A Message
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of "Will & Grace." I also do not own the lyrics to "A Message." They are copyright to Coldplay and can be found on their CD, "X&Y."
Setting: 1st season, after "Unsinkable Mommy Adler"
Summary: Stan has something he wants to tell Karen.
My song is love
Love to the loveless shown
Karen entered the penthouse slowly, hoping no one would notice that she'd returned. It was a Thursday, usually one of Stan's later nights at the office. She glanced at her Tiffany watch and saw that it was 7:30; the kids had probably already eaten and were off playing in their own rooms. Karen walked through the lavish dining room and into the immaculate kitchen, spotting a plate covered in plastic wrap.
"I thought you would've come back later, mamí," Rosario said behind her. Karen turned around and saw the door to the actual kitchen, the one that Pasty Chef and Caterer and Dinner Cook used as opposed to the smaller one that Karen currently stood in, swing closed.
"What were you doing in there?" Karen asked, peeling the wrapping off of her dinner plate and sliding it into the microwave.
"Helping Gary—Caterer—prepare the food for tomorrow's dinner party," Rosario explained.
Karen nodded and turned back to the microwave. "What's taking so long?" she wondered aloud. Rosario walked over and pressed the "Start" button. "Hm. That'll do it," Karen replied.
"Miss Karen, are you ok?" Rosario asked.
"Of course, honey, why do you ask?" Karen returned.
"You haven't insulted me once," Rosario pointed out.
"Long day," was all Karen offered as an explanation. Rosario looked at Karen closely and wondered if she knew what was wrong. She certainly had an idea, of course, but Karen hadn't said anything about it in years…
The microwave beeped, indicating that Karen's dinner was properly warmed and ready to consume. Karen reached to retrieve it, but Rosario gently pushed her hand away.
"Go sit at the table, I'll bring it to you," Rosario told her. Karen shrugged slightly, walked past the island, and stopped at the smaller table that the family usually ate breakfast at. She pulled out what had been designated as her seat and let the legs scrape loudly against the floor.
Rosario handed Karen her plate along with a glass of water and hesitantly sat down. "Miss Karen—"
After pushing aside a limp piece of broccoli, Karen pushed plate away and stood up. "I'm not hungry, Rosie. Thanks, anyway."
Rosario looked after Karen's retreating back as the door to the dining room swung back and forth, back and forth.
And it goes up
You don't have to be alone
Stan entered the manse two hours later, just as the large grandfather clock in the foyer chimed at 9:30. He sighed, wishing he could have arrived home at least a little bit earlier. The kids were probably asleep, each having school the next day. He also wished he could have seen Karen a bit more today; after she called during his lunch hour, when he'd picked both kids up from school to take them out to lunch, he hadn't spoken with her all day. He tried to call her back, several times, but she never answered.
As he loosened his necktie and approached the stairway, Rosario entered the foyer. "Mr. Stan! There you are."
"Hey, Rosie!" Stan replied amiably. "How are you today?"
"Fine, fine. Listen, I think there's something wrong with Miss Karen," Rosario told him, leaning forward conspiratorially. Something in her tone indicated that whatever was bothering Karen, it was heavy.
"Did she say anything?" Stan asked, glancing up the stairs as though he could see Karen through the silk wallpapered walls.
Rosario gave him a look, one of her patented looks that said, You damn well know she didn't say anything, but I know what's upset her.
Stan sighed. "You really think it's that?"
Rosario shrugged. "I think so."
"But we haven't talked about it for at least a year," Stan replied. Stan leaned against the doorframe of the stairwell, rubbing his face with his left hand.
"I don't know. Go talk to her. She didn't eat dinner."
Stan nodded, said goodnight to Rosario, and headed up the stairs. He walked by Olivia and Mason's rooms and, as he thought, they were both sleeping. He continued to his and Karen's room, pausing in the threshold to look around. The bed was untouched and her vanity was spotless. The light leading to her closet was on, though, and he headed in that direction.
