Arms of an Angel Part 7
Title: Arms of an Angel
Author: Fab_fan
Fandom: All My Children
Pairing: Frankie/Bianca, Maggie/Other
Rating:R
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Summary: What do you do when you are forced to face the past?
Bianca stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her body. Dark damp locks framed her face, tiny droplets of water falling every once in a while against her smooth shoulder. She walked over to the closet and pulled the large doors open, revealing the extensive wardrobe inside. She plucked out a red blouse and long black skirt. The towel fell away from her body with the flick of a wrist, exposing her sensitive flesh to the cool morning air. She quickly slipped into the outfit, finishing the look with a pair of black leather boots. A few quick brushes had her hair up in a tight bun.
She could hear the tinkling of voices down the hall, a giggle or two interjected between bouts of words. The tall brunette strolled into the kitchen, a smile coming to her face at the sight of her children huddled around the table. Gabrielle was situated in her chair, a mixture of bananas and kiwi fruits waiting to be eaten in front of her. Miranda sat next to her, a plate of steaming scrambled eggs and a glass of milk making up her breakfast.
“I don’t want eggs.” The little girl insisted, poking unenthusiastically at the mound of yellow.
“Good morning.” Bianca announced her arrival, bending down to peck her daughters on the head before sitting in one of the empty chairs. Joan bustled over with a plate of eggs and toast in one hand, coffee on the other.
“Good morning, Mrs. Williams.” Joan greeted, setting the food down.
Bianca’s jaw tensed slightly, “Please Joan, call me Bianca or Ms. Montgomery.”
“I’m sorry, I keep forgetting.” Joan apologized with a small smile before walking back over to the stove.
“Mommy, I don’t want eggs.” Miranda stared at her breakfast with a frown. “Can I have Cap’n Crunch? Please.”
“Miranda, Joan made you eggs for breakfast.” Bianca sipped at her coffee, testing it.
“But Cap’n Crunch is so much better. Please, Mommy. It’s good for me, ‘member.”
Bianca shook her head, “It’s full of sugar.”
“Sugar’s good for me. Frankie says so.” Miranda peered up at her with pouty eyes.
“I can’t believe she had to get you addicted to that stuff before she left.” Bianca muttered. Her daughter was never into sugary fake cereal before the agent had shown up. Now if it wasn’t her favorite waffles, it had to be Cap’n Crunch.
Miranda tried one last ditch effort, “Frankie eats it all the time. She’d let me.”
Bianca’s throat tightened at the reminder. “Frankie’s not here. Now, eat your eggs before they get cold.”
Hearing the slight tremor in her mother’s voice, Miranda wisely kept her mouth shut. There was that look in her eyes again. She got it a lot now that Frankie was gone. It made Miranda feel sad whenever she saw it. With a sniff, the girl pricked a piece of egg and brought it to her mouth, chewing slowly.
Bianca closed her eyes. A flash of candlelight and the gleam of a knife appeared against her eyelids. She swiftly blinked her eyes open, not wanting to relive the dream she had last night. She pushed a loose wisp of hair behind her ear and glanced at her daughter. She knew it had been hard on the child. Miranda had been dealing really well with everything that had happened, but she still wanted to cling to certain remnants of the past few months. Who could blame her? Bianca did too.
Clearing her throat, the mother tried to start a new conversation, “Did you have a good time with Maggie when she took you to the museum?”
Miranda shrugged but gave a tiny nod as well. “The ducks were fun.”
“You seemed really excited when you got home.” Bianca pushed a little.
“Yeah.” Miranda took a large gulp of milk, not really into the conversation.
“Did you like spending time with Maggie?”
“I guess so. She was funny.” Miranda carefully set her glass down on the table and ate the remainder of her food.
“Would you like to spend more time with her?”
“Would I hafta stand in line again?”
“I don’t know. Probably not. I’m sure there are a lot of things you could do.”
Miranda nodded, “Okay.” It might be fun. Maggie wasn’t so bad after she stopped making her stand in line forever.
