Authors note:

I wrote this story in about days' worth of time and it is not edited, so I apologize for any errors that you will likely find throughout.

Though I do "ship" these two, I honestly don't think Frank's character should have a romantic relationship in the show. It doesn't fit with his character, at least not for right now. I think the actors themselves, Jon and Deborah, have great chemistry together and that reflects on screen. It is evident by the way they play the parts that these characters feel something deeper than just friendship or kinship, at least in my opinion. I could see them at some point in the future sharing an intimate moment once or twice and never becoming a romantic couple but continuing to have a strong unspoken bond. So, I wanted to explore that possibility a little bit for no other reason except that it's fun to do. Hope you enjoy)

It Doesn't Matter

Karen jumped when she heard the knock at her door. It was ten o'clock at night and she had just gotten home from work. It was beyond coincidental.

She tiptoed to the door and looked through the peephole. She should have known. She sighed as she opened the door.

"Frank, what are you doing here? What's going on?"

"Nothin', nothin's going on. I just…" His eyes looked everywhere but at her, as if searching for some excuse as to why he was there.

"Come in."

He stepped inside. "I saw your lights on…"

"So, you're spying on me?"

"No. I'm not spying on you. I wanted…" He still fumbled with an excuse. "I was passing by, thought I'd check in on you." His eyes finally found her face.

"Well, I'm fine. You know, you had me worried for a minute. I thought you had gotten into more trouble," she said as she walked toward the kitchen. "I was just heating up some left over Chinese. You want some? It's not fresh but it's still good."

Frank shook his head. "No, I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Okay, well, I'm gonna eat, I'm starving. You want a beer?"

"Beers good." He looked her over, noticing her business attire. A black button up shirt still neatly tucked into a grey flared skirt that stopped just below her knees. Her hair had been recently freed from an updo which caused her hair to look wild and crimped in some places. Her feet were bare, with lilac painted toes. "You workin' late?"

"Yeah, it's really all I do lately." She handed him a beer. The microwave beeped. She gathered her plate and silverware and sat at the table. Frank took a seat across from her.

"What about you?" She asked, gesturing to his state of dress. He was in dark blue jeans, stained from the construction site and his typical black hoody with a black T-shirt undoubtedly underneath it.

"I was working a job nearby…"

She nodded, taking note of his bruised and scraped knuckles.

"So, should I call you Pete now, or do you still go by Frank?"

"You know about that, huh?" he smiled.

"I know a lot of things. I know you didn't come by just to watch me eat." She had struck a nerve.

"Yeah, ya know…I shouldn't have bothered you…it's late, I should probably go." He stood up to leave.

"No, stay," she grabbed his hand. He looked down at her with a vexed expression but he didn't pull away. "Please, I want you to stay," she coaxed. He sat back down.

"So, does your alias have a phone number?"

He chuckled and pulled a phone out of his pocket. "Yeah, he's got a number." He texted her and she added it to her contacts under his alias name: Pete Castiglione.

"How are things going with 'Pete'?"

He shrugged, "Boring."

"And how are things going with 'Frank'?"

"What can I say? I'm just trying to move on, trying to figure out how live like a normal person again." He downed the last of his beer.

"You want another?" she asked as she carried her empty plate to the sink.

"Sure."

"Or…do you want something stronger? With the week I've had, I know I do." She turned holding up a bottle of expensive tequila.

"Now you're talkin'." He smirked.

She grabbed two shot glasses from the cabinet. "You want a lime?"

"Nah."

"Well, I'm not as hardcore as you. I need a chaser." She said as she placed a small cutting board on the center island counter. Frank made his way over as she began carving a wedge out of a lime. She poured the golden liquid into each small glass. She lifted one into the air. "Cheers."

He tapped his glass to hers and they threw their heads back, letting the alcohol burn a trail down their throats. Karen quickly brought the lime wedge to her mouth.

"Woo!" Frank blurted out with a shake of his head.

"It's good, right?" She said.

"That's some quality liquor and it ain't cheap." He unzipped his hoodie and draped it over the back of the love seat. Karen was surprised to see that his T-shirt underneath was army green, not black.

She poured a second shot for each of them. "I know. I don't usually spend that much on alcohol. I bought this on impulse after Matt died."

He had heard about Matt's death not long ago, but didn't feel comfortable bringing it up. Even though he knew all too well what it was like to lose someone you love, he still wasn't sure what to say.

"You know what's crazy, though? I actually thought there was a chance he was still alive." She chuckled as she sliced the lime with more force than necessary.

"Karen, I'm sorry…" He said, placing a hand on her shoulder, making his best attempt at comforting her.

