Chapter 2: The View From Up Here
As a reminder: As with all my fics, this was fully written before being published. There are five chapters. Nothing gets edited based on comments. Except spalling and grummer.
Updates will be on Fridays.
Frankie woke up to the sound of feet hitting her floor.
It was immediately followed by a squeal and the bed shifted. "Jesus, it's cold," complained Chloe under her breath. She got out of the bed though.
Frankie rolled over onto her back, rubbing her eyes. Had she really just slept with Chloe Price? She knew that she had. It had been unplanned and unexpected and good. Really good. Really fucking good. And now Chloe seemed to be getting ready to leave.
Damn it. She should have made it clear from the start that she didn't just want to be a bang and done. Those were fun, but Frankie did like dating women. She'd not really enjoyed her lack of a relationship with Gail, when she got down to brass tacks. Dating, going out and flaunting the hot chick on your arm was fun. So was getting yourself riled up by knowing what was under the dress, and knowing you couldn't touch it just yet.
She'd looked forward to that, just a little. Chloe wore shirts that tended to ride up and show her stomach which, Frankie now knew firsthand, was soft and toned. That messy red hair? It was practically a pelt. Thick and a little wiry, but Frankie had enjoyed running her hands through it.
They'd gone to drinks at the Penny, then dinner with Nash and Peck, and then Chloe announced she'd wanted to go dancing. Nash started to say she was up for it, but Peck asked her for a lift home. If Traci was suspect, it didn't show.
At Chloe's suggestion, they went to a gay club and danced. They danced apart, with anyone who was around in the crowd, until gravity sucked them in. The dance floor steered them together, Chloe's hands finding their way around Frankie's neck. Their bodies pressed up, moving with the music until the want and fire was too much to bear.
The taxi ride back to Frankie's had been suggestive and promising. Chloe held on to her arm, her breasts pressing up against Frankie's arm. In return, Frankie dared to run her hand up the inside of Chloe's thigh, trailing the seam of her jeans but never quiet reaching where she knew Chloe wanted. Where she wanted.
Inside, Chloe was distracted by the view. Frankie had a better place than Gail's, an apartment in a modern building with floor to ceiling windows and a view of the city. "Can anyone see us in here?"
"Possibly," said Frankie. "They said the windows were tinted to prevent it, but it's a window." She hung up her coat and watched Chloe as she childishly leaned up against the window and looked out. "Like the view?"
"I do." Chloe turned around and smiled.
"It's better in my bedroom. You can see the CN tower."
Chloe's eyes had darkened. Then she took her shirt off. "Do you like the view?" She stepped out of her shoes and then jeans.
Frankie swallowed a dry throat and she crossed the room, pressing Chloe against the window to kiss. "I do. I do like this view," she'd said softly.
The toilet flushed, bringing her back to now. The bathroom opened, still dark, and Chloe whispered 'cold cold cold' and scooted right back in. When Frankie shifted her weight, Chloe swore. "Oh. Crap. Did I wake you up?" She sounded worried.
"Yes." Frankie shifted to her side. "I thought you were leaving."
Chloe shivered and snuggled under the blankets. "Do you want me to?"
"No." She didn't hesitate.
The tiny redhead smiled. "Good. Because I really don't want to go. I mean, first of all, it's freezing in here. Do you turn on the AC at night or something? And your floor? Oh my god, my toes are falling off." To prove the point, she shoved her cold feet on Frankie's warm legs. "But you are nice and warm. Mmmmmm."
"You're crazy," said Frankie, but she smiled. Chloe was different from other women she'd dated. She was, like Gail, totally unapologetic. What you saw was only a small part of what you got with a woman like that.
"I'm cold," Chloe pointed out, almost whinging. "Warm me up."
"And how do you propose I do that?"
Without another word, Chloe snuggled right up into Frankie's personal space, making her instinctively wrap her arms about the smaller woman. Okay. That worked. Chloe exhaled happily. "Nice and warm."
Frankie snorted. "That's not something people say about me a lot."