Silence followed as Bianca bit into her cold toast. Miranda crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, thinking hard. The look her mommy got was gone, and she didn’t want to bring it back, but she wanted to ask her something and now was a good time. “Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Can Frankie tell me a story?”
Bianca gave her a confused look, “Tell you a story?”
“Tonight, when I go to sleep.” Miranda clarified. “Please.”
Bianca took in the hopeful look and bated breath the little girl was projecting. She grinned softly, “When we call her tonight, we’ll ask her if she can tell you a story.”
“Yes!” Miranda bounced in her seat, a triumphant hand shooting up into the air. Frankie’s stories were the best.
Bianca couldn’t help but laugh at her daughter’s joy. She focused on that instead of the whisper in her ear asking her to say it one more time.
****
The office was buzzing with activity as usual. Cambias was in talks with a new start-up company that had been generating a lot of revenue the past few months. The owners were interested in selling their company to the conglomerate, and Cambias was always willing to talk to potential money-makers.
Bianca leaned back in her chair, the finance executives closing the door gently behind themselves. The meeting had finished five minutes earlier, and after a spatter of small talk, the three gentlemen were on their way back to their offices.
Bianca ran a hand across her forehead, fingertips running over tense creases. A quiet sigh filled the room, and her eyes blinked tiredly. The meeting had been important, there was no way she couldn’t have it. But, she had barely heard anything the men had said. She couldn’t concentrate on any of the financial sheets or talk of projections. It was almost like she hadn’t even been there.
She was tired. So tired. Waking up at three in the morning did not help. Waking up at three in the morning in a blind panic was even worse. Her heart had been pumping so hard and her mind had been running a mile a minute. She had been so scared.
“God.” Bianca whispered, cupping her hands around her face. It had been so real. The boom of thunder, the flash of lightning, the voices. The way the blood had spread across Frankie’s chest.
Bianca bit her lip, willing the images away. Why did she have to dream that? Why did Frankie have to die? Throughout the day, all she would see were Frankie’s helpless eyes asking her what was happening.
She needed to focus on her work. There was so much to do with the potential buy, let alone the rest of what the company was doing. She shouldn’t be worrying about something that didn’t even happen. Frankie was fine. They had talked. Everything was ok. There was nothing to worry about. Right?
Her hands dropped from her face, and she reached out to the telephone. She picked up the handle and held it to her ear, quickly dialing a number.
“Mr. Dupont, please.” She waited a few moments. “Jason? Bianca Montgomery. Yes, I’m doing well. I was wondering if I could meet with you tomorrow to talk about that thing. Yes? Thank you so much. That would be perfect. Thank you.”
She hung up the phone, and wrote the appointment in her planner. It was important that she get this done with as soon as possible. Jason Dupont was one of the most recommended divorce lawyers out there. He would be able to help her.
As she set the pen down and closed the planner, her eyes caught the corner of something small and white at the edge of a pile of papers. She slid it out from beneath the leaning tower and studied the object. It was a business card. Dr. Isabel Custeau. Psychiatrist.
It was the woman Bianca had briefly met with once when she had taken Miranda to her appointment. She picked up the card and held it up.
Frankie’s head had lolled to the side, and she swayed on her feet as the circle of blood got bigger. Bianca pushed and pushed, using all her strength, but she could not move. Hopelessness took over as she begged with her lover, “Frankie, look at me. You’re going to be ok, just stay with me. Damn it! No, no, no, NO! I love you, please.”
A figure meandered up to the agent’s side. They placed a hand on her shoulder and spun her to face them. Bianca choked as the candle’s light brightened to show Reese, a gun in her hand. She held the weapon firmly and dragged the muzzle up Frankie’s body till it rested against the middle of her upper chest. Frankie just stood there, eyes half closed.
“Not so tough now, is she?” Reese pressed the gun harder into her chest.
Trembling hands picked the phone back up and dialed.
