[ he glances over at her as if to make sure she really means that. but then he's slowly getting his joints in gear, letting go of her hand and immediately feeling bereft for it, but he needs it to push himself up off the floor. his bones crackle tellingly, god he feels old. frank beelines for her desk instead of the bed, dumping his protein bars into the drawer away from the manual papers still in there. next he unzips his hoodie and hangs it on the back of the chair. see, he's following orders. he's still exhausted, but the closer he gets to the bed, the harder his heart starts to pound. this shouldn't be awkward, right?
after another moment's hesitation, he pops the lock on his magboots and strips them off, leaving them by the side of the bed he's decided to occupy. sometimes he sleeps with them on, but after they lost gravity he feels more confident he could get to them and get them engaged anyway. he doesn't dare throw another look karen's way, instead just crawling under the sheets and placing his head on the pillow facing the nightstand. maybe once she gets in he'll turn around. ]
[He takes the time he needs following that order, and she gives him space while he sorts through it. She knows that it's not something that comes easy to him, and she needs to stay seated to get her own boots off. This definitely shouldn't be awkward, but it feels that way as she lingers for a minute or so before finally pushing herself up to stand. Max grumbles in protest as she goes, and after some parting attention she slowly makes her way over to the bed.
Without saying a word, she crawls over to lay next to him, trying to figure out what to say to make this potentially feel less awkward. But maybe nothing needs to be said, so she reaches back out to take hold of his hand once again.]
[ she takes his hand and he lets out a tiny exhale in surprise. it's the impetus he needed to fold over and turn towards the center of the bed. except... when he's there, laying against a pillow that smells distinctly of karen, he realizes his mistake. she's on maria's side of the bed and his heart cinches, fear and loss cycling through his expression until he ends as he always does: on pain. it helps that he looks like quasimodo right now too, but that pain is nothing compared to the constriction in his chest - to hearing her voice rubbing against his ear. Morning, sleepyhead. his breaths are coming quicker and quicker all the time and without noticing he's fallen out of touch with reality. frank grips karen's hand, but instead of slim fingers calloused by a pen and sheer determination, he feels the plush, soft skin of his late wife.
it's like he's looking right through her, unseeing even as he tries to get himself in check. a second later sees him dropping her hand suddenly and snaking his own hand underneath his pillow so she can't reach for it again. ] Sorry. [ frank can't close his eyes or he'll see maria too, and he really doesn't want to run from the room screaming. not tonight. tonight, he just needs... a friend, and karen has been generous enough to extend that out to him without any demand in return. he's trying to accept graciously, but now he knows he'll dream. and if he dreams karen will see once and for all how broken he truly is. ]
[It's not much of a challenge to realize what's possibly going through his head. She doubts he's been in a bed with a woman since his wife. And while this isn't the same as being together with someone, it's probably a lot to take in all at once.
Karen doesn't push, doesn't say anything at first, just curls so she's laying in a way that won't make him think she's trying to corner him into something. ]
It's alright.
[She finally speaks, her voice barely above a whisper.]
Whatever you're feeling, it's okay.
[That's stating the obvious, though she isn't sure he lets himself believe that whatever he's feeling is fine. He's probably close to panic on the inside, and she isn't sure there's anything she can do about that except just laying still and close to him.]
[ it's quick, nearly automatic. it isn't okay both in the sense that he won't allow himself to accept it, but also in how terrible it feels when only moments ago he'd been tired and comfortable in karen's presence. now he isn't even sure he can do this at all. ]
[well, she can't tell him that what he's feeling is bullshit. She doesn't even know what he's thinking, so she can't make that judgement.]
Talk me through this, Frank. What doesn't feel okay?
[She's never dismissed his feelings before, and she's not about to start now. Not even when they're both tired and sleep would be good for the both of them.]
What does feel okay? That would be a much shorter list in his life generally, let alone now in this moment. But Frank meets her eyes slowly, an unwieldy focus regaining behind them. He wets his lips once and tries to find the words she'll need to understand. It's never been his strong suit.
"Can we..." Frank has to pause to blow a long breath through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for just a second - it's enough to see her face and they pop right back open again. "I need to switch sides." It sounds urgent, damn near emergency. He starts scooting towards her side of the bed without waiting for an answer, though if he were thinking clearer he would realize getting up and walking around is the much less awkward way to do this...
