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“Just close your eyes, Frank. Just for a few seconds. You don’t need to hide yourself from me.”
And he trusted Mason. He always did. Mason always knew how to calm Woods, no matter where or when it was. In the middle of a battlefield, in the aftershock of an explosion in the armory, waking up disoriented in a med bay, or in the safety of Mason’s house. Every time Woods closed his eyes he could feel Mason’s breath on his neck, Mason’s warm arms pulling him steady, Mason’s voice whispering something he could never quite catch.
He felt something wet against his neck. Mason’s teasing kiss. But when he reached back, his fingers came away sticky. The familiar tack of blood.
The air thickened. Each breath scraped down his throat, harder and harder to drag in. The arms around him no longer comforted but crushed his ribs like a vice. Mason’s whisper grew clearer.
“Why did you pull the trigger, Frank?”
Woods turned in the embrace and Mason’s face was waiting for him. Blood poured endlessly from the ragged hole at his temple, spilling over his skin, flooding the floor. His eyes were wide and unblinking, glassy, fixed on Woods with an accusation that needed no words.
“Why did you kill me, Frank?”
Woods tried to answer, but when he opened his mouth, only blood came out. It gushed down his chin, choking him, splattering across Mason’s face. The warmth was gone. Mason’s body was cold, heavy, dead weight dragging him under.
A shattering pain ripped through his knee. He buckled, collapsing into the rising pool of blood. The liquid climbed higher, inch by inch, soaking his clothes, searing his skin. He struggled to push Mason off, but the corpse pinned him down, immovable, as though the whole world had settled on his chest.
The blood reached his lips, then his nose. All he could see was Mason’s blank stare above him as the red tide closed over his face.
There was no escaping it. No waking. Just drowning in the blood of the man he trusted most. The blood he spilled with his own hands.
***
Three years passed and nothing really changed. Sure Woods became rouge CIA operative, fought with his own disability and another bunch of bad guys, cleared his own name and was rewarded with another bunch of medals, but nothing could change what he did.
For a whole three years every time he tried to get some sleep he was back there again. Mason in his bleeding hands or pinning him down with his cold body. Each night he would go to bed knowing damn well that he won’t get more than two hours of rest. His only way of real “sleeping” was passing out of exhaustion. Either from several restless nights, just turning off his brain in result or tons and tons of alcohol.
But ever since he took David under his wing he tried to avoid the latter.
Adopting David wasn’t really something he was against, he loved the boy and the boy loved his uncle Woods, who just so happened was taking longer and longer visits each time until it was permanent. But Woods was selfish in a way, which he now admits. Hell he even drunkenly apologized for that to David.
After Panama all Woods could think about how he is at fault. He killed Mason and would ahve to live with that forever. But in all this guilt he forgot that not only he killed the love of his life, person who made him want to live, but also the father of the boy he started to consider as a son.
Ever since, there have been two versions of him. Attentive and caring uncle Woods and the mess of the guilt and grief. He swore that it is his duty to protect whatever was left of David’s childhood he broke.
Get out of the bed from another sleepless night in around 5:14, make breakfast for himself and around 7:15 start making breakfast for David, acting like he just had woken up. Drive David to school, wish him a good day, pick up groceries if needed and head back to empty home.
There true Frank Woods finally can show himself. Tired gaze into nothingness; mindless cleaning of the house, which always ends on Woods finding something reminding him of Mason; understanding that his mind drifted into guilt fields again.
But as always at 15:40, the alarm would pull him back. The mask snapped on. Uncle Frank climbed into the car, picked David up from school, asked about his day, cooked dinner, helped with homework, stayed by his bedside until the kid was asleep. It was a careful script, a performance rehearsed so many times it looked effortless. A shield to make sure David never doubted that Woods was there for him.
He didn’t know what he expected, maybe he hoped that at least some portion of his guilt would ease after some time of looking after David, but to be honest it only got worse, like a reminder why he was raising David alone. Which only deepened his self-hatred.
The truth gnawed at him night after night, until he could barely stand to look at his own reflection. He wasn’t easing Mason’s absence. He was living proof of it.
And it was his fault. All of it.
Wake up, cook, drive, clean, drive, cook, go to “sleep”. Wake up, cook, drive, clean, drive, cook, go to “sleep”. Wake up, cook, drive, clean, drive, cook, go to “sleep”. Wake up, cook, drive, clean, drive, cook, go to “sleep”.
He was in an endless limbo, until while picking up his retirement and disability pay he was handled booklet he quickly showed to another pile of envelops. Only when David was at his friend for the night, and Woods was drinking his ass off with some cheap beer, that he finally decided to look what it was.
“Free psychological help for retired soldiers”
And he just stared at it emotionless, drunk and tired. Would anything help him? The only person who could ease all of his guilt, pain and sadness was now gone. Because of him nonetheless. And Mason’s death just proves that he was broken from the start. Streets showed him that.
