A/N: Frank's perspective. About halfway in.

You'll pick it up.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!


The After

Why? Why had she pressed the matter? She knew he cared deeply for her. Couldn't knowing that be enough?

Frank angrily paced back and forth between her fridge and kitchen counter island. Pausing to try and come up with a response, he would falter and continue pacing. Of all the scenarios of their interaction tonight, of all the ways this conversation could have gone down, he least expected this.

Her confession scared the shit out of him. He couldn't understand why she brought up any of this. She knew his past, knew he could never give her the life she wanted or deserved. Not after what had happened to him. How could a revenant survive amongst the living, let alone be with someone as compassionate as Karen?

Glancing at her, she stayed rooted firmly to the ground, staring him down with an expression of expectancy, even urgency. She wanted him to say it back to her – that he loved her too.

Love. Happiness. It's all just a kick in the balls waiting to happen, Curtis.

A thrumming in his ears began to pulsate as he clenched his jaw. Anger turned to rage. His blood began to boil just thinking of the last time he let himself fall in love. Karen knew how that had ended. With a bloody playground, 50 dead people, including his wife and children, and a bullet in his head. She also understood that what he knew got his whole family killed. Why, in God's name, would she want to be a part of that - part of his life? His list of enemies had only increased with every body he dropped, and he could never guarantee her safety if she was too close to him.

He read the papers, even the news was under no illusions now about how they had a connection. It might have been Matt and Foggy who were his attorneys, but it was Karen who championed his case from the beginning, working tirelessly behind the curtain and fighting an uphill battle to give Frank a fair trial. The publicity their bond had been exposed to put her in more danger than he could tolerate. He closed his eyes and inhaled a few times.

Fuck his feelings. He had to keep her safe.

"Karen," he tried to sound decisive, but his voice came out sounding soft and resigned. "Please, don't make it like this between us." He couldn't bear the thought of putting her in any more danger than he already had. Deflecting her was the only option. And if it meant she hated him in the end, kicked him out of her apartment and told him never to return, just like last time, then all the better. At least she would be safe, and he would not return again.

Karen looked aghast for a moment, not believing he would deny her the truth. That was the thing she appreciated most about him, how brutally honest he always was. After all, despite his many misgivings, he never lied to her.

Not unless it would compromise her well-being.

"I can't lie to you, Frank, and I can't keep living a lie," she shook her head, "Can you?"

Her words cut him deep. She knew he was lying - she said the word lie twice in one sentence.

Real subtle, Karen.

For a moment, he remembered the way she held him in the elevator; the way she inspected the glass sticking out from his arm and touched it gingerly. He reflexively leaned into her, touching his forehead to hers. The rush of battle pumping through his veins seemed to slow, his stomach churning and his body beginning to scream in protestation of all his accumulated injuries. Their bodies so close, he had breathed in her scent – a distracting mixture of sweat and perfume and the smell of her skin. Knowing her scent made the situation more intimate. The last time he could smell sweat and perfume on a woman…

Flashbacks of his body intertwined with his wife burst through his mind, only this time she was tall, blonde, and had piercing blue eyes.

Frank's breath hitched.

Focusing back on Karen, her expression searched his face for any hint of confirmation that he felt the same.

Suddenly aware of the vulnerability his little daydream put him in, Frank let his expression turn stone cold. Karen had a knack for weeding out his bullshit. If she caught even a whiff of him considering her affections, she would point them out, highlight, and label them for him, if for no other reason than to make sure he knew he could hide absolutely nothing from her. Knowing a woman could do that to him was both exhilarating and terrifying. But then, for Frank those two emotions weren't ever mutually exclusive.

Strengthening his resolve, Frank crossed his arms and lifted his chin in defiance, driving his answer home with a definitive expression. In response, Karen blinked furiously as fresh tears fell down her cheeks, but she matched his stare. She wanted him to see her pain, wanted him to know she knew his answer was bullshit. Karen fucking Page.

It was a kick in the pants. He swallowed hard and let his gaze cast back down to the ground.

The moment that Frank had chosen to live, when Maria beckoned him home to the sweet release of death, Frank could not follow her. His time here was not finished. Frank had to see their deaths avenged; he had to kill Rawlins and Billy. 'I am home,' he had said, letting go of her hand. He had felt his mind jolt, as if it were released from the shackles of his guilt and pain for a brief moment. Everything grew clear, a fog lifted from his conscience long enough to gather the strength to pull free of the zip ties Billy had loosened and tackle Rawlins.

Once Billy was also no longer a threat, he thought of Maria's words again, to follow her into the abyss. He was tempted. And perhaps now it was time. Curtis was right – Frank had been in the pit so long, it felt like home. Frank had always thought that the only way out of the pit was his own death, but Karen's words sharply and unexpectedly stayed his hand.

I want there to be an after. For you.

In his mind, when Karen said those words, she was looking down into the pit at his sorry state, and letting down a rope ladder. It was ultimately his choice, but the offer was there.

The question now was: Should he take it?

