NOTE: Thank you for the Follows and Favorites on this story. Many of you asked about Frank, who WILL be okay, but he has to work through things first. This chapter focuses on Frank's processing everything. I am so grateful for the lovely reviews on the last chapter, which truly made my day. I hope I was able to PM each of you. To the following people THANK YOU: MooninScorpio (it has been great reconnecting! The tidbit about Callie using food as control as a coping mechanism is true- I think I mentioned it once in my Christmas story. Great catch!), Hero76, hbndgirl, EvergreenDreamweaver, BMSH, sm2003495, Drumboy100 (lots to discuss with you at some point!), Ritu, ErinJordan, ChrisCorso, candylou, BeeBee18, and Max2013. Each and every comment was much appreciated!
Relative Fortune
Chapter 9
As soon as he had returned home from Joe and Vanessa's house, Frank had paused for only a moment to look at Callie. She had frozen when she had seen him, and there was a whole volume of unspoken words that hung in the air between them. Telling her only that he needed to see the kids and that he would be down in a bit, he headed up the stairs, and spent the next hour playing with JJ and Laurie before getting them settled down for bed.
Tonight, the kids would stay in his and Callie's bedroom, where they always had two extra cribs just in case… in case someone couldn't sleep, or was sick, or was cranky…. just normally not in case mommy and daddy needed them so they didn't need to face each other.
He cherished each moment, from reading Goodnight, Moon three times to JJ as he pointed out the pictures, to changing him and helping him brush his teeth, and finally managing to rock him to sleep while Laurie kicked happily around her crib. He then played with Laurie who kept cooing at him and giving him kisses. Looking into her eyes, he was taken again by how beautiful she was, how much he loved her. He couldn't imagine ever loving any other little girl as much. She was the light of his life, and she'd had him wrapped around her finger since the day she had been born. He continued to hold her against his chest as she fell asleep, and he missed her the moment that he reluctantly let her go. His angel.
Knowing he could no longer avoid the inevitable, he resigned himself to the conversation ahead and trod downstairs, when he saw Callie evidently waiting for him, nervously pacing.
Frank approached Callie, trying to keep his emotions in check. His talk with Joe had helped to calm him somewhat, to refocus him, but, truth be told, this conversation was going to be raw and painful and extremely difficult. She was looking at him and trying to smile, though he saw that she knew what was coming.
"We need to talk, honey," he said in a low voice, as he reached for her hand. She clasped her hand in his, and he could feel it trembling. He led her to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. Callie mirrored his actions and sat across from him, squeezing his hand tightly.
"Is… is it true?" she asked, eyes filled with both fear and hope.
"I honestly don't know," he admitted, gently stroking her hand. "Joe and I are on it. As soon as I find out if this is legitimate, I'll leave right away. If this baby exists, and this situation is real, she's in serious danger. I should know something later tonight or tomorrow."
"Okay," she said to him. "Th… thank you for looking into it."
He managed the smallest of smiles. "You never need to thank me. This does need to be checked out. If a real child is involved, Johnny's or not, we have to help her."
She nodded.
"Cal?" he questioned, hating how nervous he sounded. He took his free hand and touched her cheek tenderly for a moment before dropping it down again. "I hate that we have to have this talk- I really do. But you're my wife and this is our family and and our life, and I think we need to be totally honest with each other about a lot of things."
"I know," she replied in a soft voice. "I agree." Despite her words, he saw her lips quiver a bit and it tugged at his heart.
He sighed heavily. "Callie," he started again, "this is hard for me. You have no idea. I… I hate the thought of hurting you or causing you pain. It's so ingrained in me to protect you from harm, and the thought that I might be the cause of it… it kills me." His voice cut out for a moment.
"No," she cut in, quietly. She looked at him through watery eyes. "You have to be honest. I understand that it's hard… I do." She took a shaky breath. "We're a team. And before we're mom and dad, husband and wife, lovers… we're best friends. Just tell me, babe. Say it. Get it over with." She reached for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.
Surprising himself, he did the same, his emotions completely frazzling him. "I don't know if I can do it," he found himself saying. "I… I don't."
"Okay," she whispered. "Tell me why. Get it out."
He took a moment to collect himself. "Oh, Cal," he sighed. "It's complicated." When he met her eyes, he saw the pain, but also the conviction there; she had meant what she said about him being honest; he saw that.
"Just tell me," she repeated. "We have to work through this."
He released her hand and stood, looking down at her. This was it. "I love you," he started, speaking totally from the heart, having no agenda but the truth. He wiped at his eyes again. "You are my everything; the greatest love of my life. You know that."
"I know," she whispered, giving him a shaky smile.
"And when I see our children, sweetheart, I see so much," he choked out. "I see beautiful things: the first time you told me you were pregnant with both of them, against all odds; watching their births; the two of us fumbling around like we knew what we were doing, when we were just clueless and exhausted and overwhelmed-but we did it, together- just us. I see when they both started crawling and talking; now Laurie is trying to walk; all of those firsts. And I think of what they mean to us, how they are a part of US; that these babies are miracles that we created when we made love... " He met her eyes, saw her wiping back tears.
"And then I think of painful things: almost losing you, watching you in excruciating pain and feeling so helpless that I couldn't save you. I think of being so … scared… when you got so sick with your medical problems; the terror of not knowing where you were when you were kidnapped and then finding out what had been done to you; and, maybe worst of all…" He found himself crying openly now, and not even caring. This was Callie; she was the only one who would ever really know this side to him, and he was not ashamed. "Worst of all was that month, baby… when you were in a coma and every single day a part of me died when you didn't wake up. I already thought I'd lost Laurie; I knew I was losing you, and I would have to raise JJ alone. THAT…"
Callie stepped into his arms and he held her tightly to him, resting his head on the top of hers. "That's my moment," he found himself whispering to her. "That is the scar I will carry with me forever as you carry yours; that is mine. I will never forget that feeling."
"Oh, sweetheart," she murmured against him. "It's okay." She kissed his shoulder and hugged him tightly. "Just get this all out. It's time."
Finally, he released her, kissing her lips lightly, and then again taking a seat at the table across from her, holding onto her hand.
"Callie, I guess my point is that these are OUR experiences; our life together, good and bad. We built our life for the past thirteen years: for better or worse, right?"
"Of course," she acknowledged. "Go on."
"I KNOW I promised you that we would consider adoption. And… I guess I just didn't think it would really happen, so soon… IF it's even a possibility and IF that's John's daughter. I just don't know that I COULD love another child like I love Jonathan and Laurissa." He took a deep breath. "I hate to say that; I HATE that I'm not a bigger person; but it's the truth."
"Okay," Callie managed.
He found himself at an impasse as he looked into her eyes and validated what he had feared all along. "But assuming that's Johnny's baby… you already love her, don't you?"
He watched as two tears slid down her cheeks. "Yes," she admitted. "I'm so sorry. I do."
"You know," he went on in a shaky voice, "that even if everything worked out, Johnny's child is NOT Johnny."
"I know," she whispered.
"You know I would make sure that she was placed in the best and safest home available, and that we would both make sure that she would know about her father in time, and be financially secure, and have a wonderful life-" He looked at her; sensed her grief. "But that's not enough for you, is it?"
"It's going to have to be," she choked out. "I won't ask you to do what you can't do."
He sighed heavily, heart aching. "Three kids, Callie? Under two?! We barely have any time for a life now; for each other."
"You're right. I know all that." She was trying to steady her breathing, but he saw her grief. "Can I ask you something?" She was rubbing her forehead. "If we are being totally, completely honest?"
He sucked in his breath, afraid. He had a bad feeling that he knew what she was going to ask. "Yes."
"Would you actually have been more open to this if it wasn't John's daughter?" she asked shakily.
Oh god. Not that question. He tried to avoid it. "Would you have been so adamant to adopt - now- if it wasn't his daughter?" he countered.
"Frank, stop," she told him, and he did. The ache in her eyes silenced him. "You know what I'm asking you. Don't lie to me."
He paused for several long, terrible minutes, trying to reconcile his feelings. "I honestly don't know," he whispered, ashamed.
"I don't know what to say," Callie managed. "What if something happened to Joe? Would you take his children?"
"Joe is my BROTHER," he answered, defensive.
"Well, Johnny was like my-" she started, but he cut her off.
"No, Callie he wasn't," Frank said. God, he had always tried to avoid this conversation; he knew it could tear at their very foundation. "He would have been your husband if he wasn't gay." His voice was shaking. "You know it's true."
Callie's face paled, and she stood, trembling. "Well, I didn't marry HIM. I married YOU. You need to back down right now," she told him, and the intensity of her voice startled him.
"What do you want me to say?" he asked, gesticulating. "I really don't know."
"The truth," she fired back. "I thought he was your friend. He loved you. He-"
"He WAS my friend!" Frank answered sharply, fear causing him to lash out. "One of the best friends I ever had. But he was my friend through YOU. Callie, John loved you. But a little part of him was in love with you and you're blind if you can't see that!"
"Are you JOKING right now?" she almost shouted. "That's ridiculous."
"Is it?!" Frank responded. "You know why you can't see it? Because a part of you felt the same way."
He had stunned her; he saw it right away. He didn't even know if he meant it, if it was true, but it was his greatest fear- had always been- and now it was in the open. But he had gone too far to go back. "Deny it."
"I feel sick," she managed, and he saw that she wasn't joking. She was shaking and pale, but she would not back down. "Of COURSE I deny it! After all this time? After all he did for both of us? You're still— jealous?! We worked this out eight YEARS ago! We named our son after him and your brother. Come on…" she finished, pained. He saw her struggling with which approach to take with him, but he couldn't think.
He preempted her. "What if I had a 'best friend'," he said at last, all fight gone from him. He spoke gently, because she deserved that, and they both deserved peace. "A beautiful woman who I told all my secrets to, who helped me in the worst crisis of my life, who was affectionate with me, hugging and kissing me, who came into my life in a time when maybe you had betrayed me?" His voice shook. "Even if you came to know her, and somehow, against all odds, actually became close with her and almost considered her a sister… wouldn't you still be afraid, deep down, that you'd never measure up?" He felt raw, vulnerable, deeply ashamed.
She pulled out a chair and sat down weakly. He couldn't move.
It was several moments before she spoke. She was clearly collecting her thoughts, and he started to worry as a sort of calm came over her. When she met his eyes, he was humbled. He hadn't meant to, but he saw that he'd hurt her.
She finally looked up as she spoke. "No, I wouldn't feel that way, because I would have trusted you. Period… unless you gave me a reason to doubt you. And neither John nor I EVER gave you that reason."
Frank had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. She was totally right. Still...
"I'm going to bring this conversation back full circle," she began again, tears in her eyes. "I understand now. God… how could I not have seen it?" Her tone was surprisingly gentle. "Because it is time to be done with this nonsense. I love YOU, Frank, but on some tiny level you have doubt," she said, a response so unexpected that he couldn't reply. "See, that's your issue now and it's always been your issue. YOUR issue. Not mine."
He couldn't look away. He saw that she was building to something.
"Frank," she said, looking right into his soul. "It was not your fault that I was raped."
He gasped. "What?!"
She did not waver in her gaze. "It was not your fault that I was raped," she repeated again.
His heart started pounding. "Stop-" he managed, trying to understand what she was going for.
She walked to him and placed her hands on both sides of his face. "It was not your fault. It was not your fault. You will never be okay with John until you acknowledge that. I do not blame you now and I never have."
"I don't follow-" he managed, but he did. Yes, he did— all too well. She was cutting him right to the core. His stomach was churning. Now he felt physically ill as he watched her actually get stronger in front of him.
"What those men did to me had nothing to do with you. If you had never cheated on me, or maybe if you had, I would have still been in California. It still would have happened and you could NOT have protected me. Do you understand?"
"I'm sorry," he managed, feeling his own tears spill over.
"It is not your fault that I was raped," she repeated, and he sat, finally, burying his head in his hands on the table. "You know whose fault it was? Not yours. Not mine. It was my rapists' fault. That's it. You need to let this go."
Rarely did they ever even mention what happened anymore unless something triggered her, a rarity nowadays. It was in her past; in his. She had gotten through, a fighter to the end, and was not the same person she had been in the year or two in its aftermath. No—she was at peace; had finally shared her secret with his brother, at least the fact that it had happened, could mention the crime by name now, could take control of her emotions and accept them, and she was okay.
He wasn't.
Despite the help he had gotten to work through it, the fact he had a therapist now he occasionally talked to, he still was not okay. She was right. He blamed himself for it; always would. Maybe it wasn't about John at all.
She went on talking and he felt her hand caressing his back. "That's what this is about," she whispered. "You blame yourself now and you blamed yourself then, no matter how many times you say you didn't. And you resented John for things that intellectually made no sense- he was there for me when you weren't, right? So what? You wouldn't have been there, Frank. It would have happened anyway."
He shook his head, trying to block out her words, which hurt deeply in their veracity. "You need to get out of your own way and TRUST me enough to believe me when I tell you my real, God's honest feelings about that man. Frank, I DID love Johnny. He was the greatest FRIEND I have ever had. If he wasn't gay, and you were not in my life, I may well have married him- you're right. Those are two HUGE "If's", though!" She paused, and his head started pounding.
She continued, steady and slow."Your misplaced guilt has made you insecure. Frank, I was NOT in love with Johnny. What COULD have been- it NEVER was. And Johnny was NOT in love with me. The stars never aligned for us. You can out-reason me, try to talk around the issue, have it make perfect sense… but it is simply...not… true."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, unable to look up. God, what had he done?
"Johnny is not the problem, Frank. I have always been in love with you- always. And he has always been my dearest friend, other than you. Let me rephrase that," she said gently. "Second to you. He never came first. Look at me."
He raised his head at last, looking at the woman he loved so very much. "Frank, I love our family. It is a miracle that we have our babies, and that, in this whole world, we found each other. But I asked you about Joe before, and, to me, it is exactly the same. If you get past your insecurity about Johnny, you would see that it's true. If that darling baby is Johnny's daughter, yes- I do want to raise her as part of our family. No one loved her dad more than I did, and few knew him as well as you did. He was as much a family member to me as Joe is to you, and on some level I think you get that."
"I do," he nodded, as his mind started clearing. As much as it pained him, she had a very valid point. He HAD been wrong to resent Johnny just the slightest bit; it had really been himself that was the target of his guilt and resentment. He'd just never thought consciously about how the two issues were related… until now.
"If you really cannot have her as a part of our family, I… I'm going to have to accept that, and I will. It will take a long time, honestly, but I will not cause you pain because I can't let her go. That's MY issue. I would have hoped you would have wanted her because of how you felt about Johnny, and, now that you can hopefully let that resentment go, maybe you'll consider it."
He nodded. "I will."
She offered him a wan smile. "Baby, if you really don't think that you could give her that love that any child would deserve, then we SHOULDN'T have her. I can't blame you for being honest. If you think it would cause too much strain on our family, on our marriage, then we have to talk about it, and I would have to agree with you. And yes-" She turned from him and sighed sadly. "I've thought about the timing. I was photographed with Johnny while I was very pregnant with JJ, and inevitably some people- the press- may say that she is my child with him. And that may be too much for you to handle- I DO understand that. But just know- I don't care what anyone THINKS. We know each other; we know our families and friends; we knew Johnny. Rumors don't bother me."
After a few minutes, he stood. He felt like there had been an explosion, and somehow he and Callie had survived, though they were now uncertain of their standing; in a familiar place, yet still somehow lost. He felt drained and weak and confused now, but oddly cleansed and relieved. He was pretty sure that across the terrain of what lay ahead, no more weapons would be used; no more bombs detonated that could tear them apart.
"Let's find her first," he finally told her. "Let's see that she's real. If she is, we need to see if she is Johnny's baby. And then let's get her to safety. Can we agree that that is what's important now?"
"Absolutely," she agreed.
They stood awkwardly next to each other. There had been so much spoken, so many emotions unleashed. If they survived this, he knew they would be stronger than ever. But they had to heal.
"I guess I should let you get to bed," he said quietly after a few moments. "The kids are in their cribs in our room. I… I mean, I don't want to wake you when I get the call."
She looked up at him, and he couldn't read her expression. "You… want to stay down here?" she asked, quietly.
He could only shrug. "I mean… maybe it's best."
"Maybe," she mouthed. "Good night."
"Good night," he repeated. "I love you," he assured her. The words were as natural as breathing, even now.
She smiled weakly and nodded, as she headed up the stairs.
He knew how relatively fortunate they had been to get through that talk intact.
Frank numbly grabbed an extra blanket and pillow from the downstairs closet, threw them on the couch, laid down, and tried to close his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept apart from Callie when they were together and he felt incomplete without her next to him. Her words echoed again and again in his ears, and every time that one sentence surfaced, he clenched his fists."It wasn't your fault." His eyes burned.
Was that what it was all about? Maybe… maybe it was. Maybe everything was secondary to that. He couldn't ever forgive himself for that… could he? And, in the process, would everything else follow?
He silently and shamefully apologized to Johnny, who had helped Callie through the hardest time of her life when he hadn't been there; who had been a steadfast and loyal friend to him when he really needed one; who had brought laughter, light, and love to everyone's life with his over the top antics and extraordinary generosity; who had lost his own life protecting Callie; whose hand he had held as he died.
Frank fought tears. He would do right by his friend, one way or another; that he knew. It was so very hard navigating these uncertain waters. He'd been honest with Callie, but not with himself. He hated these feelings of doubt and insecurity, but he had faith that he could rise above them. He still didn't know how to make sense of everything, but he would. In time.
It was so complicated. On the tiniest level, he had always been jealous of John, of the man who had done right by Callie when he had done her wrong, who Callie loved so much. Would seeing that child, if she was John's daughter, remind him constantly of what could have been with Callie and John, or serve as a constant reminder of her terrible attack, when Callie and John had forged their close bond? Yet, he had grown to love John, too, who had been his confidante and second brother. He had learned to trust John implicitly. And then there was the fact that he and Callie would have three children so young-it would be overwhelming; there would be press and intrusiveness. COULD he love anyone as he loved his own babies? He didn't know. If he didn't save her-what then? If he did save her- the same question remained.
It was so simple. Callie was right; this was about his inability to protect her at the worst time in her life and all of the horrific consequences that had followed that one night. He loved Callie. He loved John. And there was only one right path to take: the right one, the moral one.
He just needed a little bit of time to process it all. Thank god he had Joe; his brother, his best friend, who always understood and supported him, no matter what. Even last year, he would have pulled back a little, ever aware of being the good role model. But now, he'd learned that the closest relationships were the ones that involved complete honesty, and Joe had not let him down. In fact, Joe seemed to hold him in even higher esteem now that he wasn't trying so damned hard to be anything but himself.
Soon enough, he fell into a restless sleep, found himself reaching for Callie several times throughout the night. Cases, Callie, Johnny, that little baby girl, little Stella, Jessica's screams, that night so many years ago…
He was just about to give up on sleep at all when he heard the slightest stirring beside him and forced his bleary eyes open.
"I forgot to say I love you back," Callie whispered quietly to him, gently brushing the hair from his forehead. "We'll get through this. We have to."
Wordlessly, he moved over so she could climb onto the couch and snuggle beside him, and he covered them both with the blanket as he wrapped her in his arms. Within moments, they had both slipped into a sound and, finally, contented sleep.