"They're stupid." Chloe's hands touched her, her arms and hands. "You're warm and soft and really good in bed. But you know that, I think. I mean, you're mindblowingly good." Chloe prattled on quietly, her fingers tracing circles on Frankie's arms. "I've had sex before. Good sex, bad sex... Sex in the bathroom at the Penny. Don't do that, by the way. It feels good in the moment, and then ... No. Don't. It's gross."
"Do you have a point?" Frankie whispered that across Chloe's ear and neck, and she was rewarded with a full body shudder. The good kind.
Chloe pressed her back against Frankie's front. "Point. This was great sex." She shifted and rolled over to face Frankie, her hands slowly moving across her stomach and then up. "I don't think I repaid the favor enough."
Letting Chloe push her onto her back, Frankie closed her eyes as hands and lips covered her skin. Frankie had slept with many women. Only one man, which had not worked out well at all, but many, many, women. There was something different about the way Chloe made love to a woman. A chemical reaction maybe. That's what her ex, the scientist, had said. They'd lived together for eight months before Karen left for Sweden.
But the reaction between two people, two people who clicked properly, who fit properly, was beautiful. It didn't matter how skilled you were or weren't. It mattered that they fit. And God, Chloe fit. Her body moulded against Frankie's, fitting in the curves perfectly. Her hand fit Frankie's hips, her thigh fit between Frankie's like it was meant to be there. Her mouth was warm and soft where it should be, biting when it should, and her fingers... God those fingers.
The lassitude of afterglow washed over her, sinking her into the soft, deep, mattress. Chloe ran her fingers over Frankie's stomach. "You're right," said Chloe, her voice a whisper. "The view in here is great."
Frankie cracked her eyes open and smiled. Chloe was looking at her.
Frankie felt empty as she stared at the floor.
It had ever since the fight, and she knew she was going to keep feeling like that for a long time to come. Even though she knew she was right. Even though she knew it was the right thing to do. She regretted what she'd said and how she'd said it.
"I want to go out with you. For real. On a date. Where people look at us and wish they were use," she'd shouted at Chloe.
The admission seemed to shock the tiny redhead. "Dates?"
"Yes, dates. Look, I like you, and I like going out, and I don't see what the hell the problem is with people knowing we're dating."
Chloe's face tightened a little. "I'm ... I don't what what we have to get messed up by them."
"Then it won't!"
"You can't know that, Frankie. I've dated other cops before. It always is messed up."
Frankie had stared at her. "You know. You know, I spent years figuring out why I was miserable, why I was angry. Why I was uncomfortable. Then. Then I caught on that I was gay, and I had to fight, Chloe. I had to fight for every fucking inch just to be able to be me." She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "I know that this is hard, but I'm not going back in the damn closet just because you're scared of your idiot friends."
Chloe had looked hurt and sad and a little guilty all at once. "That isn't was this is, Frankie."
"Then tell me, Chloe. Tell me what the hell this is about."
"I'm ... I'm not ready to tell them."
And that was a place Frankie had been before. It always ended in heartache and pain. "Well. Well when you are ready, you tell me."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means bennies with Frankie is not happening. Because I'm not having my bed used as a springboard for whatever the hell it is you're doing."
And Chloe, crying, had left.
And Frankie realized in that second why Gail had kicked her out of bed. Because knowing you weren't the first choice, knowing you were second to something, hurt like hell. Knowing Chloe wasn't going pick her made her feel agony. It was red hot and painful.
Calling in sick, Frankie proceeded to get drunk. It seemed appropriate. After Karen left, she'd eaten her way through the entire Ben & Jerry's collection. When Noreen broke up with her, Frankie had learned the joy of deep dish pizza and, subsequently, kick boxing. Which was how she met Linda, who left her for someone less complicated and dangerous. That time Frankie had thrown herself into work, which lasted until Steve Peck suggested she ask out his kid sister.
But drunk was something she hadn't tried, and it was worth a shot, since nothing else had ever worked.
She was halfway through her last bottle of vodka (which she didn't even like) when the door opened. "Jesus, Frankie, what the hell?" Gail. Her only actual friend. Not that Gail would agree. Gail hated the term 'friends' and said it was just a way for people to excuse their behavior.
"Heeeeeey," she drawled, sitting on her kitchen floor. "S'up, Peck?"
