Chapter 9B

Frank ran his tongue over his teeth in an effort to wash away the rest of the toothpaste. His quick retreat back to his room when he'd heard his father arrive back home with Rudy hadn't given him much time to properly rinse. Now, he could hear voices in the living room as Rudy happily told their mother all she'd done. He heard his dad laugh, and resented it. The man was supposed to be upset, like Frank was. But, Frank quickly reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to care.

He moved down the dark hallway, could see the light coming from his door. Oliver had left the door cracked. Thinking about it, Frank hoped that Oliver was tired enough to go to sleep. It had been a long day and his eyes were beginning to feel heavy. But his ears were open enough, it seemed. At least enough to hear the lone voice coming from his bedroom, and as he reached the door, he realized with some concern that Oliver was speaking to himself again. But this time, Frank understood perfectly who he was talking to, and it sent a cold chill up his spine.

"I told you, David. I told you I'd do it. Frank is my friend... I did what you said, David. It's okay now, alright, David? Don't get mad at me, David... I'm not supposed to talk to you anymore," Oliver said, suddenly dropping his voice into a whisper. "They all say everything will be okay if I don't talk to you anymore. But I know the truth. Don't worry, okay, David? When it's safe... I'll talk to you when it's safe. I don't want to get in trouble anymore. Like a secret, David. It's our secret."

"Oliver?" Frank's voice sounded a little dry to his own ears as he pushed the door open and looked cautiously into his room, as if he actually expected someone other than Oliver to be there. And for a minute, he got the impression that that's exactly what Oliver thought as he caught sight of the boy sitting on his bedroom floor where he'd made a bed out of spare blankets. Oliver was on his knees, wearing the shorts and t-shirt he'd brought over to sleep in, looking up at Frank's bed as if someone was actually sitting there. "Oliver?" Frank said again.

Oliver looked over his shoulder this time, and smiled his crooked smile in Frank's direction. "Hi, Frank."

"Hey," Frank replied as he slipped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. "Who were you talking to?"

Oliver flushed, and shrugged his shoulders. "No one, Frank."

Frank frowned. As far as he could tell, this was the first time Oliver had purposely attempted to deceive him. But, at least he could tell that the one-sided conversation had nothing to do with a blackout. Frank hadn't learned much useful information from the Martins when it came to Oliver's condition, so now he was determined to piece it together on his own. If Oliver didn't black out when he talked to David, Frank couldn't help wondering if that happened when he became David. He didn't ask, though. For those answers, Frank decided that he would be better off simply observing, so he forced a smile and headed towards his bed, pausing briefly as he looked to the place where Oliver had been staring. Real or not, something about the idea of David sitting on his bed was bothersome to Frank. But, he forced the feeling away as he climbed into bed, resting his head on his pillow before he looked down at Oliver, who was watching him now. Frank allowed a moment or two to pass before he decisively moved closer in towards the wall. "Wanna come up?" he asked.

Without answering, Oliver grabbed his pillow and moved onto the narrow mattress, not minding that the space there was limited as he settled in and quietly stared at the ceiling with Frank.

"My stomach hurts," Oliver commented.

"Yeah," Frank replied, sighing. "But there was no way I was gonna tell my mom we already ate. I'm lucky I'm not grounded as it is."

Oliver fell silent again. They could still hear voices coming through the house, and when the only male voice promised to be coming back tomorrow, Frank sighed heavily.

"Is that your dad, Frank? Oliver whispered.

"Yeah. He's dropping my sister off. Should be gone in a minute."

"You really don't like him, Frank?"

Frank was silent for a moment. "There's a lot I don't like about him. Yeah."

Oliver turned his head towards Frank, and his eyes went a little wide. "I'm not allowed to not like my dad."

Frank smirked. "Says who?"

"My dad."

Frank outright laughed. "It doesn't work that way, Oliver. He can't control your feelings. You should know that."

"I don't want to get in trouble, Frank."

"You won't if you don't tell him... I don't think I like your dad, either."

"You sound like David, Frank."

Frank frowned, unsure if that was supposed to be a compliment. Oliver's brow knitted, as if he'd become aware that he'd said something wrong. "I wanna go to sleep now, Frank."

"Alright," Frank replied, sitting up long enough to lean across Oliver and turn off the lamp. He felt Oliver's hand touch his chest as the room grew dark, and placing his palm over it, Frank turned into him and closed his eyes, and then he remembered nothing as he slept until Oliver shook him awake first thing in the morning.

Frank wondered if Oliver was always such an early riser, or if he'd just chosen the one morning Frank needed extra sleep to wake him up early. Frank's attempt to drag a pillow over his head only made Oliver laugh and try harder to wake him up, and the sound made Frank smile, despite the fact that he was still half asleep.

Frank opened one eye slowly, allowing it to adjust to light that wasn't supposed to be there. It took him a moment to realize that Oliver had opened the curtains, and now sat over him already fully dressed with a smile on his face.

"Good morning, Frank," he whispered.

