#ah well boss is apparently going to let us vote on it so hopefully we don't end up coming in tuesday

[six-of-ravens]

well, boss was reminded that Halloween is next week and we should do something fun, and now there's debate over whether we do it Monday (when one girl is away) or if we should come into the office on Tuesday, which like. yay fun party times or whatever, but also I had VERY IMPORTANT PLANS* on Halloween and I wanted to work from home :(

[stayndays]

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟏: Don’t Be Suspicious

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! This chapter includes:

Possible Story/Grammatical Errors

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : “You came here to assist your boss at a party he’s invited to, not to solve a murder with a group of strangers you��ve just met. Yet here you are, staring at the dead mansion owner who hosted the party in the first place, surrounded by nine men with high statuses in society: and one of them is a murderer. The question is who? And can you solve the mystery without being killed yourself?”

Visit the masterlist first before proceeding. It has all the info you need to read this series.

“You got this?” Hyunjin asks you nervously while you straighten out your outfit, his hands on your shoulders.

“I’ll be fine, you?” he nods in exchange, and you motion for him and Jeongin to shoo so you could walk in casually. Clearing your throat as quietly as you can, you lightly knock on the door twice before entering the bedroom, making sure to leave the door open enough for Hyunjin to sneak in later on.

“Jisung?” Your eyes drift over to the mounds of assorted items and clothes, thrown around messily across the carpet floor. You suppose that this was Jisung’s attempt to search for evidence. He whips his head around at your call, and smiles when he notices it’s you.

“Y/N! Thank you so much for saving me earlier, it means a lot,” Jisung praises you. “Say, can you close the door for me? I don’t want anybody to listen to us.”

Your eyes widen in surprise at his sudden request, and on instinct, you rush to close the door.“Oh, of course! I don’t want one of my fellow friends to be locked up or even worse…” you manage to speak out while focusing on closing the door, but not all the way like Jisung wanted it. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice, or at least care. “Are you searching for something right now?” you attempt to change the subject while moving over so Jisung’s back is facing towards the door, and your eyes could clearly see what’s behind him.

“Yup! And yes, it was a close call. But…” Jisung clicks his tongue. “You aren’t teamed up with the others, correct? You gave me a scare a while ago, and I just want to confirm.”

“I’m with you two, but how about you and Minho? Didn’t Minho say something against you last house meeting?” you inquire, trying to drag out the conversation for as long as possible so Hyunjin can grab the key.

“We patched that up! Minho just said that to confuse them, so you don’t have to worry about us,” Jisung beams, and you try to match his grin with a shaky laugh.

“But what’s the truth then, who threw the knife-”

You’re cut off by Jisung, who looks like he’s trying to steer the conversation away from that particular topic. “Anyways! I’m getting a bit suspicious of Changbin, actually. You want to know why?”

“How come?” you blink in surprise at his random suspicion, but urge him to continue. At this point, your eyes glance over at Hyunjin’s hand wrapped around the door for a split second, but focus back on Jisung in matters time.

“Because! He was so quick to jump onto the bandwagon to label me as the killer. What if, now get this, Changbin wanted everybody to believe I was the murderer, so he can kill me and get away with it?” Jisung exclaims, using his pointing finger for exaggeration. “And he’s definitely insane, kind of like ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’ by Edgar Allen Poe? Can you believe it’s been more than a century since it’s been released?” You quickly shake your head no to match his energy, raising your eyebrows with curiosity. Hyunjin’s now fully inside of the room at this point, and was somehow able to enter without a single sound.

“But then he might target me now! So I’m a bit worried, the murderer already tried to kill Jeongin, maybe even you, so what if I’m next?” Jisung’s movements are getting more frantic, his arms and hands creating all sorts of gestures, making it harder for Hyunjin to snatch the key without causing Jisung to look behind him. He sends you a look practically saying “Help me” and you know what to do.

Grabbing the sides of Jisung’s arms, like how Hyunjin did with you awhile ago, you shoot him a sympathetic expression, Jisung freezing up at your actions. “Hey, calm down. You’ll be fine,” you say in the most calm voice you can manage. You catch Hyunjin’s hand etching closer and closer to Jisung’s pocket, and he uses his middle and index finger to scissor the keys out.

Keys out. Apparently, when Hyunjin grabbed what he thought was only one key, he instead pulled out three, all held in a circular, metal loop.

“Thanks for the reminder, Y/N.” You let go of your grip on Jisung, watching the door close silently. If you listen extremely closely with your ears, you might even be able to hear Hyunjin’s footsteps pattering down the staircase, reaching Jeongin, who’s back in the guest bedroom downstairs.

Jisung continues talking, “I might bring up my suspicion about Changbin at the next meeting-”

“Next meeting? W-When do you plan on it?” you stutter out, still processing the sudden information. This wasn’t a part of the plan.

“Hmm… in five to ten minutes time? The four of us upstairs are just scanning the area for any more little clues, I haven’t found anything so far, though,” Jisung laughs airly, the same laugh you’d do if you got bad marks on a test and joked to your friends about it.

“I can see that,” you take another look at the mess surrounding your figure, exhaling through a small opening of your mouth. “Well, I’ll be off now. I just wanted to check on you.” You loop around Jisung’s confused body, making your way to the entrance.

“Wait, where are you going?” he tries to force an answer out of you.

“Downstairs! See you soon, Jisung,” you wave him off with a pleased look on your face, and close the door shut.

However, halfway down the stairs, you hear labored breathing coming from back upstairs. “Y/N!” It’s Jisung, why does he look so disheveled?

“Hm? Yes?” you hum casually, but deep in your mind, you’re panicking.

“Have you seen my- uh- my-” Jisung pats down the pockets of his fancy coat with fear coating his eyes.

“Your what, Jisung?” you cock your head to the side, hopefully appearing as though you’re confused on what Jisung’s trying to say.

Oh, you know what he’s looking for. And it’s not good.

“Ah, forget about it,” he runs a hand through his hair before turning around and marching back into the room he was previously in. You blink in surprise when you figure he’s given up, and shake your head, struggling to forget your previous interaction with him, and continue down the stairs.

~

“Good news,” you start off. “We got the key, more than one key, actually!” Hyunjin proudly holds up the collections of keys dangling on his finger, and Jeongin lightly applauds the two of you. “Bad news… I’m pretty certain Jisung knows they’re missing. Along with that, he wants to hold a group meeting in a few minutes, so we don’t have much time until we have to cover ourselves up and lie.”

Jeongin groans in agony. “My goodness, why can’t we just have a peaceful escape attempt?”

Hyunjin chuckles quietly before answering Jeongin’s question. “Because there’s a murderer, two people trying to kill the murderer, and five people trying to solve it. Of course it’s not going to be easy, Jeongin.”

“Now that we have the keys, though, where should we check first?” you break up their conversation, getting down to business straight away.

Hyunjin clears his throat. “Right. Well, we know that the front door is too risky, and the backyard door is also kind of risky, so that leaves…”

“The trapdoor in the kitchen?” Jeongin finishes Hyunjin’s thought, to which he nods in approval.

You stand up abruptly, catching the other two’s attention. “Then let’s go.”

The three of you make your way down to the kitchen, pausing when you hear loud voices coming from upstairs. Understanding that you don’t have much time to waste, you all crouch down next to the trapdoor while Hyunjin pulls out the keys.

The first key is a rusty copper, which is longer than all of the other keys. The second, unlike the first one, is sparkling clean, showing off its silver tone. And finally, the third one is a stub compared to the other two, painted in a gold color. Hyunjin tries the silver one first, but can’t even reach past the opening. He then tries the copper

Peering down into the hole, there’s a wooden ladder leaning against the wall for support, which you assumed was there to access the room below in the first case. The flooring and walls are cobblestone, but it’s so dark inside that you can barely see what hides deep inside.

