He can't even be mad at Frank. Frank's not pitying him; he's not that kind of guy. He understands. "How can they just be gone?" He whirls on his brother and looks like he's got half a mind to throw the bowl at his head. "How in the hell did you keep going?"

By being too fucking pissed off to let anyone involved get away with it. By showing up on Clint's doorstep and getting his face punched in before getting pulled into a bear hug. By making plans. By working.

"I don't even get a fucking bullet in my skull for it, not unless I put it there myself! There aren't even any bodies to b--god," and he regrets the words as they come pouring out, because it makes him feel sick. Frank's whole family got buried. There's something there that says they were there. There's no bodies. They're just gone. If there's a funeral, it'd be with empty graves, and that's not fucking right. His fists beat at his own chest. "If any stupid fuck deserves it, it's me! I'm supposed to protect them, man. I'm supposed to make this world a safer place. Instead I've been here retired and on house arrest when maybe I could've been out there doing something about all this!"