"No, it's okay." She reassured him, wiping a tear from her eye before it had a chance to escape. "Really, I'm okay. Look, I know you didn't come here to listen to me mourn the death of my 'could have been' boyfriend. So, here's to good tequila!"

They both downed another shot and Karen sucked on her second lime wedge. Frank watched her as she bit the left over pulpy flesh between her teeth and peeled it off the rind, chewing it daintily while licking juice off of her fingers.

"And, you never did tell me why you're here," her eyes boring into his, insisting on an answer.

"The last time I saw you, in the elevator…I just had to see if you were okay."

"That was months ago, Frank." She said, calling his bluff.

He ran his hand through his short cropped hair, letting out a heavy sigh. "I don't really have a reason, Karen. Except that…I've missed you. I wanted to see you." He finally admitted in defense. "Is that okay, to want to visit a friend?"

"Yes, it's okay. Of course it's okay. I've missed you too. Why didn't you just tell me that to begin with?"

"I thought it was pretty obvious. Why'd you have to make an interrogation out of it?"

"In my defense, you usually only contact me when you need something, which always results in me almost getting killed."

He took a step toward her. "I've never let that happened, though, have I?"

"No."

They stood in silence, staring at each other, just like that day in the elevator. Only now, there was no urgency or danger. They were very much alone and safe. He knew what he wanted to do. He just didn't know if he should.

He had always liked Karen. She was the first person he let himself trust after his reign of terror. He considered her a friend and genuinely cared about her. He also couldn't deny that he was physically attracted to her. He had longed to kiss her, to touch her, to fuck her; but he couldn't commit to her. He didn't want to drag her into his emotional baggage. He still had wounds that weren't healed, he wasn't sure if they ever would. He had mourned his family, his wife for so long it left him feeling lost. Maybe he didn't realize it then or he just didn't care, but Karen was right that day by the water. He was lonely.

He didn't know if it was the tequila giving him courage or all the months of denying himself any physical comforts, but he couldn't resist her any longer. He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and pulled her to him, crushing his lips against hers. Her body went tense and her hands pushed against his chest, but his solid form wouldn't budge. His hands slid down her arms until he found her backside, where he kneaded at her supple flesh, pulling her closer. She continued to struggle with him, but he wouldn't let up. He stepped forward, forcing her backwards until she collided with the counter behind her. Her tension started to slip away as she finally gave in to him. She swiped her tongue across his bottom lip. He opened his mouth for her and deepened the kiss, the taste of lime still lingered on her tongue.

Her hands wandered up his shirt, exploring the cords of muscle in his back. His mouth left hers and kissed the side of her jaw, then her neck. The feel of his warm mouth on her skin sent her heart racing as she tugged at his shirt. He lifted his arms, allowing her to peel his shirt from his body. It fell to the floor by his feet.

Karen placed her hands on his chest, her fingers tracing the many scares that marked his skin. She pressed her lips to an old bullet wound near his shoulder. He grasped her waist and he lifted her onto the counter. His hands roamed up her skirt. The feeling of his rough hands groping the soft skin of her thighs sent a shiver straight to her core. She gasped when he hooked a finger under the elastic of her panties. She shimmied her hips to assist him as he slid the lacy material down her silky legs until they joined his shirt on the floor. He settled between her knees and hiked her skirt up to her hips. He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. His large hands splayed out over the top of her thighs, gripping her hard enough to bruise.

"Frank, you're hurting me," she said, grabbing his wrists and trying to push him away.

He loosened his grasp and opened his eyes. "Karen," he said letting out a shaky breath, "I need you to understand, I can't give you what you need. You know that, right?"

She knew what he meant. He was a broken man, still haunted by his past. If they did this now, that's all it would be. Just a moment of passion that would lead to nothing. He would never be hers, not truly. She knew it and she accepted it.

"I'm not asking you to give me what I need, Frank. I'm asking you to give me what I want." She wrapped one leg around his waist, pulling him closer to give him the confirmation he was asking for. "It's just for now and tomorrow it won't matter."

His eyes darkened as he took her face into his hands and kissed her with an intense fervor. The back of her head banged against a cabinet door and their teeth knocked together. The soft skin around her mouth felt raw from the friction of his unshaven face. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. He grew impatient and yanked it open; buttons were heard raining to the floor. Panting heavily into each other's mouths, she unbuckled his belt and worked to unzip his jeans.

He hiked her legs up higher on his waist, "Hold onto me." He growled into her ear. He lifted her off the counter and carried her towards her bedroom where the door stood ajar. He kicked the door opened with his boot clad foot and let her plop down onto her bed, where she bounced softly on her back.

