See No

The spirit wrapped around your body as you reach the drapes. It was a new favorite with its dark base and golden frog pattern. It reminded you of your mother, a memory of her and her frog amulet burning bright in your brain... You might have to take it with you when the year is up. Even if it meant keeping it in your suitcase to never see the light of day again.

With a final touch, you move past the fabric. A silence settling in your mind and body as you take in the surroundings. The living room you barely used had been heavily rearranged; like beyond anything you’d originally thought was possible... After all, the crazy computer setup and arsenal of guns was not your cup of tea.

You slowly trudge toward the party, walking on the balls of your feet as you keep your hands to your chest. Your fingers fidget with the bandages as you peek at a screen. There was a multitude of tabs, all running some random stuff that blared with numbers and— you; all your names that you've used in the decade of moving around... All the identities, the different background information, everything.

You clench your jaw, humiliation pouring over you as you step away. Whoever this was— they knew your secrets; all of your dirty secrets. It makes you feel sick.

Door. Boots.

The spirit crawled up your spine, it's ‘head’ directed to the door that shook with a small thump. The jingle of the keys loud and quiet at the same time as you begin to walk backward. Your beating heart becoming loud, violent. It echoed in your eardrums and clawed against your ribcage, screaming to be released.

Your mind, panicked but functioning, scrambled for one of many knives laid out. The handle crevices digging into your palm as you run into the bedroom, your back skimming against the shelf as the door creaks open.

“Need to spray the hinges.”

“I told you.”

“Shut it.” The voices argued as they entered. Your eyes closing as you cover your mouth, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose.

This fear.

It was the same as that night. Where you cowered into the darkness, only to be manhandled through your skin and bones in search of your soul. The squelching of organs practically booming in your cranium in familiarity. It was bizarre how it didn't hurt but it sure as hell felt violating.

“Gonna use the bathroom.”

“Don’t be too loud.”

“Never thought you’d tell me how to piss.”

An airy scoff broke the air as the drapes break apart. The head of curls being the first thing you met—then a pair of eyes. One's that froze at the sight of you... His lips parted with the smallest shift of weight, all of which triggered you to tackle him.

The sound of his yell was choked as you shoved him with your forearm, the gravity clawing you two to the floor. His body your cushion as you land on top of him, knife over your head. You couldn't feel it— hell you couldn't feel anything, but you were shaking. A mix of adrenaline and muted fear pumping through your veins.

“WOAH CALM DOWN! Fuck, CASTLE—!”

The stranger cried out as he holds onto your elbow and wrist, fighting against your motion to choke and stab him.

A new surge was what pulled you back, a grip— terrifyingly firm guiding you until your body was pushed against a surface.

“Shhh, breathe. You're okay. Breathe.”

The new hand, calloused and rough held your wrist beside your head. The thumb running up to your palm, slipping under the handle that you desperately held onto. The other holding your hip, adding a bit of pressure to keep you still.

Blinded by overwhelming emotions left you to follow the voice. Your head falling as you follow the instructions, taking in shaky breaths as the knife is thrown to the floor.

“There you go, good. Just like that.” Removed from your wrist, the hand cradled your neck, thumb soothing your aching jaw. This touch, these words of endearment, that voice— it's all so painfully familiar; and heavily starved for.

“Frank.”

A whisper, weak and breathless, acknowledged the old friend. The sound of a hum vibrating through your body as you lean into the touch bringing you further into serenity.

“I’m right here.”

“This is— weird and cute, plus terrifying but I need to take a piss.”

“No one needs the announcement, get outta here.” Frank spared a look at David before returning to you. His eyes raked over your face, your skin shining with light sweat of stress and sleep. Your eyelashes protecting your closed eyes from his desperate stare... That whole year you knew each other, you never looked into his eyes without those dang sunglasses.

“Is my face that ugly?” A joke, somewhat hurt broke your barrier of silence. It did make you both laugh though, something that Frank can be a bit happier about; you smiling. “We’ll talk some more over food after we get you freshened up.” Frank accepted the fact you have never and may never look at him without sunglasses. It's okay— he thinks.

After David left the bathroom, and you apologized to him, you and Frank went in. Neither of you having a need to talk as he peels your sweater off, tossing it on the back of the toilet... This is how most of these situations go on. Whenever either of you got injured, the other would help take care without question. It was weird. Especially because you've seen how Frank can he with people while patching them up. Sometimes very physically aggressive or verbally— both is also a thing.

But, this situation was a bit different. The both of you knew that.

“Glad you're normal again.” Frank broke the ice as he opens the medkit, snatching the scissors. “Kinda creepy with the way you've been acting the past week. Like a zombie.”

“Sounds about right— I don't remember much.”

“Mm.” With care, he pulls and cuts the bandages.

He‘s always taken care of you.

It's quite crazy how easily he adapted to you into his life in that single year. Sure, the two of you had a couple of arguments here and there. The dangers of each other being your reasons to clash and butt heads. But, you were always each other’s first option... Even with no longer living in the same place. It was this bond that you never really understood but could acknowledge.