He manages to nearly plow her over in the process, and she gasps in surprise as their awkward shuffling nearly ends with her sprawled out on top of him. He scoots as she's rising up to move, and he makes her fumble, slipping to land in his lap. There's a lot of embarrassed apologies as she practically leaps to where he was previously laying, heart racing as she shifts to lay back down.
A hand rests against her chest, feeling how ridiculous it is to have her heard beating so fast over nothing. "Is this better?" She finally is able to ask, almost afraid he might bolt from the room if she says anything to him at all.
Yeah, he really didn't think that through, looking up at her paralyzed for a full moment before she manages to scrabble off of him to land on the pillow nextdoor. Even though it's his bad eye, he smushes his face into the pillow she was just occupying and turns towards her minutely before laying flat on his belly. In opposition to her as always, he's immediately calmer just with that one adjustment. The new vantage point doesn't bring anything to mind from his past life, not quick enough to make a difference; not when he's already this tired. His leg brushes hers on the small bed and he lets out a long sigh, already looking like he's about to slip under.
"Yeah," he manages drowsily, wrapping both hands around his pillow this time so neither of them get any ideas. He looks at her face unwaveringly though his good eye keeps drooping, eyelashes fluttering like a sleepy toddler strapped in for a long car ride. When was the last time he really slept, anyway? He knows he needs to, and that he wouldn't have even tried tonight without her. "Thanks, Karen."
The difference in his comfort level is immediately obvious, and she turns over on her side to watch his face as relaxation settles in over him. A large part of her wants to take care of him and is glad he's falling asleep so easily now, but she also recognizes that she needs him tonight as much as he needs her. They're both too stubborn and stupid to sleep on their own time, so having one another around helps keep them accountable for doing things like resting.
"You're helping me too," she softly reminds him, smiling as she slips her hand over to lightly touch at his cheek. The contact is kept brief and feather light, almost as if she's afraid her touch might burn him. Their legs are touching anyway, and that's more than enough for her racing heart.
"So you better be here when I wake up in the morning."
There's no hesitation in the way he turns his face into her gentle contact, letting his thigh rest fully against hers now. He can feel her pulse pounding now and it creases his mouth in a lazy frown even though it's impossible to keep his eyes open now.
"I'll probably sleep way past you." Just as a warning that he could be hard to wake and he doesn't recommend it besides. I let you sleep in. It's almost ten-thirty. Frank swallows, idly rubbing his stubbled cheek against her soft palm. "Karen..." It wasn't much of a warning, he's realizing belatedly. He really should get on that, but he's losing coherency rapidly by the second.
He rubs his cheek against her palm, and she allows her touch to linger a little longer than she otherwise might. Her eyes start to feel heavy and close, only to slowly open when he says her name. They're both barely hanging in there, and she thinks that maybe she should just ignore him.
She can't do that, of course. She's never able to, even when she probably should.
"Hm?" She drowsily questions, letting her eyes close once again. Her hand slips down from his cheek, and she lets it fall in the small space between them.
"I might dream," he sighs out, but he's already more than halfway asleep, head lolling forward as he finally gives into his exhaustion. He's out in seconds, breathing slowing and evening out. He can't remember the last time he slept so soundly, but he certainly wasn't in space when it happened. Maybe it was that night - the night before his life ended. And he had slept in like a fool with nothing to lose. He's doing it again, his body refusing to relinquish its grasp on sleep now that it has what it needs. Sometime in the night, the top of Frank's head comes to rest against the cap of her shoulder, his face almost entirely on her pillow. One heavy hand settles on her waist, keeping her close though it wasn't something he needed to encourage at all. His good (better) eyelid twitches like he's going through something, but it's not bad enough that he twitches or wakes yet, slipping into REM for the first time in a long time. If he survives it, he might just come out the other end of it saner. Maybe he won't even randomly text dead girls for sport anymore. But, like, don't hold ur breath tho.
The visions come into focus, Maria wasting away like Alex and Bobbie did, Frank unable to stop or hinder it in any way. The ghost captain shows up to laugh at him, a deep booming mockery of his deepest, darkest fears. He can see Kamala, and Karen, but he can't get to them. They're all in vac suits on the hull, but he's tied down while their magboots dim and they float away. His heart seizes with panicked helplessness at all the images cycling through behind his eyes, fingers tightening on Karen's side unbeknownst to him as he dreams on.
