I regained consciousness slowly, aware that my arms were stretched high over my head, bound by rope, and dangling from a large metal hook. My joints were achy and hot. I tried to place my feet underneath me, but even on my tiptoes, couldn't gain enough ground to relieve my arms. I heard steps echoing and a heavy door moving on its tracks. Quickly I closed my eyes, hoping to hear something, anything, that would indicate where I was and who had me. I could hear men's voices in the hall before the door closed. The tap tapping of a single pair of boots moved across the floor towards me. I felt a man's rough hands on my chin. He lifted it.

"You can stop pretending, I know you're awake." My eyes opened wide and I kicked my legs out, putting all my weight on my swinging arms. I bit into my lip, trying to keep from screaming. My shoeless feet made contact with his groin and he doubled over, hand up as to beg for me to stop. It took a moment for him to catch his breath. In the meantime, he had moved further away from me, protecting his person.

"I'm not going to kill you."

"Bullshit, why am I here."

"Garonne knows you're on his trail. You have a reputation Karen Page," upon seeing the confusion on my face, he smiled and laughed, "that's right. I know who you are...and now you're going to tell me what you know." I struggled against the ropes that held me in place.

"I don't know anything."

"Okay, what do you think you know." He walked behind me and gave me a little push, causing my body to swing and my arms to ache more deeply. I groaned despite the effort to keep the noise from escaping.

"You said you weren't going to hurt me."

"No, I said I wasn't going to kill you...You have information that I need. This doesn't have to be ugly. I just need you to tell me what you know."

"Since you asked so nicely, you can go fuck yourself." His smile never wavered. It gave him a slightly unhinged look, forcing a wave of fear through my shoulders, stomach, legs, straight down to my toes.

"Maybe you tell me something, and I help you escape. No worse for wear." My teeth were clinched against the pain and I was breathing hard, too hard. The pain was taking my breath away. I felt his hand on me again, he ran a single finger over my shoulder, down the middle of my back and rested it on lower back. I felt the single point of impact as if he had stabbed a knife into my flesh. It made my skin crawl and reflexively my throat muscles clenched. I was going to be sick. I could feel the bile rising slowly.

Before he could move the offending appendage any further down, the sound of ripping metal echoed around us, taking me back to the explosion in the hotel room. The shock forced the adrenaline through my body. Fight or flight, and I began shaking. Each pulse causing my shoulders to tighten. I flung my head back and cried out, but my tormentor was running towards the door that he had entered. His voice mingled with others, met by the sounds of gun shots. I fought through the pain and flung my body around to evaluate the room. I couldn't see anything that would help. I tried to wrap my hand around the hook and pull myself upward, but I had been hanging in the same position for too long, and my muscles were spent. I was not aware of it at that time, but tears had begun to stream down my face.

It felt like an eternity before the noise stopped. After several failed attempts to free myself, I had stopped moving and tried to relax the best I could, knowing that I needed to be ready and level when whatever hell was coming, came through the door. I heard him before I saw him, the sound of heavy boots, the wrenching of metal. The steps quickened until I felt hands on my shoulder.

"NO" I cried out, and tried to use my body to strike out against the body near mine.

"Shhhh Shhhh. It's okay Karen. It's okay." The sound of Frank's voice caused me to sob loudly. He walked in front of me, wrapped his arms around my waist and pushed my body upwards. I wiggled the rope over the hook holding me, and my arms dropped heavily around Frank's neck. I held tight and cried into his dirty black shirt. Mascara and snot ran down my face, but I could no longer hold it together. It had been so long since I had been that helpless, flashes of Wesley, the gun, the blood, the body, all going through my brain.

He continued to whisper reassuring words into my ear, but I couldn't hear him. He lifted up my arms and cut them loose. They fell limply to my sides. He wrapped a hand around my wrist and pulled me towards the door.