Back in Karen's apartment, Frank lifted his eyes from the ground and saw her walking towards him. She held two empty beer bottles in her hand and walked up next to him, threw them in the recycling, and turned sharply away. He could handle her anger, even her fury, but this new expression left his heart raked open. She was resentful, defeated…broken.

Damn it.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her forearm and spun her around. Karen gasped and tried to right herself. Taking hold of both her shoulders, Frank struggled to find the words.

How could he express to her how much he cared? How could he even begin to describe her importance to him? He was no fool – the subtleties of their exchanges were not blind to him. The way she looked at him, the way he looked at her, their hug in her apartment the first time he had made contact in months, the intensity of his kiss on her cheek, the way he reached for Karen after Lewis's bomb went off. There was something there, but confirming it meant that it truly existed. Out in the open. Susceptible to everything. Including danger.

At the same time, Frank couldn't bring himself to lie to her either. That was its own kind of betrayal, sullying everything they'd gone through together. Betrayal ran a long and deep wound in Frank's mind. He was all too aware of how it had left him unhinged. Schoonover. Rawlins. Billy. God knows, there might be more. Karen didn't deserve that kind of pain, or anything even remotely related to it.

Aside from Curtis, she was all he had left, but Frank hardly had to worry about Curtis. The corpsman had survived 3 tours before being honorably discharged with one good leg. Curtis also kept his nose out of trouble. Karen, on the other hand, was a bloodhound when it came to finding trouble. Giving in meant that the target on her back would only grow larger. Hell, it might as well become a damned homing beacon. But lying to her meant he was – at the very least – no better than two-faced Billy and Colonel Schoonover. And Karen already knew his answer was full of shit. She could always tell.

"Karen," Frank whispered, trying to control the weight of his voice.

She gripped his coat and pulled him into a hug, one arm wrapped around his shoulder and the other gripping the back of his neck. After one labored breath, Frank felt his arms encircle her as well. There it was – her scent: several different types of fruit with a hint of coffee, no doubt from the accumulation of the innumerable cups she drank on a daily basis. Then she whispered back his name.

The woman could be absolutely infuriating, wildly careless with her safety, and as stubborn as an ox. But goddamn did her nurturing always put him under a strange spell.

On a visceral level, Frank knew she was now his to keep safe. She was the only woman in his life now. The only one left. That thought made him pull her in tighter, until there was no space between them, and hardly enough room to breathe.

After a long pause, he felt Karen begin to let go. Frank remembered how she'd let go first when they were in her new apartment, and how she'd let go first when they were in the elevator. He read between the lines now, just as he did then. Karen was giving him space – she was just close enough to let him know she wanted Frank in her life, but just far enough away to protect herself if he vanished again. He couldn't blame her. Vanishing was what he excelled at doing.

But now? Frank didn't want to vanish. His feet seemed rooted to the ground, and his arms held Karen there, denying her request to part from their embrace. Frank leaned in, this time initiating, touching their foreheads in silent admission. There was something there. He saw Karen try to hide a grin before her face disappeared as she bowed her head. Suddenly, he was smiling too.

Frank felt her body relax, her breathing slow, and a fulfilled sigh pass her lips.

That, right there. That reaction. This moment. Her calmness and safety in his arms. That is what Frank wanted her to feel for the rest of her life. Without interruption.

Then he felt Karen interrupt, and begin to break them apart. Once again, she assumed he wanted space.

This time, he didn't.

He saw her eyes shift from contentment to surprise the longer Frank held her there. Within the span of a few more blinks, Karen realized what he was considering. Her lips parted – either in anticipation or from uncertainty – when she noticed his eyes twitching from hers to her mouth. Looking at the base of her neck, he saw that the small pendant she wore was bouncing with every pulse. Her heart was racing. Then again, so was his.

Frank felt her thumb stroke the back of his neck in gentle and small circles. His shoulders trembled slightly, sending goosebumps up his spine. His eyes snapped to hers. She was patiently waiting, but he could see the eagerness in her expression following closely behind. And fast approaching.

Karen wasn't backing down anymore. She sensed now he didn't want the space she normally gave him. And he wasn't backing down either.

This was it.

Their faces just inches apart; their heads both tilted just enough to close in for the kiss. Frank wanted to truly admit there was something there; he wanted to believe that there could be happiness and endless possibilities. He wanted to see her smile for the rest of her life, and wanted to be the source of that smile. He wanted to smell the fruity shampoo she used in her hair and feel her shiver when he buried his face into her neck. Hers was the only touch – the only affection – he had felt from a woman in what seemed like centuries. But that meant he had to let go. Of everything. Maria. The kids. His old life. Letting them go felt like its own betrayal. But then, in the back of his mind, Frank knew that he had already let go of them the night he made his choice.

I am home.

His new shitty apartment might be where he resided. New York City might be where he grew up. And the suburbs might be a place where he once owned a house. But it wasn't home. Not anymore.

She was home.

Karen was his home. Now and always.

Frank felt her move restlessly and cleared her throat to speak.