“Well, how should we go on with this?” Jeongin asks the two of you.

After much thought, the three of you decide on two main choices. The first one being that all three of you enter at the same time, and hope for the best. The second plan shows that only one of you enter the room below the mansion, and the other two are in charge of covering for them.

WHICH PLAN DO YOU CHOOSE?

~

Hmmm... Let’s stir things up a bit.

From now on, every single vote will be a limited voting box. Is that clear? 

Let’s hope you catch the next one.

Good luck, players. May the Killer King spare you today.

[ VOTE HERE. ]

~

CHOICE CHOSEN: #1 - You | #2 - Hyunjin 

VOTING RATIO: #1 = 3-1-0 | #2 = 0-3-2 (Response 9 was a tiebreaker vote)

ROUTE CHOSEN: Escape the Mansion

OFFICIAL ALLIES: Jeongin and Hyunjin

BEST NAME IN THE VOTING BOX: “mommy shark doo doo doo doo doo doo mommy shark doo doo doo doo doo doo mommy shark doo doo doo doo doo doo mommy shark” 

THEORIES (Will be answered with either Yes, No, or Cannot Say)

Response 2: Yes. Yes and no.

taglist: @desertofdessert @crscendoforsung @cotccotc @poeticallyspaghetti @skzctnightnight @freckledberries @nizhonimoon @hanniiesuckle17 @binniesbabybear @tsuki-moons @lbxgsunshine @csbverse @mangoisawesome @peachyhan @worldtriiiip @golden--rain @bubblyjisunq @kimpchi @loey-letters @pokyloky @wherevermyway @avrea-tt @bossuns @sunoo-luvs @katherineee19 @ph0ebevix @qt-k1mb @444scb @grandmasterslickfox

[gimmetheheadcanons]

Sinners & Scapegoats 1/?

A/N: This is a multi part Richonne fic. It is an AU mystery drama (with romance) and I began a while ago but decided to come back to only recently (and finally post). I will be posting maybe twice a month until it’s done - so heads up there. Let me know if it is worth continuing. (Trigger warnings, contains violence and racial slurs).

1.     Prying eyes

 Rick Grimes’s job was a job.

It was supposed to be a career, something with a purpose beyond the practical nature of a pay check. Protect and serve the community, there was no greater honor for a man of his caliber than being a deputy sheriff in a county full of fools apparently. Nothing more satisfying than chasing petty bike thieves all over town. Or breaking up a ‘salacious’ Sweet Sixteen Birthday Party that was misidentified as an ‘illegal kegger’ by a preachy passer-by. And to finish of this day of dunces, the most dignified activity of all! Once again, calling in at the request of anonymous white folk, unaware that the phrase ‘suspicious activity’ was not an umbrella term for any and all things any person with a ‘darker complexion’ may be doing.

In this case it was the nefarious action of a thirty something years old black woman in a casual, loose white blouse, ripped denim jeans and brown open toed sandals, putting up a couple of posters which needed immediate police attention. Thank the Lord for the ever vigilant residents of Winter Oaks Avenue!

“Oh for Pete’s sake.” Rick muttered under his breath, furious with himself for even taking the call from Diane at dispatch when he should have known better. Had he not been on his way out of the office he wouldn’t have. But here he was, once again at the beck and call of small-minded racists, trying to work out how best to handle this situation without offending this probably innocent woman or enraging the majority of the town’s voting pool in an election year. The Powers that Be at King’s County Sherriff’s Department would undoubtedly fail to thank him for once again “pandering to the so called PC culture of ill-informed progressives instead of serving the good folk of this county, the ones with real concerns about the increasing crime rates”.    

Ah yes, the things that go bump in the night. Rick grimaced to himself as he looked at the well lit and virtually empty street. There was no mistaking this woman for a dangerous trespasser and yet somehow, in this community – with that head full of dark dreads at least, she was. Rick glanced down at his wrist watch, it has just gone a little past seven. The sun would be gone in an hour or so and Rick wondered where this woman lived and if he could be so lucky as to have caught her just as she was about to finish up putting up the last of her posters before retiring for the day – none the wiser about the nastiness of her neighbors.

Fifteen minutes had passed and Rick just sat in his vehicle with the key still in the ignition. He simply observed the situation, each moment toying with the idea of just driving off. Just give it another minute, he told himself, then he could finally get his ass home to his family – and on time for dinner for once. It was another ten minutes into his ‘minute’ when Rick realized he had been caught by the woman. She was peering back at him from across the street, a curious frown visible on her face, even from this distance and Rick knew had no choice but to get out and face her.

Even if it was just for the purpose of damage control.

Be the change you wanna see.

After a long, tired sigh, Rick put on his wide brimmed sheriff’s hat and made his approach adopting a casual non-threatening strut which hopefully would signal his intent to talk and not escalate the situation. As expected, there was a flicker of blinds from several of the homes he passed. The skin on the back of his neck, accustomed to the fieriest of Georgia’s summers, burned with intense dislike and discomfort. He ignored the rows of narrowed eyes peering from behind the slits, instead firmly keeping his gaze on the perplexed woman he was about to approach.

“Evening ma’am.” He greeted her with a friendly yet still somewhat carefully crafted smile.  

She wouldn’t grace him with the same, her response was firm, respectable yet wary. “How can I help you officer?”

Rick maintained his smile, upholding it against the scrutiny of her heavily lashed dark eyes. “Actually, I was hoping I could help you.”

If she could roll her eyes, Rick knew she would have. Scoff at him and rightfully tell him to state his real intent. But this was King’s County and Rick could sense the tension in the air as she carefully contemplated her next move. Rick wanted to make it easier on her, feeling the burden of the situation and knowing he was responsible for it.

A little less forced and a lot more friendly, he attempted to disarm her cautiousness with old fashioned, gentlemanly charm, the kind his dear grandmother taught him to embrace. “I was just on my way home when I saw you and thought; Hey now Rick, what better way to earn them shiny stars pinned to your shirt so handsomely than to assist this young lady on this fine evening.”

He was careful to introduce himself using his Christian name, trying to distance his true self from the uniform he wore. Yet he could do nothing to shield her from the truth. Her expression, still every bit as guarded signaled to him the realities of the world she lived him. She was tall, taut and terribly beautiful even in her indignation.  

The woman replied almost instantly in a Northern accent betraying her as a newcomer. “I’m almost done so no need to bother yourself. Thank you for your time Officer.”

Dismissed but not defeated, Rick pushed forward. “You sure?” He asked because he knew he couldn’t walk away. Not with an audience as enthralled as Romans spectators, ready to rate this performance with a devastating signalling of their thumb. No, he could not leave her, not to the lions.

“Am I under arrest?”

“Excuse me?” Her bluntness surprised him.

“If not, I’d like to be on my way.” She was smart enough not to move until he gave the okay. Rick felt increasingly uncomfortable with the choices he was being presented him.  

“Look, there is no need to worry. Like I said, I was on my way home when – ”

“I heard you.”

Again, Rick was surprised. She cut him off mid excuse – mid lie. Despite her disinterest in his self-serving speech, Rick still foolishly believed he could walk away from this interaction smelling like roses. Sincerely and softly, he made his final mistake. “Then what’s the problem ma’am.”

Then, finally, came the scoff he deserved.

“I could ask you the exact same thing. Which one called you.”

It was enough to render Rick speechless. The jig is up, the measured tone she spoke with could not hide the fury behind her words.

“Which of those disrespectful racists, cowardly peeking from behind their blinds called you.”

