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They scrambled up the final steps of the fire escape and collapsed heavily onto the roof.
Frank was breathing hard and leaning against the building’s edge, but Matt had given up all pretense and had flopped onto his back, wincing at the sound of gravel sliding like sandpaper against armored plates.
They had barely escaped, taking a circular route through the alleyways to avoid any tails. However, as far as Matt could tell, the traffickers were too occupied with the approaching federal agents to give them chase.
“You good, Red?” Frank called over to him.
“I’m good,” Matt groaned, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.
In truth, he was dizzy from one too many crowbars to the helmet and he could feel his thigh turning into a giant bruise after taking the brunt of a bad fall. And yet, the kids were safe, the cartel was being mopped up, and Matt and Frank were still able to breathe freely in the smoggy New York dawn.
A church bell clanged loudly in Matt’s ears, signaling the end of a very long night, but it woke him up enough to pull himself off the ground.
He sat up slowly, his body tilting with dizziness and exhaustion, when an idea came to him that had him hesitate with its insanity.
“Hey, Frank,” Matt started, hearing the other man also stumble to his feet. “Walk me to Mass?”
Frank let out a bark of laughter.
“Are you serious, Red?” he scoffed. “I haven’t been to church in fifteen years. Not a lot ‘a priests in Kandahar. Plus, we ain’t exactly in our Sunday bests.”
Matt angled his head, listening.
“One of your safe-houses is in the next building over. We are on West 43rd, right?”
His head was pounding, but he still knew the Kitchen better than anyone sighted ever could. His stomach rumbled at the smells of a local food truck before he forced that urge down next to his need for sleep. There would be time for that later.
He heard Frank’s sharp inhale and the man's facial muscles curling into a frown.
“I will never stop finding that disturbing, Red.”
Matt smirked. “Well, who else am I going to show off too? No one else would appreciate it.”
Frank laughed again before dragging a hand down his face to wake himself up.
“Alright, Red. Fine. Let’s go get gussied up for the Lord.”
This time it was Matt’s turn to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Matt had found Mass difficult to sit through after the death of Father Lanthom and his complicated relationship with his mother.
So, ironically enough, having Frank with him this morning felt like a blessing.
Instead of his mind focusing on how strange the homily sounded coming from a fresh priest who sounded like he barely finished seminary, he could put his mind to queuing Frank on whether to sit or kneel.
An hour disappeared in a blur of incense and prayer and they found themselves leaving the place quickly in order to avoid the busybodies. Matt was a known figure at this point, but he had never brought a guest and he had no desire to invite further attention toward Frank.
A block passed before they relaxed back into a comfortable rhythm with Matt tapping his cane in a soothing, even tempo.
A few times, he heard Frank inhale like he was going to say something, but his mouth would always close before he started.
“Not too bad, right?” Matt prodded, hoping to get Frank to spit out whatever was bothering him.
Frank huffed a laugh. “Nah. I didn’t bust into flames, or nothing. It’s just…” Frank trailed off.
Matt tilted his head more toward Frank to indicate he was listening.
“When did they change the prayers?”
Matt was shocked into laughter.
“’Cuz I thought I knew the Creed,” Frank continued, “but I definitely don’t remember the word ‘consubstantial’ being in it and I just kept thinking ‘thank God the Our Father’s the same.’”
Matt slowed his amusement down to a giggle and wiped at his eyes to clear them. He had not expected this to be the problem.
Clearing his throat, Matt explained, “They changed the Mass about ten years ago, now. Supposedly, it was to bring the English version closer to a direct translation from the Latin. I’m used to it by now, but every so often even I get tripped up when I’m not paying attention.”
Frank nodded, thinking it over. “Do they at least have it written down somewhere? For people like me?”
Matt raised an eyebrow at the question.
“I wouldn’t know.”
He heard Frank turn away in embarrassment, and cast around to change the subject.
“The choir was real nice, at least.” Frank mumbled awkwardly.
Matt nodded in agreement. “Yeah. They are mostly good. Just every couple of weeks they let Hailey do the cantering, and well, let’s just say I regret my senses on those Sundays.”
Frank snorted, losing the tension in his body from the earlier faux pas.
They were coming up to Matt’s apartment and the only thing Matt could think of was how good a hot shower and a nap sounded.
Again, Frank kept making sounds like he was going to say something, but held himself back. Matt fought not to roll his eyes at the man’s hesitance.
Eventually, Frank found his voice.
“So, maybe I can come with you again next week?” he asked. “It was nice. Doing something normal.”
Matt smiled at the man and said, “Sure Frank. If we get there early enough, we can even go to confession.”
Frank barked a laugh. “Hah. I think I would be better off scheduling an appointment.”
Matt nodded then, feeling bold, clapped a hand on the other man’s shoulder.
“Thanks, Frank. Even if you don’t do this next time, it was enough that you came back for me.”
Matt wished he could see all the complicated things Frank was doing with his face. All he had to react to was an oppressive pause.
“Red, I think you should know by now that I’d follow you anywhere, if you ask.”
A million things passed through his mind in response and he paused to sort out the right thing to say.
“Don’t you know that you have the same power over me?”
Matt turned around a and fled into his building before he could see how Frank would react.
God help him, but Matt was a coward.