The more traditional dream makes its appearance too, Frank tied to a chair in the mess with Karen beside him. The men with masks come in and he's pleading with them, with himself. Because he knows the man in the middle who raises his M1911IA is him. There's no time to save her, and his head whips around just in time to see the bullet pierce her skull and he's screaming now, thrashing to break free. He can't know that he's squirming against her in reality too, clutching at her even as he tries to break his invisible bonds. She's gone and he's left with nothing again, the familiar emptiness usurping him and driving his body towards eery stillness instead.
Karen falls asleep faster than she has in years, feeling safe with Frank there with her. She has nightmares sometimes, but tonight is a dreamless sleep. He curls in closer and she doesn't stir, though she does curl in toward him once he's in so close that they're sharing a pillow. It isn't until his hold on her waist applies enough pressure that she begins to wake up, his nightmare going unnoticed due to how much her body needs the rest.
Once he starts to squirm and move beside her, she blearily blinks awake. Even with drowsiness making her sluggish and her reaction time slow, she knows he's having a nightmare. It must be intense and awful, with the way he's thrashing.
"Frank." She says his name firmly, slipping her hands up to press against his chest. She can feel his heart racing wildly, and she wishes that she could take whatever he's dreaming about and keep it from ever bothering him again. But men like Frank don't have their demons chased away so easily. Even if she gave him all her strength, he'd still struggle with dreams that haunt him. Her hands go to his face, palms pressing against his cheeks. They're close enough that their breath mingles and it's nothing to lean in and press her forehead against his.
His body goes still around the same time she presses her hands against his face, though the two aren't related. They aren't intrinsically linked, in any case. Before he can wake up, he goes slack against her, like total dead weight as he leans into her hands and body. His subconscious registers his name and he lets out a breathy little sigh as it starts to pierce through the veil of his terrible dreams. "Ma..." He never finishes her name, realizing even in his sleep that she's not here, that she's not the one speaking to him. It only makes him lean into Karen more, clutching at her more desperately as he slowly comes around, head weaving unsteadily and eyes fluttering erratically.
"Karen?" It's like he's underwater and can't find the surface to come up for air. The pain in his eye starts to help him break through, but he still can't remember how he got here. When he finally pries his good eyelid open, the other sticks with a sickening crunch, but he doesn't seem to notice. The first thing he does notice is how close their faces are, and that his hand is locked around her upper arm like a vice. His heart is drumming so loud in his ears he can scarcely hear anything else, but she's real and solid, their bodies pressed so tightly he can't separate her breaths from his. "Sorry."
There's tears in her eyes as she waits for him to come to, worry flooding her. It's only a dream, they can't actually harm him. But seeing him in any kind of anguish, even mental, is enough to upset her. But he's waking up now, and she barely notices how painful his grip on her is. It's only after he's aware of what's going on that she can feel the steady pulsing throb on her arm, and all she can do at first is slowly nod like what's happening right now isn't a big deal.
"It's alright."
A voice in the back of her head tells her that she should move, scoot away to give him some space. She doesn't want him to think that she's afraid and trying to get away though, and this closeness gives her a sense of elation that she doesn't fully want to try comprehending yet. She swears she can feel his heart pounding as loud as hers is, and for the moment all she can do is keep her eyes on his and try to reassure him without words that everything is fine and they're safe.
"It was only a dream." Her voice is thick with emotion, but she's smiling. It was only a dream and he's fine.
"It's not," he protests automatically, realizing he's still gripping her arm too tightly and he drops his hand with a self-effacing frown. She's crying - for him? He hopes he didn't say anything in his sleep to give away the subject of his nightmare. His forehead drops once more to her shoulder, rubbing slowly back and forth like it's comforting somehow. His heart's hammer slows, evening out with his breath against her throat. But he's still shaken. No matter how many times he has the same dream it doesn't make it any easier to take.
"Until it isn't." This place would hurt her too, like it had done Alex. She's already been attacked once, what if the next time... he isn't there to save her? It's his fears from home tenfold, and maybe that's what makes him overcome the initial shock of their proximity to wind his arms around her and hold on tight. "It's my job to keep you safe, Karen. My job."