"So, this is happening," said Gail slowly. She closed and locked the door. "Do I need to hide the scissors?"
Frankie looked up, confused. "Why?"
"Never mind. Come on, gimme the bottle."
"Nooooooo." Frankie hugged her bottle close, but Gail just pulled it free. "My vodka!"
"You hate vodka, Francine." Gail poured it out and checked the cabinet. "Where's the rest?"
Frankie slid to lie on her floor. "Filtering through my kidneys," she said, slurring her words.
Sighing loudly, Gail left her there and cleaned up the apartment, collecting all the bottles and taking them out, probably to the recycling. Then she came back and hauled Frankie to her feet. "You, Frankie, are going to drink a bottle of water. Shower. Take some pain killers, and sleep."
"You, Gail, are a killjoy." But she let Gail walk her through the motions, showering and getting tucked in bed. "Why're you being nice?"
"Because," Gail said as she pulled the blanket up over Frankie. "Because someone was nice to me when I needed it."
When Frankie woke up in the morning, Gail was sleeping on the couch. Even hungover, Frankie was an earlier riser than Peck. If Gail could avoid mornings, she would. But she'd also cleaned the apartment and picked up food, so she could live.
As Frankie made coffee, Gail stirred. "Good. You're alive."
Frankie grunted. "Did you pour out all my booze?"
"Yeah," yawned Gail. "I did." She sat up. "So. Why is Chloe all depressed about things and why are you becoming an alcoholic? I thought you two were getting it on alright."
Frankie sighed and poured the water through her chemex. "We were." She put the first mug over on the edge of the counter for Gail, pouring a second for herself. "She doesn't want to be out."
Making a surprised sound, Gail got off the couch and walked over. "That bothered you?"
"Were you ever in the closet, Gail?" The blonde added cream and sugar to a cup and shook her head. "Right. You didn't figure that out till last year. Me... I was scared to death to come out when I realized I was gay. Shit, I slept with a guy. But you know. You know I can't be anyone but who I am, Gail. And I don't want to lie about it to anyone."
Gail sipped her coffee. "Yeah. I can see that."
"Do you? Cause you, you lucked the hell out, Peck. You know that, right?" Frankie let the anger bubble up. "You have friends who could care less who you fuck, and you found yourself and you, it made you do the right things, even when it cost you. But growing up being tortured for that? You... You have no idea how soul sucking that is. I knew who I was and I lied for years." She'd had to lie. The pain of what not lying brought her still lingered on her skin.
Her friend sighed softly and nodded. "I get it," she said quietly. "Can't go back."
"No. No I can't."
Gail sighed. "Well hell. I didn't see that coming."
"Me neither." Frankie stared at her coffee. "I'm really damn sorry about giving you shit about Holly, Gail. Karma's being a bitch, and you're right it hurts like fuck."
Looking up, Gail shook her head. "I wouldn't wish that on anyone, Anderson. Not even you."
She woke up when her heart was on the floor.
Metaphorically.
In the end, it had been a stupid accident. She hadn't even been working on the case. It was just shared with her old division, so Swarek asked her to check into it. Frankie didn't like thinking of them as her 'old' home, but she was a member of Fifteen now.
Still, off she went, not expecting to see Chloe Price as the uniform of record from Fifteen, pulling up with Peck's rookie, Fox, just as she did. The woman gave Frankie a long look and then said she wanted to talk. Later. Frankie made a vague agreement of that suggestion, but she didn't expect to follow through.
She sure as hell hadn't expected to see the dead man's killer still on site and slam a two-by-four into Chloe's neck and collarbone.
"God dammit, clear the scene means you fucking clear the scene," screamed Frankie at the unis from her old division. They, and Fox, had the killer face down in the dirt, cuffing him as Frankie checked on Chloe.
It wasn't good. She was gasping, trying to breath. "Ow."
"Ow? Ow? You just got wailed on, Price, and you say ow?" Frankie was relieved that she was awake at least, but Chloe's reaction was worse than she'd expect for a hit like that. The woman was having a panic attack. And then she saw the blood. "Someone call me a bus! Fox!"
"Yes ma'am, I'm on it!"
