what_wings_dare | I'm good at this.

[Belfast is cold in the winter; it's the kind of cold that always sees Eden bundled up tightly, her scarf up against her chin, her hands in a jacket that's one size too big - only because it belongs to Moore - and a huge pair of boots.

She's sitting at the train station.

She doesn't really know why she's sitting at the train station. Ever since she left the City, ever since she let Frankie go home, she's come here, once a day, usually for the noon train from Dublin. Every day, she sits and waits, and leaves back to the hospital, or sometimes to the pub, quiet and unhappy.

She has a coffee in her hands, and a pair of fingerless gloves, and she keeps watching the people file out, like maybe one of them will be familiar, but none of them are. Moore thinks she's crazy.

She's not crazy.]

[She's a lot of things, but she's not crazy.

There's nothing he wanted so badly as to go home with Eden-- home to a world that's not on the cusp of fiery rebirth, home to something other than a swift death-- but what he needed was to go back. It hadn't been an easy decision for either of them. At the end, all he could say was that to be the kind of man who was worth the life he'd led in the City, he couldn't leave Ed alone to be torn apart in his place.

He'd accepted that, he'd expected it. Finding himself bleeding out in a vacant lot in Queens had come as a shock, and from there it had been sheer luck that he'd survived. Luck, and maybe the dregs of borrowed magic; Eden's and Amory's and the City's all in one. Once they'd gotten him stable it had been luck and bureaucratic indifference that set him loose; Frankie Dalton in a world with no Frankie Dalton in it, a world without Subwalks and blackout curtains.

Luck and work and the kindness of strangers had eventually gotten him some semblance of a life, and from then it was a matter of work and time, ridiculous and aching time, until he could cross the ocean to look for his wife, knowing nothing more than the city, knowing that would be enough.

Coming off the train maybe the face isn't that familiar after all. He's unkempt and unshaven, tanner than he used to be and older. He looks, rightly, like he hasn't slept in a week, like he hasn't eaten anything while standing still in an absolutely shamefully long time.

But maybe he looks enough like himself, glancing around him like the crowd's gonna part and point him in the right direction.]

[It doesn't help, of course it doesn't help, that she is not always the easiest person in the world to find. She has a mobile, of course she does, but the only people who have the number are the other technicians at the hospital, and Moore, of course. And some of her old crew, because she's still in a way the de facto healer and drug runner for that lot of arseholes.

Still.

She takes a sip of her coffee and it burns her mouth, and of course that's when she sees him. It takes her a minute, because he looks unkempt, like he did in a way before her, broken and a little lost. He's looking around the train station with that expression on his face that says that maybe he's still trying to figure out what it means to be human, and he's wearing her bracer, the one she made him.

She drops the coffee.]

Frankie-

Frankie!

[She yells it and it's a bit drowned out by the hum of people, but she's pushing past them, all five feet of her demanding space, demanding that she be allowed-

She slams into him, partly from momentum, partly pushed by someone behind her.]

Frankie.

[In the City, over the years, he'd gotten good at being human; it's harder to be human in a world like this one, so close to his but not quite right, years shaved off his history. His parents' house was there, painted the wrong color and lived in by strangers. It's better that way, maybe, not coming face to face with some other him, some other disappointed and neurotic Ed, but it means he's got no one. That's the hard part.

The first time she calls him he half disbelieves it, he doesn't look. Her voice echoing in the back of his mind, it's nothing new; makes sense, here. He's half turning when she calls again-- mostly to assure himself that it's not her, things can't be that easy-- but suddenly there she is knocking him half off his feet.]

Eden! [He barely takes a moment to steady himself before he grabs her, folding her close against himself. He's still wearing that silver chain, his ring dangling from it, the metal warm against his skin.] Jesus Christ, how?

[She doesn't reply at first, her fingers are in his coat, in his shirt, they're clutching there tightly for a long moment and she's breathing him in - breathing in the smell of him, so familiar, so precious. She reaches up, her fingers in his hair, and it's longer but the texture is the same.

People are starting to give them space, because this is clearly a Reunion of a magnitude that isn't seen often.]

Frankie.

[She says it with a whisper in her tone, like maybe she's still trying to believe he's here. She's here. They're both here.]

I'm a prophet, remember?

God-

[She whispers that too.]

Did you replace me? Is there a girl on the train with you?

[Maybe it's a serious question, but she wants to know, before she kisses him, she wants to make sure that he's hers.]

[He's fine, letting her take her time to reassure herself he's real. He's doing the same, resting his cheek against the top of her head, fingers on her shoulderblades like he's afraid she'll vanish if he doesn't hold tight. Fuck, fuck, he's missed her every moment since he woke up in the hospital but the ache is all that much sharper now that it's finally eased. He chokes a little laugh when she reminds him that she's a prophet, and--

--and then that kind of ruins the moment for him.]

What?

[How could he ever, what girl could ever, he doesn't even look, not anymore.]

Of course not!

Good-

[She says it fast and then she's on her tiptoes to kiss him on the mouth, her hands in his hair, all her weight against him. It's lucky she's so tiny.