So he dreamt about her. That much is obvious. The fact that she's close to crying when it's him that has to suffer through things like paralyzing fear that he won't be enough is ridiculous. As his arms wrap around her, she slips her arms to hold him in return. His arms are like towers, sheltering her from any outside harm. He can't always be there with her, and they both know that. But they have nothing to worry about or fear now.
"I can -"
She starts to spout off her patronizing bullshit saying that she can take care of herself, but it falls short and dies off on the tip of her tongue. Her head turns, pressing dry lips against the side of his head.
"You have kept me safe, Frank. Any time I'm in trouble, you come for me."
"I know you can take care of yourself, Karen." She's a broken record with that shit, but it doesn't mean he's holding her any less tightly. A lone tear that had been trapped tracks down his face as she turns to kiss it. It has him drawing in a shuddering breath, but he doesn't move away. He doesn't feel capable of it. And maybe it's okay to indulge in drawing out the contact just this once. "But the things this place does to people... I can't protect you from that."
Frank swallows dryly even while clinging on, trying not to see what he just saw behind his eyelids play out over and over with his face buried against her. Eventually, it presses in and becomes too much and he backs off just far enough to make eye contact with her, fingers catching at her waist.
"You said we should stick together and I should've listened." He's abandoned her all over again, hasn't he? The realization isn't a kind nor easy one for him to come to terms with, but at least he's consistent. Letting his friends down, even lightyears and millennia away from home.
Her hand rubs at his back, trying to soothe him. She knows it's only a matter of time before her words act as a way to provoke him, because she can't seem to ever say the right thing with anyone here. "You shouldn't have to feel anchored down by me, Frank."
She doesn't have a life here. She does a good job of running around until the point of exhaustion, but any acquaintance she has is surface level at best. The friends she tells herself she has probably don't spare her a thought at the end of the day. So many times it feels like all she really has is Max, but even he's not hers. He's Frank's, and rightfully spends a lot of his time with him. She grew up telling herself that she'd make something out of herself, that her name would mean something someday.
The reality of the matter is she desperately just wants her name to matter to one person. But she can't put that on Frank. "I don't want to hold you back."
Her voice cracks and she finds herself crying, a lone tear slipping down her cheek. "But I don't want you to forget about me either."
Anchored down? Holding him back? Forgetting about her? He thought he fielded her insecurities already where this was concerned but clearly he'll have to redouble his efforts. It's easier now that he's estranged from the crew, and he realizes that makes him selfish, that he'd prioritized a group of strangers over his friend from home. Frank continues to pull back, but it doesn't make the moment any less intimate from his side of things, pushing errant hair back that falls into her face and tucking it behind her ear. He could fall right back to sleep now, he's so wiped, and he doesn't even think he would dream. But she needs his assurances now, in any form he knows how to give them.
"I'm here, Karen. I'm right here." He wipes that tear from her face with one calloused thumbpad, cupping her cheek and hanging on gently. "And as long as we've got each other, we're gonna be alright." She knows he won't allow for an alternative. Or at least, he'll do everything in his considerable power to prevent just that. Too bad this place oppresses people much stronger than him.
"How do you think I could forget about you, huh? Like anyone could forget a force of nature all her own like Karen freakin' Page."
This is too intimate for people who are just friends. It manages to make her more insecure somehow, because she isn't sure how to react to his attention or his words. Her teeth press against her lip, keeping inside anything she might say without thinking. She wants to be honest, but doesn't want to hurt him.
"A force of nature that thought she did something wrong." She whispers, tipping her head to lean into his touch. It's easy for him to say that they'll stick together, and that everything will be fine as long as that happens. The reality of the matter is that actions speak louder than words, and right now her heightened emotions make everything feel magnified.
"I didn't know what to think when you weren't here." And she sure as hell doesn't now that he's in so close that she feels closer to him than she ever has anyone else. "I did what I always do. I kept going. Alone."
"Karen..." As much as she may not want to hurt him, she is; her words cutting him deep. But maybe he deserves that as much as this swollen fucking eye. "You didn't do anything wrong." An assurance as he pets over her hair, then goes back to holding the side of her face, his eyes filling with water again.