***
The wind whistled through the cracks in the house, causing Frankie to roll her eyes. She hated the winter. She really hated this winter. It was so cold. She had woken up and gotten ready to go into the office, only to discover another blizzard had descended upon the city. The snow was piling up, and the roadways looked beyond dangerous. Well, what little she could see that would be construed as a roadway looked dangerous. She had actually contemplated braving the wintery weather to meet with Michaels, but a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Bianca’s warned her that if she even stepped foot outside she’d regret it. So, she didn’t step foot outside.
Not stepping foot outside meant she had to stay inside. In the house. Oh, man. The agent paced around the small building, hands shoved into her pockets. She was dressed for work, white shirt with black trouser and suit jacket. She had her scuffed shoes on, and used them to kick at the floor. There was now a large black gash in her kitchen.
What was there to do? She had tried to call the office earlier, but the lines were busy. Most likely many of the agents had called in, citing the weather as a reason to skip work that day. She could get smashing drunk. There was still the vodka in the freezer. But, she didn’t really want to. Hell, since she had been living with the Montgomery clan, her appetite for liquid fire had dwindled. It wasn’t completely gone, but she didn’t have the urge to down bourbon like it was water now.
Entering the bedroom, her eyes landed on the two pieces of luggage haphazardly resting next to the wall. They were where she had left them the first night she had arrived back in the States. Some things had been removed from them, but for the most part they were as full as when she had opened that front door for the first time in who knows how long. Her shoulders slumped as she took in the bags. She didn’t want to unpack them. She never unpacked. Unpacking meant exchanging the clothes inside for a few new ones. Unpacking meant taking out her toothbrush so she could brush her teeth before moving on to the next case. Frankie Stone didn’t unpack. She never stuck around in the house long enough to need to.
But for some reason, she was still there.
She was still in that house. She wasn’t careening off to her next assignment. She was, for lack of better terms, stuck. But, if she unpacked, that would mean she was staying. She didn’t want to stay. She needed to get on the Goldstein case. She wanted to get out of there and go catch Carrington and the Goldsteins and whoever else was associated with them. Who was she kidding? She wanted to be in Paris, that’s where she wanted to be.
Inhaling deeply, Frankie pulled out her cell phone and dialed.
“Manny’s Pizza.”
“Yeah, are you guy’s delivering?” Frankie asked.
“We deliver in anything.”
“Cool. I want a small thin crust with the works.” Frankie ordered, giving him her address.
“Thirty minutes.” The guy told her before hanging up, most likely to start on her order.
Frankie threw her phone onto the bed, where it landed with a thud. She glared at the bags before walking over to them. She’d unpack until the food arrived. There was no harm in taking a few things out.
She opened the first bag she came to and started slowly pulling out the contents. A rumpled black shirt came out, followed by a pair of blue jeans. She blindly chucked everything onto the bed, heedless of where it landed.
Clothes, clothes, clothes. Shirts, jeans, trousers, socks. It all flew through the air and landed in a heap on the bed. Frankie stopped paying attention to what she was doing, instead letting her mind roam. She thought back to the night before, when she had received the frantic phone call from Bianca. The other woman had scared the life out of the agent. Frankie never wanted to hear the terrified tone Bianca had used. Bianca should never have to use that tone, ever. After hanging up with the younger woman, Frankie had called security and had them discreetly check the area and stand guard outside the penthouse for the rest of the night.
Her hand hit something hard, jarring her out of her thoughts. Frankie peeked down to see the cover of a book. She pulled it out and grinned. It was the book of Shakespeare poems Bianca had bought. Excitedly, Frankie flipped the book open. The pages swirled, stopping on a specific page. Something fell out, slipping to the ground as the woman read the title of the poem.
“Not Marbled, Nor The Gilded Monuments.” Frankie spoke, her eyes scanning down to read the poem. “ Not marbled, nor the gilded monuments of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme. But you shall shine more bright in these contents than unswept stone, besmear’d with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, and broils root out the work of masonry, nor Mars his sword nor war’s quick fire shall burn the living record of your memory. ‘Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity shall you pace forth. Your praise shall still find room even in the eyes of all posterity that wear this world out to the ending doom. So, till judgement that yourself arise, you live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes.”