Rick did his best not to flinch at her use of what would be deemed the real hard R in these parts. He swallowed hard, truly hating this place and the people in it.

“I just wanna know how I can help with these posters.” He tried again, wanting to so desperately distance himself from the truth. He was their tool, but he could also be here for her. If he could just stop her from tarring him with the same brush. “Maybe even show a taxpayer like yourself that I take my job seriously.”

She wasn’t the problem, Rick wanted to tell her but at the last minute deciding to keep his mouth shut.

She hesitated for a moment, not speaking again but Rick got the message loud and clear.  

You expect me to buy this bull?

Please do, Rick’s eyes begged.

The desperate look in his eyes may have done the job as she sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Fine you’re gonna protect them. I get it. But I need to know for real, am I being arrested?”

It was a sincere worry and Rick knew he could no longer disrespect her by dodging the question. He shook his head and continued to offer further clarifications on his part. He took a step closer, careful not to spook her but also trying his best to create some privacy before confessing his truth.

“It’s an election year.” He whispered.

“Honestly it’s a pain in the behind trying to be that extra police presence.”

“An election year.” She repeated, a frown forming on her face as she processed the meaning of his words.

“Yep. The bosses got a burr in their saddle about it. So unless you have a baby I can kiss or a hand I can shake – I’d like to do my job and help with those posters, if you don’t mind that is.” Rick’s charm finally worked, he could tell by the relaxed look on her face as she nodded in agreement.

Grateful for the reprieve, Rick nodded courteously before helping her gather her bags, papers, and stapler to move onto the next row of bare lampposts. She had every reason to continue to hold him at arms length for what almost transpired this evening, yet past experiences and perhaps a kindness in her heart had told her that Rick was one of the good ones.

Or at least he was trying to be, her slightly raised eyebrow revealed as they walked, side by side, still somewhat uncomfortably.  

“So, what are we dealing with, a runaway pup or –

“A ‘fly out of the window of a speeding car’ teddy bear.”

“Ah an exotic pet.”

She managed to crack a smile for him and Rick’s heart fluttered slightly.

They decided to set up at the first of the lampposts, the joke acting as a much needed ice-breaker and allowing them to work quickly in perfect coordination; Rick passing her the sheets of paper and her carefully using the staplegun.

The teddy bear photo was printed in black in white, a small scruffy looking thing being held in arms of a toddler with big eyes and an even bigger grin on his face. Underneath, a description typed out with love and desperation – Help Mr. Bear come home to Andre.

“He belongs to my son. He’s three and I really need it back.” There was a real grief behind her words, her dark eyes not watery but not very far from it.

“I get it.” Rick said staring at the side of her face as she turned away from him. “I really do.” He repeated, careful to just be expressing empathy from one parent to another and internally reminding himself of his own commitment as a father and husband. “He can’t sleep without it right?”

“Something like that.”

“Right. Well let’s get this street and the next done, so you can get back home in time for tuck in time.”

“Thank you, Officer.”

“You’re welcome Ma’am.”

Things were going well and soon this watchful stranger was replaced by incredibly interesting company. 

Pulling a face of mock disgust at the proper way he continued to call her Ma’am, the woman finally just told him her name. It was one he’d never heard before but liked the sound of anyway. Michonne from Manhattan. An art teacher and painter looking to find new inspiration in the Deep South. A mother. The new owner of the Old Kent Farmhouse, self-renovating the crumbling place after the death of the owner and looking to make a home here in this town. Rick listened to her talk and was surprised to see how animated and easy going she was. Deep within him, he felt the shame rising up again from their initial introduction. Her hostility had been understandable, his behavior had not. Still, he was glad he took the call and glad it was him that got the chance to meet this charming woman with the most infectious smile.

She asked him about this town and Rick told her that despite all its faults, it was home and he hoped it could be hers to. She responded optimistically and Rick fought back the urge to apologize for what he knew she had already figured out about the people that lived here. Instead he told her tales about his own son Carl, now twelve years old but still somewhat sentimental about his favorite childhood toy – a dusty blue, stuffed elephant called Frump. He made sure not to tell her about his wife Lori, who had won the stuffed toy at the summer fair when they were seventeen and still in love.

If his job was just a job these days, then his marriage was one too. It was exhausting knowing what waited for him when he arrived home later. For weeks now, his wedding band pinched at his finger uncomfortably, from the weight gained from the drive-thru burgers he ate in his car as he agonized over the state of his marriage with his bachelor pal and partner Shane Walsh. Today, however, he had made plans to make it home for dinner and face the problems head on. Instead here he was, cherishing a few moments of casual conversation about his day that dazzled Michonne but would’ve drained Lori.

And to Rick Grimes, Christian, Father, Husband – this was was devastating.

Still, they got talking and Rick had almost gotten away with it.  

That was until reality came crushing down in the form of the always delightful Ed Peletier, marching up the street like a bull. Red in the face and practically foaming at the mouth, Ed did what Ed always did.

“Sheriff Grimes.”

Rick managed a curt nod in response for a man he so openly despised. “How can I help Ed?”

“I’d like a word.”

“Sure thing, as soon as I finish up with Michonne here. She’s new to town. Michonne, this is Ed Peletier – local entrepreneur of sorts.”

Read between the lines you redneck asshole. Rick begged, hoping that by revealing Michonne’s status as a homeowner and a part of this community, the information would be enough to put a muzzle on Ed.

Ed however was predictably impatient, after darting a brief but filthy look at the hand Michonne had courteously extended, the gruff man continued to completely ignore her and keep his wild eyes on Rick, whose own hands were itching to punch the man.

With a resigned expression and a quick apology, Rick handed back the posters and followed Ed across the street to the front of his house. There they were met by Carol Peletier, Ed’s patient wife, standing at an open door with a concerned expression on her face.

“Evenin’ Carol.” Rick called out, a genuine warm smile on his face. As much as he despised Ed, he pitied Carol. A small, fragile looking woman with graying hair beyond her years.

“Hello Rick.”

Pleasantries aside and out of Michonne’s earshot, Rick turned to the man who dragged him away from her. “What do you want Ed.”

He dropped the friendly act in favor of a venomous look, bearing no good will for Ed Peletier and the company he kept in this town. 

“I wanna know what you’re playing at Grimes.”

“Families live here. Children.”

Rick could barely maintain his composure, his head tilting at the implication of Ed’s words.

“You have a job to do. Get rid of her.”

“Now on what grounds would that be Ed?” Rick asked. His voice now a low, menacing growl. Ed’s blue eyes were bulging out of their sockets at the audacity of Rick’s question. All too familiar with her husband’s temper, Carol Peletier, placed her hands bravely onto Ed’s arm, holding him back for his own sake.

Rick scowled, frustrated at the woman’s gesture. Carol had no business protecting a man who put her in the hospital on more than one occasion. Despite their struggles, Rick couldn’t even imagine ever laying a hand on his wife. Still, despite the help offered to her, for a reason only known to her – Carol Peletier remained the dutiful wife.

It was a heartbreaking reality Rick had come to accept.

Carol’s actions worked, the brutish looking man was reminded that Rick Grimes was not a friend of his and if given the excuse, would be more than happily fire six warning shots into the thick head wearing that Braves’ baseball cap. Breathing heavily and polluting the air with whiskey fumes, Ed made his next move.

“She don’t belong here.” Ed finally spat out, unable to put things anymore delicately than that.

“She’s passing through.” Rick said firmly, his eyes unblinking and angry. He remained as calm as possible, knowing he wouldn’t have to do much when it came to Ed Peletier. Sooner or later, he’d be hauling his fat ass into that patrol car and back to the station. It was a dance that was all too familiar to the three figures standing at the doorway of the Peletier residence.