"And keep that asshat. We're taking the damn case." Their uni went down. It was their case now.
Chloe was still gasping, reaching for her neck. "Clot," she said, wheezing.
Clot? "You're bleeding, Muppet." Maybe she'd hit her head. Frankie pressed her hand to Chloe's neck, holding things in place. "Nothing's clotting yet."
Two hours later, Frankie learned what Chloe meant. Gail came to the hospital with Fox, telling him that since Price had been his partner that day, he had to be there now. That was his duty. She was surprised to see Frankie there.
"Hey, Anderson. Your killer still here?"
"Yeah, yeah. Thought I'd stick around and see how the Princess was." She sipped her coffee. "Still in surgery."
Gail studied her face for a moment. "Fox. Sit here and wait for a nurse to tell you how Chloe is. You text me asafp if they have anything. Got it?" The rookie nodded. "Come on, Anderson. We gotta talk."
As soon as they were around the corner, Frankie spoke. "Do not start with me and that idiot theory you have about relationships."
"Its not that. What did they... How long has she been in surgery, and what kind?"
Frankie blinked. "About an hour and ... Thoracic?"
"Shit." The blonde winced and hit the wall with a fist. "Where did she get hit? Fox just said the neck."
"Um, well it was the neck." Frankie made a chop at the right side of her neck. And Gail did not look happy. "What the hell, Peck? You're freaking me out!"
"You never noticed the scar on her neck?"
"Sure I have. Why?"
"Couple years ago, Chloe took a bullet there. Ended up with a clot there. Her asshat ex husband left it in."
Frankie felt dizzy. "What? She has... She has a blood clot?" The word finally made sense.
"Yeah, they said it wasn't likely it'd ever get dislodged but..."
"But a hit like that... Jesus." Frankie sat down. "How... She came back to work with that?"
Gail sat beside her. "Yeah she did. She's a bad ass."
It felt like her heart was on the floor. Frankie could tell what was going on, but she knew she hurt. "She could die."
"Yeah, she could."
"It was a fucking two-by-four, Peck! No one dies from that! She should have a- a broken collar bone! A headache!" Frankie's fists were clenched tight, her hands shaking. She didn't realize she was leaning forward, hunching over, until she felt a hand on her back. "Fuck," muttered Frankie and she covered her face.
"Yeah, I know." Gail sounded at once tired and sympathetic and understanding. "Let me… Let me make a couple calls. Okay? I know some doctors here."
"Pecks?" Frankie couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice.
There was an odd pause before Gail sighed. "No. Not Pecks. A stupid ass plastic surgeon and a CF researcher."
And that was how Frankie found herself in the strangest situation ever. She sat between Dov and some idiot named Wes (whom Gail identified as the ex-husband), the three of them waiting for any news about Chloe. The boys had a giant cookie (Dov) and a bag of microwave popcorn (Wes). Frankie had hands that still had a little blood on them.
Gail came and went, checking in with Oliver and the doctors. She would give the trio updates before leaving again. Other people came by, from Fifteen, all wanting to know how Chloe was, and all asking how Frankie and Dov were. They cared. And not just about Chloe, whom they all called annoying. They cared about each other. Which was weird and Frankie wasn't sure what it meant.
Finally, after a few hours, Wes spoke. "So. Dov. I thought you two broke up."
"We did." Dov eyed Wes, unfriendly. "I thought you divorced."
"We did." They both looked at Frankie who said nothing.
What was she supposed to say here? That she and Chloe had been clandestinely banging each other? That she'd had a crush on the idiotic muppet for longer than she wanted to admit, and finding out Chloe was bi and into her was weird and awesome and wonderful? Hell no. First of all, if Peck heard that, she'd be laughing at Frankie every day of the week and twice on Sundays. Secondly, they were just having sex. Had. Past tense.
Still. Here sat Frankie. Waiting to see if they girl they all had feelings for was going to live. Because she wasn't just having sex with Chloe. And that was the real problem. She didn't want to just have sex. She wanted the whole thing. The waking up, the romance, the flaunting, the known.
Finally Gail came in with a doctor, the two talking louder than was appropriate. "Damn it, Lisa, I didn't ask you for your advice on my fucking love life. You're a boob doc."
