Frankie makes it a point to say how his woman doesn’t want him doing this kind of thing anymore, and it’s not said in the kind of uncertain terms people give when they think that’s what their spouse’s opinion is, it’s given as fact. The two of them have talked about it, with her making it clear to him what she thinks, and why shouldn’t she? If Santiago has asked them to do something like this before, regular recons and private mobilization, then she knows what it’s like to see him leave and come back and for her to not know anything in between. She’s seen him compartmentalizing and pulling away in the days leading up to a job he can’t talk about in a country he won’t say, she knows what negative space haunts their home in the days or weeks he’s gone, and she’s seen him when he comes back and spends a week not touching her because he’s still decompressing and compartmentalizing and packing whatever he did while he was gone into neat little boxes and stowing them at the back of his mind to make room for who he is as a civilian. She’s seen how the weight of his actions haunts him.
So she knows what it’s like to worry about whether or not he’ll come home at all, and to worry about what state she’ll get him back in
And now, with a baby in the picture too? It’s not just him he’s responsible for anymore. There’s insurance and vehicles and school districts to think about, better jobs to look for, addictions to control or kick for good. There’s an exhausted mother sharing his bed and getting up at all hours to care for a baby and trying to heal while he’s gone all day at work, trying to make and save enough to cover the bills while she’s on leave. There’s medical bills to pay for.
There’s longer hours to take at work, and cocaine to keep him alert while he’s there.
He knew the whole time he wasn’t supposed to listen to Santiago (he’s never supposed to listen to Santiago) but the promise of money to make a better life for her and his family, for all of them, was too much to pass up. He lost his license. He may have lost his job. He may not have told her about either.
But Frankie’s sharp. He knows his friend. And he also knows that if the rest of them are in, he’s got to make sure they’ll be able to get out.
So he says yes, despite the fact he probably knows right off the bat that Santiago is planning something else. If it’s just a recce and if they’re working with the agency in South America, why does Santiago need a pilot?
He doesn’t tell her that either, the same way he never tells her leading up to these things. Compartmentalize and provide her with plausible deniability, if it ever comes to that.
When he gets back, he’s worried this time it will. Tom’s dead after all. A weekend trip turned into ten days of radio silence and zero answers. Something happened and she knows it.
He can see it in her watery eyes when he does get back, jet lagged and haunted and with healing scars. It’s late when he pulls into the drive and makes it up to the house, praying his key still works in the lock.
She’s there in the foyer, on edge like an angry and terrified cat with circles under her eyes as dark as his. She’s across the room before he can blink, hissing his name as he closes the door behind him, and before he can finish saying her name she slaps him
Frankie’s head jerks to the side, surprised and angry on reflex. He grinds his teeth and forces himself to breathe instead of snap.
What surprises him more though is that she launches into him with her own arms wrapped fiercely around his neck and back, one hand digging into his shirt and the other into his hair. She’s shaking against him, her hard, shuddery sobs tight against his own chest as she clutches him like a lifeline. Frankie can feel her tears staining his skin, and he softens, holding her in return.
“I love you,” she whispers harshly against him. “But I never should have married you.”