every_blossom_blooming | The anesthesia by which we endure life [Oct 24]

Entry tags:

The anesthesia by which we endure life [Oct 24]

Frank had been brushing her off for more than a week, and then, suddenly, he wasn't answering her at all. For days he hadn't answered her. Nina was sure there was some kind of rational explanation, but she wasn't in the mood to humor that thought. Things had been strange around Darrow, and she had just handled her best friend on the verge of a complete nervous break down, and it was terribly easy to imagine that Frank had lost his mind or was dead in a ditch somewhere.

So she threw on her sweeping red coat and went to his apartment. She tried the door, gently, and found it locked. That wasn't a problem. She knelt on the landing and carefully picked it, the way she'd learned to from Kaz, until she heard the click and pop of the lock releasing.

She stood again and let herself in as quietly as she could. She was aware of two hearts beating, two sets of lungs breathing: Frank had company. She closed the door and locked it behind her, taking in the sad state of things - no different from the last time she'd been here, other than the fact that there was an extra body in the bed and she could smell the alcohol lingering. Saints, how drunk had they been?

Nina eyed the bed, and the two men in it, then huffed. She took off her coat and left it draped over the police scanner on the table. She found Frank's coffee maker and started banging things around - cabinet doors, mugs, the can of coffee - as she set about brewing a pot.

She was so angry now that she knew Frank was alive.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Frank had been awake for about twenty minutes before the noise at the door. Waking up next to someone was not specifically unusual but was, in this case, unfamiliar. It had been years now. And then there was the press of the hang over. And then there was the noise.

Frank lifted his head from the pillow and then, sluggishly, pulled himself out of bed. He was still wearing his jeans from last night. He was still wearing his boots. God, what a fucking idiot. He shuffled into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around the noisy apparition that was gracing his kitchen, slowing her down. His nose fit into the crook of her neck.

Nina Zenik was taller than Maria Castle. She smelled different. Frank was awake, suddenly, but he didn't move his arms from around her waist; he hooked his chin over her shoulder instead.

"Don't you dare try to get on my good side, Frank Castle. I no longer have one," Nina huffed as the man practically cuddled her from behind. She jabbed him with her elbow but didn't actually try to get him off. "You reek of scotch, you know that? Like bad mouthwash."

She put the coffee away, making sure to bang the cabinet shelf and door in the process.

"Coffee is good for good sides," Frank assured. He grunted slightly as she elbowed him. It was hard, but not as hard as it could have been. If she really wanted him off, he'd be off, and they both knew it.

He let go. "I'll brush my teeth and make breakfast. Can you stop slamming around like a hurricane? Please?"

Nina turned to stare deadpan at Frank after he let her go. She lifted an eyebrow and held his gaze as she knocked a plastic cup off the counter.

"Sure," she said. She rolled her eyes and turned back toward the coffee maker like she planned to watch it brew. "You're lucky I'm not a squaller or you'd get a real hurricane."

The first time Guy woke, it was an ungodly early hour. Drunk still, or perhaps in that strange place between drunk and hung-over, when one thought one was doing quite alright as long as one didn't attempt to move. So, he didn't move, quite content to remain close to the other body in the bed. He barely noticed draping an arm over him. Already back into a more comfortable drunk sleep.

The second time Guy woke, there was ungodly noise in the studio. Hung-over, definitely. He couldn't say they were shouting, but they might as well have been. Wait, they?

Yes, there was the voice of Frank and then another, female, and somewhat familiar.

He really did try to go back to sleep, but it was of no use. So, instead, he rose. Slowly. He put on his shirt, not bothering with buttoning up more than two buttons and searched for his shoes.

Alright, apparently he was still wearing those. He snorted, and regretted doing so, for it hurt his head.

Eyes up to the kitchen he saw Frank, and a woman standing with her back to him. "I take it this is my cue to leave," he noted, and had to scrape his throat. Dear fuck, it was that last vodka, surely. He shouldn't have had that one.

"You will sit." Nina made a decisive, sweeping gesture of her hand to make Guy's knees go weak. In case he needed further convincing, she flicked her fingers up and made his stomach churn, just a little bit.