"It's sweet you think all I do is fondle breasts all day."
"Hey, I know what you do in your free time."
"Plastics is a hell of a lot more than the perfect breast. Like yours."
"Look shut it about your life goal, mine are fine. I want to know if you can help Price or not."
"You're so sweet. Are you hitting on me?"
"Not in your wildest dreams," Gail said with a snarl. But they walked into Chloe's room and closed the door.
As Frankie watched Lisa pick up Chloe's chart, Wes sat up. "Who the hell was that?"
"A friend of …" Dov stopped. "A friend of Gail's ex."
The door opened again and Gail pointed at Wes. "That one with the stupid hat."
Lisa glared at him. "Wes? You're a fucking idiot." The door was closed again.
Both Dov and Frankie burst out laughing. "I told you she'd want the clot removed," Dov said, looking triumphant.
"Oh that really was your fault?" Frankie turned to look at Wes. "That was fucking stupid."
"She could have died!"
"Yeah, well thanks to you, she could die now." Frankie felt her face getting hot. The humor of having Lisa (whom she recalled Gail called a 'botched boob job') call him out was fading into the somewhat irrational anger of the reality. They were three people all sitting and waiting to know if a woman they cared about was dying.
"Who the hell are you anyway?"
"I'm not the moron who did what he thought was best instead of what Chloe wanted." She was angry. She was snapping. She was also the woman who had been sleeping with Chloe and this was her ex husband, and all the ways this could go wrong were probably about to happen.
"I know you," Wes said abruptly. "You're that dyke from ThirtyFour. Hah! I bet you're crushing on Chloe. Got news for ya, she doesn't swing that way—"
Frankie grabbed Wes' shirt and managed to propel him up and into the wall. Anger gave you a lot of strength it seemed. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about, you asshole," she shouted.
From her other side, Dov surged to his feet, letting go of the cookie. Peripherally, Frankie was aware that it shattered on the floor as Dov wedged himself in between them. "Hey, whoa, Frankie, let go. Wes, shut the hell up."
Wes grabbed at the front of Frankie's shirt with one hand and shoved at Dov with the other. Frankie swatted his hand, using her forearm to keep Wes stuck to the wall. There was a bit of a scuffle before Gail appeared out of nowhere and actually managed to force her way in and break it up.
"What the hell is going on?" She pushed Frankie back, giving her a confused and frustrated look.
"This fucking lezbo is perving on Chloe." That was Wes, pointing at Frankie, and Frankie would have lunged at him again had Gail not done it first.
It was the move of a practiced beat cop. Gail had the pointing arm turned and spun Wes around, slamming his face into the wall and tweaking the arm. Hard. "That is a detective and your fellow officer and you are way the hell outta line, Wes," said Gail, her voice low and deadly.
Frankie had never heard Gail like that before. It was actually a little impressive. "It's fine," Frankie said, lying and trying to calm herself down.
"No, it's not." Dov rubbed at his face.
Wisely, Wes stopped struggling. Unwisely he muttered something that sounded like he was making a comment about how all the queers stuck together, and Gail snarled. "Okay, you're leaving. All three of you." Both Dov and Frankie opened their mouths to argue. "No. You're all going to sit your asses somewhere else, away from here. Doctors are trying to work. Wes, we're gonna have a long talk about what's not coming out of your mouth, ever again."
Gail frog marched Wes down the hall, leaving Dov and Frankie standing amongst the shattered cookie.
Frankie looked down. "Sorry about the cookie," she said quietly.
"Sorry he's suck a prick," Dov replied. "Fuck. Coffee?"
She shook her head. "I don't think I need an upper."
And Dov grinned. "There's a place across the street. We can split an Irish Milkshake."
An Irish Milkshake turned out to be the best thing. "Holy crap!" Frankie took a second long pull. "That shit's good."
"Yeah. Frank— Best, our old sergeant. He turned me on to 'em last time Chloe was in there." Dov looked sadly over at the hospital. "Wes had power of attorney then."
"Gail told me." Frankie dipped a fry into her shake and ate it.
Dov nodded. "I don't … do you know what she's got now?"
