Author's Notes at BOTTOM**

I will travel the distance in your eyes

Interstellar, lightyears from you.

Supernova, we'll fuse when we collide

Awaken in the light of all the stars aligned.

Frank remembered returning to consciousness several times but he had no idea how long he had been out. He knew that, mostly he was drug to awareness by intense pain as someone stitched up his side and cleaned the wound. Each time he became aware, he heard voices that he thought were women; he believed he had seen Karen but mostly, he was seeing a woman with dark hair and olive skin. He recognized her but wasn't capable of remembering from where. Then he would pass back out.

He was in the dark but heard two women talking. "He's coming around."

He heard heels against hard floor as someone approached, quickly. "Frank, can you hear me?" Karen asked.

He smiled, which shot some pain through his face, and tried to force his eyes open but he felt too exhausted. Finally he was able to open one eye but grunted with pain, letting it fall shut again. "Don't push it," the dark haired woman said; she wasn't wearing scrubs but he remembered that he had seen her here before. "Karen, he'll be okay."

"Thank you so much, Claire," she replied, her voice joyful as she stopped by the bed and took Frank's hand for a moment, looking over the battered knuckles.

"Yeah, well," Claire replied, her voice unhappy, "you do know who that is, don't you?"

"It's a long story," was all Karen said, releasing his hand as she walked toward the other woman.

"And does anyone else know he's alive?" Their voices were becoming distant and Frank wondered if he was losing consciousness or if they were leaving the room.

Karen replied, "Only a few people."

He finally opened his eyes more and looked through the doorway, realizing he was in Karen's bed. He watched the two women as they exchanged a hug and Claire said, "I'm glad you trusted me."

"I know I've been… distant since Matt…" Karen said, quietly.

"It's not just you, girl," Claire said, pulling out of the hug. "We're all dealing in our own ways." With that, she looked at Frank lying on the bed and added, "Some in healthier ways than others."

Karen looked at his over her shoulder then looked at the other woman, "He's not what they say he is."

Her friend gave her a hard look and nodded, "He better do right by you." She grabbed a small duffle bag and put a brown coat on before turning to the door. "I'll come back and check on him." She opened the door and then paused, turning to Karen with a rueful smile. "No strenuous activity of any kind." Then she was out the door.

Karen's eyes met Frank's and they both knew what she was referring to. He used his hands and his feet to push himself up on the bed and Karen rushed over. "Hey, hey, hey," she said, putting her hands on his bare shoulders to keep him from getting up. "You have to rest."

"It's just a flesh wound," he defended. "I'm fine."

She shook her head, "No, whatever cut you had some kind of anti-coagulant on it and it kept your blood from clotting." He looked down at his hip where there was a fresh, clean bandage covering the stab wound. "When I got here, I found you on the floor in the bathroom. There was blood everywhere," she had tears in her eyes as she remembered the scene.

"Hey," he said, reaching his hand up to cup her cheek, "I'm fine. How long was I out?"

"It's only been about fifteen hours, I think." She pressed into his palm and shut her eyes which caused the tears to fall. "I thought you were dead, Frank."

"I'm not," he said, taking her face in both hands and pulling her down to press his forehead against hers. "I'm right here and I'm gonna stay." She released a tense breath and put her own hands on his chest. He sighed into her touch but knew that they needed to get moving. Fifteen hours meant that it was the next morning and he could assume that the masked man believed that he had killed Frank with whatever was on that knife. "Karen," he whispered, "we can't stay here."

She opened her eyes and cocked her head, asking, "Why not?"

"I think that cop I saw yesterday," he said, reminding her of his vague statement on the phone. "I think he was watching for you so he could give the guy who attacked me a head's up."

He knew she wouldn't argue; he knew she trusted him. She just said, "Okay," and got up, grabbing a bag out of her closet and packing clothes and other necessities.

Slowly and painfully, Frank maneuvered himself to a sitting positon and then stood up, weaving slightly from blood loss. He felt weak, but he was alive, which was how he needed to be so he could protect Karen. She walked back into the bedroom holding a piece of white clothing out to him. "It's just a big t-shirt I have but it should fit you."

He looked around and asked, "What happened to my shirt?"

"It was on the floor of the bathroom with you," was all she said, then resumed gathering her items and zipping up her duffle bag.

He began pulling the white shirt on with a lot of difficulty and Karen entered the room to assist him. She stepped close to him and grabbed the shirt from him, slipping the sleeve onto the arm above his injury, then pulled it over his head and he slipped his other arm into the shirt. Rather than moving away from him after the shirt was on, she stayed put and let her hands rest on his chest. He bit his lip and reached up to cup her cheeks, leaning in to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her against his body, then gasped and she yanked away.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, lifting the t-shirt to check the bandage, but there was no blood.