Frankie carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, the book open in her hands. She re-read the poem, mouthing along with the words. Blinking, she tore her eyes away from the page and looked down at the floor to where the bookmark had landed. A white rectangle stared back at her, and she bent down, scooping it up in her hand. She turned it over.
Four smiling faces beamed back at her. A Christmas tree sat in the background, twinkling with lights and ornaments. Before it sat Bianca, Gabrielle in her lap and Frankie beside her. Miranda was strewn across the floor at the adult’s feet, a cheesy grin on her face. That had been the most hectic picture to take in the history of picture taking.
Frankie stood there, a dumbfounded look on her face. Was she serious?
“I want us to take a Christmas photo.” Bianca gestured at the decorated tree.
Frankie just stared. The woman had finally let her out of bed. She had regulated the agent to bed rest until she had deemed the woman fit enough for activity. Of course, Bianca didn’t know that Frankie had been sneaking out to teach Miranda the finer points of snowball throwing and snow fort building. However, Frankie was finally free from that crazy plan and ready to take on the world. That did not include posing for some cheesy picture.
“Bianca, I’ll take a picture of you and the kids. That’s fine.” Frankie glanced at the camera and tripod. Well, she’d do it if she could figure out how to work the camera.
“Frankie, I want you in it. We all want you in it.”
Frankie shook her head, “Bianca, I’m not much for Christmas pictures. I don’t even think I’ve ever been in one.”
“Then, this will be your first one.” Bianca grasped her hand. The joined palms tenderly swung together, “Come on, what are you afraid of?”
Frankie watched the hands swing back and forth, “Bianca, this is your thing, you and the kids. I’m not…it’s not…”
Bianca tugged the shorter woman closer and tilted her head, resting their foreheads together and stopping the agent’s fumbling for words. “You’re a part of this, too. You are.”
Frankie breathed in deeply and lifted their joined hand to her mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to Bianca’s knuckles. She wanted to be a part of it, so much. “Do I have to say cheese?”
Bianca felt a burst of giddiness at the implied consent. Give it a few more weeks and Frankie wouldn’t think twice about them being together, all of them being a family. A family, it felt good to even think. She cupped the agent’s jaw, fingers tickling the woman’s neck, “Cheddar, preferably.”
“Now you’re just mocking my heritage.” Frankie leaned up, her lips brushing against Bianca’s.
“Mommy! Frankie!” Miranda yelled, barreling into the room.
The two broke apart just as Miranda launched herself into the air, wrapping her arms and legs around Frankie’s back and nearly sending the woman headfirst into the floor.
“Miranda! You can’t do that. Frankie’s still hurt.” Bianca admonished, worried eyes watching the woman for signs of pain.
“Eh, it’s alright. I’m getting used to it.” Frankie stumbled a few times but caught her footing. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think someone’s tryin’ to knock me over.”
Miranda’s face was pure innocence. “You’re silly.”
Yeah, she was silly. And Miranda had, for whatever reason, decided she would greet Frankie by jumping on her any chance she got. Thank goodness Frankie had gotten better at it. She had nearly dropped the girl a few times.
“I’ll go get Gabrielle. Then, we’ll take the picture.” Bianca pressed a kiss to Frankie’s cheek before leaving.
“Ok, kid. What’s the plan?”
Miranda leaned into Frankie’s ear, cupping her mouth to block out her words, “Mommy’s gonna go buy food later. A bunch of people walk by then.”
“Perfect time to launch a few snow missiles without your mom being around.” Frankie finished her thought.
“Yep.” Miranda nodded. “The man on TV said we’d get more snow today, so we should have a lot for snowballs.”
“What are you two talking about?” Bianca walked in, Gabrielle resting on her hip.
“Nothing” they both answered at the same time.
Bianca raised an eyebrow, but let it go. She set Gabrielle down on the floor, and the tike instantly crawled towards Frankie and her sister.
