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» WHO? The Roci Crew and whoever else wants in on this mess
» WHEN? after the gravity is back
» WHERE? A few different places
» WHAT? A few different prompts as well as a catch-all for any roci crew or related logs for the month of june
» WARNINGS? these are all just terrible people what do you want from me

001: Alex, Bobbie and Amos are Judging You

The Martians and the Earther are sitting at a table in the Mess Hall, and they've started a game. That game? To rate everyone else on the ship in order of attractiveness. Want to be rated? Find the comment header below, drop a picture in of your character, and watch the comments fly. Feel free to overhear them and give them hell.

002: Closed, Alex >> Frank

Going on the morning walk-about to search for Holden was ritual, at this point, and Alex was very used to Frank coming over first thing before they headed out. So the door was already open, waiting for him. Alex was fishing through his drawers, trying to find where he'd stashed that singular glove that he'd found, to show him for a laugh. But instead his fingers found something else - a thin sheet of plastic, creased and bent a hundred thousand times, and Alex's heart nearly stopped.

He pulled it out of the drawer like it was made of plutonium, careful not to touch the edges of the drawer with it.

Christ. Oh, Christ.

003: Open, Alex >> Anyone who wants to find this wrecked man.

He goes straight to the bar.

It's not that he isn't a fairly regular fixture there, anyway, but especially right now, all he really wants is to drink until he numbs everything. So hi, have a depressed Martian with a bottle of who knows what, sitting at the bar and just staring at a picture of a woman and a child smiling lovingly at the camera. He keeps stroking his thumb over it, then looking wrecked and saying something like 'god damn it' under his breath before he pours himself another drink. One of his arms is still wrapped up in a sling against his chest.

If he recognizes you, he might look up when you get close, and sigh. "Hey, partner. Everythin' alright?" Because it's a lot easier to worry about other people, than to keep being miserable about yourself.

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Max is at his side as dutifully as ever as he wraps his usual morse code into the metal with his knuckles. S-A-F-E even though Alex already knows it's them by the thud of his magboots and the sharp takka takka of dog claws on the grating. They step inside the automatic doors, expecting Alex to be there to greet them, but when he's nod Frank proceeds more cautiously inside, one arm outstretched in case he has to reach for the knife on his ankle. His eyes make a sweeping pass from one corner of the room to the other, and nothing immediately seems amiss, except of course for the way Alex is hunched over his chest of drawers. Even from his vantage point, the man seems pained to Frank.

"Alex?" he calls brightly, hoping to dislodge him from whatever it is he's seeing but he also approaches slowly so as not to startle him. His hood is drawn up over ever-present bruises and Max tips his head curiously from his place beside Frank, the glint of the nameplate on his collar catching artificial light and throwing it back Alex's way. More seriously, he asks, "What happened?"

He doesn't startle. Really, anyone could have walked in at this point and sidled right up to him with a shotgun in hand and he probably wouldn't have noticed for several seconds. But Frank he was expecting, too, so even when his brain registers him as present, it doesn't shuffle it to the top of the processing cue. It isn't until Frank asks what happened that finally moves, shifting his head to look over at Frank.

He looks at an utter loss.

Slowly, he holds up the photo.

"... I thought I'd lost it."

A picture... He thinks of the picture Karen gave him of his family and his throat goes dry even as he swiftly gains the space between them to close the gap. His hand closes over Alex's wrist and he points to the bed before gently herding him that way to sit.

"You just found it? In your dresser?" Further confirmation that someone or something was messing with them. Frank gets a glimpse of the faces in the photo, his heart constricting, but then he forces himself to look away. Those faces aren't for him, and he's operating under the assumption that even seeing them - having the privilege to know what they look like - will take some value away from the item somehow. He noticed that some time ago Alex stopped wearing his wedding ring and with this reminder, he knows it's even more present for both of them. "You said they were safe, right?"

"Yeah." He looks a little shaken, and his hand lowers for a second, but then he holds it out. Whatever Frank's assumptions, Alex is also feeling a little crazy, for not having found it before, so someone else seeing it and confirming it was real might go a long way.

"It wasn't there before. I swear it wasn't. I checked this whole place top to bottom when we got here, normally it's in my pocket--"

He cuts off, swallowing. He's looking more shaken by the second.

"They're on Mars."

Which the last time he and Frank talked about, meant safe. It sure as hell didn't now.

"Okay, okay," a gentle but firm urge to calm down. He presses on Alex's shoulders to get him to sit, but then he's sitting down next to him, knowing from experience he'll need someone to lean on. Max closes in on the Martian's opposite side, dropping his heavy head on his knee and wagging his tail, hoping to cheer the man up a little.