I followed him out of the room and through a hallway. It wasn't well it, but I could easily see a body lying in the floor. I squatted down the best that I could and used the sleeve of my sweater to rotate his face towards me. It wasn't him. I looked at Frank and he led me further down the passage. The silence was eerie. It wasn't a complete silence, but one obviously devoid of human consciousness. I could hear the industrial lights buzzing overhead. The grime built up over years of use dimmed the lights substantially. I could hear the frustrated buzzing of bugs flying repeatedly into the lights, trying to escape.

We came to the last door on the left and there laid a group of men. I could see that several of them had been shot, blood oozing slowly. Their breathing was sallow, but they weren't dead. I didn't ask Frank why, I knew that he had done it this way for me. Or at least I assumed that he had.

I searched each face, but none of the men were him. I walked back the way we came, searching each room until I found his body. He was close to the room that I had been in before the attack. He was bleeding out on the floor. It appears that he had been crawling away and finally slipped into unconsciousness. Frank had knifed him at least three or four times to the torso. I wrapped my fingers inside of my sweater sleeve and used it as a glove to search the man's back pocket. I could feel Frank hovering nearby. I took his wallet and shoved it in my sweater pocked, took Frank's hand, and let him lead me outside.

Frank reached into a darkened corner before leading me to the exit, but could not immediately identify it. A big black muscle car had caused the sound of ripping metal. Frank had obviously rammed it straight into the building, taking off the door. The window was busted out now, but I opened the door and went to sit. He stopped me, pulling a scull adorned vest from the back seat and dropping it over the glass, then motioned for me to sit. It was only then I realized that he had retrieved my purse from the building.

I pushed out air in the way of a snort and sat back in the seat. Exhausted. It was only then that I really noticed the throbbing in the back of my skull. I rubbed my hand over it and cringed. They had knocked me unconscious so that I wouldn't fight them. It was bleeding lightly, but ached dully. I suddenly felt tired, used up. I sighed deeply and closed my eyes.

I was in the hotel room, interviewing the senator. Then I was flying through the air. I landed on the carpet, scraping my knees. My head throbbed and I held it tight, fighting for air in the acrid smoke. I took several deep breaths before grabbing my purse and searching for my gun.

Shit, it was gone. The senator was cornered and I begged for his life on my knees. I looked up, searching for Lewis' eyes, but found Frank's instead. His finger twitched.

I woke up in the dark, breathing hard and fast. It took several minutes before I could calm down enough to assess the situation. I was definitely not in my apartment. I was wrapped up in a scratchy blanket. It was cold and the cold hurt my throat. I laid back, and used my hand to probe around me. My shoulder ached, bringing tears to my eyes. I tried to keep my motions small. I was on a mattress. It was on a carpeted floor, and the bed's springs were sticking into my back.

"Frank" I called out, bordering on hysterics.

"I'm here Karen, it's okay, I'm here." I allowed myself to relax back into sleep.

The next morning found me in about the same condition. I rolled my head to the right and there was a bottle of pills and a dingy glass of water...or a clean glass of dingy water. At that point, I wasn't that concerned with it. I twisted the cap off, popped a couple of pills in my mouth and swallowed them down.

Frank wasn't there. I searched every corner of the one room efficiency apartment. It looked to have last been remodeled in the 70s. Thick mustard carpet covered the floor. The Formica cabinets, mint green, were chipped badly in places. There was a dark ring around the kitchen sink, beside which was a cheap drying rack with one bowl and one plate sitting neatly.

I glanced a wary eye at the rest of the place. A broken floral couch, tattered, moth eaten blanket covering the back. In front of it sat a scratched-up coffee table. My purse was sitting on top of it. The man's wallet was open beside it. I pushed off the mattress, and walked to my purse. My file was gone, as was the flash drive that I saved my scanned research. I sat on the couch, head in hands. The throbbing in my head grew as the heat overtook my cheeks and once again I started to cry. God, I hated to cry.