She took a breath to calm back down. Maybe that had been too harsh: she wasn't mad at Guy. She was just upset. "You sound worse than he does," she said with a gesture at Frank. "So just... sit. And I'll try to help you feel better when I've calmed down."

She filled a glass with water and crossed the small room to offer it to Guy. An olive branch.

Frank had stepped into the bathroom, and had missed the moment when Guy had first hauled himself out of bed. But he did hear him, and Nina, and so he was out in a moment, toothbrush hanging from his mouth a bit stupidly, ready to say something or smooth things over.

She had it handled. Frank looked apologetic, and now had two people to look apologetic at instead of just one, and crossed to spit in the sink.

She hadn't touched him, of that Guy was sure, and yet he felt a push onto the chair. "What the fuck was that about, you-" It made him nauseous, but he managed to keep it in. Best if he did, of course, when an angry woman inhabited the same room. For the same reason, he accepted the water without requesting a drink.

Frank emerged apologetic and that was of no use at all.

"Any particular reason why my presence is required, or is it just the joy of my company?" he asked sardonically.

"You sound wretched," she said in a gentler tone, looking at least a little contrite. "There's no need for you to rush off just because I'm here. I thought Frank was dead, that's all. And then I was angry that he was just drunk and avoiding me."

She gave Frank a look when he reappeared.

"And I should probably do something to make up for being so rude to you just now."

Frank sort of gestured at Nina, like that explained anything at all, but it didn't really. He hadn't meant to disappear on her. Given the state of the past week, he supposed if anyone was going to deal with him, she might be about the only person who could.

"Not avoiding," he said. "Maybe a little."

He looked at Guy and felt, momentarily, awkward. In the sober light of morning, he just wanted a moment to make sure he hadn't upset an already precarious balance. Nina making him stay for a moment probably didn't help the awkwardness of all this.

"Have you two met, or...?" Frank grabbed coffee mugs, because even if he couldn't convince Guy to stay for food, the caffeine would help with the hangover.

"Come back to me when the contents of my stomach finally decide which way they want to go, and I'll be all charm and delight," Guy assured, still quite wretched. "And if you want to make it up, concoct something that will tip the balance towards my not throwing up."

Frank worried somehow, but Guy couldn't be arsed to care much for worried faces at the moment. He was rarely in a good mood in the morning, and less so when he was suffering a rather horrid hang-over. "We met," he said. "Once." He reached into his pocket and finding a pack of cigarettes there and a lighter made this morning a little more bearable. He produced both and lit up.

"On the pier. He had a lovely pumpkin on his cheek," she said, sounding downright fond. Nina watched him for a moment. "Take a few deep, slow breaths, dear. I'm going to do something about that nausea."

Nina found it in her mind, his unhappy and churning stomach. She moved her hand carefully, like a rocking ship. She slowed the rocking down, and as she did, Guy's stomach would start to settle. It wasn't a perfect fix, but it would at least stop the nausea.

She looked at Frank as she worked. "Yes, avoiding. What else do you call blowing me off and then not answering your phone at all? For days, Frank, when something weird is happening around here. You're more than just a client, you know. I actually like you."

Nina crossed the room and picked up a glass of vodka that had been left on the table, she imagined all night. She brought it go Guy. "Bit of the hair of the dog. Coffee should be ready soon."

"Strategic involvement," Frank said, quietly, while she worked. It was strange to watch her work on someone else, because he knew what it felt like to have her powers work on him--not for these exact purposes, but for others. He knew it could be off putting.

He stayed across the apartment, in the kitchen, and started working on making breakfast--quick pickled rice with vegetables and eggs. It would be filling and easy to eat, and he everything in the fridge already, and it was his go-to after a night of hard drinking.

"Open a window if you're going to smoke, Guy," he said offhandedly. "Smoke's bad for the baby."

Guy regarded her dancing hands skeptically, until slowly he realized the nausea was settling, and vanishing. He arched an eyebrow, but was quite pleased. She had concocted, it seemed, and it worked. If that made her a magician or a witch, he didn't care. He might need her phone number, though. The vodka was accepted with a nod and a lopsided smile. This was the olive branch he could agree on.