Ed was never a measured man and Rick’s challenge made him foolish enough to continue shooting his mouth off. “She’s loitering! Her and that garbage she’s pinning to our lampposts.”

Ed’s bellowing was drawing an audience from his young daughter, Sophia. The girl was the same age as Carl but with a sadness in her eyes that aged her the same way it did her mother. The shouting was enough for a curious and concerned Michonne to abandon her things, cross the street and walk towards the Peletier’s house.

“Is everything okay?” Michonne asked, politely leaning in over the fence stopping at her waist.

It was an innocent enough query and the woman never entered the property but as far as Ed was concerned she had crossed a line.  

“It’s your job to do something about shit like this. Fucking negroes encroaching upon our domicile like this! Disturbing the peace! It’s not decent I tell you!”

Rick snapped at the slur. “Decent? Like your wife-beating, racist, drunken ass would know the meaning of the word!”

And that was all it took.  

The situation escalated in mere minutes. Ed, ready to swing a fist at Rick, only to be intercepted by his quick thinking, self-sacrificing wife. The small woman clung onto her husband’ ham of an arm for dear life, causing him to explode in further fury and her at the receiving end of a closefisted hit from the free hand. It would have been enough to stop there, for Ed to realize he made his point as Carol fell back toward the open door, into their hallway and onto the hardwood floor – taking their poor daughter down with her. But in the eyes of Ed Peletier, any act against him was unforgivable insubordination, something he could not let go unaddressed.

Rick and Michonne were no longer on his radar.

Within seconds, he began shamelessly pounding on his wife with everything he had, completely disregarding the fact there were witnesses standing a few feet away, one of them being an officer of the law.

In between a flurry of violent, merciless kicks and punches, Ed managed to call his blameless wife a stream of obscenities, ignoring the desperate screams coming from his terrified young daughter and the shout to desist from Rick.

It took a full minute for Rick to finally pull Ed off of Carol and away from Sophia. Furious at how much damage Ed managed to inflict, Rick didn’t hold back when he had the chance, roughly shoving the bastard’s face into the gravel of the footpath outside the house. Ed struggled under Rick’s weight, choking on the stones and dirt he was getting a mouth full of. Still full of rage, he continued to make threats against his wife who was covered in red welts and bleeding from a bust lip and cut eyebrow.

Rick expected to see Michonne still standing at the gate, shell shocked at what just occurred before her or at least in angry tears at the racial slurs that were being hurled in her direction. Instead, Rick was surprised to see, she was knelt by his side, stone faced and strong – helping secure Ed as he put on the handcuffs.

She had his back during the struggle. Leaping into action the way only a trained protector would. She told him she was an art teacher, Rick thought briefly, curious to know the rest of her story once all of this was over. 

Ed, unlike Rick, did not appreciate Michonne’s proximity to his sweaty, dirt covered body. Despite being cuffed and beaten, he managed to turn his head just enough to spit violently at Michonne’s chest and face.

In that moment, all Rick saw was red. His weapon was drawn in an instance and threateningly pressed against the back of Ed’s neck.

Michonne jumped up and away from Rick but he could barely register the look of shock on her face at the way events escalated. It was Sophia and Carol’s screaming, however, that he found harder to ignore.

The mother and daughter were pleading with Rick – for Ed’s life. Tears streaming from their face and their anguished cries of “Please, please, please! Jesus Christ – oh God, no please” drawing a crowd. Suddenly, the street was flooded with residents. Curious murmurs turning quickly into panic. But Rick couldn’t see the faces of the community he swore to protect. He could only hear their voices.

“Someone do something!”

“Someone call the police.”

“He is the police.”

“What is happening Honey?”

“Who is she?”

“Rick.”

Her voice, in a sea of buzzing white noise, it cut through to him and for a brief enough moment, Michonne brought him back. 

Suddenly, Rick was surprised more by his own actions than the reaction of the people around him. Ed was scum but he was handcuffs. This wouldn’t be self-defense but a coldblooded murder. 

“Rick.” Her voice again but this time in his own mind, gently trying to remind him of what had promised her. 

He was one of the good ones. 

That thought was enough to finally sober Rick’s mind. The deafening drumming inside his skull stopped, rage no longer pumping blood and adrenaline to his trigger finger. In between deep breaths he managed to calm himself enough to place the gun into its holder.

Ed, who had been as stiff as a corpse finally relaxed as Rick stood up. Carol threw herself onto her husband’s cuffed body, sobbing still, her eyes never leaving Rick – more afraid of the man protecting her than she was of the man who hurt her for years.  

For a while, no one spoke. They stood there, processing what just nearly happened.

Finally, Sophia stepped forward.

“Leave.” She said looking Rick in the eye. “Before I call the police again.”

Again.

Rick couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. So it wasn’t any of the people gawking or some ignorant prejudicial neighbor from across the street who had called the station; it wasn’t even Ed, an out and proud white supremacist – it was this small, fragile, eleven years old girl. 

“Please.”

She wasn’t begging him. Trembling slightly, she straightened her shoulders to face down a man with a gun, a man she admits to having called in the first place.

But why?

Rick wanted to ask, but it took a quick look at the deep purple older bruises on Carol Peletier’s exposed shoulders and the evil the mere presence Michonne had brought out in Sophia’s father, for Rick to realize the answer for himself.

She was trying to protect them, including Michonne. 

The crowd was growing, neighbors having knocked on other neighbors doors regarding the drama Rick knew they deep down had been expecting – but probably with Michonne as a tragic player not a baffled bystander.

Distracted by the righteous anger beginning to bubble up inside him, Rick decided to address the prying eyes.

“Alright folks, now that Ed here’s calmed down a bit I’m sure you can all agree there are more interesting things that await you inside your own homes.”

“I think we’d just like to know what all this commotion is about Sheriff Grimes.” A familiar voice asked.

Rick felt a twitch in his neck, but replied as calmly as possible to the elderly man with questioning eyes sitting under a dark set of eyebrows and sunhat. “Ah I’m sure you all already do, Dale.”  

Dale let out a sad sigh, showing some humility and awareness. Rick had run into him on previous call outs to this neighborhood. He knew the retired educator to be a good man, taking it upon himself to help out Carol on occasion - administering First Aid or giving her a car ride to the hospital. That said, the same couldn’t be said for the rest of these vultures.

“You heard me first time people. I won’t say it again. Clear out. NOW!”

Rick stared down the residents, knowing very well this would find a way of getting back to his superiors but frankly not giving a shit.

“Right now, let the officer do his job. Come now, time to get out of this heat and back to our couches.” Dale’s mild waves had the power to disperse a crowd far quicker than a water canon and Rick was grateful for the powers of the former school principal.  

The elderly man was about to make his exit when Ed piped up again.

“Where you going you old Jew bastard?” He cried out, flailing on the floor like a sea lion. “You all saw what he did, he’s not a cop. He’s a thug. You’re my witness!”

“Oh Edward, you were a bully in school and you’re just a bigger one now. Don’t make things worse for yourself.” With a disapproving glare and a sigh of disgust, Dale Horvath returned to his own home, a couple doors down from the Peletiers.

Relieved the excitement was drawing to an end, Rick let out of a sigh, he turned to Michonne, who during the uproar had returned to the guarded state he met her in. She was however gently tending to Sophia, her arms protectively around the girl’s shoulders. 

“You okay?” He asked and she relaxed, reassuring him with a small smile.

“You okay?” She asked him back and he did the same.

Rick then turned to the little girl in Michonne’s arms, knowing he too needed to somehow comfort her. “I’m sorry.” He told Sophia, truly meaning the words. “But I’m taking your father in. I have to and I think you agree.”

