Thank you all so much for the feedback. I hope you continue to like the story and I would love to hear what you think. I wrote this chapter before the show came back, so just keep in mind that this is story does diverge from canon after the midseason finale.

Also, this story is entirely from Laurel's POV, just in case that wasn't clear. :)

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you for reading.

Chapter 3

Laurel's surprised at how quickly she's able to get back into the routine of it all, working for Annalise. After a couple of weeks, it's almost as though nothing actually happened, that Annalise didn't try to get them to shoot her or that they couldn't all be in a lot of trouble with just one wrong move that will unravel the Hapstall case. They're just kidding themselves though. Their movements are hesitant; they don't keep eye contact with each other for very long; small talk appears to be off the table. And that's just fine with Laurel. She was never really one for small talk anyway.

She and Frank find a new rhythm too, that is when Annalise isn't trying to make sure they're never in the same room alone with each other. If she was going to work so hard to keep them apart, why did she even bother blackmailing Laurel to come back here? She can't keep them separated all the time though and those few moments where it's just the two of them in the kitchen getting coffee or pouring over the same box of discovery are some of the most awkward Laurel has ever experienced.

Frank doesn't seem to know what to do with himself now that they've reached this point. He's too cautious around her, stilted even. She appreciates that he's trying to respect the boundaries that she set for them but it's hard to get any work done when he won't talk through the facts of their current case with her.

And she hates it because he looks so heartbroken. She never thought that would be something she'd see from this man but it's there every time he looks at her. And every time he looks at her, she's a little more tempted to give in, go home with him, and let him explain it all away. It would work too. She doesn't know why, but she'd stay. It's a reminder of why she's getting away from this place.

"Laurel."

At the end of the day, she still trusts him, knows that he would never hurt her. And she doesn't know what it says for her but she feels safe with him. With everything going on around them, knowing she really could end up in jail at a moment's notice, it's feels good to know that there is someone here that has her back. The rest of them… they could turn on her at any moment, as soon as one of them feels threatened.

"Laurel," the familiar voice repeats, this time breaking her out of those thoughts. She looks up from the case she wasn't really reading to see Frank at her side looking down at her. There's concern in his eyes. There's always concern now. She doesn't say anything, just lets him continue. "Everyone else is out. You're with me," he tells her.

Her brow knits and she looks around. Indeed, everyone else had left at some point. When did that happen?

"Annalise sent them all to the courthouse to meet with our new client. That leaves you and me to do some recon," he explains, as if reading her mind.

She's surprised that Annalise left them alone purposefully but she nods and starts to put the case in her lap back together. "Okay," she agrees, "let me just get everything together."

He nods, walking away after a moment more. She can see he wants to ask a question, start a conversation, make sure she's okay. He doesn't though. He never would have hesitated before but it's for the best. Intellectually, she knows that. Now, if only someone would tell her heart. It's wrong for her to feel this much for a murderer. On top of that, a murderer who has yet show any remorse about his actions.

Today, recon apparently means sitting in Frank's car waiting for someone–she doesn't know who–to leave a nondescript building. Frank explained it to her when he parked the car and then stopped her from getting out but she didn't really hear him. She's been in a fog today, just a haze of thoughts and feelings and trying to sort through it all.

You'd think after her childhood, knowing the things she does about her father and other family members, that she'd be better at dealing with all of this. But she's not. Crime, blackmail, murder… it's never made sense to her. Her father used to tell her that sometimes these things were necessary. You had to lock them away and not let them consume you. Frank seems to have that part down. He's very much able to compartmentalize everything, all the bad, and move on as if everything is normal. In a way, she admires that. She'd give anything to not be thinking about this past year every second of the day, overanalyzing it all.

"This might take a while," Frank says, cutting into the silence. "If you have some homework with you, you should go ahead and do it. I'll keep watch"

He gives her a smile, dimples and all, that smile that she's fallen for so deeply. She wonders if he really needed her here with him or if he just wanted her here, saw how consumed she was with her thoughts back at the house and wanted to try and help. It hasn't worked but she doesn't want to tell him that.

"Okay, if you're sure," she says, nodding. She reaches for her bag between her feet and pulls out a notebook and folder filled with law school applications.

"Yale?" Frank asks, having seen the top of one of the applications.