He noted the conversation, but didn't interfere for now. "Do you mind?" he asked Nina, a peace offer in return. If she rather not, he wouldn't smoke. It should be considered a fucking olive tree, to be honest.

Edited 2018-11-14 22:08 (UTC)

Nina scowled at Frank and focused on his right calf; she made a tight fist and made the muscles there follow suit in a cramp. "That is strategic involvement," she hissed.

"No, I don't mind," she said to Guy, sounding downright light and airy. "The apartment's open enough and I won't hover over you and breathe. I'm just about done with other people telling me what's good and bad for the baby."

Nina did go to a window to open it just a crack, though, to satisfy Frank. It gave her an excuse to move. She was still worked up and trying to calm back down. Little outbursts of her power helped.

Frank prided himself that he did not crumple. He leaned into the counter and scowled at the food, and then frowned at Nina as she crossed to the window. She had every right to be upset with him, but that didn't make it easier to deal with.

In the second it took to look up from the counter, there was that flash. He was far away for a moment. Neither Guy nor Nina was there in the apartment with him. Frank gripped the edge of the counter, grounding himself, waiting for it to pass, waiting for Nina to be Nina and not his wife with her blown away face, and waiting for Guy to Guy and not Billy with all thee decimation Frank had wrought on him.

He swore under his breath when it had passed.

Guy didn't kiss and tell. Well, that was a lie. Guy did kiss and tell, or kiss and lie, or remember the kiss for later use, for blackmail, or whatever was needed. But when it came to his friends he could be very discrete. He would never betray them or their trust.

He recognized Frank 'going into one', just as he had the previous night. He wasn't all there for a moment.

"You've told her about that, at least, I hope?" He wondered aloud, voice still quite hoarse.

Her eyes went sharp when Frank went away. "No he hasn't," she breathed as she swept across the room to him. She didn't touch Frank until he swore, then she cupped his face and made him look at her.

Her fingers stroked along his jaw; as they moved, she did her best to help his body and his brain calm down. She couldn't take that pain away, the one he'd had since she met him, but she could make his body feel better and hope his mind would follow.

She looked over at Guy, suddenly very concerned. "Do you know how long this has been happening?"

Guy still sounded rough, but it was nothing that water or coffee wouldn't help. She'd see what she could do for him in a minute.

The touch didn't help, the niggling feeling of her working at him. It did the opposite of help, in fact. It brought the vision of Maria back into focus. Frank swatted Nina's hand away and stepped back from her.

"Stop," he said, a short, sharp thing, clear and present. "You're making it worse."

Guy didn't answer Nina's question. It was for Frank to decide what he shared and with whom. "You'll have to ask him." It was true also; Guy didn't know how long it had been going on.

Guy flinched a little at the sharp shout, both because it hurt his head and because it seemed the man was truly pained by whatever it was Nina did.

Nina put her hands up and stepped away from Frank as he broke from her. Before she did something she'd regret, she sent herself to the bed and sat next to Guy. She clasped her hands in front of her and stuck them between her knees.

"Frank? What's happening?"

He took a second, breathing, aware that the morning was sliding rapidly from awkward into awful. So it took him a second to get grounded again, to get everything sort of tied back on straight in his head. When he'd come back to himself, he looked at the both of them.

"Darrow fuckery," Frank said, because Nina had asked. "Making me see shit. My wife, the kids. Russo. I checked in on him, so I know I'm just seeing shit. I--we--"

He gestured at Guy then, shrugged. "We got drunk last night. Chase the demons off. Worked for a minute. Apparently your stuff makes it come on stronger, which nobody knew until ten seconds ago. So just--just don't go poking around right now. Okay, Nina? I've got it handled."

As Nina sat down beside Guy, he took the cigarette from one hand to the other, so as not to get smoke in her face.

"Is it gone now?" Guy asked, somewhat concerned. It wasn't right, not even for a man like Frank, to be tormented like this.

"Don't stand there and tell me you've got it handled. Say whatever you want, but not that," she huffed quietly. Nina frowned and suddenly felt rather helpless. She couldn't fix this. She couldn't help Inej, Kaz wouldn't even let her try, and now this.

"How are you feeling, Guy?" she asked, deciding to focus somewhere she might actually be useful.

