It was a couple of days before she got to speak with Horatio for any length of time. A massive pile-up on one of the freeways had his team backed up for days trying to figure out who was to blame, while she was working with the graveyard shift to catch a double murderer. She was writing up her report, finally, and stretched, trying to work out the kinks in her back. She felt as though she had been crouched over her desk for days, rather than a few hours. A tentative knock at the door interrupted her train of thought.
Unexpectedly, it was Horatio who opened the door. He looked a little sheepish and hesitant, and she wondered what this would be about. He hadn't exactly avoided her, but then again he hadn't sought out her company. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the rest of the lab.
"Jim told me how hard you'd been working, so I thought I'd bring some sustenance. We can't have you dropping dead on us, can we?" he said, eliciting a much needed smile from Frankie. Producing a bag that proclaimed itself to be from the 'New Emperor Takeaway', he handed her a carton of something that smelled divine. "Your favourite," he explained, "chicken in black bean sauce. See, I do listen sometimes."
She nodded, accepting the food gratefully. He handed her some chopsticks, and she tucked in. "Did you get anything for you?"
He raised an eyebrow ironically. "I never manage to go to this place without getting something for myself. I'm remarkably selfish like that. Mongolian lamb," he said reverently, producing another carton and starting to eat. Frankie, hungrier than she had realised, finished hers quickly, and Horatio clearly shared her sentiments, as he was not far behind. He seemed unwilling to just leave though. She seized the moment.
"How have you been?"
He flinched slightly as he heard the implied rebuke. "It's been really busy, Frankie, I've been snowed under with work." He fiddled with a pen on the desk. "I didn't mean to leave it so long to talk to you."
"So talk."
"I don't know what to say." His surprisingly honest admission made her look up. His blue eyes were still as guarded as ever, and she despaired of being allowed to care. "This is a very awkward situation. We still have to work with each other."
"Eric and Calleigh manage, and you don't seem to mind them seeing each other." Frankie knew she wasn't making this easy for him, but she had been on edge for days now.
"It's different for them."
"Why?"
He sighed and stood up. "It just is, Frankie." He turned to go, but she got to the door before he did, darting past him with a speed borne of desperation. He looked at her tiredly, not wanting an argument.
Stepping in close to him, she slid her arms around his waist. "Tell me you don't want me, and I will never mention this again Horatio. All you need to do is say that you don't want me, and I promise, my lips will be forever sealed." It was a risk, she knew, but at least it would be some sort of resolution. Not knowing was driving her mad.
He closed his eyes, but did not pull away from her. Instead he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him. "You know I can't say that. Not with any pretence of telling the truth anyway."
"Then stop fighting me!" she said, her voice muffled slightly, as she refused to lift her head from his shoulder. "Just let me in a little, Horatio, that's all I ask." He leaned back, and tipped her head up, her mouth already parted in anticipation of his kiss. Giving in to the temptation before him, wondering what the hell had gotten into him lately, Horatio bowed his head to kiss her. Frankie wanted to weep from the kaleidoscope of emotions that ran through her. Instead, she kissed him back fervently, wishing his touch didn't have the effect of suspending all rational thought.
Horatio stepped back before things could get too out of hand again, and Frankie felt a stab of shame that such common sense hadn't occurred to her. When he was touching her, she cared about nothing else. Like a drug addict, she thought painfully, living for the next high. And like a drug addict, she had to run the risk of self-destruction every once in a while.
Unable to look at him, not wanting to see his emotions hidden away when hers were so clearly on display, she studied the floor instead. "Can I come home with you tonight?" Her voice was quiet, prayerful. She wasn't sure which answer would be best for her.
"I can't think of anything I want more," he replied softly. Still, even as he walked out with her, she couldn't look at him. The rejection of not being allowed in was almost as painful as the thought of going home alone.