"You okay."

"Nope." I said into my hands. I didn't bother to look up, nor was I concerned that Frank had gotten inside without me hearing him.

"Coffee?" I extended my aching arm and he placed a light, hot cup inside of it. I brought it to my nose and smelled. Not feeling particularly picky, I took a sip. The rush of caffeine helped the screaming in my head subside. The tears unfortunately, were there to stay.

"They took everything out of my purse. Everything I had been working on, all my notes, my file. My notebook isn't even in there."

"Nah, I did that." I looked at him sharply. "I packed all that shit back in your purse before I came to find you. Took it out to relieve you of whatever duty you feel bound to finish on this story. You're done with it."

I shook my head at him, cutting my eyes sharply, "The hell I am. I'm close. They're running scared Frank."

"Is that what you call what was happening in that room? Them running scared?" he snorted derisively at this, "That's bullshit Karen and you know it."

"I can take care of myself."

"That's just about reflex now, huh. Nobody's questioning the size of your stones girl, you got em for sure, but seeing you like that last night...I can't. I can't see you like that again. I won't."

"I didn't ask you to Frank. People deserve the truth. Tom deserves the truth." Frank cut me off before I could finish my thought.

"Stop. I'm not going to lose you to this Karen." Emotion raising in his voice. I had to look away to keep him from seeing the tears creep back up. I picked up the man's wallet and looked up at Frank in shock. At some point during the night, Frank had teased open a hidden pocket in the wallet, revealing FBI credentials.

"He was undercover?"

"Appears so." Frank looked at her and continued. "After I dropped you off, I went back to the warehouse, but everything was gone. Blood, bodies, everything. I dumped the car and made my way back here on foot. Whoever, that agent is after, he's got heft. He's got the hardware, heavy hitters, the works, and you need to stay the hell out of it."

"I guess we're at an impasse Frank, because I have absolutely no intention of stopping now." Frank shook his head at this and smiled.

"I should've left your ass dangling. Let you think over the hazards of this job." I laughed, and manipulated the left and right shoulder joints the best that I could. I inspected the rope burns on my wrists. My sweater had been pushed to my elbows and had not protected the skin that was now purplish red with deep welts.

"I'm starting to become very intimately aware. So how is it that you were so conveniently in the neighborhood last night?"

"Followed you."

"No shit, any particular reason why?"

"That's how I've spent every Tuesday and Thursday for the last six months." He grinned puckishly at me.

"That's not normal."

He walked towards me, expression unreadable, and placed his hand on the back of my neck. He gently pushed my head forward and moved my hair away from the swollen lump on the back of my head. He felt around with his fingers, only stopping when I groaned lightly. He lightly moved the hair back into place, letting it fall over my shoulders. He put his hand lightly on my right shoulder in a comforting way. His calloused hands felt very present. The weight and heat of it was something that I was not used to, not for a long time. He took his other hand and held my forearm, avoiding my injured wrist, his body gently touching mine and extended my arm. He felt the muscles sliding under my skin, evaluating the damage. Before he could fully extend it over my head, I hissed in air, the dull ache becoming sharp.

He repeated the process with the other arm, making it all the way over my head before I sucked in air, indicating that I could take no more. He walked around and sat on the scratched wood table, eyes on mine. He ran his finger over my busted lip. He touched me with a tenderness that I rarely saw, and it made me ashamed, like I was a child. Injured while misbehaving. The thought made me blush, and anger sparked deeply inside of me. I moved my face way from his touch. Taking the hint, he dropped his hands and looked at me, waiting until I met his gaze. I did reluctantly.

"You won't stop. You'll never stop. That's why I... It's..." He exhaled the breath he was holding, moving his hand over his buzzed hair. "I saw it in you. When we talked in the hospital. I knew you'd never stop."

I put my hand on his shoulder. "I'm fond of you too Frank. I've got somewhere to go. You can come if you want."