She finishes the kiss and she's crying, and then she hits him a little]

Fuck-

[It's like air to a drowning man, her kiss; he'd pick her up to keep her close but he's too rapt, he's been waiting, it feels like lifetimes that he's been waiting, and in the moment it's worth it, it's all worth it because here they are.

He almost winces when she pulls away, he does when she slaps him. Fuck.]

I had to, you know I had to.

[He's not letting her go, his hands aren't budging from her shoulders.]

I know-

[She kisses him again, and again]

God, I kept your fucking ring, I'm so fucking in love with you-

[She's crying and people are staring but she doesn't seem to mind.]

Are you hungry?

[He can't dig up words to answer so he kisses her instead, on the corner of her mouth through her words, lifting one hand to brush the tears off her cheeks, like he needs to squeeze everything into this moment. The crowd is parting around them; it could be entirely gone, he wouldn't notice.

Finally she asks that, and all he can do is laugh, suddenly and wholeheartedly, because it's so her, fumbling to clasp her hands in his.]

[She holds tight to his hand, and presses her head against his shoulder. It finally feels right, it finally feels like she's whole again. She hadn't realized how gutted she had felt until today, until she was back with him. Like part of her soul had gone missing.]

There's food back at me flat.

[Choosing to die had been the easy part. He'd already come to terms with that before the City, in that split second when he'd told Ed to run. He's never regretted it. But choosing to leave her?

It was right, it's what he had to do, but fuck, it tore him apart. He wasn't wrong, but that doesn't mean he's not sorry.

He nods, a little shaky still, and grins like an idiot.]

Fuck, I miss your cooking.

[Along with everything else.]

[She tightens her grip on his hand.]

You look like you haven't eaten in a month.

[She doesn't doubt that this might actually be true.]

Airplane food, soup kitchens, hospital a while before that. Shit fast food now and then.

[For years before that he'd lived on Eden's cooking, and before that it had been nothing but blood. Hell of an adjustment.]

I think there's breakfast left over at home.

[It's her day off, and Moore is usually out of the flat by this time]

You're a lifesaver.

[He's grinning at her like old times already. For the moment he's not even thinking about Moore or about the ways this is going to get hideously complicated.]

I can't believe you found me like that.

[She just holds his hand tightly and she guides him.]

I'll always find you. Don't you know that by now?

[If he's anywhere she can find him, she'll do it.]

Good to be reminded.

[He says that a little bit quiet, gentle. Fuck, it's gonna be a long day because he isn't going to let go of her, not for a second, not if he doesn't have to.]

[She doesn't say anything for a minute. She just holds tightly to his hand, and then pulls it up to press her mouth against his fingers, for a moment, just a moment.]

So, you do need to know, I'm living with Moore.

[He stops short. Fuck, he ought to know that.

Maybe he should pull his hand away, but he doesn't have the heart to do it, he just looks stricken.]

Frankie!

[She says it and maybe it's a little more sharp than she intended, but she's still holding on]

You knew that, I warned you, didn't I? Before we left, I said, if you were going to go die-

[Maybe she said that. Maybe she just wanted to.]

[She's the only thing he's been thinking of, he's been drawn like iron to a magnet since he woke up here, when he shouldn't have woken up at all. Day after day after day tracing his scarred shoulder with his fingertips and thinking, and not thinking, just wanting.]

I shouldn't have come.

[That was the deal, wasn't it? The City was meant to be all he had.]

I'll fucking punch you out, you fucking arsehole.

[She says it and she means it.]

[She might have to.]

It's not fair. You know it's not.

Not fair to who? To Moore? Since when do I give a flying fuck about what's fucking fair?

You know what isn't fair? Having your fucking husband leave you to save his fucking brother, that's not fucking fair.

[She is getting very clearly angry - there is no doubt that punch is coming soon]

You think I was fucking happy about it?

[She's the only good thing he's ever had.]

You went! You went even though you didn't have to go, you left me, and I let you, so don't start up on what's fair-

[Oh, people are looking, now]

I couldn't have left him to fucking die!

[Let them fucking look, he doesn't give a damn.]

What the fuck are you gonna tell Moore, huh?

I told him I was married, didn't I? I told him and he fucking got it, better than you did-

[She's starting to hyperventilate now]

How could you fucking do this to me? How could you fucking do this to me?

Eden.

[He's not sure if he's pleading or trying to reason with her or trying to calm her down. Or maybe he's just saying it while he can, like he's going to vanish.]

It wasn't supposed to be like this, you fucking know I didn't mean it to be like this.

And here we fucking are, and you want to leave-

What the fuck did you think was going to happen, Frankie? That I would sit and mourn you forever?

Course not.

[He's not even really trying to not look petulant.]

I didn't think I was gonna make it out of that fucking room.

Then act like a fucking man about this, will you?

I'm fucking trying to. I'm trying not to tear things apart for you, here.

Don't be fucking daft?

[She hits him again, but less hard.]

[Christ, what a mess. He glares for a moment, not exactly at her but sort of in her direction, without a damn idea what to do.

So he leans in to kiss her again, if she lets him.]

[ n a m e ; ]	Frankie Dalton
[ c a n o n ; ]	Daybreakers
[ g a m e ; ]	saw it through the end @ poly_chromatic

I'm good at this.

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