Frank nodded at Guy's question, but said nothing. Nina needed to be mad at him, or just in general, because she could control none of it. So, instead, he turned back to the food he'd been trying to make. That would only take a minute or two more to make. Nina could focus on Guy, making sure he was feeling a better more human than when he woke, and they could all ignore that he was falling apart at the seams at the moment.

As much as either of them would let him ignore that he was falling apart at the moment.

Guy offered Nina a smile. "Like hell, dear, but it’s nothing I haven't survived before," he assured. "Thank you for... whatever it was you did." He waved with his hand vaguely, mimicking what she had done earlier. “It’s awful bad form to throw up on someone else’s floor, I know, but the drinks were plentiful and the quality varied.”

He regarded Frank. He liked Frank. He liked Frank better when he didn’t think of Billy, of what he had done to him in Darrow, and what he confessed he would do to him in New York. He wasn’t sure why he liked Frank, or why he could separate him from Billy and spend the night with him. But when the man had asked him to stay, Guy hadn’t hesitated. Something about the eyes, perhaps. He had expressive and kind eyes.

He did see Frank wasn’t fine at all, but what could they do? Had Guy been in his situation, he would probably have spent the days drunk and the nights with whomever he could find, wherever he could find it, until it somehow all went away.

"Just because you've survived it before doesn't mean you have to suffer now," she said with a wry little smile. "I can help headaches, if you like." She'd done quite enough without asking - she'd at least give Guy the option of having her help this time.

Nina tucked her hair back and watched Frank. She wanted to help. She was desperate to do something, but there was nothing to be had for it. She rubbed her own forehead and held back tears. Inej was in pieces, Kaz was being a recluse, and now Frank was falling apart. She couldn't help any of them.

Saints, the last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of anyone. She wondered if she could blame the hormones if she couldn't hold it back. She sniffled and stubbornly tried to will the feeling away.

Nina focusing on Guy was easier for Frank to handle for a number of reasons, first and foremost because it let him settle and finish making food. It was done in short order at any rate, and he brought three bowls over, one for each of them, looking like he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

He sat on the floor because it seemed like he might crowd one or both of them to try to sit anywhere else. This was the most people he’d had in the apartment since he’d had it. That felt unbelievably stupid, but also true to form.

“Eat,” he said firmly. “And drink coffee. We’ll all feel better after we do that. Nina, I’m sorry I went AWOL. I should have let you know shit was going on. I didn’t know it was going to be that reactive to what you do. But we do know now, and you know I’m not dead. Everybody knows I’m not dead.”

Guy wasn't opposed to getting outside help for head-aches or for any other annoying bodily (or mental) discomfort. At his own flat, he would have taken a couple of Advils and downed them with vodka.

A little hesitant at first (he still wasn't sure what it was she did or why she could do it), he agreed to it. "Yes... I suppose. By all means, please do."

It was then that the plate of food was shoved into his hands. Guy regarded it, quite certain he wasn't able to eat anything at the moment.

"You don't sound very pleased of that fact," he remarked. Would Frank rather have people think he was dead? To leave him be?

"Thank you for apologizing," she said. He hadn't done it until just then, and Nina had been prepared to stay angry at Frank until he did. She was good at that. She let her bowl sit in her lap while she focused on Guy - she needed her hands free, but she didn't need to touch him. It wasn't hard to coax the throbbing in his head to stop: she had a lot of practice with headaches of all kinds.

"Food will help, if you can stand it," she said to him as she picked up her own bowl. She looked at Frank, a small frown on her lips when Guy made a rather pointed observation. She'd noticed, too.

"I'm rather happy you're alive, thank you. Who else am I going to get to do target practice with me?"

“I’m pretty used to being a ghost,” Frank admitted, shrugging vaguely. It didn’t really matter one way or another to him because Darrow had him haunted instead of hunted right now. It was a strange thing to have people care again. He wasn’t used to that.

He snorted a little and dug into his food. “Probably your miscreant friends, if I’m honest. I don’t know if any of them know what to do with sniping equipment, but I’m sure they’d figure it out.”

Before Guy could get concerned that Frank might be up to no good, Frank said, “I’ve been teaching her how to use her magic at longer ranges. On me.”