"I'm fine," he said, taking her hands. "We need to get moving."

She nodded and grabbed the duffle she had packed, then she grabbed the bag he had brought. He started to argue but she brushed it off, saying, "We don't have time to argue." He grabbed his jacket and nodded, sliding it on slowly. He went to the door first, unlocking it and peeking his head out to check the hall. He started to head to the stairwell, but Karen stopped him. "We should go out the back way."

"There's a back?" He asked.

"Sort of," she said, beginning to walk back toward the elevators. "We'll go up to the roof and down the back fire escape."

They took the elevator to the top floor and then she led him to a metal service door. It was locked, but Frank pulled a knife out of his duffle and pried the door open. Though the scraping was somewhat loud, there was no alarm sound that came on when the door burst open. They took the service stairs to the roof and Karen took his hand to lead him to the rear of the building.

Once again, Frank went first and it was somewhat slow-going; he could tell that Karen wanted to protest but she didn't. Even though he still felt somewhat woozy, he remained vigilant as they went down. At the bottom, he unhooked the ladder to allow it to slide down and then he started climbing to the alley floor. He reached up for the duffle bags and Karen looked hesitant for a moment before slowly lowering them down to him. As he took hold, she turned and began to climb down the ladder; under other circumstances, watching her ass in that tight skirt would have been exciting, but not now.

She took the bags from him and said, "We can't walk to your place. Let me get a cab."

He shook his head and said, "No, I'll hail it. You stay in the alley to avoid being seen." She considered for a moment before nodding in agreement, then they walked to the mouth of the alley and Karen paused just inside while Frank stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and put his arm up. Even stretching the arm opposite his wound was a painful process but he had to do it. He glanced back at Karen every few seconds to make sure she wasn't in danger of being grabbed. He looked at the street and saw a cab slowly pulling to the curb and he looked back to tell her, but something caught his eye: a man, black hair with a fancy coat, smoking a cigarette and standing in the alley. Frank couldn't get a clear look at his face but he knew the man was staring at her. "Karen, get out here," he yelled and she ran without hesitation. The cab pulled up to them and Frank yanked the door open, allowing her to slide in first, as he kept his eyes on the man.

Once inside, he gave the driver the address of a coffee shop that was a few blocks from his apartment but he didn't want them to be followed directly to his place. "What happened?" She asked, huffing a little from the fear and exertion of the last fifteen minutes.

"I saw someone," he said, looking out the rear windshield of the cab.

She said nothing more, only reached out and took his hand in hers. He kept an eye out the back and she watched the front as they drove. It only took a few minutes to get to the café, even in the traffic, and Frank handed Karen a knit cap to pile her hair up in. She did it without question and they exited the taxi after he paid the driver. She pulled her coat off and rolled it up, shoving it into her duffle and they walked speedily to his apartment building. Her 'disguise' was haphazard but probably just good enough that they wouldn't be spotted immediately. For his part, Frank pulled his hood up and took his duffle bag, ignoring her protests and the stabbing pain he felt from lifting the heavy items inside.

When they entered his place, he set the bag down immediately and slid his coat off of his shoulders. He looked down and saw no blood on the shirt but when he lifted it, the bandage was wet with it. He cursed under his breath and walked, unevenly, to his bathroom to grab a new bandage. Karen followed, dropping the hat on her way. She checked the bandage and he pointed to the cupboard under his bathroom sink; she opened it, finding three large first aid kits and other medical supplies. She grabbed a bottle of alcohol and a large bandage as he pulled the other one off. She poured the alcohol over some toilet paper and cleaned the stitches off, before applying a clean bandage to the wound. She put his arm around her shoulder and helped him stand up, walking him to his bedroom.

"I can't go to sleep," he protested in a whisper.

"You're no good to me if you can barely stand," she said as they reached his bed.

He sat on the edge and sighed and pulled his boots off, then lay back on the pillows on his uninjured side. She began walking away but he reached out and grabbed her hand. She turned back to look at him and he said, "Karen, will you stay?" His voice was a whisper but there were many layers to it and she could hear them all.

She smiled, kicking her own shoes off; she laid down with her back pressed against his chest and he reached out to take her hand in his, lacing their fingers together, and pressing them against her belly. He was barely conscious when he heard her whisper, "Always with you, Frank."

Author's Note: I love these moments when they are together. It warms my heart. :) I hope you enjoyed!