"Frank, you –"

He tilted his head up and felt her soft lips connect to his. The sensation of her initial shock almost made him pull back, fearful that he had read the situation incorrectly. But he instantly felt her hand – the one that was resting at the back of his neck – fervently pull him in. Frank felt an electric jolt, almost identical to the one he felt right as he chose to live and broke free of the zip ties to tackle Rawlins. Feeling her body ache for his was almost as intoxicating as watching the life drain from Agent Orange. Killing was Frank's favorite thing to do. He felt absolutely no remorse and took much pleasure in it. But every body he dropped only sated his bloodlust temporarily, and there was an ever widening, cavernous hole where his heart used to be; where he was now stuck in the pit Curtis loved to talk about so damn much.

Karen had thrown a rope ladder over his pit. The offer was there, but it was ultimately his choice. Frank chose, and now he was climbing as fast as he could up and out of the pit to reach her. Karen was reigniting a different fire in him, dredging up something ancient that he couldn't recognize at first. Frank could almost identify the feeling, like a long-forgotten memory of a time when he was a man who was capable of loving a woman.

Frank gripped her waist and shoved her against the counter of her kitchen island, letting his arms slide to the middle of her back to support her as he leaned in to deepen the kiss. Frank felt her lips vibrate as she moaned, allowing his tongue passage into her mouth. When he finally broke free to inhale, Frank moved to her neck, planting a trail of kisses down the slender column of her neck.

Karen was just as ravenous. She snaked her hands up his chest and in between his coat and shirt. With a deft yank, his shirt tore open and her cool hands explored every uplifted scar they could discover. He shuddered, and this time, he moaned.

Frank could feel her body trembling, but not out of fear. She yearned for him. Ached for him. And damn if there wasn't some animalistic part of him that didn't just want to rip off her clothes, ease her onto the small kitchen island, and take her right then.

But…

Karen must have sensed his sudden hesitation. She paused to look at him and assess his expression. Once again, reading his mind, her hands stopped roaming his chest, but they did stay there; the skin on skin contact its own form of intoxication.

"Hey," she murmured with a smile. Just checking in.

He smiled back, feeling foolish, "Hey."

She was breathy and still trying to conceal her lust for him, but she managed to keep her voice low and soft, "Are you…alright?"

Frank chuckled into the fruity scent of her hair as he hugged her in their interlude. "I'm better than alright."

She giggled, which was all he wanted to hear. But then her face grew somber as she pulled away, "Frank, if you need time –"

"I just…" he paused, unable to think of an ending to the sentence. Luckily, she was Karen fucking Page, and they never needed words to understand each other. He loved her for that.

"I know," she whispered, cupping his cheek and smiling supportively. "Let's take this slow, okay?"

All Frank could manage was a nod, turning his head away as he could feel the weight of her gaze.

He ground his teeth. Jesus, Frank, you're a goddamn tease.

"It's okay, really," Karen dipped her head until Frank's eyes met hers. "I want to do this right. And if we're going to do this right, we have to pace it."

She leaned in and pressed a tantalizingly soft kiss to his cheek, wrapping her arms once more around his neck. He followed, tightening his grip around her waist and burying himself into her curls again. Breathing her in helped to calm his frayed nerves. It became almost reflexive now.

Karen now represented the two words that scared the shit out of him: the after.

Frank had finally opened up to the group of vets that Curtis was working with. He had admitted to them how he was afraid and did not know what to make of his new life now, or what to do next. Karen's voice popped into his head again, reiterating the same thing.

I want there to be an after. For you.

Up until this moment, Frank had no time to consider an answer for that open-ended statement. To be honest, it wasn't even practical to entertain the idea that there was an 'after' for him. He fully expected – even yearned – to die the night he and Billy confronted one another. It was implied that they would fight to the death. They were equally matched in strength and skill. The odds seemed likely that both would die killing the other, and it seemed almost poetic that he should die in the same place as his family.

If it weren't for Agent Madani breaking Billy's concentration, Frank might never have had the chance to gain the upper hand. She nearly died giving Frank the opening he needed to turn the fight against Billy. If it weren't for her, he probably would have died.

Ultimately, Frank had planned for an ending, and instead he received a generous and forgiving new beginning, free of prison, nationally exonerated. And now Karen, charging her way fearlessly into his life.

Frank recognized the long-forgotten feeling now, as he held her and rocked them slowly side to side on his heels.

Completion.

She was making him feel whole again. She was making him feel human again.

Frank could feel her smile into the side of his neck. He released her just far enough for her to see his arched brow, displaying his curiosity.

What is it?

Karen blushed. "You told me to hold onto him. To use two hands," she swallowed hard, motioning to how both of her hands were now clasped tightly to his coat.

Frank could feel his eyes redden, as they had in the elevator. Hooking one lock of hair behind her ear, he leaned in and planted a slow kiss on her lips, taking several seconds to savor the moment. Their heads locked together once again, and their breathing matched.

"I love you, Frank," Karen's voice pinched.

His hold pulled her flush to his body, where he whispered back, "I love you, too."