NOTES: So the epilogue just kept growing longer and then I realised what I had was really a whole other chapter and an epilogue, so I split it into two parts. Here's part four, and the epilogue (really, this time) will follow shortly.

AUTHOR: Ijemanja

TITLE: Old Wounds

PART FOUR - Terms and Conditions

Frankie walked up the stairs to her second floor apartment with her cell phone pressed to her ear.

'I'm just getting home from the gym,' she was telling him. 'Remember how you called me yesterday to save you from having to spend an entire evening alone with your mother and I didn't get to work out?'

'Did I mention how grateful I was to you for making such a sacrifice?'

'You're welcome. It was... an interesting evening. So how's your mom today?' she asked, switching to a neutral topic as she propped the phone between her shoulder and ear so she could unlock her front door.

'Fine. I saw her off to the airport just now.'

She dropped her gym bag just inside the door as she entered and headed into the kitchen.

'So you think she's going to be okay?' she asked. 'About your father?'

'I think we both will be.'

'Good.'

'Yeah. So...' he began.

'So?' she repeated, beginning to smile.

'So... tell me, how's your perspective looking in the harsh light of day?'

She opened the fridge and bent over the open door, staring unseeing at the contents.

'Well I've been thinking about it all day,' she said, 'And there would have to be a few ground rules.'

'How did I know you'd say something like that?'

'I guess you know me pretty well. Want to hear them?'

'Wait, before we get into it, I just have to ask you something.'

'Okay.'

'What are you wearing?'

She snorted and grabbed a bottle of water.

'My 'I heart Kilmer' t-shirt, of course,' she quipped, shutting the refrigerator and propping herself on a stool at the counter.

'I hear those sell like hot-cakes on e-bay. That's okay,' he went on, 'You don't have to tell me. I've got a pretty good imagination.'

She could hear the grin in his voice, and couldn't resist asking, 'What've you come up with?'

'It involves a feather boa and high heels and not much else.'

'Sure, because that's what I always work out in.'

She rolled her eyes and took a mouthful of water.

'In my head it's a different kind of work out.'

She swallowed carefully.

'You're feeling pretty confident aren't you?'

'Well if you're talking terms it means you're willing to make a deal. So let's deal.'

'Don't speak so soon,' she chided, 'You haven't heard my conditions yet.'

'So lay 'em on the table.'

'Okay, well first of all, obviously, we'd have to be discrete.'

'Well sure,' he replied easily. 'We're professionals, aren't we? Of course, not to burst your bubble there, Frankie, but most people have figured out that we used to have a thing. The fact that we share a last name might have tipped them off.'

She raised her eyebrows at his tone, but remained unfazed.

'The problem isn't what people know about our history, it's what they know about right now,' she reasoned.

'Well in the interest of not feeding the rumour mill, I think I can probably manage not to jump you in the middle of the Vault.'

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

'Good.'

'And how about if I promise not to use my position as your superior to extract sexual favours from you? Well, not at work, anyway.'

'Perfect.'

'You, on the other hand, will just have to stop flirting with me so blatantly all the time in public. People might get ideas.'

'I'll try to restrain myself,' she said dryly.

'Then I think we've reached an agreement on that point. What other conditions have you got for me? If I know you, Mrs Kilmer, and I think we've established that I do, then it's a lengthy list.'

'Well to start with you can stop calling me 'Mrs Kilmer'.'

'Now why,' he wondered, 'Would I do that? Come on, admit it, it's kinda romantic.'

'No, it's not,' she corrected him. 'It's arrogant and patronising, and I think you enjoy it a little too much.'

'That's because it bugs you.'

'Which is the only reason you do it.'

'That, and it's your name.'

She sighed, exasperated, and debated for a moment reminding him that 'Mrs Kilmer' was his mother's name, and that her own title was in fact 'Special Agent', and had nothing whatsoever to do with her marital status.

She might have told him this, but he started to speak again.

'You got any more 'conditions' I'm actually going to agree to?'

'I'm not marrying you again, you know,' she blurted out.

There was a pause.

'Where did that come from?'

'You wanted to hear my conditions, that's one of them. I'm not marrying you again.'

'Well who's asking?'

'Would you be serious?'

There was another pause on the other end of the line.

'No I think you're right,' he said. 'It's not like it worked so well the last time.'

She sighed again and leaned her forehead on her hand.

'It's very difficult to have a conversation with you about this when you keep making jokes,' she said reproachfully.

