For a long time, Frank just drove. And drove. He didn't quite know where he was going – he didn't care. He was too angry, too hurt, too…guilty.
He'd come to realize, of course, though understandably it would take some time for the guilt to leave, that Nancy's death was not his fault. But now, he felt as though he'd failed her, failed to get justice for her. He knew kidnapping could carry life imprisonment, and that's probably what Hendricks would receive, but he'd been hoping for more. He was hoping for the murder charge to go through. Life for life. Give and take. Were Hendricks remorseful, Frank wouldn't have minded the verdict as much. But Hendricks was not remorseful; he was twisted and found this whole thing slightly amusing.
Frank slowed the car to a stop in the lot of a small playground. He shut the engine off, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
What do I do, Nancy? What do I do? The mantra that had marched endlessly around in his head since the death of the one person he had thought never to lose was no longer the anguished cry that had been in his mind for most of the time since that day. Nor was it the infuriated rhythm that had driven him to leave the Drew home. It was simply an exhausted plea. His emotions had run the gamut, and so he had reached a low point again.
Sighing, he started the car again and drove toward Hendricks' current residence. He would not be allowed to interact with Hendricks, of course, but maybe…
What do I do, Nancy? What do I do?
Abruptly, tires squealing, he turned the car in a violent U-turn and headed toward the cemetery.
It was not a long walk to Nancy's grave, but all the while, the mantra repeated itself. He sat down beside the headstone, and slowly leaned against it. And then, he began to talk.
"I don't know what to do, Nancy. I've failed. Hendricks isn't going to be punished for your murder, despite the fact that he is guilty. He got off on a technicality, one I didn't even know existed. I know that he'll serve for your kidnapping, and he'll probably get life, but that's not enough for me. It doesn't seem punishment enough when I think of all he took from us. Your family, Hannah, Bess, George, Ned, and the rest of us. From you.
"It isn't fair," he growled. "Hendricks doesn't have a clue what we've lost, and he doesn't care. The son of a bitch doesn't care. All he cared about was how he was so misunderstood."
Frank paused for a moment. Thinking of Hendricks made him want to yell and shout again, but he would not do that here. He couldn't. He would save that for later. Just as he had somehow managed to bottle up most of his anger on the day the verdict was announced, after the judge threatened to either have him removed, hold him in contempt of court, or both. He couldn't lose his temper then, and especially not here, even though he felt Nancy would've understood. He just couldn't allow himself to do so. Taking a deep, slow breath, he got his temper under control and continued.
"Nancy, I…there were so many things we never said to each other. Things we waited on, and denied, because of Callie and Ned. I always figured that if the attraction between us lasted, we would get our chance sooner or later, without having to hurt those we cared about. It didn't matter how many narrow escapes we'd had; I still thought we'd always be teamed up, solving a case. If I'd known…then perhaps I wouldn't have said kissing you for the first time was a mistake. Maybe instead, I'd have tried to convince you it was the right thing, even if things had gotten messy after Ned showed up at the resort to help. If not then, I should've told you the truth in Egypt. I regretted it then, but after managing to escape one more time, I ignored the little voice inside me that urged me to speak up. I didn't want to admit that I didn't want to leave, since it would mean no longer playing your husband, getting to hold your hand and whisper in your ear. No more being able to admire you without it looking suspicious. And in New Orleans…I cheated on Callie then, with someone who meant less to me, but reminded me strongly of you, though I never mentioned it. That's really when I should have told you what you were to me.
I've been lost in these regrets, Nancy. I honestly thought of joining you, so that if there is a heaven, and if I could get there, I could tell you. And what hurts even more than not being able to tell you, is that I don't know how you felt. Did you regret anything in those last moments?"
Frank suddenly had a moment of panic. What if she didn't have any regrets? What if I'm imagining that she felt the same way as me? It took a moment of concentration to remember how she'd looked at him in a cold cabin on a mountainside, when they weren't sure if they would freeze to death, and how that same look was in her eyes on a cool night in Egypt, with no danger in sight. And the numerous occasions when she seemed to hug him longer than Joe, as if she wanted to just be by him for a few extra seconds. No, it wasn't his imagination.
Unable to think of much else to say, he sat there for a few minutes, resting against the cool, smooth headstone. Then he stood to leave. "I miss you. Everyone does. And we all love you. I love you." Gently, he ran his fingertips over the curved stone. "Goodbye." And he walked away, shoulders hunched, hands in pocket, toward the car.
He was not at peace, no, but he felt a bit better.