And just like that, the worst of Guy's headache, the annoying pounding sensation, diminished, and vanished. He leaned in a bit to the pregnant woman. "I'm going to need your number," he said, in hushed tones, since Frank was talking.

"That's... very kind of you, I think. So, it's magic, what you do?" He asked her.

"Frank, I think you greatly overestimate what my miscreant friends will let me do to them. Kaz won't even let me help him feel better when he has a cold. Inej will only let me do it if she's desperate or unconscious. Matthias would rather drop dead than let a witch meddle with him."

She rolled her eyes at that last one. Matthias had gotten much better about a lot of things, but she knew he deeply feared and mistrusted her power. Jesper was the only one of them that might let her practice on him, or Wylan. But only because she could bully Wylan.

Nina shrugged at Guy's question - not dismissively, but to convey her uncertainty.

"I don't know if I'd call it magic," she admitted. "Other people do, all the time. But... it's more scientific than that. I'm not just wiggling my fingers and saying a silent spell: I'm telling the capillaries in your body to open more, or I'm making muscles tighten, or I'm forcing blood to stop. I'm making your brain release chemicals that affect the rest of your body. I had to learn anatomy and study cadavers to do what I do."

She felt the sides of her dress until she found a pocket and offered a card to Guy. Nina Zenik: Aura Healing and Physical Tailoring. It had her phone number on it and business hours.

"Pretty sure most people call it magic," Frank said softly. He didn't think that negated the scientific part, just that it was how it appeared and how it came across.

Especially when she was getting rid of someone's hangover as they all sat around the apartment. All the talk of brain chemicals and blood and whatnot was fine, but it still looked like magic when she did the wiggly fingers.

He glanced at Guy. "After everything we drank, you really ought to eat."

Forcing blood to stop... So, Guy was here with a witch and a soldier and both could kill him in the blink of an eye. Darrow seemed to be full of the sort of friends on whose bad side one shouldn't get.

"Yes, yes," he assured, taking a first bite. He waited for his stomach to protest, but it didn't. "Whatever it is you do, it worked." He had his reservations about her power, and about Frank fucking teaching her to be lethal long-distance. For now he just appreciated it.

"I have practice. I used to be a soldier, and I used to be in a gang." Nina sighed, long-suffering. "Men get themselves in such trouble."

She said that last part fondly, though, and took a few more bites of rice.

"But feel free to call me if you need anything. I can even change your eye or hair color if you really wanted. The effects wear off eventually, but it'll last longer than box dye."

Nina went to take another bite, then froze. She set the bowl on the floor and put both her hands on her stomach. "Oh," she breathed, eyes a little wide. "I think it moved."

Frank was about to make some joke about Guy and Nina's tailoring and all that, but Nina saying it moved caught him. For a second, the words didn't mean anything. Then, it meant everything.

He hadn't been around for either of Maria's pregnancies, really. He hadn't gotten to see her at these points. Nina wasn't his wife, and it probably wasn't healthy of him to think of his wife too much where Nina was involved. But it still happened.

"That the first time?"

Guy didn't have much use for pregnant women. If anything they tended to be moodier and more erratic.

He took a bite of rice, infinitely pleased that he was managing it perfectly fine. Really, Nina had her use.

"Yeah," she said to Frank, still a bit in wonder as she looked at her stomach, as if that would make it happen again. "It's like a little bird, or a butterfly. Just a flutter."

She laughed, and she blushed, and she rolled her eyes at her own sudden rush of feeling. "Saints, these hormones are ridiculous."

Nina shook her head a bit and smiled at Guy. "Anyway, if you need a little hang over pick-me-up or you fancy having green eyes for a while, or gold, you can call me."

Frank had a vague sort of memory from the night before, already drunk, of Guy's dismissiveness of women in general, and he could only imagine that this was a strange situation for him to be in. So, for now, he just sort of smiled to himself, this small thing that promised he wanted to know how Nina was feeling--just maybe not right now.

He finished his cup of coffee and leveraged up off the floor, gesturing at the both of them. "More of either of you?"