"It's just three decks, I was never hiding from you." He just hadn't actively sought her out or thought of including her. Maybe it was another layer to protecting her in the end. Alone. The word echoes in his ears unpleasantly; that he made Karen feel that way. Frank never put much thought into her reliance on him or that he could potentially let her down - even if it should've been on his mind here. At home, he walks in and out of her life with ease, but here... Here they're stuck together on a life raft with no oars. "I never meant..." Frank runs out of words fast, instead pressing his forehead against hers again. This seems to be a language they can both understand.
That gesture does more than words ever could. There's a shuddering breath at the first press of contact, and she instantly relaxes. "I know," she murmurs, giving the tiniest nod. She doesn't want to dislodge him or make him feel like he should pull away. Thoughts of excuses on why she didn't just invite herself wherever he was flood her mind, and she grips hold of his arm like it's a lifeline. As her eyes drift closed, it's easy to pretend that the conversation is over there.
It isn't, of course, because she can't keep her mouth shut.
"I was jealous, if you can believe it." She dryly laughs at her own stupidity, but feels her throat go dry as she can't figure out if it was Frank or his new friends that she was jealous of. Maybe it doesn't really matter now. The clearing of the air is enough, it doesn't have to be a total reveal of every little thing that's on her mind or what she's feeling.
He's not moving away, and not just because her grip locks him in. They both know he could break it easily if he didn't want to be there. He doesn't want to read into needing this - or needing her. He just wants to be, just this way, for as long as he can get away with. That's selfish too, he knows.
"I can't," he utters seriously against her ear, hand coming up to tangle in messy hair until his fingers reach her scalp. His own scalp tingles then - don't the kids call that ASMR? Karen should never be jealous of him, she's so much more than he's ever been. Than he ever will be again, especially. "I think it's over anyway." He means his status with the Rocis. He knows how tight-knit they are and if Amos distrusts him, surely the rest will follow. Maybe it had been a deliberate sabotage of his own happiness in the end. It's not like it would be out of character.
Frank squeezes her suddenly, his body hugging hers in a firm embrace. Would it be so bad if they fell asleep again, intertwined? As if to challenge himself and his own thoughts, Frank wedges one thick thigh between her legs, completing their meld.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, wishing he could start over here on so many levels.
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after another moment's hesitation, he pops the lock on his magboots and strips them off, leaving them by the side of the bed he's decided to occupy. sometimes he sleeps with them on, but after they lost gravity he feels more confident he could get to them and get them engaged anyway. he doesn't dare throw another look karen's way, instead just crawling under the sheets and placing his head on the pillow facing the nightstand. maybe once she gets in he'll turn around. ]
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Without saying a word, she crawls over to lay next to him, trying to figure out what to say to make this potentially feel less awkward. But maybe nothing needs to be said, so she reaches back out to take hold of his hand once again.]
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it's like he's looking right through her, unseeing even as he tries to get himself in check. a second later sees him dropping her hand suddenly and snaking his own hand underneath his pillow so she can't reach for it again. ] Sorry. [ frank can't close his eyes or he'll see maria too, and he really doesn't want to run from the room screaming. not tonight. tonight, he just needs... a friend, and karen has been generous enough to extend that out to him without any demand in return. he's trying to accept graciously, but now he knows he'll dream. and if he dreams karen will see once and for all how broken he truly is. ]
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Karen doesn't push, doesn't say anything at first, just curls so she's laying in a way that won't make him think she's trying to corner him into something. ]
It's alright.
[She finally speaks, her voice barely above a whisper.]
Whatever you're feeling, it's okay.
[That's stating the obvious, though she isn't sure he lets himself believe that whatever he's feeling is fine. He's probably close to panic on the inside, and she isn't sure there's anything she can do about that except just laying still and close to him.]
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[ it's quick, nearly automatic. it isn't okay both in the sense that he won't allow himself to accept it, but also in how terrible it feels when only moments ago he'd been tired and comfortable in karen's presence. now he isn't even sure he can do this at all. ]
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Talk me through this, Frank. What doesn't feel okay?
