NOTES: To the reviewer who asked, 'will there be any action in this story', the answer is, 'not the kind you're thinking of'. ;)

No, this story is really just a short little thing, purely about the characters, and what might happen to them after the episode ends, and they all go home for the day. If that's not what people are after in a story, then this really won't be their cup of tea, that's all. It's all good. Btw, thanks to those who reviewed - much appreciated, ta.

Also, there's just one more part to go after this one. Look for it to be posted sometime in the next few days.

SUMMARY: Post-ep for 'Cambodia'. Kilmer has to face telling his mother what he has learned about his father's death - a situation that leads to a renewed connection between him and Frankie.

SPOILERS: Big ones for 'Cambodia', obviously. All other episodes are fair game, though no specific references to those eps come to mind.

RATING: PG

AUTHOR: Ijemanja

TITLE: Old Wounds

PART TWO - Polite Conversation

'Frankie, it's so good to see you!' Joyce exclaimed, coming out of the kitchen with arms outstretched.

Kilmer hung up Frankie's coat as the two women greeted each other warmly, then followed as his mother drew Frankie away from the front door. He couldn't help but notice how familiar it all seemed. They'd always gotten along well - a relief for him, naturally not having wanted his wife to be feuding with his family. Joyce Kilmer had always been the mothering type with everyone, and upon meeting her future daughter-in-law years ago had apparently decided she'd found something of a lost lamb in need of adoption. Frankie had borne the treatment from her mother-in-law well; Kilmer had always suspected that she secretly enjoyed it.

Now, watching them chatting in the kitchen while his mother put the final touches on the meal, he was put in mind of the family gatherings he'd taken Frankie to. His mother had always welcomed Frankie warmly into the proceedings, never letting her feel out of place or awkward.

'John, don't just stand there, come and help,' Joyce admonished him then, shaking him from his thoughts.

His mother had already put Frankie to work setting the table, so he set about opening the bottle of wine she'd brought over, and finding some glasses.

They had just sat down to eat when Joyce immediately rose again.

'We forgot the salt and pepper,' she said.

'I'll get it -' he offered, rising too, but his mother waved him off, already halfway back in to the kitchen.

'Never mind dear, stay where you are.'

Frankie leaned across the table towards him and spoke in a low voice.

'I can't believe you made your mother cook. She's supposed to be your guest.'

'She insisted!' he hissed back. 'I thought we were going to go out somewhere, or order in.'

Joyce returned then and caught the gist of the exchange.

'Oh, I wanted to remind John what home-cooking tastes like,' she explained as she settled herself back at the table. 'But it was all a bit last minute, actually, otherwise I would have sent John out for some groceries. It seems like he lives off canned food and frozen meals, and whatever he can have delivered, judging by the stack of menus by the phone.'

'Don't forget cereal,' he added around a mouthful of his mother's casserole. 'And beer.'

'That doesn't sound so bad, actually,' Frankie said, smiling.

'Oh, not you, too,' Joyce sounded dismayed. 'I hoped you at least would be more sensible, Frankie.'

Kilmer laughed.

'Nah, she's worse than I am.'

'At least I can cook when the occasion calls for it,' she retorted.

'I cook!'

'Setting the timer on the microwave doesn't count as cooking.'

'Sure it does,' he grinned.

'Well, I think you both need to take better care of yourselves,' Joyce broke in before Frankie could respond. 'You both have bad diets and highly stressful jobs... You'll be lucky if one of you doesn't have a heart attack.'

At this dire prediction, Frankie and Kilmer looked at each other.

'My bet's on you,' she said. 'You're older and male.'

'The odds are in your favour this time,' he agreed.

They laughed as Joyce threw her hands up in disgust and pronounced them both to be hopeless.

'You know, I wouldn't be so worried if you didn't work such long hours. Frankie, do you spend as much time at this job as my son?'

She nodded. 'About the same. But,' she shrugged, 'It's worth it.'

'Right,' Kilmer added. 'It's important stuff we're doing, Mom.'

'At the expense of your health? Your personal life?' Joyce asked dubiously.

'Oh, here we go,' he breathed, knowing what was probably coming next.

Joyce ignored him and turned to Frankie.

'Frankie, what do you do for fun, to relax?'

She looked put on the spot for a moment, but then came up with, 'I... read, I work out, I go shopping - normal things.'

'But do you get out much? Because I know John doesn't, he'd rather spend his time in a vegetative state, watching sports.'

'Hey, leave me out of this,' he protested.

Frankie, meanwhile, merely replied, 'Sometimes. Not as much as I'd like.'

Kilmer was finding the exchange rather entertaining. Yes, his mother was the, well, mothering kind, but she'd always had her own unique brand of tough love. Brow-beating was one of her specialities.

'You see, this I don't understand. You're a young woman, you're beautiful,' Joyce was saying, 'Isn't she, John?'

'Yep.' He hid a smile as the woman in question shot him a dark look.

'You should be making the most of your life. There isn't anyone special at the moment?'

Frankie spared him a very different kind of look, then, before smiling faintly down into her wine glass.

'Not at the moment, no.'

'Anyone in mind, then?'

Frankie was handling the third degree with her usual, calm demeanour, seemingly unperturbed - but Kilmer nevertheless decided to speak up.

'Frankie interrogates people for a living, Mom, you're not going to crack her.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' came the response. 'We're just having a polite conversation, aren't we?' This was directed at Frankie.

'Of course,' she replied immediately. 'So Joyce, how's Howard these days? Retirement treating him well?'

He rolled his eyes as they dedicated the next few minutes to small talk.

When they'd all finished eating, and their wine glasses were empty, they rose to clear the table.

'I'm afraid there's nothing for afters. I was lucky to scrape together enough for the meal,' Joyce said apologetically, casting her eyes in her son's direction.

'That's fine,' Frankie answered quickly.

'Nonsense, it's not dinner without dessert. John, why don't you go out and pick up some ice-cream?'

'Why don't we all go? There's a place just a few streets away.'

'Oh, I don't want to be going out at this time of night,' she protested. 'Frankie and I will stay and clean up - it will give us a chance to talk some more.'

He smiled inwardly at the slightly panicked look on Frankie's face at that, and moved to pick up his car keys and wallet.

'Okay then, I'll be back in a little while.'

As she and Joyce moved around the kitchen cleaning up, Frankie remained wary about what else was to come, now they were alone. Joyce seemed to have no qualms about delving into Frankie's personal life in front of her son, after all. Of course, having known the woman for a number of years now, it hadn't come as much of a surprise to Frankie.

She wondered whether it wasn't all leading up to a more pointed discussion about the possible ways in which she was toying with Kilmer's heart, and how, if she still wanted him, she shouldn't have left him in the first place. It was, perhaps, ungracious of her to suspect Joyce was thinking anything of the sort, but Frankie hadn't become a top profiler by expecting the best from people.

'You know,' she said casually as she stacked plates in the dishwasher, 'We really should be leaving this for John to do.'

'It would probably do him good, you're right,' Joyce agreed, scrubbing at an oven dish in the sink. 'But I must admit, I don't really mind looking after things while I'm here. It's a mother's prerogative, after all. He has to fend for himself the rest of the time.'

It wasn't said in an accusatory manner, but, feeling slightly on-edge, Frankie couldn't help taking it that way.

'Joyce,' she began, 'About what we were discussing at dinner. I think -'

'Oh, never mind about that,' the older woman cut her off, shaking her head in dismissal. 'Far be it for me to tell you what's best for you, Frankie.'

It was a much more subdued Joyce than the one Frankie had seen over dinner, berating her and Kilmer over their lifestyle choices. Looking at the woman sedately washing out a wine glass, she began to wonder whether that might have been a show - and if it hadn't been for her own benefit, then it must have been for Kilmer's.

'It's all right,' she said, 'I was just going to say that you shouldn't worry about me. I'm pretty happy with the way my life is at the moment.'