Your heavy heart
Is made of stone
And it's so hard to see you clearly
He pushed open the door and found Karen standing in front of her immense shoe collection. Stan looked at his wife for a few moments, his face sad in the soft light. Her shorter hair was bouncy and shiny and the lightweight gray dress she wore subtly highlighted her curves. His eyes glazed over her smooth, flat stomach.
"Stop," Karen said without turning around. The angle at which she was standing provided Stan a clear view of her profile and he saw the corners of her mouth turn down slightly as in a frown.
"I'm not doing anything, Karen," Stan replied.
"So who'd you talk to? Rosario? Jack?" Karen asked.
"Why would I talk to Jack?" Stan asked. While Stan considered Jack one of his good friends, he didn't speak with him nearly as much as Karen did.
"He was with me," was all Karen offered. Stan bowed his head. He wished he could have been there.
"Was that before you called me at lunch?" Stan asked. Karen nodded, still surveying her vast array of shoes.
"So I'm guessing you talked to Rosario." Karen didn't wait for his response before continuing with, "What did she tell you?"
"That she thinks there's something wrong with you," Stan said. Immediately, he realized the error in his word choice.
"Well, we know something's wrong with me, Stan," Karen replied. "We figured that out a couple of years ago."
"Karen, nothing's wrong with you," Stan said, walking further into the room.
"Oh, really? Then why can't I—why can't I—" Karen's voice broke and she turned completely around so he couldn't see her face.
Stan walked closer and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Karebear—"
"No, don't touch me," Karen said, slipping out of his grasp and turning around to face him. "You can't just hold me and kiss it all away. It's not going to work."
"It never worked before, Karen," Stan said. "I'm not trying to make the pain go away. I know I can't do that. But I'm trying to help soften the blow."
"It doesn't matter, Stan. I can deal with this on my own," Karen told him.
"You're right, you can. But you don't have to. And you shouldn't have to. I'm here," Stan said, reaching out to grab her hands.
"You are…now," Karen replied vaguely.
"Kare, I'm sorry, I wouldn't have stayed at the office so long if I'd known you were so upset," Stan said. "You know I would have come home right away if—"
"That's not what I'm talking about."
Stan looked at her strangely before he realized what she meant. "Karen, I don't want to have this discussion again. You know I'm not going anywhere."
"Yes, right now. You don't know how you'll feel in a couple of years," Karen told him.
"Please, Kare, I don't want to have this fight, not again," Stan said. "You haven't said anything about this for the past year."
"I haven't said anything about it. That doesn't mean I don't worry about it," Karen pointed out.
Stan pulled her into his arms and held on tightly. "Karebear, I love you. I love you so much, I can't imagine going one day without you. Please don't worry." He felt her shoulders start to shake slightly and felt her body convulse. He held on tighter and kissed the top of her head, running his hand along her back soothingly.
You don't have to be on your own
You don't have to be on your own
Stan walked Karen over to the chaise lounge that was adjacent to her wall of shoes. He sat down and pulled Karen onto his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder.
"You'd think I wouldn't be so upset," Karen said. "It isn't surprising by now."
Stan grazed his thumb along her cheek. "It's ok to be upset."
Karen shook her head adamantly and sat up fully. "No, it isn't. It doesn't do any good and it's not like I can change anything."
Stan nodded acquiescence, knowing he couldn't change her mind if he wanted to. "Kare…why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what, honey?" Karen asked, feigning obtuseness.
"That you thought you might be pregnant," Stan said softly.
"I didn't want to get your hopes up again," Karen said, looking down at her hands. She twirled her wedding ring around her finger a few times. "And when I found out I wasn't, I didn't want you to be disappointed."
"I understand," Stan allowed. "But sweetheart, you can tell me things, you know. I married you. It's kind of like a tangible promise. I won't go anywhere."
"I know—"
"Sometimes, I don't think you do," Stan interrupted gently. "You mean the world to me. I love our little family we have here, with the kids and Rosie and Jack. Even if nothing ever gets added, I'll still be happy and I'll still love it. I just never want anything to get taken away."
