Chapter Text
Frank, the Legion, and Nancy are just clambering out of Julie’s little Kia like clowns in a clown car when there’s a sound like glass shattering from the Costco parking lot ahead.
At the same time, it feels like Frank’s been hit in the solar plexus with a sledgehammer.
He collapses to his knees, clutching at his chest as his lungs cease to function. Retching and gasping, Frank desperately tries to draw air into his lungs. But he topples to the ground, eyes wide, mouth gaping, as he struggles to regain his sense of control.
Julie is with him, trying to help Frank breathe while shouting commands at the others that Frank can’t hear. She barks something harsh, sending the others to presumably help Quentin, and focuses back on Frank.
Her usually stoic expression is underlined with worry palpable enough that even dense Frank can pick up on it, and her brows are knit together in worry. Thankfully, however, she doesn’t have to worry long.
Frank’s breath returns to him, and he sits bolt upright, panting. His chest still aches like it would if he’d had the wind knocked out of him and he’s a bit weak and shaky, but he’s alive. Lucid.
The second he regains his sense of hearing, Frank’s heart sinks into his stomach.
Because he can hear Quentin scream.
It’s not a wordless scream, no, it’s a devastated and furious cry that forms a single word Frank wishes he didn’t recognize.
“IZZAN!!”
Frank leaps to his feet, racing away from Julie and the car, through the tall grass surrounding the empty Costco parking lot. The icy night wind makes his eyes water as it whips across the open space, tinged with the smell of ozone and gasoline, and he skids to a stop at the edge of the parking lot.
Quentin is shakily getting to his feet, frost spiraling away from his feet across the blacktop, and while his back is to Frank, the Legion frontman can feel Quentin’s rage.
The Entity swings a massive, spider-like leg in the dreamwalker’s direction, and he narrowly jumps out of the way.
However, the impact sends chunks of concrete flying in all directions like shrapnel, and Nancy cries out as she’s struck in the face. Susie rushes to her side, saying hushed reassurances, and Joey glances helplessly over his shoulder at Frank. Beside Frank, Julie braces herself.
Quentin is very obviously losing stamina, and nausea roils in Frank’s stomach at the thought of what’ll happen when Quentin is no longer fast enough to dodge. So his mind begins racing.
The Entity is just outside the glowing boundary of the Gateway, and its glow intensifies as it gets closer and closer to opening.
We need to force her into the circle. But how…?
Frank glances from the edge of the circle, to the Entity, and back again. His mind works harder than it ever has before, racing a million miles an hour as he hunts for a solution. And as he does, a red glow to the right catches his attention.
He glances up and sees the massive sign for Costco’s gas bar, showing off a disgustingly high fuel price. But that isn’t what really gets Frank thinking.
His eyes drift from the sign to the gas bar itself, long since closed for the night.
That’ll work.
“Julie?”
“This better be good, Frank.”
Frank jerks his chin in the direction of the gas bar, noting the fact that the Entity stands directly between it and the Gateway. “You, uh…you got anything that’ll send that gas bar sky-high?”
Julie looks at him like he’s grown a second head. But slowly, the gears in her head turn and she nods slowly. “I think I have something.”
“No, you will not risk yourselves.”
Frank and Julie turn to look at Rasiel, who fixates both Legion members with their glowing golden eyes. The spirit turns to stare at the gas station.
“A gas explosion will not harm me, as I dwell on the Second and Third Planes. I can trigger a detonation and dip into the Third Plane, avoiding any casualties on either the Second or First Planes.”
“You… definitely won’t be killed, right?” Julie asks in an uncharacteristically tentative voice.
Rasiel chuckles fondly. “I promise you.”
Julie scrutinizes her spirit guardian for a few heartbeats before returning to her usual stony expression and folding her arms casually across her chest. “Let’s get to it, then.”
“Brace yourselves.”
Quentin knows he can’t keep this up forever.
He’s already been pushed past his limit, and now with only his own strength and the death of Izzan weighing on him, he’s not sure how long it’ll be before he’ll join the unfortunate jackal spirit. Quentin grits his teeth.
As he dodges, he slips and catches himself on his ankle weirdly. Something snaps, and Quentin chokes back a shout of pain.
Great. Broken ribs, broken ankle…what’s next? A fucking broken neck?
“ QUEN!!”
Quentin casts a quick sidelong glance in the direction of Frank’s voice, and is horrified to see the Legion frontman sprinting towards him at full tilt. Barely dodging another strike, Quentin recovers sloppily and holds out a hand to try gesturing at Frank to stop. “W- wait, don’t-!”
Time seems to slow down.