Slowly, Frankie nodded back. She didn't want to look up at Dov. Now that the anger at Wes had bled out, she was tired. And more to the point, she did not want to get into a discussion about her relationship with Chloe with any of the woman's ex boyfriends. It was bad enough Gail knew, and she didn't tell anyone. "She wrote up a whole big medical thing. She wants it removed."
Apparently Gail had known that too, pushing it at the doctors for the hour before the idiot boys showed up. It was legal. It was what Chloe wanted. If the clot was putting her life at risk, she wanted the damn thing out.
The baby detective was quiet for a while. "How long?" When Frankie looked up, startled, he added. "How long have you two been… whatever."
She didn't blush. She wouldn't. There was nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. Except for the fact that Chloe was … well. She was Chloe. And it drove Frankie nuts half the time. "Few months. Kind of. I screwed it up."
"Can't be worse than me or Wes. And Wes is such an idiot," Dov said. "I mean, jesus, it's not like it was a secret she was bi or anything."
Frankie quirked a smirk. "She's got layers."
"Crazy ass layers." Dov nodded, agreeing with her. "I love her like I love Gail, though. Y'know?"
"No," said Frankie slowly. "You lost me on that one."
The man grunted and leaned back. "So. I love Gail. She's … amazing. And wonderful, and crazy, and she can be mean as hell. But she's awesome. And she's family. Like Chris. And Chloe. I don't care that we're never gonna date. I'm still going to love her."
Frankie frowned. "That is actually insane, Epstein. I mean, I've slept with Peck and I don't love her. She's a sociopath." She picked up her burger. "Anyway, Price and I aren't actually dating right now."
Weirdly, Dov seemed to understand. "Is she doing that weird thing where she doesn't want people to know?" It caught Frankie by surprise mid-bite. "Yeah, she did it to me too, and Wes apparently. I don't know what the hell its really about. She said it was Frank, her godfather, Sgt. Best. And then I got spooked and didn't want to tell people... It's all messed up, but that's Chloe for you."
She ate some of her burger in silence, mulling that over. Then. "I told her off for it."
"Shouting?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah. She does that to you too." He shook his head. "But you're here."
"So are you, Skippy. And so is that asshat."
"We are. Because she gets under your skin, doesn't she?"
Frankie nodded. "She does." With a sigh she pushed the burger away a bit. "I want to apologize. Don't know what to say."
A tired voice cut in. "Move over, and start with saying 'I'm sorry I was an idiot.' Also is there a tomato on your burger?"
Dov scooted in, making room for Gail. "Not on mine, have at."
Gail took a huge bite and sighed around it. "Thank you," she mumbled. "Hospital food is gross." Dov and Frankie watched her plow through the burger. "Okay. Wes is sitting with Luck, who's been reading him the riot act about homophobia for the last half hour. She promised to keep him out of your hair. But. Traci needs a D back on to help with the kitchen thefts."
"I'll do it," said Dov. "I mean... It makes sense right?" He looked at Frankie a little confused.
"Oh? He knows?" Gail was surprised. "Shit I was trying to figure out how to tell you that Chloe was asking for dumb ass Anderson without spilling the beans."
They both stared. "She's awake?" Frankie's mind boggled.
"Nah, she's mumbling under anesthetic. I got it on video to bribe her with later."
"But the surgery-"
"Laparoscopic. It was actually kinda cool, Dr. Boobs let me watch." Gail polished off the burger and reached for Dov's shake. "They used a tiny metal snake thing, shot it down her vein, ripped apart the clot, and done. Also she said the first doctor was a moron and tore him a new asshole. That was cooler than the surgery."
The roommate pulled it away. "It's spiked."
Gail blinked and leaned over to sniff. "Shit. You sure you're okay for work?" At Dov's nod, she slid back out of the booth. "I paid for you, come on. I'll drop you off at Fifteen." When Frankie hesitated, Gail tilted her head. "Seriously, Frankie. Come on."
"Yeah... But..."
"You said some real stupid smart stuff to her, I know. You're getting a second chance. Don't fuck it up." Gail grabbed Frankie's arm and hauled her up. "Shit like this doesn't happen every day."
Don't fuck it up. Good advice!