Guy Burgess would, in his future, own a gold Bentley, so yes, he was ridiculous enough to think gold eyes sounded like a very good idea. He smiled at her in return. "I'll be sure to. Gold would go nicely with my complexion, I think, don't you?" He was well-aware he was ridiculous.

He nodded to Frank. "With a dash of vodka, if you will."

Nina lightly cupped Guy's chin and seemed to scrutinize his face. "Oh yes, I think gold would be very lovely. You have the complexion for it, darling."

She let go of Guy and considered her coffee mug. "Just half full for me... Inej keeps reminding me that I shouldn't have too much caffeine. Honestly, with all the changes I'm having to suffer through, this and not drinking alcohol is just insult to injury," she sighed. "Krem made me a handful of new things to wear because all my other dresses are getting tight in one place or another."

Nina sighed, long-suffering, and pouted. But then she looked at Guy and smiled. "I keep meaning to come hear you play. If you ever want to end your shift early, I'll come sing and chase everyone away."

Frank had the feeling that dash meant generous serving because he'd been drinking with Guy most of last night, and he also had a feeling that if he actually gave Nina a half mug of coffee she might give him a headache out of spite. So, now responsible for both of these things, he decided it was more important to make something reasonable.

He took a sip of Guy's coffee to make sure it was palatable, but it wasn't the alcohol he would have chosen for coffee. He handed both mugs off as he came back, keeping his own--plain black--for himself.

"I have bourbon, you know," he said to Guy. "If you don't want your coffee to have that vaguely hateful aftertaste."

Guy saw the pout, and squeezed Nina's leg lightly, sympathetically and smiled. "I'd love for you to come by and sing. Could you wizard them all to stay put in their seats? If I go out, I should like to go out well," he grinned.

"I prefer vodka in the morning," Guy assured. he took a sniff and was pleased to find that 'dash' had been taken to mean exactly what Guy had meant by it. "Maybe next time," he teased and winked at him. "We might even get as far as to remove our shoes next time."

"It'd really be awful," she insisted. "I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. It's embarrassing, actually. I keep thinking I should take lessons or something," she sighed. Then a wicked little grin curved her lips.

"Oh, I don't know," Nina mused. "I've had very good sex with my shoes on."

Maybe it was highly presumptive to assume the two men had done anything but sleep, but-- they were half dressed when she arrived, and she was more than happy to read innuendo into just about anything. Inej rolled her eyes at it; Jesper always laughed.

Frank rolled his eyes, but let Nina tease. She'd seen how hung over they were, and he was sure she'd been around plenty of drunk and hung over idiots in her life, seen what alcohol did and had done.

Plus, what was the point of the argument and denial? Nina had walked in on him and Guy asleep in bed half dressed; if they hadn't been so drunk last night, Frank couldn't guarantee that they wouldn't have been less dressed.

"Historically, half dressed has been pretty good. Just maybe not for falling asleep with shoes on."

Edited 2018-11-19 19:31 (UTC)

"Nothing wrong with any state of dress or undress," Guy agreed. He leaned in as if to whisper to Nina, though he didn't lower his voice. "But we were a rather sad sight last night, and too drunk to get it up, so let's not drag up those memories today."

Nina covered a smile, like it really was a secret between them. "Poor darlings," she cooed. "I've never had to worry about that particular problem."

She set her empty bowl aside and cradled her coffee.

"Well, I think I've imposed on you two enough. Clearly Frank is not dead and now I've been appeased through food and coffee. Frank, I do expect to be hearing from you in the near future."

She leaned over and gave Guy's cheek a little kiss. "And it was a pleasure to see you again, though I am sorry for my rather rude awakening."

She finished her coffee and rose to her feet. She set the mug on the table and pulled her sweeping red coat back on. "I can see myself out, Frank, don't get up and be a gentleman."

Even as she said he didn't need to get up, Frank did it anyway. He collected her dishes from where she left them, scattered through the apartment like a whirlwind as she'd come in, and followed her to the door.

He pressed a kiss gently to her cheek. "I don't know how long things will last," he said quietly. "So if I'm still a little AWOL, that's why. Okay? I'll try to keep up. But I'm not dead, okay? I promise."

He glanced at Guy briefly, then back at Nina. "I'm gonna be okay."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The anesthesia by which we endure life [Oct 24]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject