A/N: Thanks most passionately to CorkyBookworm1, max2013, and SparklingSoul for regularly reviewing, also various "guests"—so badly wish I could message you! There are ten chapters left, and things are starting to come together. I hope this final rising action makes you glad that you stuck with it.

ndndnd

Nancy woke up several hours later, wincing from a headache. She noticed that she also had a neckache, backache, and armache, and remembered why: Frank had never taken the handcuffs off. Shame and embarrassment paralyzed her system as she recollected bits and pieces of the last twenty-four hours. Stealing a glance at Frank, Nancy thought of all the questions she should be asking, the things she should be saying. She stayed silent, however, allowing Frank to take the lead.

Frank hadn't even glanced toward her. He looked at least a decade older than his twenty-six years. "We hit some traffic a couple of hours ago that set us back. I'm exhausted. I'm going to find us a motel room."

Nancy knew that they were only an hour away from home. "It's okay, Frank, we can go to your apartment. I'll be fine." Their child had been conceived at Frank's apartment.

Frank looked at her sharply. He had a right to be suspicious. Nancy knew that it would be a long time until she earned his trust again.

He continued driving, however, drinking another of the five-hour energies that he always kept in the driver's side door. The two were still silent, words feeling irrelevant to the situation. Eventually Frank pulled into his designated parking spot in his apartment complex.

Frank stood out of the car slowly, his joints aching beyond his years. He realized that they had nothing but Nancy's purse to take into the house; he'd left with nothing, and Nancy's weekend bag was still at George's.

Walking around to the passenger side, Frank unlocked the door and helped Nancy balance, as she could only use her cramped legs to exit the car. Frank turned her around and unlocked her handcuffs. Nancy rubbed her wrists as they went into Frank's apartment together.

Nancy entered Frank's bachelor abode, smelling the combined scents of old pizza boxes, wet towels, and cinnamon air freshener. She took in her surroundings: pleasantly lived in, with more nerdy paraphernalia than most other young men's residences. Frank's bed and couch were both in the living room so that Frank could use the one bedroom as an office. Frank's belongings were somewhat haphazard but not messy.

They took turns in the bathroom, and Nancy took an awkward seat on Frank's couch. Her face flamed with shame.

Expression unreadable, Frank sat on the couch next to Nancy and rubbed her neck. He rubbed in between her shoulder blades, the sections that had been pinched from having her arms behind her back all day. He rubbed her low back, turned her around, and massaged blood back into her chafed wrists. Then he guided Nancy to the bed and tucked her in. He got the extra blanket from the closet and put it at the foot of the bed. He got a glass of water from the kitchen and put it on the bedside nightstand.

Then he walked into his office to change into sweatpants and a T-shirt, came out and lay on the couch, and was asleep in one minute.

Nancy lay where she was, listening to his soft snoring. He hadn't yelled at her or even given a lecture. He hadn't hidden his car keys, cell phone, wallet, or kitchen knives.

Nancy got out of bed. She took the extra blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it over Frank, making sure his feet were covered. She closed the Venetian blinds extra tightly so no sunlight would be in his eyes.

Then she returned to the bed and went to sleep.

ndndnd

Nancy woke up some time later. It was pitch black outside. She had no idea what time it was. She turned toward Frank's alarm clock but shut her eyes just in time, realizing that she didn't want to know. She wanted to suspend time, create a safety cocoon where the only place that existed in the world was Frank's apartment, and the only people were her and Frank.

Smiling at her foolishness, she turned the alarm clock to face the wall, and took down the tiny clock that hung on the wall. She walked into the kitchen and cleared the microwave clock. Then she doubled over in pain.

Nancy gasped at the intense stomach pain, clutching at herself. Was this a side effect of the sedating injection yesterday? Would she have to wake up Frank? A moment later she recognized it for what it was: ravenous hunger.

Nancy ran to the cupboards, pulling out a variety of processed, empty calories. Settling on crackers, Nancy leaned over the trash can and shoveled them into her mouth as quickly and unladylike as she possibly could until the hunger returned to normal proportions.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she returned to the refrigerator and cupboard, this time to create something more substantial. Frank would be hungry, too. Raising her eyebrows at the interesting selection, she chose the only three items of any nutritional value: eggplant, onion, and cauliflower, and created a stir-fry with rice. She would have to lecture Frank sometime about exchanging white rice for brown.

Nancy ate a heaping portion, also saving a generous helping for Frank. She glanced at the mess she'd made and washed all the dishes as quietly as possible, including the pile that had been in the sink when she got there. She scraped the worst of the stains out of the refrigerator the best she could, wiped the counters, and organized the food in the cupboards.

Then, the stir fry continuing to simmer to try to keep it hot for Frank, Nancy sat at the small kitchen table and began to write. She filled the small notepad that Frank kept magnetized on his refrigerator, went in search of a legal pad, and sat back down and resumed. Her brow creased and she bit her lip in thought.

"Damn, I forgot what color my counters were."

Nancy whirled to see Frank standing at the entrance to the kitchen, smiling bemusedly. He yawned and scratched his stomach. Nancy hurried to the cabinet and got a plate for him. Returning to the stove, she stamped her foot in disappointment. "Darn it, Frank, everything's all wilted and congealed!"

"You made that for me? It sure beats what I usually eat, and anyway, it's my fault for sleeping so long." Frank moved to put an appreciative arm around Nancy, and stopped himself just in time. He sat at the table and she served him. He ate hungrily. "It's fabulous, Nancy, I mean it," he said between mouthfuls.

Nancy sat with him while he ate. Frank yawned again and stretched. Nancy noticed. "Oh, whoops, maybe I should have…uh…made some…"

Frank smiled knowingly at her. "Coffee? You'd need to know if it was remotely toward morning in order to make coffee."

"Yeah, about the clocks…" Nancy shrugged good-naturedly. "I just thought it would be fun if we didn't know. The night can last as long or little as it wants to."

"Fine by me." Frank pushed his plate away. "Now. What are you working on?"

"I'm making lists, charts, everything. You know me."

Frank inwardly leaped for joy. He knew that Nancy was in her element when she was classifying information. "About what?"

"About…me. Everything that's happened. Things that I want."

Frank smiled at her. "I can stay or I can leave. If you're on a roll, I don't want to interrupt."

"No, I want you to stay. That's one of the decisions I've made." Nancy took a piece of paper from the pile and put it on top. "My social work professor got it partly right. He told me to embrace my feelings, as they demand to be felt, and set aside the detective work for now…however, I believe that if I analyze my feelings in the right way, I can get to the bottom of what exactly is going on. I made a list as to what I believe is information to be shared with friends, and information that I do not believe the general public needs to know. There will be no personal information column, at least until I know I'm better. I want you, Bess, George, and my dad to know everything."

Frank nodded. "You're choosing a good group of people to support you." He didn't say what they were both thinking: Bess had just gotten married and George lived hundreds of miles away. It was really just her dad and him.

Nancy met his eyes again. "I'm also not going to keep track of who knows what, contain information, whatever. Everybody keeps saying that I'm attention-seeking, but it's actually the opposite—I'm trying to keep people from knowing things, which just makes people all the more curious about what I'm hiding. Therefore it is your discretion who you tell what to. I know you're close to Joe."

Frank didn't deny that he had never kept a secret from Joe in his life, and couldn't imagine being able to now. "Don't worry about my brother knowing anything, Nancy. He's being snippety right now, but he likes you a lot." He pulled the sheet toward him. "So what made what column?"

"The fact that I have some kind of temporary mental health diagnosis is public information, as well as that that is the reason why I gave up detective work. The hospitalizations are something that people will find out about, but they don't need to know the triggers. The nature of the diagnosis and the miscarriage are our information."

Frank nodded. "All of this sounds perfectly reasonable to me."

Nancy looked resignedly at him. "But this includes…telling my father about the miscarriage."

Frank groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "Your father will love me even more. But yeah, I agree, it needs to be done. What's the next list?"

"It's a list of my psych hospitalizations, and what I believe triggered it. If I can deal with or avoid the triggers, then it makes sense that I can avoid it happening in the future if I carefully follow a plan." Nancy put down her pen and looked at Frank with determination. "Frank, I never want this weekend to repeat itself. I am so sorry."

Frank squeezed her hand supportively. "I know you are, Nan."

"This weekend will be the last," Nancy said firmly. "I'm giving myself a major incentive. If I ever go into the hospital again…"

Frank waited for her to finish the sentence.

Nancy sighed, looking miserable just thinking about the prospect. "Then I will sign up for outpatient therapy. The idea is repugnant to me, paying money to hear a stranger tell me things that any reasonable person already knows. I take my clients to therapy. The therapists are nice, but not always useful."

"Nevertheless, that is still a reasonable plan," Frank said. His hand was still on Nancy's. "You want to know that you're doing everything that you possibly can. Hopefully it won't come to that, though." Frank suddenly turned very serious. He leaned forward, very close to her. "But before we change the subject about the hospital, I expect to only have to say this once, Nancy. Obviously what I said to you in that room was a desperate way to stay safe and get you out of there. That statement has no truth value."

Nancy's shoulders rounded slightly, subdued. "I know that's what you think, Frank. It's just convincing myself that will be the hard part."

Frank stayed where he was a moment longer, in case she still needed to talk. Nancy said nothing, though, and once Frank decided that his words had sunk in he sat up straight again. "One of the major things on my hypothetical list is to talk you out of that lie. You didn't harm our baby, that drug dealer did, and I'm sure our daughter agrees."

Nancy smiled painfully at him and looked down at her sheet. "Listen to my list of triggers. I have been in the hospital four times over the last year. It was always only for two days, meaning that as soon as I got over the episode, I was at least capable of taking care of myself in society. October 2014 was because of the miscarriage"—Frank noticed that she only said the word with a slight tremor in her voice this time—"January 2015 was because of the stress of starting a new job, I had heard a very traumatizing story from a new client about her horrible family secrets, and when work was over for the day I just walked and walked until someone found me in the middle of the night. The summer was fine but now we have these last two hospitalizations this month, separated by two weeks. Two weeks ago there was something about one of Poe's poems that hit me the wrong way, they made me think about the baby, and then on Saturday, the problem was that…" Nancy blushed, not looking forward to explaining.

"I know all about it, dear," Frank said gently. "I understand how the coincidence about my niece's name must have been quite a shock. Also, this month is the anniversary of the miscarriage, plus your mother's death."

Nancy looked up at him with a frown. "Is it really? My dad and I don't memorialize it, we just drive a wreath over to her tombstone at Christmas. He said it's because he didn't want me to have to grieve all over again every year growing up, he wanted me to think of my mom on a happy day instead. Did I tell you what day my mom died?"

"You must have, at one of my family events or something," Frank said, frowning. "My mom said last night that's why she thought you got upset."

"Nice of her to remember," Nancy said. She did some quick math in her head. "Wow, twenty years. Wish I could have known you, Mom."

"It's criminal that you had to grow up without a mother, Nancy." They sat in silence, each thinking their own thoughts. Frank found himself daydreaming, thinking of metaphors for the way that Nancy's reddish-blonde hair cascaded like a waterfall from the crown of her head, then pooled around her shoulders. He jerked himself out of these reveries and stood up. "And now it's time for you to take a break. I'm sore myself, so I can only imagine how you are, with spending a traumatic night at the hospital and then driving home in handcuffs. I'm going to draw you a bath."

Nancy opened her mouth to object, but found that the idea of a bath sounded perfect to her. Frank left the room. She heard the sound of running water, and couldn't concentrate any further on her lists. Several minutes later Frank called her to the bathroom. Nancy squealed with delight when she saw the steam rising from the bath water, and thick, soaking bath bubbles almost overflowing the tub.

Frank grinned when he saw her reaction, and couldn't resist kissing her forehead on the way out. Once the door was firmly closed, Nancy shed her clothing in record speed, hissing in both pleasure and pain as the water turned her skin a rosy shade of pink.

She closed her eyes, feeling fully relaxed. The silence enfolded her, and for once, it was pleasant to be able to hear her own thoughts. She felt safe. And also, a minute later, was surprised to find herself lonely.

Nancy only let herself think for a split second, and then called out before she changed her mind. "Frank?"

He opened the door but didn't come inside. "Yeah?"

"Come in here."

Frank hesitated, then complied. He couldn't see anything due to the ridiculous volume of bubbles that he'd put in the bath. "Do you need a towel or something?"

"No…" Nancy absentmindedly played with a ball of bubbles between her hands. "I was just thinking that you must be a lot sorer than I am. You drove to Richmond, then turned around and drove right back."

Frank's breath caught.

Nancy shrugged. "Do you want to come in?"

The "are you sure?" died on Frank's lips before it was uttered. There were limits to being a gentleman. Frank took off his shirt and sweatpants, but kept his boxers on as he sat down slowly, gingerly, getting used to the water temperature. The next few seconds were especially awkward, as they had to adjust themselves so that they both fit. Frank being bigger, Nancy pulled her knees back toward her, then put her legs over Frank's, crossing at the thighs. Nancy giggled first, and Frank smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah, that was pretty much the end of my plan," Nancy said, closing her eyes. "Now that you're in here…we sit here, I guess."

"Okay." Amid excited feelings of shock, Frank felt his muscles loosen involuntarily, and he dipped deeper into the tub.

Nancy leveled her mouth with the water and blew. Frank laughed out loud, knowing that Nancy had no concept of how her blowing bubbles affected him. "Nice," he said. He rested his hands on her knees.

Nancy poked her head above the water. "So what's going on with you, Frank? Geez, we haven't talked about you in a year and a half."

"Me?" Frank shrugged. "I'm fine. My work is my life. I don't have much of a social life these days."

"Friends—so overrated." Nancy smiled.

Frank was enjoying this higher frequency of smiles from Nancy. "Exactly. What you see is what you get with me."

"Then how is your case going?"

Frank looked at her warningly. "I'm not telling you about work. That's the last thing you need right now."

"When I do get better, it'll be nice not to be treated like a fragile piece of porcelain," Nancy said with an eye roll, but didn't pursue the subject. "Then tell me about your family."

"Dad got promoted—"

"I know all that. Tell me something deep. Show me how to do self-analysis."

Frank tilted his head back and focused on the ceiling in thought. "Not too much profound stuff, Nancy. Joe is himself…crap, I should call him, but not now…and Mom and Dad are spending more time together than they have in their whole marriage. My dad is actually enjoying the benefits of bureaucracy. I guess he thinks of it as a kind of retirement. My mom is getting more involved in church."

"Church?" Nancy said, frowning.

"Yeah, Joe and I were surprised, too. They're going to that old church across the street from the grocery store, you know that one just a few minutes from their house? I guess they're at that stage of life." Frank shrugged.

Nancy thought, swirling bubbles with her hands. "It makes sense. Good for them. I wonder sometimes how I'd be different if I'd grown up in the church."

Frank cocked an eyebrow. "You'd get to be bored silly for an hour a week."

"Not if you really believe it. I mean, what's the worst that happens? We all die and then find out whether or not we were right. Might as well believe in something, increase our odds."

Frank gave a small smile. He squeezed her knees affectionately. "Do you want to have a funeral for the baby, Nancy? Maybe a ritual would help. You'll think that the baby is at least in a safe place now."

Nancy thought. That wasn't a bad idea. "You know what…maybe later. Just you and me. Maybe we could…write letters to the baby, too. One of my first hospital social workers suggested that."

Frank nodded. "Yeah. Just…don't be mad if my letters are a lot different than yours."

"We'll have to let each other grieve in whatever style we need to." Nancy sighed. "Maybe I'm just being ridiculous. Women have miscarriages worldwide every day, and not all of us go nutzoid."

"You finally found out what it feels like to be maternal, and then it was taken away from you again."

"True. And it still hurts so, so badly. But I'm at the point where I'm wondering if something else is going on, too. I mean, blacking out and losing time from seeing a baby picture? What would Poe think about what's really going on in my subconscious?"

"That's a trigger too, Nan, you reading that scary stuff." Frank drained some of the water, and then turned around and ran some more hot water so the water wouldn't get cold. "Nancy, if you don't mind my asking…what is conversion disorder? I checked a book out from the library, but it was too horrifying to read. I'm not good with this emotional stuff."

Nancy looked at him pointedly. "Now why do I find that so hard to believe?"

Frank blushed.

Nancy answered his question. "Let's see if I can remember the exact words from the pamphlet. Neurological symptoms without an organic identifiable cause…symptoms arise from stressful situations, and the anxiety 'converts' into physical symptoms." Nancy dunked her head below the water, then came back up. "Basically, when I'm super freaked out, I have these fits and sort of half-dissociate. It used to be known as hysteria."