The girl glanced down at her mother’s battered body, lain over a man who continued to curse under his breath about being betrayed by his own blood.

“Mom.” She said weakly. “Please.”

When Rick began to approach Ed, Carol didn’t start up her screams in defense of her husband. Her daughter’s plea had rendered her speechless. Michonne stepped forward, carefully placing her arms around Carol’s shoulders and with gentle words coaxed her away from the toxic man she had married, instead steering her toward the daughter that needed her. The three women, then stood by, letting Rick do his job. Neither his daughter nor wife were treating Michonne with the same revulsion Ed had, instead grateful for the cover and calm she provided them with.

Rick knew it was a sight that in the future would cause daily bitterness to the prick he had just dragged up from the ground and that warmed his own heart significantly.

Heading to back to his police cruiser with Ed Peletier in tow, Rick Grimes felt a burst of optimism. Maybe things could be different in this small town full of stone throwers. Perhaps some honest to God good could be done, by those willing to commit to acting on their conscience. Something to shock the small minded, their stale sermons and suspicious stares.

Rick took one last look at the trio of women in his rear view window. The sun was almost gone, but as he drove away the white of Michonne’s blouse remained visible in the amber rays. Striking as a knight’s armor, Rick thought, affectionately thinking back to her noble quest for a lost bear.  

“That bitch made the mistake of her life tonight.”

Ed Peletier said from the back of the car, spewing his hate like the last rings of smoke coming from a defeated dragon. His intoxicated, blood shot eyes reflected back at Rick’s calm blue ones but there was no need for a response as Ed slunk back into the seat looking smaller and more wretched than he’d ever looked before. Nothing but a pain parasite, severed from its source of strength.

It had finally happened.

He was finally done counting the times he had to let this man go back to hurting that family all over again.

Rick told himself this lie with little else to fear.

But with all things concerning this town of his, this job of his and this frequently disappointing life he was committed to – Rick Grimes’s optimistic outlook would be a premature one. Just over the horizon there waited the all too familiar failure of busted jaws, and broken promises.  

In a month’s time they’d end up in back in this place.

And the month after that, Rick would be praying to be back here once. Back to a time where things weren’t all that bad – dealing with bruises instead of a bloated, lifeless body. 

[acrimsonphoenix]

Moving On

Here’s the second fic resulting on your votes on Kastle prompts, including

1. Jealousy 5. Didn’t know they were dating 8. Frank taking care of drunk Karen (a little bit)

Let me know what you think. You can also find this fic on AO3. 

@beeha17 @stickthinbarbie @babsiechap 

Karen needed a drink.

 It had been a long week. First, several of her leads had turned up nothing on one of the big organized burglary stories she was writing, then, the FBI pulled out all the stops to prevent the Bulletin from running a story on interstate drug trafficking Karen had spent months on, and finally, her car refused to start this morning when she was already late for an interview with the mayor.

 The only thing that had cheered her up throughout were her dinners with Frank on Monday and Wednesday, and their joint breakfast on Thursday. Those meals had become a firm establishment in her schedule ever since the two of them had spent almost 48 hours snowed in in her apartment two weeks ago, and they never failed to leave Karen feeling happy and content. Even Ellison had noticed that she’d been much happier lately, and now asked her repeatedly who it was that she was dating.

 “I’m not dating anyone, just meeting up with a friend more,” Karen told him. She chose to forego the part in which she was still hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with Frank, but continued to keep her distance to give him space to grieve.

“A friend, huh?” Ellison clearly didn’t believe her. “What’s his name?”

 “Pete,” Karen replied, not quite looking at him. Lying to Ellison felt strange somehow. “Pete Castiglione. I know him from my previous work at Nelson & Murdock.”

 “Is that the same guy who crashed at your place during the blizzard?” Ellison asked, raising his eyebrows.

 “Yeah.” Karen nodded.

 “And also the guy that you spent Christmas and New Year’s with, went ice-skating with the weekend before last, gift-shopping for his friend’s birthday last Friday, and to the movies with last Sunday?” Ellison counted the events on his hand.

 “Yeah,” Karen repeated. “Are you now keeping track of my time outside work as well?”

 “Nah, just curious. You know, journalist.” He pointed to himself using his thumbs.

 “Yeah, well, there’s nothing to be curious about. F- Pete is just a friend, ok?” Karen was becoming annoyed.

 Ellison raised both hands, their palms facing towards her.  “If you say so.”

  So, the entire week had been a bust, mostly. Today was Friday, and Karen had spent most of the day looking forward to the evening, when she and Frank had plans to hang out at her apartment, cook, and watch a movie together. During their regular dinner nights, the two of them usually went to simple restaurants or got take-out, but tonight, Karen just wanted to close the door behind them, shut the world out, eat some home-made food (Frank was an amazing cook, as she had found out), and relax. She wanted to hear about his day – he’d started to work as a renovator for houses – and tell him about hers, laugh with him, and lean her head against his shoulder when they were drinking wine on the couch. Spending time with Frank made everything better, and she needed a big chunk of that now.

 Only that plan had changed at around 4 pm, when Frank had called her. Madani had contacted him to ask for his help. Apparently Billy’s private contractors were running several shady operations in the territories they’d been sent to overseas, and were coordinating everything from New York. Madani said she needed to tap into Frank’s knowledge of both Billy and military operations, as she was technically running this entire investigation off the books. For one, Anvil still seemed to have some sources in Homeland Security even with Billy in a coma, and secondly, her bosses refused to believe that there was an issue with Anvil with Billy gone.

 “So, Madani says there are signs that some major shit is gonna go down with Anvil this weekend, which is why she wants to meet me as soon as possible. Thought you might want in, too, and get the scoop?” Frank had asked when he called.

 Of course she wanted the scoop, especially after the shitty work-week she’d had. So she’d suggested that they all meet at her apartment – less conspicuous – and work on everything there. Home-cooked dinner was replaced by take-out, and at first, Karen didn’t mind the new plan for the evening one bit.

 But then things started to build up. Madani came in dressed impeccably as always, looking quite out of place in Karen’s simple apartment. Then she’d hugged Frank, and the two of them had started to talk shop. Apparently, Afghanistan played a key role in Madani’s investigation once again (she’d found out about it in the first place from one of her contacts from her time over there), and two hours later, Frank and Madani were trading stories and anecdotes from being stationed in the Middle East, and Karen could only listen. It came as no surprise that Madani had an impressive track record of her time there, and Frank seemed full of praise and admiration. Both of them were laughing and giggling, and Madani kept reaching out to touch Frank’s lower arm. Karen had given up taking notes when the story-swapping started, and the longer she was looking at them together, the stronger she could feel a hole burning in the middle of her guts. She told herself that she was overreacting, that it was simply ridiculous to get jealous over two people sharing professional memories. But at the same time, she felt entirely side-lined, and it didn’t help that she was essentially yearning for Frank 24/7 these days. She craved every tiny touch, every smile that was just meant for her, and any thought or story he shared. Seeing him so at ease with another woman, a sophisticated woman with a similar background to Frank’s no less, felt like a weight had been placed on her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

 So Karen decided to pour herself a drink to somehow counteract that ugly pit in her stomach at least. She offered both Madani and Frank some too, but both of them declined. Still, being able to focus on the burning sensation of the whiskey running down the back of her throat helped a little at least.

 Fortunately, her torture didn’t last much longer after that. Madani suggested that they end their meeting for now, and pick it up the next morning, before they’d spring into action the next night to hopefully end Anvil’s drug and human trafficking once and for all. When she said her goodbyes, she hugged Frank once more, a bit longer this time, and Karen actually had to avert her eyes to stop them from turning into a death glare directed at the HS agent.