But still little spark of doubt was there. Not for himself but for David, if not for little boy Woods would find more than one use for a rope. But he owed it to him, one last mission of raising a boy without having any childhood himself. And maybe he should try just for David…
***
He is an idiot. Of course nothing could help him. It was less than one week of so called therapy before he just walked out of the room mid-session. What was he expecting? Some salvation from decades and decades of hell he had been born in?
As that “therapist” tried to lead Woods to opening up what happened that gnawed at him in Panama, he just couldn’t. It was his sin to bear. And he couldn’t lose David. He fought with CPS through tooth and nails to adopt legally unrelated to him boy, being a disabled war veteran. If someone will report him and prescribe him some medicine…
No it was waste of time from the start.
Waste. Of. Time.
Nights didn’t end anymore. They just blurred into the mornings.
Woods stopped bothering to tell the difference. He’d sit in the living room long after David had gone to bed, staring at the wall with a half-empty bottle sweating in his hand. The television buzzed in the background, flickering images he didn’t process.
He thought about going back to therapy. Hell, he thought about calling the number on that damn booklet at least ten times. His phone was always within reach. But each time his thumb hovered over the dial, he froze. What would he even say? “Hi, I killed my lover best friend because I pulled the trigger and now I’m raising his kid as a consolation prize?”
The thought always ended the same way. Another swig of beer, another muttered curse, another night staring at the door like Mason might just walk through it.
Still, he couldn’t leave David. That was the chain that kept him anchored. Woods told himself it was duty, but deep down he knew it was more fragile than that. It was guilt, it was love, it was the last piece of Mason he had left. Without David, Woods would have found a way to end it already.
So he kept moving. Wake up, cook, drive, clean, drive, cook, go to “sleep.” Over and over. The same damn play, every day, with no curtain call.
Until he was snapped back to reality, hard. David was celebrating birthday of one of his cousins from Mason’s side. Woods hadn’t even been drinking heavy. Just a couple of cheap beers sitting untouched on the table. What broke him wasn’t the alcohol. It was the photo album. Their secret one. He flipped page after page until every picture felt like another fist to the gut, dragging him deeper into the pit he’d been circling for years. Mason holding David as a newborn. Mason grinning on shore leave. Mason’s eyes. Bright, alive, looking right into the camera. Every smile in those photos twisted tighter into the rope of Woods’s guilt.
And then he heard it.
“You can’t run away forever, Frank.”
His body bolted with his military reflexes towards Mason’s voice, to just see empty dark bedroom. Without any reason he laughed. Once. Then twice. Before just falling on the bed and laughing like a madman he was now sure he was.
Constant nightmares, numbness and guilt is one thing. Hearing Mason’s voice out of nowhere is another. He knew there was no way Mason could say that. But he would be lying if he didn’t leave the lights on the bedside table turned on, just staring at the bedroom. Like the kid trying to catch Santa.
But the words kept spinning in his head.
"You can't keep running away, Frank."
And then Woods remembered.
It was years back, one of those nights Mason let him crash at his place on shore leave. David was sleeping quietly in his crib and they were drinking some expensive whiskey Mason got as a present. It was smoother than anything Woods had ever tasted. Smooth enough that his guard slipped, just for a moment, and a thought he’d been burying for years slipped free
What it was permanent? What if I was permanent?
The idea terrified him. He tried to smother it under more whiskey, more jokes, more noise. But Mason noticed. Mason always noticed. He asked what was wrong, and Woods tried to brush it off. He failed miserably. Mason kept watching him with that steady look, concern etched in every line of his face.
And that’s when the fear struck. Very old type of fear Woods hadn’t felt in a long time. He knew how few words would brake all little he had left. He wouldn't dare to go for more. Between them Mason was always the calm one, but maybe the irritation of Woods downplaying his emotions or alcohol in general made him spat it out.
"You can't keep running away forever."
The line hit him harder than he expected. He couldn’t tell if it was anger, hope, fear, or all of them twisted together. Before he could think, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to Mason’s.
And then, just as quickly, the something old flooded him.
Fear of the little boy who’d fold into a ball, knees to chest in hopes that he won’t get hit so hard this time or that it would muffle the sound of his sobbing.
Mason could hear mumbling of sorries coming from the ball Woods curved in, he was trembling so hard that it broke Mason’s heart. Even more when Mason put his hand on Woods to pull him into the hug, Woods tensed up, clearly ready for it to get physical.
“Just close your eyes, Frank. Just for a few seconds. You don’t need to hide yourself from me.”
And he trusted Mason. He always did. Mason always knew how to calm Woods, no matter where or when it was. In the middle of a battlefield, in the aftershock of an explosion in the armory, waking up disoriented in a med bay, or in the safety of Mason’s house. Every time Woods closed his eyes he could feel Mason’s breath on his neck, Mason’s warm arms pulling him steady, Mason’s voice whispering something he could never quite catch because of his sobbing.
And then cold tear falling on his arm snapped him back to the bedroom. It was dark now. He never cried that hard. One after another tears fell, soaking his beard and threatening to blur the smiling faces on the photos. But Woods couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, couldn’t blink. He just cried. It felt like the dam broke, letting all the grief and sadness he bottled up, out.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Mason… it was all my fault, it was always me. You were always the steady one and I just clung to you, afraid of drowning in my own mess. If it wasn’t for me, David would have a father and you have been alive, making much more people happier, who actually deserve it. I should have been the one shot. Your life would always come first. I’m sorry, Mason. I just tried to do the right thing. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
I’m sorry…
I’m…
Next time he opened his eyes he was in his dreams again, most likely passed out from crying. Mason was there, he always was. Standing in front of him. Blood poured endlessly from the ragged hole at his temple, spilling over his skin, flooding the floor. His eyes were wide and unblinking, glassy, fixed on Woods with an accusation that needed no words.
Woods dropped to his knees, too tired to fight anymore. The blood soaked through his pants, heavy and cold, climbing higher toward his waist. His fault. Always his fault. And there was no way to fix it.
“I just wish I could do something…. change something. If I just had another chance… I’m sorry Mason…”
The tide kept rising. He waited for it to choke him, to drown him slow. But something changed. The blood’s sticky drag against his skin gave way to something thinner. Lighter. Warm, but not suffocating.
He was afraid to open his eyes. Like it was an illusion to break him even more. But something just pushed him to do it anyway.
And it… Indeed, changed. Instead of endless sea of blood, slowly raising to punish him, he was sitting in shallow waters, in the middle of nowhere. The red from his clothes bleed into pale ripples around him, but they were slowly taken away by small waves, barely raising to his waist.
Instead of the dead of the night, it was cloudy day, enough to keep him warm, but not blinding him. It felt so peaceful... For the first time in a bit more than three years. He just couldn’t believe it. He just sat there staring at the sky fearing that it would turn red again. He looked at his reflection in the water, damn he looked tired, hell, he looked drained.
As he looked around he saw land. Just a small green island, with clear shades of darker green for trees. But… he was afraid to shatter the little peace he had gained in his dreams. He still felt sad, but instead of crying it felt like the water around him was the tears he already shed, leaving only empty sad shell of the person.
***
“But I was like, no, the answer B was already used in previous sentence so you can’t use it here, so it is either we need to change the previous one or you need to admit you are wrong.”
Woods was smiling, listening to David chatting lively on the passenger seat. He always loved the little boy, he reminded him so much of Mason, but not in a sad way. When Woods started to basically live in Mason’s house, it was surprisingly warm to know that David was thrilled about the news.
It had taken Woods a long time to even half-believe that Mason genuinely wanted him around. But to feel it twice over? Mason and David both choosing him, wanting him there. That had been almost unbearable. Like glue on a shattered surface, starting to piece his broken trust in the world back together.
He was drumming the wheel at a red light, one hand dangling lazy out the window, when something caught his nose. As soon as lights went green, he quickly turned left without second thought. David was about to object why uncle Woods took another route, but when he saw Burger Town he lit up in the matter of a second.
“Can I get Toy bundle, uncle Frank?” David could barely stay buckled, his little body bouncing against the seat.
“Thought you were grown up now,” Woods teased, smirking as they rolled into the drive-thru line. “Menus only. No toys.”
“Well… this doesn’t count,” David fired back instantly. “They’re collaborating with Cosmo Rangers! They added all five rangers, and even the supervillain Dezz! But only if you collect the whole set!” His words tumbled out so fast he almost tripped over them. Woods chuckled, shaking his head. If it hadn’t been their turn to order, he was sure David would’ve given him the full Cosmo Ranger lore, start to finish.
“Can I get double cheeseburger menu and Toy bundle with…” He turned his head with a grin towards David.
“Green ranger!”
“And Toy bundle with green ranger for this gentlemen.” As lady quickly tapped buttons on her tablet, Woods pulled out some cash to pay for the meal, trying to hide the stupidly wide smile tugging at his mouth. “Guess we can get a few more stops this month in Burger Town.” he muttered. That was all David needed to hear to be the happiest kid on earth.
And Woods wasn’t done. When they got home, David expected him to steer toward the kitchen. Instead, Woods wheeled into the living room, Burger Town bag still sealed tight. He set it down on the coffee table like a prize and flicked the TV on.
Movie night.
David’s eyes went huge. Woods, playing the gracious host, handed over the bag with a mock bow. “Tonight’s your call, kid. Any movie you want.”
He couldn’t stop smiling, no matter how hard he tried to stop it.
“What?”
Mason clearly nervous about… well, everything. It was their first “date” that was really just Mason insisting he’d cook, but it felt too new, too strange, for Woods. It was too new for Woods. With Mason his walls indeed started to go down little by little, but there were some he even wasn’t ready to admit even to himself. Not until now.
He felt so peaceful, that even without taking first bite a very soft a genuine smile appeared on his face, and Mason panicked like he’d done something wrong. More on the instincts, Woods just reached across the table, covered Mason’s hand with his own, and started eating without a word, never looking away from him.
Moments like that one only grew more and more, it was all so surreal, especially when David was added to all this and it became his life. And now when David was curled up against Woods’s side, deep in his sleep, Woods just… Felt like he could breathe a bit easier than he did few months ago.
He flicked off the TV. Knowing he couldn’t move David far while in the chair, he simply shifted until they were both comfortable on the couch. The boy clung to him in his sleep like a little monkey, mumbling into his chest. Woods let out a quiet breath and closed his eyes with peace.
Even in his dream he wouldn’t open them right away. He allowed himself to enjoy warm water tickling his feet, while bathing in the sun. He only felt such peace with Mason by his side, it felt wrong in some way, but he tried to ignore these thoughts.
The island was there again. For the first time in weeks, it didn’t feel like a threat. It felt right. He waded forward, the water shrinking from his waist to his ankles, until the beach stretched out before him. A battered old Chevy sat waiting, its doors flung wide, a couple of rods leaning against the frame
“Water was good I suppose? Argh, doesn’t matter, you deserve a good swim. Will be there in a minute, Frank. Just clean your feet please, no need to turn my chevy into a sandbox.”
Mason’s voice sounded from the back of the car, Woods couldn’t see him and he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to check. It felt… Weird, like a memory rather than a dream.
“You good? We can stay if you want, no rush.” And then Mason peeked his head, with curious expression on his face. And Woods couldn’t do anything, he just stared and stared and stared before tears started falling. “Hey… it’s okay, what happened?”
Before he knew it, Mason was catching him as he sagged and carefully wrapping him in strong, steady arms. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. It felt so good to finally see Mason, even more, feeling his embrace. Woods just curled up and cried in Mason’s neck.
“Hey, I know it’s been tough, but you are already doing much better. You know what? Just close your eyes, Frank. Just for a few seconds. You don’t need to hide yourself from me. I’m here, take as much time as you need.”
Woods stayed pressed against him, shaking, letting Mason hold him like he’d wanted to be held for years. When the sobbing ebbed, Mason lifted him carefully, carried him to the Chevy, and set him down on the passenger seat, forgetting about the sand off Woods’s feet like it didn’t matter. Then after a minute he slid into the driver’s side with that same calm presence that always undid Woods.
“Despite what you keep telling yourself I’m proud of you Frank. You’ve been through so much and despite everything world threw at you, you kept moving forward. You don’t give yourself as much credit as I would. And even if some things happened, you can’t change them now, it’s what you have told me yourself.
You just forget to tell it to yourself too.
You’ve carried more weight than anyone should. And yeah, you’ve stumbled, you’ve made choices that haunt you, but that doesn’t erase the good you’ve done. The people you saved. The way you never left anyone behind, even when it cost you. That’s who you are, Frank. Not the mistake you keep bleeding yourself over.
I know you think you failed me, but you didn’t. You gave me years I never thought I’d have. You gave me a brother, a partner, a reason to keep getting back up. You gave David a piece of yourself when he needed it most. That’s not failure. That’s love. And I need you to see that, even if you never forgive yourself. Because despite how many times the world hurt you, you are the most loving person I’ve ever had pleasure to know.”
Wind slowly moved its hand through the field of grass, making waves that would stir butterflies from their flowers. Birds slowly flew alongside chevy, while in the far a deer looked at the strange iron monster with alert, before going back deep in the forest. As Woods finally gain courage to look at Mason he saw such a peaceful look, with his eyes focused on something in the far, while his hair was the victim of the wind.
“I guess I got a bit sentimental. Think some radio wouldn’t hurt?”
“As long as it’s not that sentimental Elvis prick…” Frank tried to mumble some answer, more on the reflex rather than thought through answer.
“Argh, fine… I guess just this one I can turn something from your favorite “I’m a tough man” collection.”
“Ah, screw you, Mason.”
Both couldn’t help but love, while Mason turned on the Elvis cassette. And Woods decided that he can survive without complaining about Mason’s sentimental pick in music this once. But only this once.
***
When David woke up it was already morning, still sleepy he understood that he is still in the living room and Woods was snoring beside him.
He was about to wake him up and ask for breakfast before he saw that uncle Woods was… smiling in his sleep. He must have had a good dream, David thought and decided to carefully get out of the bed, before making sure to cover uncle Woods with a blanket.