"Morning," Frank mumbled. "Not so sure it's good. But morning... go back to sleep, Oliver."

"But we've gotta wake up, Frank. It's morning. I'll help you do your chores."

"Chores?" Frank repeated. He didn't recall his mom asking him to do anything this morning. "I don't have any chores."

"Then what do you do in the morning?" Oliver asked, obviously confused.

"Sleep," Frank said, turning onto his side and tucking his hands under his head. "You should try it."

Oliver fell silent, and Frank opened his eyes long enough to see that his guest seemed somewhat disappointed in his response, and obviously unwilling to go back to bed.

Frank groaned. "Oliver..."

"I have to go home today, don't I?" Oliver interrupted. "Later, right Frank? I don't want to go right now. I like it here better."

Frank pushed his hair out of his face as he sat up and looked at Oliver, feeling sympathetic. He didn't want Oliver to have to go back home later, either, but it wasn't as if he could make his friend any promises. He was already on thin ice with the Martins. He could admit that since they'd allowed Oliver to spend the night he felt less wary of them, even if they had done it under duress. However, he was beginning to wonder if his decision to protect their secret--Oliver's secret--was the right thing to do. Hearing Oliver hint that he disliked it at home was new for Frank. He wanted to learn more; figure out if the sudden change was do to the recent changes in the Martin house, or if it wasn't new at all.

"We still have time. I'll get dressed. We'll find something to do, okay?"

"Okay, Frank."

Frank was careful to keep quiet as he forced himself out of bed and dressed, not wanting to wake his mom or his sister while Oliver folded up the blankets he'd left on the floor the night before and talked about a good place for fishing that he knew about, since Frank wasn't up for any long walks.

"We can go, but I don't think we even have anything around here to fish with," Frank said as he opened his bedroom door with Oliver behind him.

"We've got our hands, Frank," Oliver said, grinning as he held them up.

Frank smiled. "Do you really think we'll catch anything that way?"

"No. Not really. We can still go, though, right, Frank?"

"Sure. Sounds fine to me. Wanna get some breakfast first?"

"Alright."

They fell silent in the hallway as they passed the other bedrooms, but as they reached the end of it, Frank suddenly slowed his pace, his ears alert to a scraping noise coming from the kitchen.

"Is your mom awake, Frank?" Oliver asked, after hearing the noise, too.

"I don't think so," Frank answered, reaching back to touch Oliver's arm and guide him forward.

"Then what is..."

"Shh," Frank insisted.

Oliver complied, but moved closer to Frank as they headed through the morning shadows and to the kitchen. There, Frank wasn't sure whether to be relieved by what he found, or terrified of it.

Sam Seaberg looked up from the pancake batter he was stirring in a metal bowl just in time to see the stunned look on his son's face turn into a rather disagreeable one. "Good morning," he said carefully, knowing that any words out of his mouth weren't going to be positively received by Frank at the moment. He was right.

"What are you doing in here?" Frank demanded.

"Your mom let me in," his father replied. "I got here a little early... she went back to bed. I was kind of hoping that the smell of food would get you or your sister up... It always worked before," he added with a humorous smile. "Do you guys want some breakfast?"

"No," Frank stated, despite the reason why he'd wanted to go to the kitchen in the first place. "We were just leaving."

Sam frowned as Frank headed towards the back door, but refused to give up as his attention drifted to his son's new friend. "What about you--it's Oliver, right? How about some pancakes."

Frank turned back around to see that Oliver had stopped halfway across the kitchen, looking startled and perplexed as he studied Sam.

"He's not hungry, either," Frank answered for him.

Sam frowned. "You don't have to be rude, Frank. If you're going to have friends sleep over, you should at least let them eat breakfast in the morning."

"I had two dinners," Oliver said, obviously trying to be helpful.

"See?" Frank said as he grabbed Oliver's arm to pull him out the door. "He's not hungry."

Sam listened to the door slam and stared down at the batter he'd been mixing for a moment. He was frustrated. There was no getting around that, and decidedly, it wasn't something that he felt like controlling as he left what he was doing and went after his son.

"Frank!" he called as soon as he got the door open. But Frank kept walking. Only his friend looked back as he was dragged along. "Frank!" Sam called again. "Does your mom even know you're leaving?"

The question got Frank's attention, but as he spun around and glared at his dad, Sam decided that it wasn't the kind of attention that he wanted from the boy.

"Don't, " Frank snapped. "Don't think you get to act like a parent now."

Sam opened his mouth, wanting very much to point out to Frank that he was still in fact his father, but as his son turned and continued walking with his friend, he decided against it. There was nothing he could say now that wouldn't result in an argument. That's not what he wanted. He'd try at a more appropriate time, when they were alone. Sooner or later, he thought, Frank wouldn't have the choice to run away from him.

Frank, stripped down to his boxers, looked down at the water from where he balanced in the rocking boat. No snakes. No floating dead animals. So far, so good. He pinched his nose closed with his fingers and jumped out of the boat, making sure to close his eyes before his head made it under the shockingly cold water.

