WHO: Francis & Josiah Taylor WHEN: May 18th, evening WHERE: Leisure Room C2 WHAT: Frankie went to look for The Exorcist for Scotty but winds up encountering her brother instead WARNINGS: Language & mild violence STATUS: Complete!
______________
Someone had mentioned the leisure rooms having an extensive dvd collection and Frankie was more than curious to see what sort of movies they had. She had Scotty in mind, hoping to come across old cult classics; The Exorcist specifically. She wandered through a few of the leisure rooms, casting a lazy gaze to see if anyone was lounging around. They were empty for the most part and if someone were in one she wouldn’t recognize their face. It’s not like she knew many people, just the Outsiders.
As per usual, Frankie had white little earbuds crammed into her equally small ears. Soft tunes filling up her ear holes, calming the thoughts that were whirring crazily in the confines of her mind; too many thoughts for such a small space.
She ended up in the second leisure room, the one that was basically set up specifically to watch movies. Frankie noticed someone else, but only saw them at the corner of her eye. They were just a blurry insignificant figure. A blob. A currently hunched over blob.
No one she would know.
She zipped right to where the dvds were, and quickly dropped down on bent knees. A fingertip slowly skimming over the spines of each case, silently mouthing each title it ran across.
The room’s darkness was perfect for Joey. He’d had a full meltdown in his room upon reading the message on the network, crying and ripping at his clothes. The last person he wanted to see here, and they couldn’t even give him a straight answer as to if it was her. He had left as soon as he was sure the tears hadn’t reddened his eyes, and come here to this movie room. A soft film playing, a book open on his lap, the room dark enough that he had to bend over with his nose nearly touching the page so he could see the words. He was barely reading, thoughts swirling through his head, so that not even the darkness, the sound of the film and the text in front of him could derail them. He wasn’t a field agent, barely had powers. What the fuck was he even doing here with a bunch of cold assholes keeping him out of the kitchen, accusing him of trespassing, telling him his sister was here. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t belong in any of these spaces. Fuck this. Fuck whatever genetic mistake had made him this way. Fuck his goddamn parents--
He was beginning to breathe hard. He’d worked so hard to calm down. He bit hard on his index finger, trying to reorient himself. In rehab he’d learned techniques to work through his negative thought processes. None of them worked. He let out a strangled noise and bit down harder. He didn’t want to see her. Not ever again. He wanted to be thrown into a dark cell, into solitary; he wanted to be transferred to a different base. The tears were starting again, panic gripping his chest.
Joey looked over at the collection of DVDs. If he smashed them, if he destroyed all that property, would they send him away? Was this his way out? But there was someone there, someone by them. A familiar shape. A familiar set of thoughts, and when he reached out, a similar set of emotions. Joey felt nausea overcome him, and he screamed, falling backwards from his chair. No. No. No. No. No!
The sudden scream seemed to physically squeeze and tug at Frankie’s heart all at the same time. Even through the soft hum of music the scream reeled her attention. She gasped, tearing away her earbuds as she spun to stand straight up.
This was a final proof; it was her. He could see her face. It was her.
Collapsed on the floor was a person she had never wanted to see again, let alone have a conversation with. Frankie tried so damn hard to keep to herself, carefully assessing each corner she turned to make sure this very thing wouldn’t happen.
Joey. It was Joey.
No, this was Josiah.
Her lungs felt so small just then, trying to suck in more air that they didn’t have the space for. The shock quickly turned into anger, the kind that boiled like a foaming pot of water, rising quickly to the surface.
“You,” she spat out like a snake spitting out venom. Her fingers curled into her palm, squeezing into tight little fists. Her bones were shifting, crudely penetrating sensitive skin. She bit back the pain with her anger; Frankie didn’t even have time to flinch. The space between them closed at a quick pace as she didn’t hesitate to close in on his person space, looming over him. Sharp bones jutted down the line of her jaw, knuckles turned rough with bare bones.
“Get up,” Frankie demand. “Coward!”
“No!” He didn't know what he was shouting no about - the bones jutting out of her knuckles, her demand or being called a coward. He couldn't fight, had no powers that worked for any kind of fight--
A sudden, calmer thought overcame him. If she hit him with those bone knuckle-dusters, he would be transferred for sure. They would know then that neither of them worked in this place, in the same team. He would be taken somewhere else. He would never have to see her again.
So he stood up, his own fists balled up, thumb on the outside of his knuckles like his high school boyfriend had once shown him. “Why am I even scared?” He asked, question rhetoric, his black eyes focusing on her. “All you'll do is leave.”
Those few seemingly simple words had enough power to pull the air straight out of her lungs. Her eyes had gone wide, flares set fire behind the green. How dare he utter think those words, let alone say them outloud. “What did you just say,” her voice dangerously calm and even, the very same calm just before the storm came.
She remembered what happened to him, a clear memory that was plucked in the deepest crevices of her mind. Her lower lip trembled before her jaw visibly tensed as if it were trying to ebb away any emotions Joey wanted to bring out of her.
He wouldn’t get that satisfaction.
The fist came faster than any more words could come out of her mouth. Bare boned knuckles rocking him just below his eye, right onto his stupid god damn cheek. Cal had taught her how to punch and how to punch with the power to not need to have to punch a second time. The skin on Joey’s cheek split open so easily, his blood staining ivory white bone.
Joey spat blood, his teeth rocking through the skin on the inside of his mouth, head knocked backwards.
Frankie sucked in a breath, only to quickly expel it out of her lungs. “You. Left. Me.” That’s all she could say. That’s all she wanted to say. He didn’t deserve anything else.
“Which one of us got to leave?” He asked, voice thick with blood. He couldn't see her, his eye swelling. “Don't you fucking talk to me about leaving because I came back to an empty room!”
She left soon afterwards. The movies clear out of her mind. Her purpose for coming here was forgotten. Frankie knew what she did and was prepared to face the consequences for her actions.
His book was ruined, from blood dripping onto it, staining the pages. “Maybe pick a fight next time with someone who can fight back,” he snarled, a full body bruise, an open wound, an entirely unhappy person.