Frank rolled his eyes. "A flattering term."

"Yeah. I've had full dissociations before, but I have to admit that what happened in the hospital wasn't totally out of my control. I was kind of….zoned out, plus the aftereffects of the medication, and then I saw you and I was so angry. It was like you were responsible for all of it." Nancy trailed her fingers distractedly down Frank's calf. "I'm sorry, Frank."

Frank leaned forward to take Nancy's hand. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across her knuckles. "Thanks, Nancy. And you only had to say it this once."

Nancy smiled gratefully. She found herself analyzing Frank's facial features. Suddenly her eyes widened in realization. "I've finally made my father proud and took his advice. There is now one person that I've confided everything to. You. I have told you everything, and it is such a relief." She didn't add that her father had not wanted Frank to be the chosen confidant.

Frank grinned. "I've been hoping to hear you say that for a long time. And thanks, too, for forgiving me for the obnoxious way I obtained some information."

Nancy peered at him teasingly. "If you give me your entire life savings, I might not tell Bess. I was too worn out at the time to be properly offended. But I shouldn't have given you reasons to be so suspicious, either, so with full communication from now on it shouldn't happen again."

"Thanks, Nancy." Frank squeezed her hand once more, then leaned back. "So what causes this conversion disorder?"

"That's the thing—it's usually a result of childhood trauma, suddenly catching up with someone later in life. Emotions demand to be felt. But I had a happy childhood."

Frank studied her. "But consider what line of work your family raised you in. And how your mother died."

"But I can't even remember back that far." Their eyes met meaningfully. "Right?" Nancy added, with less assertiveness.

"I guess it's about the baby then," Frank said. He hesitated, knowing that he may have pushed Nancy too far already, but this current receptive mood of hers might not last forever. He knew what else had happened about a year ago. "Um, Nancy…there's not any chance that…this is the result of…some kind of sexual issue? You and I were doing just fine for the first time in our lives, and then….the night before you left…then you wouldn't talk to me at all during your mission. Then you lost the baby, and it's been rocky ever since." Frank carefully checked Nancy's reactions as he spoke, afraid that she would become upset, but her expression remained neutral. "Forgive me," he hurried on, "I know I don't know what I'm talking about, but the only psychologist I remember from Psych 101 is Freud."

"There was nothing wrong with the night before I left," Nancy said.

Frank froze, digesting that comment. Nancy realized how it sounded and began to blush. She searched around her for a distraction, and found herself facing the window bemusedly. "Hey, look at that, the sun's coming up," she said bemusedly. She gasped suddenly. "I just did the math. It's Monday morning. I've got to go to work."

Frank's jaw dropped. "You can't possibly be serious."

"I am." Nancy moved to get out of the tub, then remembered her situation. "Oh…uh…"

Frank took his cue and got out of the tub first, drying off and leaving so Nancy could get out. He was in dry clothes and pacing as Nancy emerged in his bathrobe. He was scowling in annoyance, but Nancy was ready for him.

"Honestly, Nancy," he said, "all these resolutions you made, and you're going back to work with no rest? What if something happens while you're at work? This…particular job is not worth your sanity."

"Make fun of my line of work if you must, Frank, but never my clients. Can't have one without the other." Nancy attempted to brush her hair with Frank's comb, but it became hopelessly entangled. "Oh, no, I'm going to have to go home for some work clothes. My father will interrogate me as soon as I walk in the door."

"No," Frank said, "you have some here, remember?"

Nancy stared at him, then moved toward his dresser drawer in his office. Her "emergency" overnight supplies were in the second drawer down, still there from a year and a half ago.

Dressing privately, she met Frank by the door. "I'm so sorry, but I'll need a ride. Then you should come back here and get some more rest."

"How can you possibly lecture me about resting when you are going to work right now?" Frank almost snapped.

"We have the same personality, Frank. Don't tell me that you'd want to sit around if you were in my shoes. I'd only get worse. Please. All I need is a ride. We'll talk more later."

Frank could tell that there was no changing her mind. At least she'll be forced to accept a ride home from work as well, he thought. He took his car keys from the peg by the door.