Author's Note: Okay! All I have to say about this chapter is: I'm really excited. I had a totally different plan for it but I think this is great. But please let me know what you think!
A new world is breaking
Your heart is unveiling
Breaking into pieces
In the gravity of you.
Frank returned to his apartment and undressed, deciding it would be best to go lie down. He was fraught with a lot of emotions; his intense desire; his anxiety about the possibility of a relationship; and his fear that he may lose it all again. When he had returned home from Karen's, it was a little after one o'clock and, though he felt tired, he was also invigorated. They had touched before, yes; hugs were intimate and they'd had a few of those. But when he felt her hand grip his own, his body had felt electrified. The look on her face, the look that startled him, had been one of unhidden desire – her pupils were so dilated, he could barely see the blue; her cheeks were flushed, as was her neck and chest; and her lips were parted. He knew he wasn't ready for all of what that look entailed, but he was goddamn sure he wanted to try for something.
But this recognition brought on the feelings of loss; not guilt, but loss. After Maria, Frank never really believed he would "move on." He never saw that as a possibility and held on to the feeling that he was married. When he had been with Sarah Lieberman and she spoke of wanting more, wanting to find love after the grief, he understood her perfectly. He had wanted that too; she mistook his desire for more as a desire for more with her. She was a beautiful woman, but even if David Lieberman had been dead and not watching on his creepy spy cams, Frank never looked at Sarah like that. He couldn't move in and take someone's place; he couldn't be father to children that weren't his own. Besides, when she had described her own desire, he could not deny the image that came to him: a trouble-seeking blond with bright, blue eyes.
Now, he was lying in his bed and trying to summon the voice he had spurned so many times. He was trying to find Maria's words to tell him that it was okay to do this; it was okay to be with Karen. Ultimately, that was what held him back; he couldn't have jumped in the sack with her that night any more than he could have six months ago, he knew that. But he believed that, if he knew that Maria was okay with this, he could be okay with it too.
But the voice did not come back. Maybe it had been Maria all along and now, now that she could see that he was going on the path she had pushed him on…maybe now she had done her work. Or maybe it had been his subconscious all along, telling him it was okay to move on. Either way, the words were gone.
He began to consider how different Maria and Karen were. Maria hated confrontation and would often hold in her frustrations until it exploded and she could burn the house down, she'd be so mad. Frank would apologize and not ever fully understand what she had been so angry about, but it didn't matter; what mattered was he needed to fix it. But Karen, the first time they really met, she didn't let him get away with his brooding shit. She shoved the photo in his face and laid his ass out. Every time they met after that, he would say something to piss her off and she never let him get away with it. At first, he was shocked that anyone, let alone a skinny legal secretary, would talk to him that way. But then, he realized that he liked it. Not in some bondage or perverted way; no, he had been impressed. He had known who she was, of course; known that he had shot at her in the hospital. But getting to know her, more and more, he realized he was getting attached. He had never really thought he had a "type" and this seemed to prove it; Maria could bring the pain, sure, but Karen wasn't afraid to. It was instinctive to her and she would defend herself or those around her, even if it killed her.
A woman to match him. Maybe he had always wanted that and he unconsciously pushed Maria over and over to get that reaction, that anger. To see if she could go head-to-head with him. When he remembered the hospital, when Karen took that piece of shit, Grotto, and shoved them both into the line of fire to escape the hospital, he could not imagine Maria doing the same thing. Doing something so foolish and brave for someone she didn't know, he didn't think most people would do that. But it made Karen stand out to him even when all he had was darkness and vengeance.
It made him feel something and while it took a hell of a long time to allow himself to think it, let alone act on it, he had known it all along. It was in his bones now; she was.
Frank realized, then, just how long he had been lying to himself, how long he had been holding back from Karen. He knew he had fallen in love with her and he knew she cared for him, but he still held back. Much of the reason was his grief and loss, as well as his need to protect her. But he also knew that there was more; beneath the rest, he was afraid.
What if she wouldn't have him? What if he reached out to hold her, kiss her, touch her, and she pulled away?
He went over their interactions in his mind; he remembered earlier when she had gripped his hand so tightly and let him see her desire; he remembered when he'd held her and felt her lips and breath against his neck. She knew how he felt; she knew. But he needed to tell her, too; he needed to tell her that he wasn't holding back anymore.
And he definitely could not sleep now.
