Frankie was already packed and down in the lobby checking out by the time Jake made it out of the elevator.  He stood and watched her for a moment. She'd left her hair loose today and it looked like a lion's mane of black hair.  She was wearing her leather pants as she had yesterday, another pair of boots with steel heels and needle pointed toes and she had a short tank top on.  She looked like a rock star with the sunglasses, naval ring and hairstyle.  Jake was still curious as to what he'd done last night that Frankie pushed him away and out of her room.

With a sigh, he checked out of his room and they both got into the taxi to take them to the airport.  He noticed she had the briefcase with all the files and reports in it sitting next to her between them.  The box of evidence from Skinner's apartment was packaged up and in the trunk with their carry on bags.

"Frankie..."

"No, Jake.  I don't feel like talking.  I'm tired, I didn't get any sleep last night and I just want to get back to Chicago."

He noted the quiet tone of her voice and the near defeat in it.  What happened?  So, he resigned himself to watching the scenery go by in a blur. Even at the airport she didn't talk to him as she checked in, insured the box of evidence and got her boarding pass.  She walked away towards the security checkpoint without even looking back.

Frankie was so wrapped up in her thoughts and mental self-abuse about how stupid she was to have let herself believe that Jake could actually have felt something for her, that she wasn't paying attention to anything around her.  As the line filed through the security checkpoint, the only thing Frankie did was sigh and mentally hurry the line faster.

Jake smiled and apologized to the clerk behind the counter for Frankie's lack of pleasantness that morning.  Saying 'thank you', he took his boarding pass and turned towards the security entry just in time to hear the sirens go off and the local police screaming "FREEZE!"

"I'm a private investigator and I have a license for it!" Frankie shouted back.

"I don't give a damn lady!  Put your hands up and step out of the line!"

Jake ran over as some of the people were running away from the showdown. Frankie had her hands up at shoulder height; her tank top hitched up and revealed the tattoos on her belly and back as she sighed in annoyance. "Jake, tell this man I'm alright and not going to do anything like shoot him."

"Officer, it's OK.  I'm a Federal Agent.  Here, I'm reaching for my badge. This woman is a Private Investigator working on a case for the FBI."

"Is that right?  Then why did she walk into the metal detector with a gun on?"

"It's my back up piece, my standard is locked and in my carry on bag.  I didn't get any sleep last night and I guess I forgot about it, OK?!  Jesus Christ in a Ford pickup truck!"  Frankie snarled and propped her leg up on the x-ray machine to remove the snub-nosed pistol from her ankle.  As she did, she threw it at Jake and walked through the metal detector again.

When it went off a second time, Frankie snarled even louder and started kicking the machine.  "GODDAMNIT I HAVE HAD JUST ABOUT ENOUGH OF THIS!"

It took Jake and the security guards to pull her away from the machine before she broke it into a million pieces.  Jake pressed her face first against the wall until she calmed down.  Not once had her sunglasses moved from her face.  If they had, Jake and everyone would have seen that she was red-eyed and in tears.

"KNOCK IT OFF FRANCESCA!" he hissed in her ear.  "I'm going to go make nice with the local cop and get everything smoothed over.  What the hell has gotten into you this morning?!"

As Jake left her there under the watching and distrusting eyes of the checkpoint security, Frankie turned around and leaned her head back against the wall.  It wasn't what had gotten into her, it was what hadn't gotten into her.  After Jake had left last night, Frankie tossed and turned in bed, wishing she hadn't sent him away.  More than that, she was berating herself for believing that he could think of her as more than a friend.

When Jake came back, he'd gotten things eased with the officer and everything was just peachy.  He grabbed Frankie by the arm and yanked her towards the gate.  She immediately yanked her arm out of his grip and stalked off with her bag and the briefcase in hand.

The flight home was going to be interesting.  Thank God they weren't sitting next to one another.

**********

Halfway through the flight, Frankie got restless and picked up the in-flight phone.  After giving her credit card over to the machine and waiting for the approval 'beep', she finally got to dial Frank's cell phone.

Frank was leaning over the computer talking to Cody and Shay about something when his cell went off.  "Excuse me."

Shay and Cody watched as he stepped off to the side and answered. "Donovan."

"Next fucking time you come into my life I swear to GOD I'm going to shoot you on the spot!" hissed the voice.

"Ahh... Francesca.  Good Morning to you too."  He turned and looked at Shay.

"Fuck off Frank."

"What happened?  Are you alright?"

"Does it sound like I'm alright?"

"Last time you told me to fuck off is when Eric ran away."

"And I had good reason to then.  Look, next time you decide to come into my life, try not to fuck it up!" she hissed again.  "Granted, I accepted this offer to find the man who killed Dari.  But I didn't count on your she-bitch wife being jealous of me and I sure as hell didn't count on Jake letting me fall flat on my ass.  We're arriving into O'Hare at 10:30 on flight 1534.  Have someone meet us there."

"What did Jake do?!"  Frank looked blankly at Shay.  Shay's eyes widened and her conversation with Jake from last night came back to her mind.

Frankie was silent for a moment as her eyes hidden behind the black lenses of her sunglasses found Jake sitting about five rows up and on the other side of the plane.  "Never mind Frank." she whispered.  "It's nothing.  When we get back, I'll hand everything over and I'm off this case."

"Francesca, don't."

"No Frank.  It's better if I'm off and out of the way.  It sounds like you've confided in Shay, that's good, glad I could help with that.  I'll see you in a few hours."  She hung up the phone quietly.

Frank stared at his cell phone for a moment.  "Francesca's pulled herself off the case.  She said something about getting out of the way, Jake letting her fall flat on her face and you being jealous of her.  Shay, you talked to Jake last night, do you know something I don't?"

She blinked hard.  "Jake didn't say much other than they had discovered you and Nessa dated.  But..."

Frank approached her, standing nearly on top of her.  "But?"

"If you get any closer, Agent Donovan, you'll be wearing my pantyhose," she replied, irritated.  What was it about Frankie that he would get so defensive?  Knock it off, Shay...it's time to bury the hatchet.  As long as Frankie didn't try to bury it in her skull.  "Look...it's just that when he answered the phone, he was breathless and a bit distracted."

Donovan ran a hand through his hair.  "Well, something is up...and what the hell happened between you and Frankie for her to think of you as a she-bitch?"

Shay laughed then.  "How fate does twist the knife, eh, Frankie?"   When Frank looked at her like she was insane, she said, "I swear Frank, it wasn't that bad.  We had a little talk; I accused her of coming on to you."  She shrugged.  "I know I was wrong, but you have to admit...she is a little overly in the touchy-feely department." 

Frank didn't reply, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

"As for being a she-bitch...well, my dear Boss Man...you've been around when she and I have been together, except for the morning Jake decked you.  I think we were evenly arctic to each other."

"Yeah...well, we need to get this straightened out.  You and I have a flight to meet."

**********