With extreme gingerness, Frank takes the picture from Alex though it still feels wrong to do so, and studies their faces until he's sure if they were to show up here he'd instantly recognize them.

"They're beautiful." If his tone suddenly sounds watery, well, his gaze is watery now too as he hands the photo back and places his hand on Alex's arm.

He barely notices that Frank is guiding him down until he sits, heavily, and it's like everything in him just sinks down into the floor.

He looks almost in shock, and he takes the photo back incredibly carefully, as if it might shatter if he grips it too hard.

"Thought I'd - thought I'd never see their faces again--"

Normally he would never admit as much to his crew - and Frank was crew, now - but he's too blindsided to armour himself in optimism.

He rubs over Alex's shoulder gently and nods, understanding the feeling all too well. As much as he doesn't believe in God anymore, he shoots off a tiny prayer for the Kamals anyway. He thinks about what it would be like having David here, not knowing if Sarah and the kids were safe. It makes him feel worse for looking for him every morning while he helps Alex look for Holden. It's something he hasn't admitted, but maybe it will help Alex somehow. Or at least distract him.

"I know, brother." And he does, maybe better than anyone else here. "I take these walks with you to look for Holden, yeah? But I've been looking for someone too. That guy I told you about - Micro." Frank swallows the sudden bile rising in his throat, even as he feels a weight off his shoulders for confessing.

"He invited me to Christmas dinner, which is already... I mean, he's Jewish, right, but his whole family is beautiful and they really wanted me there. Which is-- they shouldn't, you know? I mean, you've met me. But anyway, so I blow them off and I end up..." On a space station being besties with a Martian who took off his wedding ring and is having a panic attack right now. Frank heaves a sigh as his hand marks a path across Alex's shoulder blades to hold the other side of his head in a sort-of sideways man-hug. "They're okay, is my point. Leo, Zach, your son. Sarah and your beautiful wife. They're all safe." Frank has to believe that or there's no point in being here at all.

He glances up at that. He doesn't say: you shouldn't have blown them off. And he doesn't say: of course they should want you there. Even if he believes both those things. He also doesn't have a damned fucking leg to stand on.

"... I hope you're right, Frank." His voice is low, the picture held delicately in his hands between his lap. "Sorry, I just - I wasn't expectin' it."

Frank knows he shouldn't have blown the Liebermans off, he's beaten himself up for it every day since. Maybe if he had just stayed- he wouldn't be here now. Or maybe the whole damn family would have been along for the ride with him. It's impossible to say and getting progressively angrier at himself isn't getting him anywhere in the long run. He nods and slowly backs off, Alex doesn't have to apologize to him of all people for having feelings, but he's seen the people he's surrounded with. He knows how that goes.

"I'm right. Believe it, asshole." It's unbearably affectionate, and he knocks his shoulder into Alex's when his hand drops to maintain contact.

He lets out a soft huff of a laugh, glancing over at Frank, a grateful look on his face.

"I'll take your word for it, then, Partner," He murmurs. "Still would feel a lot better if I could know for sure."

"Yeah, I know." He thinks of David and the rigged cameras all over his family's house. He'd been there for every moment he'd missed, only hammering home his absence that much more. As much as it sucks to not know, Alex wouldn't be doing himself any favors in the end. "...What happened?" It's gentle and he looks away so the other man doesn't feel on the spot. Or as much so. His gaze drags over the spot on Alex's left hand and his missing wedding ring. Just looking at it makes him feel the weight of his on his finger. He doesn't even know where it ended up after they'd taken it off him in the hospital.

He stares down into his glass, tipping it back and forth to make the liquid splosh around in low gee.

"... It's a long story." His voice was quiet. "And not a particularly - it ain't somethin' I'm proud of. But the short version is, I - never could quite hack it. Planet side. And bein' a pilot wasn't - compatible with bein' there with them." He looked more uncomfortable as he continued. "... Then the Donnager went down, and there I was, technically dead. And not just dead, but a dead hero, and I..."

He didn't finish the sentence.

Frank nods, he gets that too. He pats Alex's knee but continues looking on straight ahead. It's easier for them both to share this way, he thinks. "Maria used to say things like that. That I was - incompatible with civilian life. I think she was probably right. And I've been dead a couple times, too." Not exactly as a hero, though... but solidarity?? Or something.

He lets out a breath - not quite a sigh and not quite a laugh, but somewhere in between.

"Who's Maria?" Since he didn't think he'd heard the name before, even if the story was extremely familiar.

He hasn't spoken her name to anyone here - hasn't dared. Frank wets his lips and traps his wrists between his knees, steeling himself for what comes next. It's always the worst part.