Karen smiled and looked at Stan, wishing she could just swim languorously in his bright green eyes. She leaned forward and kissed his lips lightly. Stan squeezed her waist lightly before standing up, taking Karen with him.
"Let's go out on the terrace," Stan suggested.
Karen made a face. "Oh, honey, the terrace? No."
"Why not?" Stan wanted to know, looking slightly crestfallen.
"It's the beginning of February, it's freezing!" Karen reminded him.
Stan walked over to the other side of Karen's closet and slid open the wooden door. "And what exactly did I buy all of these fur coats for if not to keep you warm in the cold?"
Karen couldn't really argue with him there. Stan grabbed one of her darker mink coats and draped it across her shoulders. "Come with me, love," Stan said, taking her hand and leading her out of her closet, across their room, and onto the terrace.
Karen stood in the center of the terrace, shivering at the cold that slithered in where her coat didn't completely cover her. "Now what?" Stan took her hand, slipped his arm around her waist, and pulled her against him.
"Dance with me," Stan requested.
"There isn't any music," Karen pointed out.
"That never stopped us before," Stan said. Stan swayed to an unheard rhythm, cradling Karen's small frame against his.
My song is love
My song is love, unknown
But I'm on fire for you, clearly
You don't have to be alone
You don't have to be on your own
Stan traced a line of soft kisses along Karen's bare neck and collarbone. He kept his face there, smelling her perfume, and began to hum "Tell Me Something Good." Karen laughed, a true, genuine laugh, one of her first in a long time. She wrapped her arms tighter around Stan, dancing along with him as a light snow began to fall over the city.
Later, Karen emerged from her closet, her gray silk peignoir sliding around her legs. Stan whistled and winked at her. Karen rolled her eyes.
"Save it, sicko. I'm hungry," Karen told him.
"Well, I should think so, you didn't eat any dinner," Stan said. Karen batted her eyelashes at him and smiled sweetly. Stan sighed. "I'll go get you something."
Karen thanked him and made sure he'd made it all the way down the stairs before walking over to her vanity and opening her purse. She pulled out the pregnancy test that she had carefully wrapped in tissues. She knew it wasn't necessarily hygienic, but something in her couldn't believe that it was another negative. She sighed and tossed the entire thing in the garbage, for certain this time, and climbed into bed.
Stan returned a few moments later with a toasted bagel and cream cheese. Karen's eyes went from his hands to his face and back to his hands. "Honey? A bagel? What about some pate, caviar, brie?"
"I didn't know where anything was! Rosario's asleep and I didn't want to wake her up," Stan replied, handing her the bagel.
"Why not? I always do," Karen said with a pout, taking the small plate with both hands.
"I know, Karebear, and that's why I always have to give her a raise," Stan told her, sitting on the bed next to her.
Karen giggled. "Oh, I have so much fun." She bit into the bagel and chewed thoughtfully. "You know, this isn't so bad. What's this…this…" She made circles in the air over the bagel with her pointer finger. "…stuff on the top?"
"It's cream cheese, love."
"Interesting. Is this the poor peoples' version of brie?" Karen asked, taking another dainty bite of the bagel.
Stan chuckled and wondered if Karen had been like this even when she wasn't worth hundreds of millions of dollars. "I guess you could put it that way, yes."
"Fascinating." Karen and Stan continued lightheartedly chatting for another hour or so before Karen started getting drowsy. As Stan reached over her to turn the lamp on her side of the bed off, Karen cuddled deeper into the bed and softly sighed, "Love you, Stanley."
Stan leaned down and kissed Karen's forehead ever so gently. "I love you, too." He lay back down and slung his arm around Karen's waist and fell asleep, comfortable in the knowledge that his message had been successfully delivered to his adored wife.
And
I'm not gonna stand and wait
Not gonna leave it until it's much
too late
On a platform I'm gonna stand and say
That I'm nothing
on my own
And I love you.
(A/N: I know this story seemed pretty vague, but I might just be getting ready to write a prequel to it, a sort of "what happened in the years before Karen started working for Grace?" thing. Sound interesting? Let me know. R&R, please!)