He got up and pulled his jeans and t-shirt back on, the same ones he wore at her place nearly two hours earlier. He had his boots on and was out the door before he could think about what he was doing. He couldn't wait the length of time it would take to walk, so he hailed a cab – the sole cab that just happened to be available at 2 AM on a Saturday night. He gave the driver her address and sat back, his elbow on the arm rest, his hand rubbing the stubble on his face, watching the cars and people go by. The drive felt like it took almost as long as it would to walk, but he knew it hadn't. He gave the driver cash and got out, looking up at her window and seeing the blue light. He ran up the steps of the stoop and pressed the button for her apartment.
There was a moment of silence, before he heard her, "Hello?" She sounded hesitant and a little tired.
"It's me," he said, quickly, and heard the door unlock. He took the stairs, two at a time; he realized that her place was on the fourth floor but he kept running anyway. He exited the stairwell and saw her; she was standing in the hall with a concerned look on her face. "Are you okay?" She asked, her voice anxious. He walked over and, on the way, he realized that she had washed her makeup off and was wearing his hoodie over her black tank top and gray sleep shorts. He also noticed that her shorts were short.
My girl's shorts are so short.
The moment he got to her door, he pulled her into his arms and held her again. She was shocked, but responded quickly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face into his neck. He could feel her lips on the sensitive skin there. He lifted her off the ground, holding her tightly. She made a sound, a quick exhale, but it almost sounded like a moan.
"Frank?" She said, he tone questioning and with a hint of excitement.
He breathed in her smell. "Were you sleeping?" He knew she wasn't; he knew she didn't sleep much.
"No," she replied, "I'm doing a little work." He set her back down but didn't unwrap his arms yet. He felt her fingers slide over the back of his head and over his neck, while her other hand was between his shoulder blades. Everywhere she touched seemed to be sensitive. "Come on," she said, "Let's go inside."
He nodded and slowly relaxed his arms, feeling her fingers slide to the back of his neck, then around and over his clavicle. He shivered but she didn't say a word; she grabbed his left hand and he entwined their fingers; she pulled him inside.
"You left your sweater here again," she said, softly, but he could not have cared less; it looked so good on her. She sat down on the couch and pulled him. He hesitated for just a moment before taking the seat right next to her. She was sitting turned toward him, so he did the same, pressing their knees together; their hands were still clasped.
"Yeah, I meant to get it sooner but…" he trailed off and she just nodded. They sat in silence for a while and, although it was a comfortable atmosphere, Frank knew that they needed to have a conversation. He needed to show her that he could engage with her on more than just investigations and crimes and violence.
He needed to show her that he could be goal-oriented for more than just punishing. He tried to open the conversation a few times, but each time he shut his mouth just as it was opening. She was watching him, he knew, but he was looking at their hands, rubbing his thumb over hers. "I…" he started, finally, but didn't know how to continue. Well, he knew what he wanted to say; I love you; I want you; I can't stop thinking about you; I'm in this with you. But he didn't say those things yet. Instead, in a quiet, husky voice, he said, "Karen, I'm…not good."
At first she was silent and he began to worry that she was misunderstanding him, that she thought he was pushing her away all over again. "Frank -" she began but he shushed her.
"I'm not good. I don't know if I ever was but…" he was staring so intently at their hands that they were going out of focus. "But, when I'm with you, I feel like it's okay." He felt her hand grip his more, tightly like she did earlier. "But, Karen, I'm…nervous."
She hesitated, wanting to make sure he was done. "Me too, Frank," she said, simply.
He met her eyes for a moment and then nodded, feeling his resolve grow. The look in her eyes was almost fearful. He worried that she believed he was ending it before it could even start; he saw that on her face. He took a deep breath and knew that she felt his hands shaking. "I know you know that I've been going through some shit but there ain't no excuses anymore, because," he paused again and took another breath, focusing on the feel of Karen's fingers, her skin. "I want this." He heard her exhale a breath he didn't realize she had been holding and he knew she had been worried; she had been holding back too. "I don't want you to think that this is me using you, or some kind of rebound shit."
He raised his head and met her eyes; she was crying, tears falling from her eyes and her free hand was covering her mouth. His breathing started coming faster; he didn't know what to do, but he didn't need to. She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him against her; he released her hand and wrapped both arms around her waist, pulling until she was sitting on his lap with both of her arms around his neck. He pressed his face into her neck and his mouth was pressed against her clavicle; under other circumstances, that fact would be exciting, but right now, he barely noticed.
"Frank," she whispered and all he could say was "I'm here, it's okay. I'm right here."