Behind the Entity, the gas station explodes. Frank is silhouetted against the blast, a dark figure backlit by fiery red and yellow. Debris and shrapnel flies towards Frank, Quentin, and the Entity like razor wire.
Frank.
Quentin’s eyes widen.
He’s going to die.
Something in him changes.
A barrier breaks, sending Casellan’s energy flooding fully into Quentin like a dam breaking. Energy hums through his veins, lighting up white and silver, and Quentin moves.
He moves faster than any human, faster than he’s ever moved in his life, and tackles Frank to the ground. They roll across the pavement in an undignified tangle, tumbling into the tall grass, and momentarily lock eyes as the blast radius only knocks them flat on the ground unharmed.
The Entity, however, bellows as she’s sent toppling sideways, well inside the Gateway. And at that moment, the Gateway opens.
The sky overhead rends open, revealing flickers of the Dead City, the kaiju-like silhouettes of gods, and beyond them, the endless starry aether. The ground mirrors the sky, ripping open like torn fabric under a pair of scissors, and gas and water lines break in its wake.
The Entity, twisting and shifting and shrinking into a smaller form, falls into the widening break and howls in fury and alarm. As she struggles to right herself, one of her legs is snapped off when the shifting earth traps it.
Slavering jaws wide and dripping with golden ichor, the Entity turns her blazing glare on Quentin.
“DREAMWALKER.”
But Quentin is calm.
Why would he worry, when the Entity’s power is now stuck in the Third Plane?
He rises to his feet, walking slowly in the Entity’s direction. As he does, he reaches into his pockets, pulling Frank’s knife out of one and the thermos of poison out of the other.
Quentin grips the knife in his teeth as he unscrews the thermos lid and swirls the poison in its depths around as though it’s nothing more than a shot of liquor. And as he approaches, he drops the thermos lid on the ground and takes the knife in his hand again.
He pours the poison on the knife. His eyes unblinkingly meet the Entity’s, who now hangs precariously from the edge of the rift in her previous humanoid form.
There’s fear now, tantalizingly potent, in her many eyes. And Quentin isn’t feeling particularly merciful.
“You know, I never thought I’d get to say I killed a God,” Quentin comments, raising the poisoned knife over his head, “but I’m glad it was you.”
The Entity bares her teeth and raises a hand to strike at Quentin.
He brings the blade down on her skull.
Precisely seven days have passed since the shitshow that was the fight with the Entity. And while Frank still isn’t sure if this is the end of it, he’s glad to be where he is now.
There were hundreds of injuries as a result of the Gateway opening and ripping open the very earth, but thankfully, no casualties have been recorded. The gas station is nothing more than a smoldering crater in the middle of the Costco parking lot, but nobody was in the building or within the blast radius when it blew. And that’s enough to clear the conscience of both Quentin and Frank.
It was attributed to a freak earthquake, which led to the extensive inspection of every gas and water line in the city, but Frank would rather that be the issue than the possible end of the world.
“Can you hand me the blue?” Quentin asks from Frank’s right, voice muffled by the mask on his face. In his left hand is a can of orange spray paint, and his brilliant blue eyes are fixated on the backyard-facing wall of the Legion’s house.
Frank smiles, tossing his boyfriend the cyan paint. “Catch.”
Unsurprisingly, Quentin catches it without looking, drops the orange, and rattles the blue can. Frank sits down on the lawn chair next to Quentin, watching intently as he finishes the last few strokes of the mural the two of them painted on the wall.
With a wipe of his brow, Quentin tosses the blue can on the grass, lowers his mask, and smiles at the image. “I think we did a good job. What do you think, Frank?”
Frank stands again, heart wrenching at the painting they’d done of Izzan. He takes a shaky breath, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with Quentin’s. Around the lump in his throat, he murmurs, “It’s fucking incredible .”
He chances a glance at Quentin then, taking in the silver-white of his hair, the unnaturally bright blue of his eyes, the ghostly, almost-invisible shimmer of ethereal antlers crowning his head. Frank heaves a sigh and leans against Quentin’s shoulder. Quentin leans into the contact as well.
Frank knows Quentin is almost a full spirit at this point, and while it’s still a bit eerie, it doesn’t change his feelings towards the dreamwalker. He saw the moment Quentin gave up his humanity to save him, and he wishes he could return the favor in some way. Because Quentin is so intensely attached to his humanity that Frank is surprised he gave it up at all.
“Wanna dye my hair?” Quentin asks unexpectedly, pulling Frank out of his thoughts.
He stares at Quentin. “The white is nice on you, though.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Quentin hums with an unconvinced click of his tongue, “but I miss having brown hair. It’s like…I look in the mirror and I don’t see me anymore. I just see Casellan. A spirit.”
