Disclaimer: Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends is not mine. Fortunately, I won't make the same mistake I made with Sunrise, Sunset and accidentally leave in one chapter of Savage Garden lyrics, thereby allowing some asshole to report me and have the whole story taken off in one go. So if you were hoping to read it, I'm sorry, but I don't have a copy and I don't know anyone who does.

And I was banned from uploading for a freakin' week, so that's why this is delayed.

Chapter Three: Heartache

Frankie awoke from a terrible nightmare and wiped cold sweat off her brow. Panting, she shoved back the sheets and peered into the darkness. Its soothing void steadied her rapid breathing and calmed. There was no way what she dreamt could be real. She was just overworked. Her deluded mind enjoyed playing tricks on her.

There was absolutely no way Mr. Herriman harbored a secret crush on her and had nearly kissed her seven hours ago. It was merely an incredibly bad nightmare and when she pinched herself, not only would it hurt, Mr. Herriman would scold her. Everything would be back to normal.

Swallowing hard and reassuring herself repeatedly this was all a dream, she flopped back onto her pillow and hoped for sleep. Unfortunately, the dream might have ended, but the waking "nightmare" didn't.

Breakfast was awkward at best. Bloo livened things up by inciting yet another food fight (the fifth this week and it was only Tuesday), but the aftermath blossomed into chaos when he volunteered to help. His paw brushed her hand and he jumped back as if electrocuted. Tormented by feelings he couldn't help, he decided to busy himself chastising Bloo and making his life hell instead of focusing on his version. He avoided her for the rest of the day.

Madame Foster, bless her heart, thought they were in the midst of another spat and attempted reconciliation. The imaginary rabbit balked and hopped off before she spotted the heavy blush spreading across his furry cheeks. They'd spent decades together and separating what he wished to keep private became a thankless task. However, he never faltered- he refused to let his creator know his feelings towards Frankie. Visions of her having a heart attack or a stroke haunted him and he'd never felt so utterly alone. In the past, he could at least confide in her. Now he had no one.

Though he contemplated talking to Frankie, risking alone time with her was too dicey. After all, who was to say he might not come onto her again? This time, Bloo might not be around the corner to impede them and he'd force her into a bad situation. He cared too deeply to hurt her like that. Yet when his fists clenched and his body shook irresolutely, he found his glance lingering in her direction. He'd kept this secret for six months- why should her knowledge change things?

"Mr. H, are you okay?" Wilt inquired, frowning. "You've been sorta spacey. And you keep looking at Frankie."

Mr. Herriman started and shifted his head so Wilt wouldn't see the blush creeping across his face. Good Lord, had he been that obvious? It was a small wonder no one hadn't worked it out already. Frankie absently dusted a porcelain vase and his heart beat furiously. He stared until Wilt, clearing his throat, interrupted.

"Mr. H?" he prodded gently. "You never answered me."

The poor frightened rabbit jumped about a foot in the air and turned, recalling his presence abruptly. Frankie too started and stared at the two. All of a sudden, he desired nothing more than to sink into the floor and vanish. Then her eyes would return to her task and he wouldn't feel their gaze searing into him. Before he fully conceptualized the notion, his paws took him to his office and away from Wilt's questions and Frankie.

Burying his head in his paws, he sighed deeply and clenched his eyes shut. Frankie flitted in his mind and he sincerely wanted a drink. Anything strong would do, regardless of how it affected him. He was beyond caring. He just wanted to stop thinking about her for a minute. Why did she have to be in his thoughts every waking second? Why was he preoccupied with her smile and the way she moved? What the hell was wrong with him?

It was getting worse, too. As the days passed, he realized his feelings for her might be more than a crush and that terrified him. He'd never experienced this in his life and it had to be with the wrong person. Silently, he cursed whoever brought him this fate and hoped they were having a good laugh at his expense. They didn't have to deal with this.

A sharp rapping at the door brought him back to his senses and he blinked, stiffening immediately. Though he hoped it wasn't who he thought it was, the person behind the door opened her mouth and confirmed his suspicions. Heart sinking, he reluctantly answered. After all, he couldn't very well turn his creator away, could he? Maybe he'd luck out and drive her away somehow. Madame Foster had a horrible way of worming the truth out of him.

"Open this door right now, Funny Bunny, or I'll tear it down!"