'Well, good. Lord knows, you should be happy, dear.'

Joyce began passing her the dry glassware, and gestured to a shelf above her head where it belonged. This went on, though, for only a few seconds when Joyce gasped suddenly.

'What is that?' she demanded. 'On your stomach, Frankie. My God, what happened?'

Looking down, she realised her top had ridden up as she raised her arms to reach the shelf, and some of her midriff was exposed - including the scar near her left hip. It was this Joyce was now staring at.

Quickly pulling her shirt back down into place, Frankie thought how best to explain it. It had only been a few months since the mission in Mexico that had turned into a hostage situation. The bullet wound had healed without complication, but the puckered scar tissue was still an angry red. She knew it would fade with time, but for now it was a dramatic - not to mention ugly - reminder of that day.

And it seemed that Joyce knew exactly what she was looking at.

'That's from a bullet, isn't it? You were shot?' she asked, incredulous and horrified at the same time.

For someone who had little knowledge of the kind of life she lead, Frankie knew it must seem very serious. She hoped she'd still be able to make light of it.

'Battle scars,' she said simply, 'Sometimes they're unavoidable. It looks worse than it was, trust me.'

Joyce was shaking her head slowly, though, obviously disturbed.

'I'm sorry, I just can't believe it. Your job... you and John... it's crazy. You don't want me to worry, obviously, you downplay it, but you're in danger every day, aren't you?'

'In our line of work,' she reasoned, 'There are risks, yes, but -'

'You're fools,' Joyce said flatly, 'Both of you. It's so obvious that John still cares about you -'

'Joyce,' Frankie began, alarmed at the sudden shift in topic, and at the same time concerned at how upset the other woman seemed to be.

Joyce, though, pressed on regardless.

'I'm sorry, I was going to hold my tongue, but Frankie, if you've really moved on, then what are you doing here tonight?'

'Listen, of course we still care about each other,' Frankie managed to get out, 'It would be unnatural not to, especially now, working together so closely.'

'Yes, yes, but I know my son. I saw the way he was looking at you all through dinner. It's the same way he looked at you the first time he brought you home to meet me. What was it, five years ago?'

Frankie hesitated, then admitted, 'Six, actually.'

'It's been a while, hasn't it?' Joyce said, in a slightly calmer tone.

'It seems like it was a long time ago,' Frankie agreed.

'You know, I waited a long time after John's father disappeared. At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing - by my husband, by John, by myself. I certainly don't regret loving Joseph, but looking back I see that I spent too much time waiting, and not enough time... just getting on with things. It wasn't until after I met Howard that I came to see that.'

She had related all this quietly, but then she swallowed and looked up at Frankie.

'I'm only telling you this because I don't want that for John, and I don't think it's something you should be aiming for, either, Frankie. It's a cliché, I know, but you don't want to be my age and looking back on your life with regret.'

Frankie stared at the floor for a long moment following Joyce's speech.

Finally, she said, 'And you think my getting back together with John is the solution to everything?'

'Of course not. I'm saying get on with your life, regardless. If John isn't part of what you want, then go find out what is. Either way, at least you'll be moving on.'

While talking about this with Kilmer's mother certainly wasn't ideal, she also couldn't deny that there was some truth to what the older woman was saying. And while Frankie wasn't one who shared her private thoughts easily, or often, she felt like she should, here and now.

'You're right, you know - I haven't let him go. I thought I had, that it was absolutely over. But then we started working together again...' She shook her head. 'It's complicated.'

'Things often are.'

There was a pause then, until Frankie, curious, asked, 'Do you plan on having this same conversation with John?'

Joyce sighed. 'I doubt he'd listen to me. For some reason he's never really seemed to like discussing his love-life with me.'

'Can't imagine why,' Frankie replied dryly.

'Odd, isn't it?' Joyce mused, then suddenly straightened. 'Well, now that we have that out of the way, can I make you some tea?'

end part two

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