 “Thank you again for your help, it’s invaluable. I’m starting to lose count of the times you’ve come to my help,” Madani said with a warm smile as her hands slid down Frank’s upper arms and remained there for a second when they broke their embrace.

“Ah, come on, Madani, you know I’m always happy to help. ‘specially with you being the one who gave me a new life,” Frank’s voice rumbled. His smile was wide and sincere.

It took all of her willpower for Karen to stay in her spot and to keep a friendly face. The pit in her stomach felt like it was about to swallow her whole, and Karen suddenly got unbelievably angry with herself. She couldn’t believe that she was jealous that Frank would save the life of another woman. Frank did those things because he couldn’t help himself; he was one of the best people she’d ever known, and she had no exclusive rights to him or his help.

 Karen was tired of all the warring thoughts in her head. She just wanted to go to bed.

 So she waved politely when Madani finally left, and then immediately turned around to busy herself putting away the takeaway containers.

“That went well, we made some good progress. We can definitely figure out the rest tomorrow morning, and then we’ll take care of those son-of-a-bitches tomorrow night,” Frank said as he carried their empty water glasses to Karen into the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Karen said, trying her best to keep her voice level. The whiskey earlier had calmed her nerves somewhat, but it had also made her tired – a little bit too tired to really keep her emotions in check.

 “You know, I know I said you’d get the scoop, and you will, don’t worry ‘bout that, but I’d really prefer if you weren’t there tomorrow night.” Frank put the glasses down next to the sink and turned to face her.

 Normally, Karen would have fought him tooth and nail on this. But right now, she neither had the strength to do that nor the wish to see Frank and Madani fight side-by-side like the perfect team they undoubtedly were. So she just nodded.

 “Okay,” she said, stacking the last containers and opening the lid of her trash can.

 “Okay? Gotta say, I expected more resistance,” Frank inquired carefully.

 Karen turned back towards him and weakly gestured with her right hand. “You’re right, it wouldn’t be a good idea if I were there. You and Madani are trained, I’m not. You say I’ll get the scoop, so you can just tell me all about it afterwards once it’s done.”

 Frank narrowed his eyes. “Okay.”

 Karen pulled one corner of her mouth to one side. “Okay.”

 Frank nodded and turned to wash the glasses.

 “Leave them, I’ll do it tomorrow,” Karen said quickly. She really couldn’t be around him much longer.

 Frank looked at her questioningly. He knew that she hated washing up with a passion. She saw him hesitate briefly, then walk over to the front door.

 “Right, that’s my cue then. Want me to pick you up tomorrow morning when we’re going to Madani?” he asked as he zipped up his coat. Madani had offered her new apartment as their next meeting spot.

 Karen ran her fingers through her hair and then locked her arms in front of her chest.

 “Actually, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. There’s this other story that I have to work on, Ellison asked me to deliver it as soon as possible,” she said. It felt completely wrong to lie to him, but right now, she just needed to get some distance before she spiralled out of control entirely.

 Frank stilled and seized her up. Then he nodded.

 “’k. Night then, I guess,” Frank said. Karen nodded but remained where she was, her arms still crossed. She could see the confusion on Frank’s face. Usually, they’d hug before they separated.  

 Frank opened the door and stepped out in the hallway. Just before he pulled the door closed, Karen called out.

 “Frank?”

 “Yeah,” he said, pausing his motion and looking at her.

 “Be careful tomorrow, ok? And let me know how it goes?” Karen rubbed her right upper arm.

 Frank nodded briefly, and then pulled the door closed. Karen left out a sigh and closed her eyes. She really needed to find a way to get herself under control.

  Surprisingly, Karen actually got a good night’s sleep after Frank left. However, as Saturday carried on, things took a turn for the much worse. While the green-eyed monster still lurched somewhere deep down, occasionally supplying her with mental images of Frank and Madani sticking their heads together over planning that night’s mission, Karen became increasingly restless about the way she’d treated Frank the evening before. It wasn’t his fault that she was struggling with just staying friends. He’d been his usual kind, caring self, and if Karen had any issues with him being friendly with other women, she shouldn’t take that out on him, full stop.

 She desperately wanted to apologize, but at the same time, she didn’t know how she could. “Sorry I was mean on Friday, it’s just that I got jealous, but don’t worry about that, I know you’re still grieving so I’m trying to be ok with staying friends?” That would just raise even more issues. But any other options would involve lying to Frank once more, which she really didn’t want to do either.

 So Karen tried to take her mind off things by first writing the story that Ellison had asked her to cover, even if that one hadn’t been quite as urgent as she had told Frank the night before. Then she decided to take a turn around the farmer’s market a few blocks down, and in the evening, she was flicking through TV channels trying to find something good to watch while she ate the leftovers of Friday’s take-outs.

 The longer the evening wore on, the more antsy she got. Pictures of Frank’s mangled body were creeping into her mind; from past injuries she’d seen on him to pictures of crime scenes she’d seen in her line of work. What if something went wrong and he got killed?

 Karen got up and poured herself a whiskey to calm her nerves once again, and just like the day before, it did help to take the edge off at least.

 Finally, just after midnight, Karen got a text.

 “All done. Madani got what she needed, bad guys got what they had coming. Getting you the details soon.”

 Karen let out a sigh of relief and immediately texted back.

 “Thanks for letting me know. Are you ok? Hurt?”

 Frank’s reply took around 10 minutes.

 “All good, just scratches.”

 “Madani?” Karen typed back.

 “Ok too,” came Frank’s reply a bit later.

 “Glad to hear that. Sleep well,” Karen sent in response and waited another 20 minutes before she went to bed, but Frank sent nothing else.

   “Everything ok?” David asked. The two of them were standing in the Lieberman’s kitchen washing up the pots, pans, and anything else from lunch that hadn’t fit into the dishwasher. Sarah had herded the kids into the car just after they’d finished, to take them to some kind of school event taking place this afternoon.

 Frank had a standing lunch date with the Liebermans since the beginning of December, and while it had been difficult at first to watch their happy family interacting with each other, it had gotten easier every time, and Frank had to admit that he liked the sense of normalcy the Sunday lunches provided.

 “Yeah, why?” Frank shot back as he handed Lieberman a pan he’d just cleaned. David took it and began to towel it off.

 “You’ve been unusually quiet,” David said carefully. “Something on your mind?”

 “Always got stuff on my mind, you know that, Lieberman,” Frank replied evasively.

 “Everything ok with Karen?” Lieberman clearly had no intention of giving up any time soon.

 Frank stayed quiet for a moment, unsure if he should talk about that. Things with Karen were definitely not ok, it was driving him batshit crazy, but he didn’t even know what was wrong.

 “I’ll take that as a no,” Lieberman continued, putting the pan away.

 Frank just grunted. He still didn’t know if he wanted to talk about it all. For one, Karen and him, that was something – something difficult to explain to others. He was extremely worried that others would spoil the delicate balance and special kind of intimacy they had, and so he was hesitant to talk about it even to David. It also was the reason why he hadn’t brought her to Sunday lunch yet, even though the Lieberman’s repeated their invitation for Karen every damn week.

 “Did you guys fight?” David asked carefully, waiting for Frank to pass him the next item to dry.

 Frank huffed.

 “Don’t know. But feels like it somehow,” he finally conceded and passed Lieberman a huge glass tray.

 “Why does it feel like that?” David just pushed on patiently as he ran the towel over the tray. Was he now taking lessons from Curtis or what?