"She was my wife."

He wasn't surprised by the statement - he's assumed he had been talking about his wife. However there was one part he couldn't help but notice.

Was.

That wasn't him talking about an ex-wife.

He finally turned to look at the other man, his expression pained.

"... I'm sorry, Frank."

A dry swallow makes its way down his throat. "Yeah. Me too." It's right on the tip of his tongue to tell him about Frank Jr. and Lisa, his eyes filling up with water even as he goes on staring at the floor. But maybe Alex doesn't need to hear that right now. He's got enough on his plate, right? "Point is, I get it."

His heart breaks, watching Frank, and for a minute he doesn't really know what to say.

So in the end, he doesn't say anything, just slides a warm hand onto Frank's shoulder, letting it lay there heavily for a moment, before giving a gentle squeeze.

Here he was, complaining about being estranged from his wife, when--

God damn, he was an idiot.

The touch to his shoulder has him ducking his head even more, and it hangs from his throat like an albatross. It might make more sense now why he'd blown off the Liebermans, or why he holds personal info so close to the vest, even around people he obviously trusts like Alex. But he doesn't view it as complaining and it's no burden for him to listen about the other man's family. He just wishes there was something he could do. That he could help him the way he helped David (though maybe he'd skip the making out with his wife part.)

"You're gonna get back. I'm gonna make sure... you get back." And that Prax would get back and find his daughter. The whole Roci crew is officially Frank Castle's #1 priority.

He let out a long breath, watching Frank, then the hand moved from Frank's shoulder to the back of his neck, giving him a warm squeeze and a gentle shake.

"We're gonna get them all back, partner." A low, quiet rumble almost under his breath. "We'll get everyone on this station home. You too. An' if you don't wanna go home - you'll just come on back with us."

The barest shiver traces down his spine at the gentle treatment, if only because it's something he hasn't encountered for a long time. Without truly thinking it through, he slumps over so that his head rests against Alex's shoulder and somehow it relieves some of the pressure in his chest, or starts to anyway. "You don't even really know me." And yet he's inviting him back home with him, indefinitely. The prospect is so tempting it physically hurts. Frank hasn't had a home in a very long time, and even the one he did have was built on a foundation of lies.

Frank slumps on his shoulder and Alex slides his arm around him, pulling him in closer and giving him a firm sideways hug.

"I know enough to know what matters." He gave him a squeeze. In truth, he and his crew barely knew much about each other at all. They didn't have long, in depth chats about their pasts. They were family because of what they'd been through together. That's what mattered.

And Frank was going right through this hell hole with him.

That made a far stronger bond than any list of factoids could give him.

"And if it turns out I'm wrong, that's a risk I'm willin' to take. But I'm pretty damn sure you ain't gonna let me down."

It only makes him cling harder, turning his face into Alex's throat and holds back the same tears he's been holding for weeks now. He knows it's selfish, to take comfort from a man who's hurting; and a man who could never get past all of the damage Frank had wrought with his own hands, of that he's convinced. He says it's a risk he's willing to take, and Frank has to believe that, because he has no one else to lean on here. There are people who rely on him instead, and he isn't sure how much longer he can stay upright under the pressure.

"I let Maria down," he manages, voice trembling against the other man's skin now. She had placed all her trust in him, and look where that got her in the end.

His arm around Franks shoulders pulls tighter, solid, and he rubs his arm a little bit.

"Hey, now." His voice is a low, quiet rumble, affection and gentle censure at the same time. "That something that she'd want you to say?" It's a careful question. He can't tell Frank that he's lying - because he has no idea if he is or not. Maybe he did let Maria down. But the way that Frank talks about her, the way he obviously loves her, he has to hope that means that Maria was kind. That she was good.

That she wouldn't want him to talk about himself this way.

So he trusts in that, and hope it doesn't fail him.

A pathetic snuffle is wrung out of him and a hot tear falls against Alex's skin, Frank's head hung on his shoulder like a bowling ball. He does have a point, Maria probably would have yelled at him for sitting around crying about her when he should be helping Alex, and Kamala, and anyone else who needed him. A bark of a laugh pierces through a sob, and he grips onto Alex's arm to try to find the strength to sit up. "We fought like cats'n'dogs, you know. Never agreed on any damn thing." He laughs again, but it's wet, caught somewhere between mirth and sorrow. It still sounds fond somehow, he'll always love Maria. He doesn't think he has to explain that to Alex. "She'd tell me to get over myself." Frank nods once, resolutely as the tears stop and he wipes at his face with his other hand as he slowly backs off.