'Sorry, but I honestly wasn't planning on proposing any time soon. At this point, I'd be happy if you let me take you to dinner.'

'Dinner?'

'Yeah. We could continue our negotiations,' he offered, 'Only in person, with candlelight, and snooty waiters and ridiculously over-priced food.'

'Sounds romantic,' she said, smiling in spite of herself.

'Well that is definitely the idea.'

'I'm trying to remember the last time we went on a date.'

'Well whenever it was, and however well it went, this'll be better.'

'Promise?'

'Promise.'

'Okay,' she found herself agreeing. She shrugged. 'We've come this far, haven't we?'

'Against all odds. We've somehow managed to get through a marriage and a divorce and working together, all without killing each other.'

'Dinner's the least we can do,' she said. 'Dinner, and then we can... negotiate the rest.'

'I'm looking forward to it.'

'What about you?' she asked suddenly. 'What are you bringing to the table? You can't tell me you don't have a few conditions of your own.'

'Just the one, actually. The negotiations are fun, but when it comes down to it, I think we just have to be honest. Talk to each other. And when you piss me off, which you inevitably will, or when I piss you off - because let's face it, that's even more likely - then just tell me, and we'll deal with it. See, we used to play these mind games. I don't want us to go through all that again. No games - that's my one condition.'

'It's a good one,' she said soberly.

She stared down at the water sloshing against the sides of the plastic bottle as she turned it idly in place. She remembered the way it had been when they were married. Back when it sometimes seemed like he would have rather eaten glass than talked to her like this, or even admitted anything was wrong.

'Frankie?' he prompted when she remained silent.

'Sometimes I forget you can actually be insightful when you want to be,' she said.

'Me and Dr Phil. Good old Texas boys,' he drawled, laying the accent on thick.

'If you tell me we need to 'get real',' she replied, amused, 'I'm hanging up.'

'Don't do that,' he implored gently. 'I promise, no pop-psychology references. I know how much they bug you.'

'I'd appreciate it,' she said, smiling. She switched the phone to her other ear and went on, 'You know, I wish we were having this conversation face to face.'

'I could come over,' he offered.

'You could.'

And she suddenly wanted him to, very much. She would have liked to have seen his face when he asked her to dinner before, or that particular smile she knew must have been on his face when he flirted with her about what she was wearing.

She would have liked to be close enough to look into his eyes, close enough to touch, when she spoke to him about these things that were so important to whatever future they might have together.

'Though come to think of it,' she amended then, 'If you were here, we probably wouldn't be doing all that much conversing.'

'Now who's feeling confident?'

Remembering the way he had kissed her the night before, deep and insistent, she smirked.

'Let's just say I'm going with my gut on that one.'

'Well I try and make it a point never to go against your gut.'

'I'll remember you said that the next time you completely disregard my opinion on something,' she said wryly.

'Well I said 'try'. Even your gut can't be right all the time, Frankie. And someone has to keep you honest.'

'And that's you?'

'Making sure my star profiler doesn't get an over-inflated ego? All part of the job, ma'am.'

'Speaking of over-inflated egos -' she began, but he hastily spoke over the top of her.

'Just out of curiosity, what's your professional opinion about us?'

'I'm going to dinner with you, aren't I?' she hedged. 'And consider yourself lucky, after that crack you just made.'

'Come on,' he urged, 'Honesty, remember? What's your gut telling you?'

She relented, knowing he had a point.

'Right this second? That you might be right. Honesty, openness... It won't solve all our problems but it's a good start. Ask me again tomorrow, though, and we'll see.'

'We can always head back to the negotiating table,' he added.

'Yes, there are still a few items on my list,' she told him, only half joking.

'Well don't think we won't be revisiting the marriage issue, sooner or later.'

'You won't get me to cave,' she warned.

'Never say never,' he said, his tone deceptively mild. 'Besides, I don't need to marry you. I know where you live, Mrs Kilmer.'

The way he said it, his voice low and smooth, was almost enough to make her shiver.

'Well don't think we won't be revisiting the Mrs Kilmer issue, either,' she said after drawing in a shaky breath. 'It's still on my list of demands.'

'Yeah, I'll bet it is.'

She could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

'Hey, since we're back to talking terms,' he went on, 'You think maybe we could work the feather boa thing in there somehow?'

She started to laugh, her shoulders shaking as she leant over the bench on her elbows.

'You never know,' she said. 'At this point, Mr Kilmer, anything's possible.'

end part four

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