just sex. He was certain it wouldn't go any further than that, because Gerard was an a selfish asshole who got off on hurting other people, or so he thought.

But there was more to it than that. Gerard was kind of a selfish asshole. But he wasn't one all of the time. More and more now, Frank would catch the other looking at him almost wistfully - not with lust, not with malice - with genuine want, and not for sex, just for....just for Frank. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had looked at him like that. He knew that Jamia had been right all along - Gerard cared. God, he cared so fucking much that maybe he himself didn't even realize it. But Frank could see it, in those gold eyes which spilled so many more secrets than the man himself.

And Frank cared, too. That realization came to him unexpectedly one night, when he and Gerard were curled together under the sheets, shielded from the world by the night. There was no moonlight or starlight or whatever streaming down and casting a perfect beam of brightness onto Gerard's face - Frank didn't need one to see him. He saw him when he closed his eyes. He saw Gerard next to him, kissing him, on top of him, beneath him. He saw him laughing, frowning, shouting, screaming, moaning, pleading. He saw Gerard's gratitude whenever Frank cooked meals, and he felt his soothing hands against his skin, brushing away everything but himself.

And he saw Gerard where they'd been tonight - in the movie theater, eyes wide as they stared at the girl in the movie getting slashed open by the murderer, blood splattering everywhere, Gerard whispering into Frank's ear halfway through that the effects were really unrealistic - that wasn't how it actually looked at all. Frank had stared at him in shock for a few seconds before Gerard busted out laughing - his stupid, dorky honking laugh which made Frank laugh too, little giggles which were probably the most annoying sound in the world. Afterwards, Gerard had stopped at an ice cream parlor on the way back - yes, an ice cream parlor, Frank didn't even know those still existed. He bought them two sugar cones with two scoops each - mint chocolate chip and Snickers for Frank, and cherries jubilee with chocolate fudge for Gerard.

They'd held hands in public for probably one of the first times, and they didn't plan it or anything. It was just, one moment, Gerard was trying Frank's ice cream and Frank was tasting his, and then Frank's grip on the cone slipped a little. Gerard grasped his hand with his free one, steadying it, and Frank didn't let go, switching hands and keeping Gerard's fingers entangled in his.

And now, Frank opened his eyes and blinked at Gerard's shadowy face in the dark. He knew the expressions that face could create, the sounds that mouth could make, the mysteries those eyes could solve. He knew almost every inch of his body, every swath of pale skin, and every reaction his touch could elicit. He knew it like he knew his own name. He knew Gerard like he'd never known anybody before.

It hit him, right then, right there.

He didn't say anything. He didn't even gasp or squeak or curse or anything. He just thought it, very softly, very silently, in the safety of his head.

I'm in love with you, Frank's mind whispered. I'm in love with you.