While he bent down to unlace his boots, Karen pulled her now buttonless shirt the rest of the way off and unhooked her plum colored bar, tossing it to the side.

Frank stood and kicked off his boots, when he saw her fidgeting with her skirt. "Stop," he said. It was only one word, but his voice was commanding.

Karen's chest was heaving with anticipation, wondering what he was going to do. He reached out and gathered the hem of her skirt in his fists and gently tugged it down over her hips, exposing more of her smooth flesh until she was free of the garment. He saw the multiple finger shaped bruises he had left on tops of her thighs only a few minutes ago. He probably should have felt bad about it, but he didn't.

He stood up to his full height and took in the vision before him. He knew every detail of her face, but the rest of her had been unknown to him, until now. Karen's flawless porcelain skin made a striking contrast against her navy blue comforter. Her legs were long and lean, her figure was slim and sleek with subtle curves. Her breasts were ample with rosy nipples that matched the flush in her cheeks and tint of her lips.

She was reclined, propped up on her elbows, completely exposed to him. She watched his eyes languidly roam their way up her naked body, seeing all of her for the first time. A sudden wave of shyness swept over her and she felt her cheeks grow hot. She had to fight the urge to cover herself. His jeans were undone, hanging loosely at his hips. She watched his chest rise and fall with each heavy breath he took as his dark eyes finally found hers. His stare was intense and hard to read.

It was agony waiting for him to make a move. Here she was, offering herself to him freely and he wasn't taking. Was he not pleased with what he saw? Was she too pale, too thin, too young? Was he thinking of his wife?

She sat up. "Frank, it's okay," she took his hand, "It's just for tonight. Tomorrow doesn't matter," she reminded him, tugging him gently toward her, "It doesn't matter."

He brought his hands up to the waist of his jeans and shoved them down. All her insecurities she had felt before were washed away at the sight of his evident desire for her. But now that he was as bare as she was, fear overcame her.

Frank was her friend, she trusted him, but he was a man with a violent nature. He had murdered people in the most brutal ways imaginable. She clearly had not thought this through. What if during the throws of passion he snapped and did something to hurt her? He already left bruises on her skin, what else was he capable of doing? He placed a knee between hers and leaned over her. Her heart was pounding and her head spinning. She was terrified and thrilled all at once. She pushed the irrational thoughts out of her head and let him take her.

He was everything she didn't expect. He was gentle and focused, not leaving one inch of her body untouched, responding to every moan and whimper he forced out of her. He submitted to her desire to take the reins, reveling in her pleasure as he watched her use his body to bring herself to the brink of oblivion. Only after she was spent did he take back control to chase down his own completion.

They lay next each other trying to catch their breath as they came down from their endorphin high. Frank looked over at her. Her skin was glowing with perspiration and a few strands of her hair were stuck to her cheek. He reached over and brushed them away.

"That was way better than your tequila." He said with a grin.

"I don't know, if I had a lime, maybe…" She teased.

"Yeah, well, some of the noises that came out of your mouth said otherwise."

She blushed red and smacked him with a pillow. He laughed. It was a nice sound, she thought. She rarely got to hear him laugh.

He turned on his side and slinked his arm around her waist. He nestled his head in the crook of her neck. Her skin had the familiar scent of honeysuckle he'd come to associate with her. She pulled the sheet up to cover them and soon they both fell asleep.

"Karen," Frank said, gently shaking her by the shoulder, "Karen."

She finally opened her eyes. "Hmmm, wha…what is it?"

"I'm leaving, come bolt your door behind me."

"What time is it?"

"Four o'clock."

She flopped back down. "Ugh, just leave it, its fine." She said tugging the blankets up to her neck.

"Listen, Karen. I'm not leaving you naked and alone with your door unlocked at four in the morning. Now, get your ass up and come bolt your door behind me." His voice was hard, he was serious.

"Okay, fine." She threw the comforter off and pulled on a red silk kimono style robe that stopped at mid-thigh.

He couldn't stop his eyes from taking one last gaze at her legs before he turned to walk out of her room. She followed him the door.

He pulled his hood up and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. They stood in awkward silence, neither of them sure of what to say.

Karen cleared her throat, "Well, uh, I guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah," he said.

She leaned in and wrapped her arms around him. He returned her embrace. He kissed her forehead as he pulled away. "I'll see ya." He said.

She bolted the door and put the chain in place, after all, it is what he woke her up at four in the morning for. As she made her way back to her bedroom, her phone alerted her. It was a text message from 'Pete'. It contained only two words: "It matters".