Chapter Text
Frank was back. Again.
Dennis had found him standing on the roof, the wrong side of the guard rail, looking onto the skyline with eyes that saw nothing but escape and a sea of lights that reminded him to much of the hurt, reminded him too much of Robby. Blood dripped down his forearms and wrists, down the fingers that could save everyone but himself and landed soundlessly onto the roof in the dark of the night. He didn't even register the pain of his self-inflicted wounds. Dennis had found him standing there, still and lifeless, originally coming up to the roof to grab a missing Jack. Frank didn't turn around as the footsteps gently and quietly approached, didn't turn around as Dennis moved past the rails, to stand next to Frank, silent and vigilant. Frank had no idea how long they stood there like that, in complete silence. Finally, the words were ripped out of Frank's chest in a quiet and painful confession, choking around the lump in his throat.
"Everything just hurts."
"I know."
He breaks apart in Dennis's arms when he's back over the railing, clinging to the younger man as he sobs ugly and raw against him, the pair sitting on the roof and Dennis holding Frank like he's afraid Frank will physically shatter if he doesn't. Their relationship in the two months since Frank's return and Robby's departure had settled into a steady rhythm of almost-friends, nothing more, and nothing less, but Dennis holds Frank like he's precious and worth care all the same. Frank is spent and exhausted, sagging completely against Dennis, shutting down, slipping into the numb bliss of dissociation when Jack's feet crunch against the roof, the older man crouching down with a look that looks straight into Frank's core.
"Oh, Kid."
"Don' 'ell Robby." Frank manages to mumble, and Jack's face seems to crumble even further, and Dennis squeezes around Frank just a little more.
"Wouldn't dare," Jack promises.
"Need help," Frank admits. It's a hoarse and broken whisper, so he tries again to pull it from between his teeth where the words are stuck, raw and pathetic. "I need help."
Jack helps him stand, his hand warm on Frank's back, and Dennis has yet to let go of him. "Thank you for telling us, Frank." He almost doesn't hear Jack's quiet "We're not mad at you, and we're not going anywhere."
Frank doesn't believe them.
Parker is waiting for them when they step out of the elevator, and Frank flinches on instinct when she reaches out for him to take Dennis's place. He doesn’t realise he’s done it, and Parker looks at Jack with thinned, tight lips in response to the state of Frank. She cleans and dresses the many cuts that now litter his forearms, his scalpel dropped somewhere on the stairwell, Dennis leaving only long enough to find and dispose of it, and let someone know that there was blood on the stairs. A couple of them require stitches, and he doesn’t respond when Parker talks to him, other than a silent nod of consent.
He spends the night under observation, never truly left alone, not because they don’t trust him, but because they care. Dennis looks at him in surprise when he asks if he can put him as his HIPAA release person, and Mel sits with him while he talks to Caleb. He voluntarily agrees to inpatient treatment and is diagnosed with Bipolar II disorder, unknowingly made worse when his primary care doctor put him on Cymbalta.
He didn’t even know he was bipolar.
He’s in there for two weeks, as he’s weaned off the medication so he doesn’t go through withdrawals and his scars start to heal. Jack and Dennis visit regularly, so do Parker, Shen, Crus, and Mel.
Baran comes once to assure him that he did the right thing by getting help, and assures him his residency will still be waiting for him when he gets out, and she will help with his PHP if needed.
Jack and Dennis are there waiting when Frank is released, leaning against Jack’s car. “We’ll drop you off at your apartment and make sure you’re settled, and we can pick you up to get your car tomorrow.”
Frank feels sick. “No, it’s okay, if you can just drop me off at my car….”
Jack’s eyes narrow, hearing the evasiveness in Frank’s tone. “Just give me your address, Frank.”
“Jack, I swear it’s fine.”
“Frank,” Dennis steps up and puts his hand between Frank’s shoulders, and it takes everything Frank has not to melt into the touch. “We just want to make sure you’re okay.” His words are soft, once again treating Frank like he’s worth something.
Jack’s tone softens, and he takes a deep breath in. “What’s the address, Frank?”
“Um….”
Concern now fills Dennis's voice, and Frank can’t bring himself to look at either man, tears already starting to well up in his eyes. “Frank, where are you living?”
“......my car.”
They don’t react for a moment, and he’s taken completely aback when Jack steps into his space and pulls him into a life-affirming hug that steals what little strength he has left.
“Okay, thank you for telling us.” Jack runs a hand over his back, and Frank lets out a quiet little sob.
“We can talk about how dangerous that is later,” Dennis opens the passenger door for Frank, “for now lets just get you home.”
He ends up sleeping in Jack’s guest bed, only to wake up to Dennis half naked in Jack’s kitchen, still groggy with sleep, moving around as if he belongs there. Frank is only half as shocked as he feels like he should be. Dennis makes him sit down at the kitchen island and hands him a mug of coffee made with a creamer Frank only mentioned he liked once in passing.
He ends up moving into Jack’s spare room, both men refusing to let Frank go back to his car, letting him know exactly what they think of that idea and how dangerous it is. Dennis is especially adamant, threatening to drag Frank back if he tries and locking him in Jack’s spare room. Jack smiles at the image of it. So he stays.
He’s still learning that it’s okay for him to be there, learning to live with Jack, and more and more with Dennis as he attends NA and therapy. He’s on the night shift when Robby comes back and has been living with Jack for close to three weeks when he hears Robby’s voice. He can feel the panic start to swell, taste the familiar tang of bile and fear, wanting to run away but rooted in place as Robby’s voice comes closer, Jack’s soothing timber answering whatever Robby was saying, but he couldn’t move.
Robby’s hatred would break him.
Dennis's hands are warm where they pull Frank to him, guiding him to the break room with sure steps. Frank can only think of how incredibly reckless it is when Dennis pulls him into a hug, his strong arms keeping Frank safe and secure next to his smaller but more muscular and sturdy frame.
“Frankie.” The nickname is sweet against Dennis's lips, the man never calling him that before. “Just take some deep breaths for me, baby. That’s it. Just like that. You’re doing so good, sweetheart.”
The panic starts to fade.
“We have you. We won’t let you fall. We’re here; we’re not going anywhere. Just breathe for me. That’s my good boy.”
Frank is still in his arms when the break room door opens, and he feels himself freeze and tense up, ready to run when Dennis lets out a little ‘shhh’.
“What happened?” Jack is closing the distance between them with a protective scowl, already reaching for Frank’s back.
“Nothing, he’s okay,” Dennis assures in a honeyed tone, and Frank feels himself start to slip into something warm and deep, everything turning just a little fuzzy and soft. “That’s it, just keep breathing, Frankie. Be a good boy for us.”
Frank knows he can be good, desperately wants to be good, so he breathes.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Jack promises. “You’re safe.”
And still wanting to be good, to be good for them, Frank starts to let himself believe the words.