“Hey, squirt.” Frankie winked at her.
“Mommy, do we gotsta take the picture now?” Miranda asked.
“Yes, we have to take the picture now.” Bianca headed towards the camera.
“Fine.” Miranda sighed. “Frankie, to the tree!” she pointed forward with a flourish.
“Yes, ma’am.” Frankie trotted over to the tree, depositing a laughing Miranda onto the carpet. She reached down and tickled the girl’s belly, drawing a few more hearty chuckles.
“Frankie, stop!” Miranda gasped out, slapping at the tickling hands.
“But, it’s my favorite thing to do.” Frankie gave her one last tickle before stepping back. She turned towards Bianca, “You get that thing figure out?”
“It said all I have to do is press this button and put in how much time we want before the flash.” Bianca fiddled with the equipment.
Frankie shrugged, having no clue how to run the camera. Her eyes ran over the room, and she spotted Gabrielle crawling towards the hallway. She jogged over to the youngster and grabbed her, lifting her up into her arms. “Where ya going? If I gotta do this, you gotta do it.”
Gabrielle reached out and took hold of the agent’s necklace, resting her head against the warm shoulder. Frankie cradled her close and stepped back over to Bianca, who had a befuddled look on her face.
“Somethin’ wrong?”
“I keep doing what it says, but nothing is happening.”
Frankie looked at it, “Did you turn it on?”
“Yes, I turned it on.” Bianca pressed another button.
“Mommy, how much longer? SpongeBob’s on.” Miranda called from her spot beneath the tree.
“Just a few more seconds, honey.” Bianca answered.
Frankie moved to help, but Gabrielle decided then would be a good time to turn into a monkey and crawl on Frankie. She pulled down hard on the chain around Frankie’s neck, using it to hoist herself up. Not expecting the sudden jerk, Frankie’s head snapped down painfully.
“Damn it.” Frankie bit out, as the chain pulled at her neck. Gabrielle squirmed out of her hold and crawled up her shoulder, so half her body was on the woman’s back. She pushed against the back of Frankie’s head, trying to find more leverage.
“Frankie said a bad word!” Miranda gasped.
Why did Gabrielle decide this was the trait to pick up from her sister? Frankie grit her teeth, arms flailing up to catch the child before she went tumbling down the her back.
“Frankie? Gabrielle!” Bianca turned away from the camera and reached for her daughter.
“I’ll help!” Miranda yelled, running over to the adults. She’d get Gabby. She ran and jumped on Frankie’s back, planning on catching her sister that way.
Frankie lurched forward at the added weight, falling into Bianca who was trying to pry Gabrielle from Frankie’s neck and back. She slammed into Bianca, who then slammed into the tripod. The camera swiveled around, the legs of the tripod dancing. The family fell to the ground, Bianca on her back with Frankie on top, the two kids safely on Frankie’s back.
Bianca felt the air get knocked out of her, and Frankie groaned.
“Mommy, there’s a red light flashing.” Miranda pointed at the camera.
Bianca’s head turned to the side, and she saw that indeed the camera was on and about to take a picture. “Get up. Everybody up.”
“What?” Frankie looked down at her.
“The camera.” Bianca nodded at the contraption. It was ready, and they might not get another chance.
Miranda slid off of Frankie and helped her sister down. Frankie pushed off of Bianca, who sat up and grabbed onto Gabrielle, pulling her into her lap. Frankie collapsed against Bianca’s side, and Miranda dove in front of them.
The flash went off, capturing the moment.
Frankie coughed lightly, coming out of the memory. That had been her first Christmas photo, and she would never forget it. Gazing at the picture, she could only bite the inside of her cheek and shake her head. She missed them. A chuckle broke out. She was turning into one of those people that daydreamed all day with their family’s picture on their desktop.
Knocking had her standing up and moving toward the front door. The pizza had arrived. She carefully tucked the photo into her inner jacket pocket, making sure it was safe before opening the door. She paid the delivery person and shut the door, not wanting the cold to linger any longer than it had to. She went into the kitchen and put the box down on the table, flipping it open and picking up a slice as she sat down.
Chewing on the pizza, she stood up and went back to her bedroom. She grabbed her cell phone and opened it. She dialed and waited, moving back into the kitchen.
“Director Michaels.”
“Luke, don’t tell me you’re at work? You overachiever.” Frankie sat down.
“Stone, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“What else? I want on Goldstein.”
“You haven’t passed your psych evaluation, yet.”
Frankie set down the slice of pizza, “What do you mean I haven’t passed? I answered all the questions she had.”
“I don’t know what you said, Stone, but she requested more meetings with you.”
“What? Why?”
“She needs to talk with you more. That’s all I know. Did you let your smart mouth loose? You know you should just answer the questions and get the hell out.”
“I did. I answered all her questions.” Frankie was getting angry. “What did she say?”
“I don’t know. She talked to one of the higher ups. Listen Junior, just stay low and get out of there as easy as possible. You don’t need something like this on your record.”
“Something like what, Luke?”
Luke sighed, “Just go to your appointment.”
“This is bull.”
“It’s politics. Just play the game and get back to work. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up.
Frankie glared at her phone. What was this about? How did she not pass? What more did the lady need to know? She couldn’t get her a job at a strip club.
The phone rang.
“Stone.” She answered.
“Frankie!” Miranda’s voice shouted down the line. She had it on speaker, the phone placed on her small bedside table.
“Hey, kid. What are you doin’?”
“Going to bed. Mommy said you’d tell me a story.”
“She did, huh?” Frankie smirked, hearing Bianca correct her in the background. “What kind of story do you want to hear?”
“Pirates and princesses and evil dragons.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Miranda settled down in her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin.
“Well, uh…once upon a time, there was a pirate named Manny.” Frankie looked at the pizza box. “He was the fiercest pirate to ever sail the seven seas. One day his crew sailed into a port to get supplies. He left the ship and was walking around when he ran into a lady.”
“Was she pretty?”
“I guess so. She was tall with blonde hair. She walked up to Manny and tricked him into her lair. You see, even though she looked nice, she was really a witch. She lived in a cave with a dragon.”
“Evil lady.” Miranda booed.
“Yes, she was. She tricked Manny into the cave, and he couldn’t escape because of the dragon. The dragon guarded the entrance, and whenever Manny tried to leave, the dragon would howl and breathe fire at him.”
“What did Manny do?” Miranda scooted closer to the phone.
“Well, the lady told him that he had to answer a series of questions. If he did, she would let him go. If he didn’t, he had to stay there forever.” Frankie kicked her feet up onto the table, the pizza forgotten as she got into the story.
“Did he answer the questions?”
“He tried, but every time he answered, she’d come up with a new one. Pretty soon he didn’t have enough answers for her, and she said he had to stay with her forever.”
“No.” Miranda’s eyes widened.
“One day, though, a princess was walking by the cave, and she heard Manny inside. She snuck past the dragon, who had fallen asleep, and saw Manny trying to answer the witch’s questions. Seeing that Manny needed help, the princess waited. She hid behind a rock. Manny saw her, but kept quiet, not wanting the witch to know she was there. Whenever the lady asked a question Manny didn’t know the answer to, the princess would whisper the same question. Magically, Manny would know the answer every time he heard the princess ask it. Soon, the witch ran out of questions, and she had to let Manny go. The princess escaped with him.”
“And they lived happily ever after.” Miranda finished.
“You know it. Now go to sleep.”
“Ok. Night Frankie. Love you.” Miranda yawned, nestling further into her covers.
Bianca picked up the phone, switching off the speaker. She kissed Miranda’s forehead and stepped outside of her room, flicking off the lights.
“Nice story. She fell asleep.”
“Just doing my job. Don’t want you to dump me or anything.” Frankie shot back.
Bianca rolled her eyes, “How are you?”
“Better, now. How are you?"
"Better, now."