[RP] Kiss Me Deadly...

[glowinthedark]

He hadn't left his apartment in three days. They wouldn't let him.

Frank sat slumped against a far wall in wifebeater and jeans, feet bare and toes bruised...he was pretty sure that at least one pinky toe was broken from kicking the wall in frustration. Their voices rang in his head and resonated through his flesh with every pass.

"Just let it go, Frank."

Lifting his head sharply, Frank could feel the ice cold fingers against his chin as Simon crouched beside him. Something about this was wrong...wrong in so many ways...

"Why do you want to help her?"

"Now that one's easy." Simon drawled, hissing softly. Cold, still air beat against his flesh and made him shiver...devoid of hope, desperate for sleep, agonizing over injuries both self-inflicted and spirit borne.

"Just let it go, Frank...you know how it goes."

The spirit wanted in...the spirit wanted blood. Sympathy made him weak, Simon made him vulnerable. Focus...he had to focus. Earth and water, sea and sky, keep me safe from harm. The elements could protect him if he wanted it. He had power now...he'd worked so long and he had power now...

Simon laughed, wrapping a hand around his neck. "That's the beauty of power, Frank...you've got room enough for just one more."

Terror gripped him just as a knock came at his door. His mouth opened to warn off the visitor.

It was distraction enough for the dead to overtake him.

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

A minute and a half later, the door to Frank's office opened, the glass panel still covered by a slab of plywood. Frank limped into view, peering curiously at the redhead on the other side. Little was unusual about him...with the exception of the fact that his warm brown eyes were now several shades lighter, taking on more of an amber color.

"Yes?" he asked of the woman curiously.

Comments

[ourclubrocks.livejournal.com]

"Well hello to you too," Cindy Thomas replied with a roll of her eyes, nudging her way into the apartment. Geez, you have drinks and dinner and an all night stake out session with a guy (not quite as fun as a make out session but hey, small steps) and you'd think you get a warmer greeting than that. At the very least a 'Hey Cindy,' how are you? "Okay, so I called Lindsey? She and her new bestest best friend from the FBI--and I say with full on sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell--they e-mailed me those crime scene photos you wanted. Well, I mean, I didn't exactly tell them they were for you, otherwise they probably wouldn't have done it--" She paused as she turned around to take a good look at him, tipped her head curiously. He didn't look right. She couldn't put her finger on *how,* exactly, but..."You okay, Frank?"

[franktaylor.livejournal.com]

Frank didn't answer for a minute, then shook his head as he crossed the room with small, hesitant steps that grew more confident as he reached his desk.

"No...I'm not." he replied softly, his voice husky with open emotion. His gaze was riveted to the desk top for a moment as his hand reached out, fingers trailing along the edge with a slow deliberation. It was almost a sensuous sort of laziness with which he seemed to caress the wood, just before letting his hand fall to the drawer knob just below the lip of the surface.

She watched as he slowly removed his gun, picking up the clip that sat beside it in the drawer.

"But I will be." he replied, his voice gone dark with raged.

She then watched as, with uncharacteristic clumsiness, he managed to slide the clip home into the gun.

[ourclubrocks.livejournal.com]

Cindy stared at him in silence for a moment, a trace of a smile on her lips, part of her thinking that he was joking while another part was beginning to feel extremely apprehensive...even a little scared. "Frank, stop playing around," she insisted, doing her best to keep her voice calm. "What's going on, why the dramatics? Come on, we've got a case. Work to do, remember?"

[franktaylor.livejournal.com]

He laughed at that...a sharp, bitter sound that held no warmth or humor. "Right, because the cops and the Feds have been doing *so* well with that." he bit off angrily, weapon still in hand as he finally lifted his gaze to meet hers, his discolored eyes more evident as they caught the dim light.

"I know all I need to." he snarled viciously. "I know who did it...so now *I'm* gonna get justice for *me.* The rest of you can go straight to hell."

[ourclubrocks.livejournal.com]

...Uh-oh.

"You're so not Frank, are you?" she half-stammered, holding up her hands up and trying to look as non-threatening as possible to the crazy ghost-possessed person with the gun. "Listen, hey, can we talk about this for a second? My name is Cindy Thomas, I'm a crime reporter. I might be able to help you if you'll just tell me your name, and who hurt you--please, you don't want to do this. If you do, you'll ruin an innocent man's life. Just--just put the gun down, and let's talk, okay?"

[franktaylor.livejournal.com]

"I know who you are." His tone was quiet as his gaze lowered to his gun, far too gentle for a man. Lifting his head, Frank regarded her again with a tilt of his head. "I've seen...what you do, what you did. I know...about it. All of it."

He paused, sighing as he tucked his weapon into the small of his back. "It wasn't your killer...it was someone else." he explained, every gesture and word he spoke indicative of a far more open personality than that of a man. "Someone who did this to me...but I appreciate everything you've done. You should know that. But the man who...hurt me...he's got to pay. So don't try and stop me."

[ourclubrocks.livejournal.com]

"I'm sorry, I can't *not* try to stop you," Cindy declared quietly, still stepping towards him slowly. "See, the man who's...Frank. He's my friend. If you do this, if you kill someone without any evidence against them, he takes the blame for it. He's trying so hard to help you, he really is, you don't want to do this to him. Let us keep trying, just a little longer. Please."

[franktaylor.livejournal.com]

He looked into her face again, discolored eyes filled with pain, but searching...for what, it wasn't clear. But there was something in the bold little redhead's face that spoke to the pain the ghost was feeling. All that suffering, and that little bit of pleading...

"You care for him." the spirit in his body realized. "Taylor...you really care about him, don't you?"