[She's never dismissed his feelings before, and she's not about to start now. Not even when they're both tired and sleep would be good for the both of them.]
surprose sorry i was getting tiad
"Can we..." Frank has to pause to blow a long breath through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for just a second - it's enough to see her face and they pop right back open again. "I need to switch sides." It sounds urgent, damn near emergency. He starts scooting towards her side of the bed without waiting for an answer, though if he were thinking clearer he would realize getting up and walking around is the much less awkward way to do this...
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A hand rests against her chest, feeling how ridiculous it is to have her heard beating so fast over nothing. "Is this better?" She finally is able to ask, almost afraid he might bolt from the room if she says anything to him at all.
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"Yeah," he manages drowsily, wrapping both hands around his pillow this time so neither of them get any ideas. He looks at her face unwaveringly though his good eye keeps drooping, eyelashes fluttering like a sleepy toddler strapped in for a long car ride. When was the last time he really slept, anyway? He knows he needs to, and that he wouldn't have even tried tonight without her. "Thanks, Karen."
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"You're helping me too," she softly reminds him, smiling as she slips her hand over to lightly touch at his cheek. The contact is kept brief and feather light, almost as if she's afraid her touch might burn him. Their legs are touching anyway, and that's more than enough for her racing heart.
"So you better be here when I wake up in the morning."
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"I'll probably sleep way past you." Just as a warning that he could be hard to wake and he doesn't recommend it besides. I let you sleep in. It's almost ten-thirty. Frank swallows, idly rubbing his stubbled cheek against her soft palm. "Karen..." It wasn't much of a warning, he's realizing belatedly. He really should get on that, but he's losing coherency rapidly by the second.
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She can't do that, of course. She's never able to, even when she probably should.
"Hm?" She drowsily questions, letting her eyes close once again. Her hand slips down from his cheek, and she lets it fall in the small space between them.
cw: disturbing imagery, murder
The visions come into focus, Maria wasting away like Alex and Bobbie did, Frank unable to stop or hinder it in any way. The ghost captain shows up to laugh at him, a deep booming mockery of his deepest, darkest fears. He can see Kamala, and Karen, but he can't get to them. They're all in vac suits on the hull, but he's tied down while their magboots dim and they float away. His heart seizes with panicked helplessness at all the images cycling through behind his eyes, fingers tightening on Karen's side unbeknownst to him as he dreams on.
The more traditional dream makes its appearance too, Frank tied to a chair in the mess with Karen beside him. The men with masks come in and he's pleading with them, with himself. Because he knows the man in the middle who raises his M1911IA is him. There's no time to save her, and his head whips around just in time to see the bullet pierce her skull and he's screaming now, thrashing to break free. He can't know that he's squirming against her in reality too, clutching at her even as he tries to break his invisible bonds. She's gone and he's left with nothing again, the familiar emptiness usurping him and driving his body towards eery stillness instead.
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Once he starts to squirm and move beside her, she blearily blinks awake. Even with drowsiness making her sluggish and her reaction time slow, she knows he's having a nightmare. It must be intense and awful, with the way he's thrashing.
"Frank." She says his name firmly, slipping her hands up to press against his chest. She can feel his heart racing wildly, and she wishes that she could take whatever he's dreaming about and keep it from ever bothering him again. But men like Frank don't have their demons chased away so easily. Even if she gave him all her strength, he'd still struggle with dreams that haunt him. Her hands go to his face, palms pressing against his cheeks. They're close enough that their breath mingles and it's nothing to lean in and press her forehead against his.
"Wake up, Frank. I'm with you."
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"Karen?" It's like he's underwater and can't find the surface to come up for air. The pain in his eye starts to help him break through, but he still can't remember how he got here. When he finally pries his good eyelid open, the other sticks with a sickening crunch, but he doesn't seem to notice. The first thing he does notice is how close their faces are, and that his hand is locked around her upper arm like a vice. His heart is drumming so loud in his ears he can scarcely hear anything else, but she's real and solid, their bodies pressed so tightly he can't separate her breaths from his. "Sorry."
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"It's alright."
A voice in the back of her head tells her that she should move, scoot away to give him some space. She doesn't want him to think that she's afraid and trying to get away though, and this closeness gives her a sense of elation that she doesn't fully want to try comprehending yet. She swears she can feel his heart pounding as loud as hers is, and for the moment all she can do is keep her eyes on his and try to reassure him without words that everything is fine and they're safe.