A gentle smile spreads across Frank’s face and he playfully nudges Quentin’s shoulder. Quentin shoves him back with a small chuckle.
Frank, planting a quick peck on Quentin’s hair, replies, “It makes sense, seeing as you’re my new spirit guardian. But I’ll help you dye your hair if it makes you feel more comfortable.”
A soft, relieved breath leaves Quentin. “Thank you.”
As Frank gives Quentin’s hand a reassuring squeeze, the back door swings open and Nancy steps out with a smile on her face and her arms folded over her chest. Her left eye is still swathed in gauze and medical tape from the debris that struck her, but she doesn’t seem even slightly hindered by the injury. “How are you two mushy idiots doing out here?”
“Great, thank you.” Quentin retorts snarkily back, but there’s no fire in his tone.
Nancy laughs, stepping closer and ruffling Quentin’s white hair as she approaches to stand alongside the boys. Her functioning eye takes in the beautiful mural as a sad smile plays at her lips. Softly, she says, “I wish I’d gotten to meet him properly.”
Quentin nods. “He started off as one hell of an asshole, but…I dunno, I guess after the poison incident, he mellowed out. Maybe it was trauma or something, but he was…he was a good friend.”
Nancy hums in acknowledgement. The three of them stand in companionable silence for a few minutes, merely taking in the sunlight overhead and the gentle breeze. But the silence doesn’t last forever, and Nancy eventually breaks it. “They found Danny.”
Frank and Quentin snap their attention over to her, eyes wide and alarmed. But she smiles mischievously at their sudden shock and adds, “If you guys had been paying attention to this morning’s news, you’d see that the cops and animal control found a ‘never before seen creature’ with Danny’s ID in its wallet and carted it off somewhere secure. I feel like we won’t be seeing him again.”
“Thank God for that,” Quentin sighs in relief, “did they say anything about Talbot Grimes?”
Nancy frowns with a shake of her head. “Apparently he skipped town without a trace. He does have a warrant out for his arrest, though. Word on the street is they found illicit drugs in his store and house.”
“That’s not much of a surprise.” Frank snorts.
Quentin laughs softly. “The guy was the exact image that comes to mind when you hear the words ‘crack dealer’. I’m just surprised it took them so long.”
The conversation peters out then, leaving the three of them in silence once more.
This time, it remains unbroken long after Nancy enters the house again.
“Hey, Quentin.” Frank begins tentatively, as though every word is a footstep on eggshells.
Quentin turns his gaze on Frank. “What’s up?”
Shifting his weight nervously between his feet, Frank reaches a hand up to rub awkwardly at his neck.
This seemed easier in my head.
But Quentin doesn’t poke fun at Frank’s obvious anxiety, instead watching him patiently as he wrestles with his thoughts. And with Quentin’s gentle presence, Frank finally gains the courage to speak.
“Listen, I haven’t…really had a chance to say this with all the bullshit going on,” he begins slowly, “but Julie said I should probably say it to you.”
“Okay?” Quentin cocks an eyebrow.
“W-what I wanted to say is…I, uh…I haven’t ever emotionally connected with someone the way I have with you, and, um…what I wanna say is…”
“...yes…?”
“I think…I love you.”
Quentin blinks owlishly, though not seeming surprised in the slightest. A laugh tumbles from his lips, clear and bright. “I know that, you fucking idiot.”
Frank’s mouth flaps open and shut a few times, like a fish out of water. But the next time it closes, Quentin moves forward and kisses him briefly.
“And I hope you know I feel the same.”
Frank doesn’t need to hear Quentin say the exact words, he knows it’s not a particularly ‘Quentin’ thing to say. But he knows deep down that Quentin does love him back. And that knowledge is enough to let a stupidly wide grin spread across Frank’s face.
With an exhilarated laugh, Frank lunges forward and wraps Quentin in a crushing hug that the latter squawks indignantly at. He makes a halfhearted attempt at escape, but soon resigns himself to his fate, smushed in Frank Morrison’s arms. Hell, he even leans into the contact for a moment.
But just when Frank is starting to think he’ll be able to get away with bear-hugging Quentin like this another time, there’s a gross, slimy feeling on Frank’s neck.
Screaming, he shoves an evilly-laughing Quentin away from him and wipes furiously at the spot where Quentin had licked him. “You’re disgusting.”
“How dare you talk to your Guardian spirit that way, Morrison. I’ll find another charge if this abuse continues.” Quentin retorts teasingly.
Frank lunges for Quentin, who dances away, just out of reach. And as he wrestles the dreamwalker to the grass, he finds himself thinking once more.
I’d go through it all a thousand times over if it meant we’d end up here again.