He gasped as he surfaced, looking up to where Oliver was still sitting in the boat, watching him. Sulking. Frank frowned as he swam back over and pulled himself halfway out of the water to better meet Oliver's eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Aren't you gonna come in?" Frank doubted that the fact that his teeth were already chattering would encourage Oliver to go for a swim, but he figured it was worth a shot.

Oliver only shook his head, and looked back towards Frank's house, which they weren't all that far from. He'd been rather quiet ever since they'd left it.

"What's wrong?" Frank asked again, placing his cool hand over Oliver's warm, dry one.

"I don't like it when your dad makes you angry, Frank."

Frank laughed at that. "Neither do I," he started to say, but stopped as he realized that Oliver was looking seriously tense over this. Something about it annoyed Frank. It wasn't Oliver. Perhaps it was the fact that Oliver was worrying about Frank and his dad when it should have been the other way around. Oliver was the one with the family problems. At least, he seemed to be the one with bigger family problems. Oliver didn't seem to see it that way, though. He cared about Frank, and the more apparent that became, the more Frank felt like a jerk for staying away over the past week. "Oliver..." Frank paused again, still unsure of what to say. Finally, he just smiled. "Hey, let's just forget our parents for now, alright? Let's... let's forget everything. Come swimming with me. And maybe... maybe we'll find some fish in here to catch with our hands."

Oliver still looked unsure, but didn't object when Frank gave his hand a small tug.

"Besides," Frank added. "I don't wanna be the only idiot in here freezing my ass off."

Oliver's smile came slowly, but it did appear. "Okay, Frank."

"Do you know what it's like, Frank? Do you know what it's like to be seen but not heard?"

"David, you're not making sense. Seriously, if you'd just tell me..."

"I do," came the whispered interruption. "I'm ready to tell you now. I'll tell you everything."

Frank ran his fingers aggressively through his hair as he leaned back into the sofa, his stomach knotting with suspense. He wished he would have turned on a light before answering the phone.

"Okay. So tell me. Tell me what you're talking about."

"And when I do... they take the light away."

"David... what does that mean."

There was a strange sound at the other end of the line. A gasp. A sob. Something moving in the background. "David? David? What are you doing? David! Talk to me!"

"They always take... the light away. Help me."

"I want to. We can meet, okay? Just tell me... David?" Frank became still as the other end of the line became eerily quiet. "David?" he whispered, just before he heard the click of the line going dead. Staring a the phone in his hand, he was unsure of what to think. Something felt wrong. Very, very wrong. He stood, turned back towards his room to get dressed, wide awake now. And then he was frozen in place, heart pounding in his chest as a wraithlike figure moved through the shadows, stopping before him as David Martin's eyes met his, cold and accusing. Frank opened his mouth to speak, but was unable before David lifted his hands to Frank's neck. Unable to defend, unable to breathe, Frank couldn't move. Only listen.

"When were you ever going to help me, Frank?"

Frank's eyes snapped open to a safer place as he sat up and looked over his bedroom. The curtains were still open from this morning, and a light breeze came through the window screen, cooling the beads of sweat that had collected over his forehead during his short nap.

He was getting damn tired of nightmares.

In fact, he was pretty sure that sleeping next to Oliver the night before had been the only time in the last week where his sleep hadn't been interrupted by strange dreams. But, he'd sent Oliver home nearly two hours ago, and once again he was faced with trying to figure out what his subconscious wanted to tell him. It was becoming clearer now. But unfortunately, Frank didn't like what he was coming up with, or what it was causing him to consider.

Outside, the sound of a car door closing interrupted his peaceful quiet, making him jump. Climbing out of bed and moving towards his window, he felt lightheaded. He was thirsty, his dry throat creating a knot he could feel halfway down his chest. But it only became a minor inconvenience as his eyes widened on what was outside his window.

Barefoot and shirtless, Frank turned and headed out his bedroom door, having more than one question when it came to why Jay was outside of his house with a black Ford. Yesterday, Frank had been pretty sure that when it came to Jay, he wouldn't be making a new friend. In fact, he wasn't sure he even wanted to. He also thought the feeling was mutual, so why the guy would show up at his house like this was a mystery he was looking to solve immediately.

"Frank?" Jessica called as he moved through the living room, towards the front door.

"In a minute," he called back, refusing to be distracted from the task at hand. He made his way outside, tiptoed over terrain that his feet objected to as he moved around the house, and came to a stop in front of the black Ford where he stared at Jay leaning over the passenger door.

When Jay finally looked up to find Frank standing there, he was more startled by Frank's messy hair and ragged appearance than his presence itself, but was quick to look as friendly as possible. "Um, hey, Frank..."

"What are you doing here?" Frank demanded, knowing that he sounded more hostile than what was necessary.

Jay sighed, and slowly walked around the car. "Look, I know yesterday I came off as a... I know I was a jerk. There's really no excuse for it, except I was having a bad day and you struck a nerve."