 “She’s been off all weekend, starting Friday. Offered her place for Madani and me to discuss an investigation into Anvil Madani was running off the books, but was quiet all evening. Felt antsy somehow. Didn’t fight me one bit when I asked her not to be on the ground when Madani and I took out Anvil Saturday night, and didn’t even want to be there when we were planning everything Saturday morning at Madani’s. Made up some bullshit excuse about an urgent story,” Frank recounted. He left out the part where he felt that there was something physically off between them, too. As if a huge distance had been placed between them that wouldn’t allow for the usual ease and close proximity with which they were usually behaving around each other.

 “Hm, maybe she was just tired and really had to write that story? You know, stress at work?” David offered.

 “Tired probably, but I ain’t buying that bullshit about her story. Felt wrong somehow. And the whole week’d been shit in terms of good and important stories,” Frank replied gruffly as he rinsed a water jug.

 “If the whole week’d been shit for her she’d definitely be stressed, right? And even if that one story wasn’t actually important, she might just have wanted to deliver it to feel better?” David mused.

 “Nah, I’m tellin’ ya, something was off. She’d never sit out our planning Saturday morning. Or the action on the ground in the evening,” Frank insisted.

 David stroked his beard.

 “Hm, did anything else happen? And when did Madani come back into the picture?” he asked.

 “Friday afternoon. Called me and asked for my help, so I told her I’d help if Karen got the story. Karen was happy ‘bout that too, as far as I could tell. Even offered her place for us to meet,” Frank told him.

 “Maybe Karen had some other plans originally and later regretted cancelling those for a story?” David asked.

 “Nah, only plans she had were with me. We’d ‘ve been cooking and watching a movie,” Frank said offhandedly.

 David raised his eyebrows.

 “So you two cancelled date-night for work? That might be it,” he said, putting away the jug.

 “Date-night,” Frank repeated mockingly under his breath. “We’re not dating,” he said louder and confidently.

 David stopped mid-motion, facing him.

 “Excuse me, what?” He stared at Frank disbelievingly.

 Frank turned to face him. “We’re not dating, ok? She’s Karen, I’m me. She’s important. But we’re not dating,” he said roughly.

 David pursed his lips.

 “Does she see it that way, too?” he asked. Frank narrowed his eyes.

 “Wha-?”

 “Does she see it that way, too?” David repeated, a bit more firmly.

 Frank’s eyes darted around the room. “What you getting’ at, Lieberman?”

 David closed his eyes and let out a low breath.

 “Back in the fall, when I tracked you down, she was the first one you turned to when you needed help finding me. Then Madani questions her the minute she knows that you’re alive. Lewis goes after her, you lose your shit like I’ve never seen before, tell me she’s family, blow your cover and take a bullet for her.” At Frank’s confused expression, Frank sighed. “Come on man, I read the police report. She said Lewis was about to shoot her when you jumped in front of her, taking the bullet. Anyway, all of that. Stuff’s finally finished, you call her, you seek her out. You spend Christmas and New Year’s together, you meet up every second day at least. Ice-skating in the winter, cooking together, going to restaurants together. And that’s just the stuff you told me about that you guys do.”

 Frank just stood there staring at him.

 David raised his eyebrows.

 “Frank, you and Karen are dating,” David said slowly and clearly. “To say the least,” he added. “Not sure if most people would take a bullet for their date. Or accept that their date goes out killing people every now and then.”

 Frank was still standing there motionless, his eyes darting around the room.

 “Look, if you really didn’t see things that way, then you need to take some time and think about what I just told you. And then you need to figure out how you feel about that and talk to Karen about it. I bet my ass that that’s why she’s been acting strange the last two days,” David said quietly, almost caringly. “At best, she’s confused because she’s receiving mixed signals. At worst, she’s in a completely different place in your relationship, and only just realized it. Thinking of that – are you two having sex?”

 Frank’s eyes shot back to David’s face. “Lieberman!” he near shouted.

 David made a defensive gesture. “Just asking. And hoping that you’re not, ‘cos that’d just make things even worse. And would really make me question your cognitive ability to recognize a relationship.”

 Frank’s head was spinning, and so he turned back to the sink to continue the washing up. He needed something to focus his racing mind on.

 Fucking Lieberman was right. He was dating Karen. He didn’t know how he felt about that. It’d been just barely less than two years since his family died. But since November, their deaths also had some kind of finality to it. They were never coming back. And life without Karen seemed completely wrong, too, especially when she was still here.  

 He hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped moving and was just holding the sponge and a pot in the sink.

 Lieberman placed a hand on his shoulder.

 “I know this is much,” he said sympathetically. “You got a lot to think about. But just one thing, ok? Imagine what Maria would say. Would she want you to be alone for the rest of your life? Or would she want you to find something new?” He swallowed. “I know it always sounds so god-damn cheesy. But it’s true. If I hadn’t made it back to Sarah, I would’ve wanted her to move on, too. She’d deserve to. And so do you.”

 For the rest of the day, Frank’s head was both empty and overloaded. No matter how often he tried, he couldn’t form a single clear thought.

 He loved his family. He loved Maria. But they were gone. And fucking Lieberman was right. If Maria were here somehow, she’d give him a thorough dressing-down for not seeing Karen for what she was earlier, and for even doubting if he should hold on to her. It wouldn’t have been any different for Frank if their places had been reversed. He’d actually told Maria several times when he was about to go on employment that if he didn’t make it back, he’d want her to move on, to live her life, and not feel guilty.

 Still, that wasn’t easy. And then there was Karen, too.

 He loved Karen, he admitted as much. He hadn’t hesitated for a second when he’d jumped in front of that bullet, and he’d do the same again anytime, with or without his vest.

 But Karen deserved better. She deserved everything, not just some beat-up, broken killer who’d been too stupid to question his orders for a long time, and who’d got his family murdered as a result. She deserved someone who didn’t know the constant feeling of blood on his hands and the smell of death in his nose.

 But what if she wanted him? More than anything, he wanted her to be happy, whether it was with him or with someone else. So if she wanted him – wouldn’t that be her choice to make, not his?

  It was just past nine p.m. when Frank’s phone rang. He’d been lying on his bed since he’d gotten back from the Liebermans, trying to make sense of the chaos in his head.

 The caller ID told him it was Karen. He braced himself and picked up.

 “Hey,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

 “Hey,” Karen said back. There was noise in the background as if she were at a bar, and he could hear her breathing.

 “You ok?” Frank asked as he sat up.

 “No,” Karen replied. Frank tensed, ready to spring into action. “I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it one bit,” she continued. Her words were slightly slurred. She must have been drinking.  

 Frank relaxed a bit at that and couldn’t stop a chuckle that escaped from his lips.

 “Might disagree on that. Been thinking and you might’ve good reasons to kick my ass.”

 “No, I don’t. You’re always so nice and good and watching out for me. You help people and I should not get jealous because of that,” Karen continued. “Fuck, I didn’t want to tell you that.”

 Frank was smiling amusedly. “Jealous, huh?” A warm feeling was blooming in his chest.

 “Please forget that I said that,” Karen pleaded earnestly. “I promised myself I wouldn’t put you in an awkward position. I know you need to grieve. I know no-one can ever replace them.”

 Frank made a non-committal noise as he processed the information. So she didn’t think they were dating, either, which was a good thing. But then she also thought that he didn’t want to be in a relationship, which wasn’t quite as good and not exactly right. And definitely not something to discuss on the phone.

 “Where are you? Got a feeling someone should make sure you get home safe,” he said measuredly.

 “I’m at Réunion Bar,” Karen said, her breathing hitched. “At a birthday party of a co-worker.”

 “On a Sunday?” Frank raised his brow.

 “Yeah, stupid, I know. But she really wanted to celebrate. Thought I should go for a drink but people kept buying rounds of shots. Think I’ll go home soon. But I really wanted to talk to you first.”

