Unholyverse

Seventeen

Frank woke up slowly, blinking as the anxious faces hovering above him came slowly into focus.

"Oh," he said. "So we won?"

Gerard let out a big, relieved breath, his fingers digging into Frank's arm. "Welcome back. How do you feel?"

Frank thought about it. He felt like he'd been hit by a truck, but he was alive, and that was pretty much the best surprise ever. He struggled to get up, groaning and clutching at Mikey's shoulders for support. "I feel like this whole regaining consciousness thing is getting really fucking old."

The guys moved back so Mikey could help Frank sit upright, swing his legs over the side of the table. They were all staring at him with these giant eyes, it was fucking disturbing.

"Cut it out," Frank said. "Do I look that bad?"

"You look like you got thrown in a blender," Bob told him.

Frank looked down at himself; pretty much every inch of skin he could see was streaked and splashed with blood. "Oh."

There was a bowl of dirty-looking water with a washcloth floating in it on the end of the table. Mikey moved to it and wrung the washcloth out. "I started to clean you up a little while you were out. Hold still."

"I thought I was dead," Frank said, watching Mikey wipe the cloth over his forearm. "It didn't hurt anymore, so I thought I was dead."

"You probably should be." Mikey turned Frank's arm over and started cleaning up the other side. "You must have lost a shitload of blood, Frank, but here you are."

"You always were a stubborn little asshole." Brian came over holding Frank's clothes, which he laid on the table in a little pile.

Frank caught Mikey smiling at him, and let the corners of his own mouth twitch up in response. "What was that stuff you burned, anyway?" he asked Ray.

"Peony, snapdragon, rue," Ray rattled off. "Well, and Holy Water. I can't believe it worked. I guess that was mostly Gerard doing his priest thing, though."

"I guess so," Frank looked over at Gerard, who was moving around the room, touching things and frowning.

"Brian figured out where you guys were," Mikey said to Frank. Frank looked over; Brian just shrugged.

In the corner, Luke was rambling crazily to himself, Bob standing over him looking stern.

"I need to get to a phone," Gerard started, and then was cut off by the sound of one ringing. He looked around, confused. "Wait - that's mine."

"Oh." Mikey plucked the ringing cell out of his pocket. "Here. You left it in Frank's apartment; I picked it up."

Gerard took the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Hello? Cardinal, oh, it's so good to hear from you." Gerard listened to whatever the Cardinal was saying, nodding and frowning to himself, then said, "Actually, the situation has progressed significantly since we last spoke."

He ducked out of the room; Frank could hear him talking in a low voice. He turned back to Mikey, who set his fingers against Frank's jaw and tilted his head so he could wipe the blood off Frank's face.

"All your wounds are closed," he said quietly. Brian leaned in to inspect them himself. "Like, completely. They're not - you don't even have scabs, just scars."

"How's your tattoo?" Brian wanted to know.

Frank looked down at her. She looked the same as before; sad, faceless, beautiful, but she was duller somehow, more mundane.

"You could get it removed," Mikey suggested, but Frank shook his head. Mikey made a humming noise, and washed out the cloth in the bowl. It was reddish and murky; Frank looked away.