"It was only a dream." Her voice is thick with emotion, but she's smiling. It was only a dream and he's fine.
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"Until it isn't." This place would hurt her too, like it had done Alex. She's already been attacked once, what if the next time... he isn't there to save her? It's his fears from home tenfold, and maybe that's what makes him overcome the initial shock of their proximity to wind his arms around her and hold on tight. "It's my job to keep you safe, Karen. My job."
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"I can -"
She starts to spout off her patronizing bullshit saying that she can take care of herself, but it falls short and dies off on the tip of her tongue. Her head turns, pressing dry lips against the side of his head.
"You have kept me safe, Frank. Any time I'm in trouble, you come for me."
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Frank swallows dryly even while clinging on, trying not to see what he just saw behind his eyelids play out over and over with his face buried against her. Eventually, it presses in and becomes too much and he backs off just far enough to make eye contact with her, fingers catching at her waist.
"You said we should stick together and I should've listened." He's abandoned her all over again, hasn't he? The realization isn't a kind nor easy one for him to come to terms with, but at least he's consistent. Letting his friends down, even lightyears and millennia away from home.
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She doesn't have a life here. She does a good job of running around until the point of exhaustion, but any acquaintance she has is surface level at best. The friends she tells herself she has probably don't spare her a thought at the end of the day. So many times it feels like all she really has is Max, but even he's not hers. He's Frank's, and rightfully spends a lot of his time with him. She grew up telling herself that she'd make something out of herself, that her name would mean something someday.
The reality of the matter is she desperately just wants her name to matter to one person. But she can't put that on Frank. "I don't want to hold you back."
Her voice cracks and she finds herself crying, a lone tear slipping down her cheek. "But I don't want you to forget about me either."
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"I'm here, Karen. I'm right here." He wipes that tear from her face with one calloused thumbpad, cupping her cheek and hanging on gently. "And as long as we've got each other, we're gonna be alright." She knows he won't allow for an alternative. Or at least, he'll do everything in his considerable power to prevent just that. Too bad this place oppresses people much stronger than him.
"How do you think I could forget about you, huh? Like anyone could forget a force of nature all her own like Karen freakin' Page."
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"A force of nature that thought she did something wrong." She whispers, tipping her head to lean into his touch. It's easy for him to say that they'll stick together, and that everything will be fine as long as that happens. The reality of the matter is that actions speak louder than words, and right now her heightened emotions make everything feel magnified.
"I didn't know what to think when you weren't here." And she sure as hell doesn't now that he's in so close that she feels closer to him than she ever has anyone else. "I did what I always do. I kept going. Alone."
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"It's just three decks, I was never hiding from you." He just hadn't actively sought her out or thought of including her. Maybe it was another layer to protecting her in the end. Alone. The word echoes in his ears unpleasantly; that he made Karen feel that way. Frank never put much thought into her reliance on him or that he could potentially let her down - even if it should've been on his mind here. At home, he walks in and out of her life with ease, but here... Here they're stuck together on a life raft with no oars. "I never meant..." Frank runs out of words fast, instead pressing his forehead against hers again. This seems to be a language they can both understand.
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It isn't, of course, because she can't keep her mouth shut.
"I was jealous, if you can believe it." She dryly laughs at her own stupidity, but feels her throat go dry as she can't figure out if it was Frank or his new friends that she was jealous of. Maybe it doesn't really matter now. The clearing of the air is enough, it doesn't have to be a total reveal of every little thing that's on her mind or what she's feeling.
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"I can't," he utters seriously against her ear, hand coming up to tangle in messy hair until his fingers reach her scalp. His own scalp tingles then - don't the kids call that ASMR? Karen should never be jealous of him, she's so much more than he's ever been. Than he ever will be again, especially. "I think it's over anyway." He means his status with the Rocis. He knows how tight-knit they are and if Amos distrusts him, surely the rest will follow. Maybe it had been a deliberate sabotage of his own happiness in the end. It's not like it would be out of character.
Frank squeezes her suddenly, his body hugging hers in a firm embrace. Would it be so bad if they fell asleep again, intertwined? As if to challenge himself and his own thoughts, Frank wedges one thick thigh between her legs, completing their meld.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, wishing he could start over here on so many levels.
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