December 17th 1999

She bought food from a cheap vendor in Union Square. She browsed every bookstore in the Village. She wandered the streets until the cold forced her to take refuge in a coffee shop or some small retail store. She wouldn't go home; she couldn't. If she did, Karen would be faced with Stan and the kids, and when once she was beginning to fall back into the routine of being a Walker, when she thought she was beginning to finally get the pieces back together, she now felt as though the strings she so carefully tied came apart once again.

Funny how your world can freeze while everyone else simply moves around you, stepping over the mess.

Karen wondered if she should go to Will's apartment, knock on the door, see if he's there. He probably wouldn't want her. He probably used his months after the last call getting over her, finding someone else, moving on where Karen was stuck. She'd be lucky if he even remembered what she looked like. All these months, she had visited the places they used to love, hoping she would run into him, or at the very least, catch a quick glance. Just to see that he's there. Just to see that he's okay.

As the night grew darker, she made her way to Washington Square. If there was anyone in the park, she wasn't able to see them. Karen looked across the street at the window of her old apartment; there was a light on. She wanted to know who inhabited it. She wondered if they were like her and her mother when they lived there. And if they were, she wanted to know if the little girl would run the first chance she got. She turned away and walked into the park, found a bench.

Her cell phone broke her concentration. Damn it. Karen forgot that she left it in her purse; she was sure she put it in the bag she left at the office. She didn't have to answer it to know who was on the other end; it was late, and Stan would be wondering where she was, why she didn't come home yet. She closed her eyes and waited for it to stop ringing. She didn't think she could handle answering the phone; coming up with an explanation as to why she didn't want to be with him tonight seemed like an impossible task, and she didn't want to waste her time digging herself into a deeper hole than she already had. Once silence had surrounded her—as much silence as she could get in downtown Manhattan—she started to relax on the park bench.

Hours had passed; Stan and the kids were surely in bed. Her cheeks were frozen red, but she was unable to feel the cold, and she wondered when she lost the ability to feel that. She wondered when she would feel the need to go back home. She wondered if there were any hotels around that had a vacant room to spend the night in. She wondered if she should just curl up on this park bench for the night.

She wondered if anyone would miss her if she decided never to go back.

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December 18th 1999

He watched the minutes flash by on his nightstand, the digital clock screaming red numbers at him in a constant reminder. It's 12:35 am, and you still haven't done anything. It's 1:24 am, and I bet you're wondering where she is. It's 2:07 am, and she could be at home sleeping soundly with the one she married. It's 2:45 am, and—

The phone rang. Will didn't know whether to take it as a reward, a break from his thoughts, or a complete disturbance to the punishment he so greatly deserved. Either way, he grabbed for the cordless and pushed "Talk."

"Hello?"

"Mr. Will?" The voice on the other end spoke quietly.

"Rosario? What are you doing? It's nearly three in the morning."

"I know, and I'm deeply sorry for calling so late. I just wanted to ask if you've heard from Miss Karen. I tried calling her phone earlier, but she didn't answer. She hasn't come home, and Mr. Stan was starting to get worried." Starting to. Right. Stan was lucky if he saw Karen at all during the day anymore. The truth was, Rosario was the one who was worried. She knew Karen wasn't the same after Will, but it wasn't like her to not come home. And, if she was being completely honest, Rosario wanted Will to know that there was still a chance. She knew that the Walker marriage was less than perfect and, even if they didn't want to admit it, had ended long ago. And as much as she and Karen take jabs at each other, Rosario does care for her.

"Wait, she's still out?"

"I don't know where she is."

Will looked at the clock. It's 2:51 am, and it looks like you still have a chance. "Thanks for calling me, Rosario. I'll let you know if I hear anything from her, okay? Don't worry, I'm sure she's fine." He hung up and bolted out of bed. After a hasty change of clothes, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

It's 2:56 am, and you're finally listening.

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Through taxis speeding down Washington Square North. Through the laughter and footsteps of drunken New Yorkers making their way home. Through the shouts of choice four-letter words from the ones who live on this patch of grass. She sat through all of it, waiting for something different to happen to her. Waiting for something that would most likely never happen. Determined to stay in this park until it happened.

Eventually she realized this was another crushed hope.

Karen stood up, looked at her watch. She wondered if any hotel would even take her in this late. She had been out so long. At the very least, she had the key to Grace's office. She could take refuge there until morning if she was desperate; it was a Saturday and Grace would have off, so there would be no chance of her walking in and finding Karen sleeping there. Maybe she should just do that; even if Grace found her there, she had the upper hand. Grace would still be feeling bad about everything. Grace would have to understand.

She began to make her way towards the office when a voice stopped her.

"There you are. I was worried about you. Rosario called, she said you never came home. I wanted to come look for you."

Oh god.

"Karen? Are you okay?"

No.

She turned around to face him. "Will, what are you doing here?"

"I know Grace told you." Will moved in closer. He could smell the perfume she usually wore when she was with him. It was a different scent than when they first met, the fragrance she could masquerade in. He reached for her hand and was surprised when she let him take it.

"I need to talk to you."