Forget About It

Frank knows he was right when he opens his eyes a second later. He has to be alive if he’s able to even open his eyes, and to open his eyes that must also mean he was right. The bomb was a dud, and thank fuck for that.

Frank’s heart rate is faster than it ever has been in his entire life. He could run a marathon and not be breathing this heavily. That was terrifying. When he looks up he watches Brendon as he pushes Mr. Comb Over to the ground.

Everything is a rush right now. Mr. Comb Over is being handcuffed, the big guy is crying about his leg, while Patrick looks down at him with some mix of sympathy and disgust. Frank doesn’t know why he looks sympathetic, because the guy just tried to kill all of them, but he’s not going to question it, because this is Patrick.

Frank looks up and he sees Gerard. He’s just staring at Frank with the strangest expression he’s ever seen. His eyebrows are looking at him like he’s disgusted, but he also looks completely amazed. Gerard just looks speechless in every sense of the word. He can’t even move right now, he’s so dumbfounded.

“Frank that was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do ever,” Brendon says to him as he walks down the driveway, with Mr. Comb Over in tow. “And thanks for it.”

“Uh, yeah,” Frank says, and he pulls himself up onto his knees for a moment. He’s still not exactly sure what he just did. He thinks he just sacrificed himself, and given the fact that he didn’t know what was going to happen, he could’ve died. He’s not dead though. He still can’t believe it.

“Frank, you...” Gerard starts, but then he forgets what he was going to say. It doesn’t make sense that Frank just did what he did. Gerard’s in shock, because how is it possible to be so stupid and simultaneously be heroic? Gerard hates the fact that he has to use the word ‘heroic’ for what Frank just did. The guy just jumped on a bomb, not knowing if it was active or not.

“Yeah?” Frank asks, as he pulls himself up from the pavement. He brushes himself off, because he’s got some dirt on his jeans. Also it feels appropriate given the circumstances, not that he’s cool or anything, but it makes him feel like an action hero.

“Just,” Gerard says, and he does not want to compliment this guy. The last thing he wants to do is thank Frank, or say anything nice to him until the end of time. He would rather bite off his own tongue then say something nice to Frank. The guy just risked his own life for Gerard’s though! And other people too, but Gerard is among those people who would have died if that had been a real bomb and Frank hadn’t jumped on it.

“Just, uh,” Gerard tries again, and then he huffs and decides to just say it, “that was a really, um, like, g-good thing to do.”

Frank raises an eyebrow at him, “What was that?”

“I’m not going to say it again,” Gerard snaps, then softer he mumbles, “Just, yeah.”

Gerard stares at Frank for a few moments before he walks over to talk to Patrick and the big guy who’s bleeding onto the tarmac pretty heavily. Frank watches Gerard as he walks away, a little stunned that Gerard even bothered to say something nice to him. That’s got to be one for the record books. Like seriously. He’s going to write down the date and time somewhere so that no one forgets. He probably still won’t believe it.

Frank doesn’t know where he’s needed right now. Everything seems pretty quiet all of a sudden. He watches Brendon sit the two men, Mr. Comb Over and the young guy who surrendered himself, down on the sidewalk.

Frank looks around to see that there are some neighbors who are moving around in their houses. They’re all getting ready for the day ahead, and a few people look over to see what all the commotion is about, but Hayley has come from nowhere to shepherd people away from the scene.

The day seems to be late already, even when Frank knows that it’s not even eight yet. It’s still so early, way too early for all of this to have happened. Eventually there’s the siren of an ambulance approaching, and when Frank hears it, he walks a little way down the driveway.

He doesn’t know where he’s wanted, but he doesn’t really want to go talk to Brendon, because he’s got two wannabe bombers with him. He doesn’t want to talk to Gerard either, but he trusts Patrick, so he makes his way nearer to him. Also he’s oddly fascinated by blood in a kind of creepy, but not really way. He just kind of is interested in the guy whose knee is bleeding like a bitch.

Patrick’s wrapped his knee in a towel, Frank’s not positive wear the towel came from, but maybe Ford Prefect is hanging around somewhere and gave it to him. Patrick seems like a frood who would really know where his towel is. The big guy has also been handcuffed to the mailbox, which doesn’t seem like the most dignified place to be handcuffed, but it could be worse.

“So what, uh, happens now?” Frank asks.

“Typical,” Gerard scoffs.

“Calm down, Gerard,” Patrick says, “We really should be clearing ourselves and everyone out of here, because at least some of those bombs are active, but this guy makes that kind of hard.”

“Oh,” Frank says.

“We’ll be clearing out as soon as the ambulance takes him away, and then this is the bombs squad’s job to deal with,” Gerard says, “I ain’t going to deal with that shit.”

“You also don’t have the clearance or the training to deal with the bombs,” Patrick points out.

“Whatever,” Gerard shrugs. He’s gone back to completely ignoring Frank, because apparently showing any form of appreciation is merit to then pretend he doesn’t exist.

Twenty minutes later they’re being sent away from the scene. They’re telling people it would be wise to evacuate, but most of the neighbors are looking on with more interest than actual fear. Frank doesn’t exactly protest to leaving. He’s ungodly tired, not having actually slept in over twelve hours, but he knows that he probably has more things to do involving paperwork. He thinks paperwork is completely overrated considering they just dealt with three fucking potential bombers, but he’s not complaining. At least not out loud.

While he starts walking over to Hayley, he recognizes that he only just got a taste of what he’s here to do. He wonders if he actually wants to do this, and he realizes with certainty that this is exactly what he asked for. He looks down the street to the perfectly kept houses, and families lounging around under the rising sun, and smiles. He just saved all of these lives, along with his team, and he knows that this is what he was born to do. What he was meant to do. Helping people in trouble, saving lives; it’s what he fantasized about growing up.

“Hey Frank,” Hayley says as she spots him, clapping him on the shoulder, “Nice work there. Stupid, but nice.”

“Uh, thanks?” Frank asks.

“No problem, but since you deflected the bomb,” She smiles briefly, then grunts as she brings out a stack of paper work and Franks stares, horrified by the large amount, “these are yours, and they need to be filled out by Tuesday.”

Frank stares a second longer than necessary as he tries to remember what day it is. Tuesday comes after Monday, but it doesn’t feel like a Monday. Or is it? It could be a Thursday and he wouldn’t be the wiser.

“But that’s tomorrow!” he yells, looking at the paper work with a scared expression that turns into a snarl as he hears Gerard’s smug laugh.

“You want to be the hero, you gotta do the work,” Gerard says joyfully, walking past him into the house. For a split second, Frank wishes the bomb blew up in Gerard’s face as his arms start to scream in protest from the weight of the papers. Maybe it’s not actually that much, but Frank is tired and he isn’t anxious to do anything.

“Fuck Gerard,” Frank exclaims. He frowns, and then he’s hit with an idea. He looks down at his watch and nods. Yeah, he should have time to fuck Gerard.