Even when your soul was split you called him; how silly.

“You still not gonna look at me?—Even when we’re alone, hm?” He watched as your eyes tighten their close for a moment. As if his hands were going to pry them open. It made him frown, then sigh and just accept it again. It was whatever, he would tell himself- again and again.

—

With a light push and shove against Frank, the both of you flooded out of the apartment. You saying you need fresh air and he, well he isn't going to leave you alone. Not anytime soon.

“You scared me, y’know.”

He spoke after some time of walking, the two of you now standing in some random area as you breathe.

“Calling me like that after just disappearin’? Telling me you need me to walk you through suturing yourself up?“ Frank shifted on the balls of his feet, moving his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. He always does that. He’s so expressive, but when it’s around someone he can die it down. And hide his hands that were constantly bleeding and bruised. Plus that shake of his head. It made you feel disappointed in yourself as you look away.

“Those seven hours on that plane. I couldn’t stop seeing you dead. I couldn’t stop thinking about who the hell I had to kill to avenge you, to keep you safe.”

A sigh, inaudible but heavy poured out. The cold air forming it into a cloud. A cloud filled with built-up guilt, guilt that you never wanted to confront.

“You could— you should have told me if someone was chasin’ you. I would've kept you safe.”

“No. Frank, that in itself was too much to ask for.”

“Don't start that bullshit with me. Don't say I've done enough for you. Yeah, I helped you but you saved my ass more than most.” You watched as he takes a turn to look away, staring at everything and nothing. “I remember all those nights. Even if it was just a couple of bruises you pulled me into your home. You gave me a bed, food, clothes— everything... Then you left. No message, no letter, no talk; nothing.”

The two of you lock eyes after his rant. All the hurt he felt poured from the eyes you never met. Even if you couldn't read him the spirits clung to him would spill his secrets, as they are doing now. They whispered about his horrors, cried about his fears, and screamed at his hunger, along with their anger at dying by his hands. But, despite their differences, they shared the card of hurt. They were all— hurt, by you.

“I even went to Red.”

“What’d he tell you?” You kept your stare, swallowing down the acid that built in your throat at the sight and sound of screams. If they wanted to, they all could reach out and mark your skin. They could scream in your face just like Frank does when he wakes up from a nightmare— or when he's beating someone to death.

“That you told him you were leaving. You gave him all your documents to be kept under lock and key, in case you came back... But no one who does that comes back... You don't need me tellin’ you that. I didn't need David finding all your identities either. —I knew the truth.”

The downside of being friends with vigilantes was their knowledge of living another life. Hell, anyone who wasn't considered an actual civilian understood that. The only thing keeping them going is hope. The weak, hurtful belief of hope.

“Who are you running from?”

“Myself, Castle.” You rip your eye from him, growing sickness of grief and fear in your gut. “I’m running from myself.”

It’d be a full truth before meeting with Anubis; that you hated yourself and couldn't help but run from it, even if it was impossible. But, now? You weren't sure. The god who practically prayed to YOU shifted your thoughts. You were still a bit lost but you had a slight understanding of the situation. That somehow you're connected with the god and other deities hunt for it; or whatever is special about you.

Khonshu, being a prime example.

Speak of the devil.

A spirit detached from your shadow.

“And he shall appear.”

The bird stood beneath a tree, his size smaller than that night but equally as threatening... You could hear Frank’s faint question before everything became loud with this buzz. It made your entire body tingle— as if you were vibrating. Yet, you could hear HIM loud and clear.

You’ve returned as one, little mouse.

Your mind is stronger than I originally assumed.

You didn't need to talk— he didn't want you to. All he wanted was to be heard.

Do not believe what that dog speaks. He hides his true intentions from you... I, was no better than him that night but now the fog has cleared.

I know the truth of my spell and you should too.

He dissolves with the incoming gust.

Revealing Steven that stood behind him... No— that's the other one. The one who's kept silent this whole time. Different than the Lockley and Steven— like a mix.

“Spector.” Frank practically growled the name. He was concerned about your sudden episode until you snapped out of it. You would've told him nothing but be knew better and chose to raise his head.

Witnessing the man who he never thought he would run into again stalking toward them.

“Castle.” Marc, with equal, despise hissed out.

The amount of testosterone radiating off of the two becoming toxic. There's nothing you hate more than when they do that whole puffed-out chest thing. It kinda makes you uncomfortable.

“You still crazy?”

“Little bit. You still murdering people?” Marc squints at the quick smile from Frank.

“Little bit. How's your imaginary God?”

“He’s good. How's your dead family?”

You raise your brows, sucking in your cheek with the conversation.

“Anyway, we need to talk.” Marc turns to you just as you open your eyes, neither of you surprised by your frustrated gaze. It wasn't something he's seen before and it unsettled Steven in the back of his mind but that didn't need to be shared.

“You know this bastard?” Frank had freed a hand to point at Marc. “Not by name.” You respond, quite blandly as Marc smacks Frank’s hand away, earning another banter that made you feel trapped in a children's daycare.

“This is serious Frank. So if you care about your little partner then you should listen too.”