 “How ‘bout I come get you and then we can talk on the way home, huh?” Frank asked.

 “See, again. You’re so nice to people,” Karen exclaimed.

 “Nice to you,” Frank corrected her. He paused. “So, can I come pick you up?”

 “Yeah,” Karen breathed after a second.

 “Be there in ten,” Frank replied.

   Réunion Bar was designed like a surf bar and was full of people even on a Sunday night. Frank was glad that he had grown out his hair again since November, and also his beard since the blizzard two weeks earlier. The first few months, he’d shaved his beard to better keep track of the healing cuts and bruises on his face as recommended by the doctors in the hospital, but when he stayed over at Karen’s, he’d forgotten his razor, and then used the opportunity to start growing his beard again.

 Karen was standing near the entrance staring at the crowd when he came in. She was leaning against a wall, a large empty water glass in hand, and seemed lost in thought.

 “Hey,” he said gruffly.

 She turned her head towards him and a slow smile spread across her features that left her eyes shining brightly.

 “Hi,” she said softly. “Thanks for getting me.”

 “Anytime,” Frank replied. His gaze swept across the room, and he could see the birthday girl with a sash proclaiming her as such near the bar, surrounded by other women.

 “Shall I wait while you say goodbye?” Frank asked.

 “Already did,” Karen said with a smile. She pushed herself off the wall and reached out to a chair next to her. “And got my coat. Ready to go.”

 She was just placing the empty glass on a nearby table when Frank heard the squeal.

 “Oh my God, Karen, is that the guy you’ve been dating?” Birthday girl had spotted them and made her way over to them.

 Karen swore. “Shoot, I’m so sorry. She’s really drunk,” she said apologetically.

 Frank just raised an amused eyebrow and turned to the woman in the sash. A few of her friends had followed her.

 “Yes, ma’am. The name’s Pete,” he said with a polite smile.

 “Ooh, ma’am,” birthday girl repeated, throwing Karen an appreciative look. Karen blushed a bit and swayed on her feet.  

 “This is Kelly. She covers the science section,” Karen said with an uncomfortable smile.

 “And it is my birthday!” Kelly added. The girls behind her broke out in loud “wohoo!”s.

 “Congratulations,” Pete said with a chuckle. “Unfortunately, Karen and I have to go now.”

 “Of course. Have fun you two,” Kelly said with a suggestive tone before she retreated to the bar again with her friends in tow.

 “I’m sorry. She’s really cool and super-smart, and also really excited about her birthday,” Karen said as she unfolded her coat to put it on. Frank reached for it and held it up for her.

 “Thanks,” Karen gave him a shy smile as she slipped into it.

 “Come on, let’s go,” Frank said and put a hand on the small of her back to guide her outside.

  The car ride was silent, and when Frank parked the van in front of Karen’s building, neither of them moved.

 Frank rested his left hand on the steering wheel and slightly turned towards Karen, who threw him a shy sideward glance.

 “So, uh, I had lunch with the Liebermans again today,” Frank said. He didn’t really know where to start, but this seemed like a good place.

 “David, he … he got me thinking ‘bout a few things,” he continued, tapping his trigger finger against his thigh where his hand rested.

 Karen turned to face him fully. Her expression was guarded, but her eyes soft.

 “And what’s that?” she asked quietly.

 “What’d you mean when you said you knew that I needed to grieve?” Frank asked back. He still had no idea how to have this conversation.

 Karen swallowed and her eyes darted around the interior of the car.

 “Curtis said that, remember? It’s all over now, so you finally have time to grieve. I know how hard that is, how long it takes, that it never really ends,” she said, not quite looking at him.

 “Curtis ‘s got it wrong,” Frank shot back. “I’ll always miss them, the pain is never going away, yeah. But … but it’s all over now, Karen. They’re dad, they’re not coming back. But I’m here.”

 Karen nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said.

 Frank cursed himself. This was not going well at all. He had no idea how to tell her what he wanted to say. His whole body felt tense with frustration.

 “I mean … Karen, what do you think we are doing here?” he finally asked, exasperatedly. He needed her to help him, he couldn’t do all of this on his own.

 Karen looked like a deer caught in headlights. She swallowed thickly and then nervously licked her lips.

 “What do you mean?” she said, her voice creaking a bit.

 “I mean that … shit, Karen – we’re dating,” he finally bellowed out. “And we seem to be the only ones not seeing it that way.” He grasped the steering wheel and his gaze flittered around the car and down the street. “But the thing is … I want to see it that way, ‘cos … you’re important to me Karen. You’re the reason why I got through this whole shit. Why I even started thinking about what’d happen after.” He turned to her again. “I’m moving on. It ain’t easy, there are still dark days, but … I am moving, and I’ve been doing it because of you.” He paused for a second. “I wanna continue moving on with you.”

 The silence that followed his words hung heavy between them. Karen was still motionless, staring straight at him with her hand pressed against her mouth.

 “So, I just … want to know. What’d you mean when you said that you didn’t wanna put me in an awkward position?” Frank followed up, willing himself to keep looking at her.

 Karen swallowed thickly and lowered her hand. She ran it through her hair and then stared at the gear stick before meeting his gaze again.

 “I… ah…” she trailed off. Then she began again, once again not quite looking at him. “I realized about three weeks ago that I … that I’m in love with you.” She swallowed once more and crossed one arm over her body as if to protect herself. “But with Curtis talking about you needing time to grieve, and seeing how you’re still hurting every day, I just… I decided not to do anything about it. I wanted to be there for you as a friend, help you deal with everything, without putting any more pressure on you.”

 Frank felt all tension leave his body and a shy smile spread across his face at her admission.

 “But from what you’re saying, I seem to have got it all wrong,” Karen continued carefully.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Frank couldn’t stop the wide grin from spreading across his face. Karen mirrored his smile and uncrossed her arm, running her hand through her hair once more.

 “Okay,” she breathed.

 Frank decided to stop dancing around things. He raised his right hand to gently cradle Karen’s face. She closed her eyes and melted into the caress. Then Frank leant forwards and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. Karen sighed softly, and Frank felt like his heart was about to burst from his chest. Karen brought her hand up to stroke the back of his head, and the kiss slowly became more heated. Karen parted her lips slightly, and Frank responded in kind, sucking and nipping at hers, pulling her even closer and bringing in his left hand to stroke the base of her throat and her collar bone with his thumb.

 Frank wondered why they hadn’t done this earlier. Karen’s lips felt intoxicating on his, and her touches sent little bouts of electricity down his body all the way to the ends of his feet.

 After a while, they broke up for air and rested their foreheads against each other. Frank chuckled lightly.

 “Feelin’ like a teenager again, makin’ out in the car,” he said, his voice rumbling quietly.

 Karen leant back at little and fixed him with a meaningful look and a small smile.

 “Well,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “There is a way that we can fix that.” She pressed another kiss to his lips. “Wanna come up for a coffee?”

   “You know, we have photographic evidence now,” Ellison announced when he appeared in her office door the next morning. “And witness statements.”

 Karen looked up from the papers she’d been sorting.

 “Of what?” she asked distractedly.

 “Your boyfriend,” Ellison said triumphantly. “Kelly says he’s very well-mannered and completely over the moon for you. You know how perceptive she is. She’s also the one that took a photo of him and kindly shared it with me. One of the best journalists, I have, I gotta say.” He held out a grainy print of a picture showing Frank from across the room, seemingly after he had just arrived. Only one side of his face was visible, though. Karen looked at the photo and then back at her desk.

 “Seriously, Karen, a hipster?” Ellison asked. “I have to say, I did not see that one coming.”

 Karen snorted. “Yeah, well, neither did I.”