She takes a deep breath and nods. "Yeah, it's one of my transfer options. I have to write an essay on why I think Yale would be a better fit than where I currently am," she explains, trying not to let this be as awkward as it is.

"So, you're really doing it?" he asks, and she can hear him struggle to push his feelings out of his voice. He knows what she knows. When she leaves, that's it for them. He won't have a chance to fix this with her. She has to remind herself that he doesn't have a chance now.

"I am… I can't stay here, Frank. I'm not like you. I can't just push aside all the bad, commit horrible acts, and go on as if someone didn't just die."

Her words are harsher than she meant for them to be. She wasn't trying to hurt him, just state her observations, but she can see that it does hurt him. Of course it does. He looks away from her and out the other window, just nodding in response.

"I'm sorry," she says, voice soft. "I didn't mean anything specifically against you. I—" She pauses, taking a deep breath, because part of her really did. "I was just referring to this whole situation, Sam and Rebecca, Annalise and the shooting… I'm not strong enough to move on from it all and stay."

He looks back at her as she finishes and shakes his head. "You are strong," he says emphatically. "Strong is leaving. Strong is being able to pick yourself up and get out, start over. You've done it before. You'll do it again."

She's shocked by his words but holds his gaze. There's so much meaning there beyond her, and he's looking at her with so much adoration and respect. She has to hold back the tears that are beginning to gather. He's right. She's already had to start over when she moved from her family. And though she hasn't been here that long, she felt like she was establishing a life here, and now she has to do it all over again.

"Where else are you applying?" he asks, moving the conversation forward, when it's clear that she won't.

She smiles and looks down at the folder full of applications. "Yale is my first choice," she tells him. She doesn't know why, except maybe subconsciously, she's drawn to the fact that she won't be too far from Philadelphia, from Frank. "And then University of Virginia, Northwestern, University of Chicago," she says, trailing off. She's probably applying to too many. "There's Georgetown too." But she can see the amusement in his eyes and smiles. "It's a large mix," she said with a little laugh.

"But you're smart. Top of the class. Any one of them will be more than lucky to have you." He says, sincerely.

"Thank you," she whispers, biting at her lip, the way she does when she's nervous. "I'm scared though," she admits.

"What're you scared of?"

She shrugs and looks down at her applications. "What if this is all for nothing? I apply and get in and before I even get started, everything comes tumbling down here. Whether it's Sam or the Hapstall case. I feel like I'm just constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to mess up or get paranoid or come clean. Then I can look forward to a life in jail. I'm pretty sure it won't be like Orange is the New Black, either." She tries to joke there, knowing how hot he finds all the lesbian relationships, but it falls flat, mostly because they both know there's a real fear there.

"I'm not going to let that happen," he tells her, reaching over to grab her hand. It's the first time since they broke up that she's let him touch her. It feels good. It feels safe. She looks up at him and he's looking back at her intently. "I'm doing everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen. It's a mess, yes. But I'm taking care of it. Please trust that I will do whatever it takes to make sure you are safe and that this doesn't come back on any of you, but especially you. They don't want to get caught either. Yes, paranoia is rampant but I'm watching for it. I'll stop it before it gets that far."

She won't ask him how he'll stop it or how he's dealing with it. She knows that Annalise was relying on him to frame Catherine and to clean up their messes, and though Annalise constantly berates Frank and acts as if he can't do anything right, Laurel knows that he's smart. He can see several steps ahead and knows what he needs to do before many of the others. It's as much about saving himself as it is about saving everyone else.

"Laurel, I won't let anything happen to you."

She uses her free hand to cover his and squeezes, nodding at him. She can't stop a stray tear this time. He reached over and wipes the tear away, resting his hand against her cheek for a too brief moment. He drops his hand and turns his body back, facing forward and looking back towards their building.

"You should get back to those applications," he says softly, pulling his hand from hers as well. She doesn't want to let go but does, nodding silently, staring at him for a moment more. It's still hard for her to reconcile the fact that this is the man who killed Lila, that this man is like her father. That thought doesn't seem right; her heart says it's not true, but she has no reason to logically think otherwise.

She finally looks away, and turning back to the papers on her lap, she gets out her pen and notebook and starts to write. They sit like that in silence, though less awkward than before, for another hour before Frank decides to call it. Whatever they came for, they aren't going to get it tonight.