He afforded himself a weak smile. Other old women intended that as an idle threat- Madame Foster was not one of them. He knew she'd probably unscrew the hinges on his door or otherwise coerce someone to break in. As well as she knew him, he knew her. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach and lingered there. How much worse could this get?

Opening the door and scowling at her creation, she ushered in her granddaughter. Never ask how much worse something could get…because it will inevitably relish its trick.

Frankie settled in the familiar chair in front of his desk and studied his expression carefully. She could almost hear the hounds on his trail. Part of her longed to comfort him like all the other imaginary friends, but the other, leery of her grandmother's imposing presence, hung back. No whip marks or lacerations marked him, but the torture shone in his eyes. No wonder Madame Foster was so concerned- she would be too, if she hadn't known beforehand.

"Now, Funny Bunny, are you going tell me what's going on? If you have a problem with Frankie, spit it out! I won't abide arguing under my roof!" she snapped and slammed her cane on his desk. Papers went flying and he protested weakly, but his eyes fell upon Frankie and the words died on his lips. All the air had rushed out of his lungs and his heart skipped several beats. They both had to leave…before he lost it…

"Honestly, you're gaping at her like a lovesick puppy!" she continued and the color drained from both their faces. He gripped the corners of his desk tightly and the room spun around him. Frankie sprang to her feet but halted, indecisive and perplexed. What if her grandmother simply jested? Maybe there was nothing to get worked up about.

Clammy and sweating profusely, he cast a meaningful glance at Frankie and hoped telepathy worked better in practice than theory. His legs quivered but like a magnet, his eyes fixated on her. Another "innocent" comment like that and that wobbling drawer might slam. Already he found it increasingly difficult to present a calm façade and he worried she'd see right through it. She knew him too well…

"I think it's time for your medication, Grams!" Frankie said saccharinely and steered her towards the door. Madame Foster protested, fought, and otherwise attacked via her cane, but Frankie, wincing when it struck her shin, shoved her out. Her outraged bellows ripped through him like a double edged sword and he sank low into his cushioned chair. If possible, he felt dirtier than before, like he'd never be clean again.

"Are you all right?" she inquired sharply and pulled the chair beside his. Twitching, he shifted as if to rest against her, and then thought better of it. He didn't know which was worse- withstanding Madame Foster's accusations and ill timed quips or solitude with her granddaughter. Frankie laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and he jumped again and attempted to extract it, but the touch pleased him too much. His heart beat painfully fast.

"I…Miss Frances, we cannot do this," he said finally and gazed at her longingly. "You must leave."

"I'm worried about you, you crazy rabbit. And I know Grandma's going to find out sooner or later, because she's anxious too. You're not going to talk to her, but at least open up to me. It's not like you're really a lovesick puppy," Frankie jibed and to her astonishment, what little remaining color drained and he resembled cold porridge. On his shoulder, her hand shifted and squeezed. He gently lifted it off and kissed it.

"You would never love me back, would you?" he whispered and trembled. "Even if I had a human form?"

The question took her aback and she stared, eyes widened in shock. In his paw, she extricated her hand and he blinked furiously. Several horrible moments passed before she understood the full implication of what she'd unwittingly responded. When his eyes met hers again, she saw anguish and misery. Tears brimmed in his eyes but he stabbed at them with a tissue.

"I…I did not think so. I…I believe Master Mac has arrived," he said haltingly and turned his back on her. Frankie opened her mouth to respond, but he shook his head curtly. He didn't want to talk anymore…or ever again. His heart no longer beat in his chest. Instead, a hollow space replaced it and gushed blood. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to lay his head down and sob or scream in agony. He settled for ushering her out of his office and staring at the walls.

Madame Foster grumbled to herself about rude offspring and secretive imaginary friends. Yet when Mr. Herriman's upset assailed him, she halted in mid-step. Mind numbing agony raced through her. She'd never sensed anything like this and for three minutes, she stared into space like he. Locked in his office, her imaginary friend was crying and she longed to sob too, though she knew not why. Something or someone had wrenched his still beating heart from his chest.

But that type of emotional outburst simply didn't compute. Normally she'd write it off as old age and a snatch of senility, but its strength defied excuses. Shutting her eyes, she rested against a wall and sighed heavily. She would pry the truth out of him…because she couldn't stand his pain.

"Funny Bunny, who did this to you?"