When The Smoke Clears

When the Smoke Clears

Frank thought pushing Karen away was the only way to keep her safe. Then the Snap happened, and he learned just how wrong he was.

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“You gotta walk away.  Right now. That’s what has to happen, you hear me?”

Frank’s voice is unwavering, but his eyes are pleading as he stares at Karen.  She’s standing at the foot of his bed like a sentry, her arms folded defensively across her chest.  She’s wearing one hell of a poker face, but the look in her eye is obvious.  He’s hurting her, and he hates himself for it. 

“You don’t get to do this,” she exclaims.  “You don’t get just… decide who gives a shit!  That’s not on you, Frank.”

“Not on me?”  He looks to the side, a huff of dry laughter rising from his throat.  “No, it is on me.”  Throwing off the scratchy hospital blankets, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed with more effort than he cares to think about.  

“Because I know you, Karen.  You’re strong, and you’re brave, but you’re so goddamn stubborn; you’ll do whatever it takes when it comes to me.”  He pauses, dark eyes boring into her. “Tell me I’m wrong.” 

But she just turns her head away, scoffing. 

“Yeah.” Frank hums. “That’s what I thought.”

He pushes himself to stand. More effort.  The cuts on his face and the bruises on his body weigh him down, but not as much as the knowledge of how he got them.  He’d been one-upped by Russo, played like a jackass; beaten.  Beaten so badly that Karen dropped everything– the good, stable life she’d been building for herself– to sit by his side and wait for him to wake up.  

“You put yourself before others,” he says.  “And I can’t let you do that.  Not for me.”

Blue eyes, alarming in their brightness, shoot toward him.  Karen motions toward the door, where Midani and Amy are probably waiting somewhere outside, hearing every word.  “So it's okay for them to risk everything, but not me?”  

It isn’t, but that’s beside the point.  This is different. Everything is, with her.

“What do you think’s gonna happen?” He growls.  

He takes slow steps in Karen’s direction. It’s like wading through water, trying to get to her, being drawn in and pushed back by the same current.  Part of him thinks it’d be easier to just lay down, let the current sweep him in, but he knows that life isn’t meant for him, not while breath still fills Billy Russo’s lungs. 

Frank allows his expression to harden.  He has to puff out his chest, show his teeth; be the monster everyone thinks he is.  

Everyone except Karen. 

When she looks at him, he sees something else behind her eyes.  He’s now sure what it is— or maybe he is and is too much of a coward to admit it— but he knows it's dangerous. Every time he sees it, sees her , his heart rattles a little harder against his ribcage; whispers things he knows he can’t have. That feeling has no place here. He needs to change her mind; make her see him like the rest of the world.  Maybe then she’ll walk away… so he doesn’t have to.

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