Arms of an Angel Part 6
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?
The heat penetrated through the thin cardboard cup, indicating the scalding temperature of the coffee within. Frankie could barely feel it, her fingers and hands numb with cold. She wrapped one hand more firmly around the cup and used the other to flip the collar of her coat tighter around her neck. The cold winter wind blew harshly, and small flakes of snow twirled in its grasp. The agent ducked her head down, trying to protect her face from the brunt of the attack. She didn’t feel as it passed over her frozen ears.
Keeping her head low, she peered up to see the office building she had been directed to. Picking up speed, she jogged up the sidewalk and rammed through the door. A sigh of relief left her lips as the warm interior enveloped her, starting at once to thaw her frozen limbs. Stepping further into the lobby, Frankie lifted her head. She absently rubbed at her ears and walked to the left. She took the stairs up to the third floor, her still half frozen body taking its time to reach the right level. Making it, she pushed open the door and moved inside.
The waiting room was somewhat small. There were a few chairs placed up against the wall, and a table full of magazines and a potted plant served as guards at either end of the row. The secretary was perched across from the chairs. She didn’t look up at the sound of the door being opened, instead choosing to continue her perusal of the latest celebrity gossip online.
Frankie scanned the room, her eyes settling on the woman. The lady kept with her reading, never acknowledging the new arrival. The agent snuck a glance at the door she had come in through. Looking back at the desk, she took a sip of her coffee and strolled over.
“Hi, my name is Stone. I’m supposed to have an appointment with Dr. Young.”
The secretary waved her hand towards the chairs, not looking up from her computer screen, “Have a seat. The doctor will see you shortly.”
Frankie opened her mouth, but quickly closed it. She wasn’t going to comment. She wanted to get this done with as soon as possible. While it would be so easy, any mocking comment would cause her to run the risk of being there longer than she wanted to. So, with another gulp of coffee, she turned to the chairs and sat down. A quick perusal of the selections confirmed that all of the magazines were at least a year old. While she had never actually read any of them, she was sure she could survive happily keeping it that way. Not to mention all of the crosswords had been filled out…with pen. And some of the answers were completely wrong. Amateurs.
Frankie sat back in her chair and kicked her feet out, crossing them at the ankle. She intermittently drank from her cup, the heat and caffeine doing the wonders she craved. Her fingers began to tap against the arm of the chair. She didn’t want to be there. She didn’t think she needed to be. She was fit to return to duty. She wasn’t suffering from any post traumatic stress. She wasn’t going to go crazy and start shooting people. She was…normal. She just wanted to get back to work.
Rubbing at her eyes, her mind started to wander. Gabrielle would be walking soon. That was an incredible thought. It really blew her mind, for some reason. One day the girl was crawling up a storm and the next she’d be walking around. How would Miranda react to that? The kid would probably immediately teach her sister how to cross the street safely. Frankie chuckled under her breath, remembering when she had started working as the kids’ nanny. The kid had been adamant on how to cross the road, making sure to teach the clueless agent how to do it. Can’t forget the steps, they’re important.
Her chuckle died down and a small frown came to her face. She shouldn’t be focusing on things like that. She needed to think about the case. All of her attention needed to be on work. Bianca and the kids were safe, that’s all that mattered. She wasn’t going to be one of those people who sat around daydreaming in front of their computers with pictures of their family as the background. She was never meant to be someone like that.
“Agent Stone?”
Frankie looked up, her thoughts disappearing as she spotted Dr. Young. The woman stood a few feet away, a pleasant smile on her face. She was dressed in a tweed skirt suit, the top few buttons of her white blouse unbuttoned to show the subtle hint of the swell of her breasts. Blinking, Frankie stood up and slowly walked over to the blonde. Reaching the woman, she tossed her empty cup into the nearby trash bin. Dr. Young tilted her head and led the way down the short hallway to her office. Frankie followed at a sedate pace.
They entered the office, and the psychologist gestured towards the comfy looking couch in the center of the room. Frankie took off her coat and threw it over the arm of the sofa before sitting down. She watched as the blonde picked up a folder and pen from her desk. She then walked over to the chair across from Frankie. She sat down gingerly. She crossed her legs, her skirt riding up a few inches to reveal smooth skin. She leaned back in her chair and smiled at the brunette.
“Good afternoon, Agent Stone. May I call you Mary?”
Frankie smirked, “If you call me that, I will have to go to counseling for violent tendencies. It’s Frankie. Don’t ever call me Mary.”
“Alright, Frankie.” She leaned forward and flipped open the folder, her shirt billowing out to show a peek inside. “Do you know why the bureau decided to send you here?”
Was this lady for real? “Because you gave them a discount at Strippers R Us?”
“I’m sorry?” Young glanced up.
Frankie rolled her eyes, “They sent me here because I was involved in a situation that forced me to take medical leave.”
“That is correct. Would you like to talk about it, Frankie?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I wouldn’t like to talk about it.”
“What would you like to do?”
Frankie raised a subtle eyebrow at the tone, “Leave and get back to work.”
“Frankie, I’m sure you want to talk about what happened.”
“You are? Well, I’m sure I don’t. Listen, there is nothing to talk about. I’m fine. I don’t need therapy. I’m not interested in your help or whatever else you might want to give me. Ask me whatever questions that folder tells you to so I can get back to work.”
Young stared at the agent, Frankie’s hard eyes never wavering. Pursing her lips, she uncapped her pen, “You were shot, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Hurt.”
Young looked at her, “Hurt how?”
“Hurt like a piece of metal entered my body at lightning speed. Funny how getting shot hurts. I woulda thought it would feel great.” The sarcastic tone was not lost.
“What were you thinking when it happened?”
“Ow.”
“Agent Stone.”
“Ok, it was more like, holy fucking hell this hurts like a bitch. Better?”
“Are you being uncooperative, Agent Stone?”
“No I am not, doctor. And it hurts that we’re already not on a first name basis anymore.” Frankie crossed her arms, a smirk firmly in place.
“Frankie, do you feel angry about what happened to you?”
“Dr. Young, I am only angry that my ability to perform my job was taken from me for a short while. However, I am ready to go back to work, and I am fully capable of performing as I have done since joining the bureau. I do not have any lasting mental problems stemming from the shooting. I am as mentally fit as when I was recruited. Now, are you done asking me stupid useless questions, or do you have any more?”
***
The hallway was dark, only a few candles lighting the area. Bianca looked around, not knowing where she was. Shadows danced across the walls as the lights flickered. She swallowed and clutched at her nightgown. The flimsy white material sunk in between her fingers.
Taking a steadying breath, her bare feet began to move down the hall. She knew she needed to be somewhere. But where? Where was she supposed to go? She was supposed to meet someone. She kept walking down the hall, her feet connecting with the hard wood floor underneath. She listened intently, but there was no sound. She wracked her brain, trying to remember who she was supposed to meet.
Off in the distance, she heard a low rumble. Her feet hurried towards the sound. The rumble grew louder and louder until she was able to make out what it was.
Thunder.
It was thundering. She held her breath, focusing on trying to make out the sounds. The patter of rain falling on the roof joined in with the rumbling, and she briefly wondered if there was lightning. She felt a shiver as another loud burst of thunder echoed down the long hall. A sense of foreboding filled her. She needed to find who she was looking for. They were in danger.
She ran down the hall, the rush of air following her causing the candles to flicker harshly. She ran as fast as she could, knowing somehow that danger was close at hand. The storm had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, and she could feel her skin chilling to the bone.
After what seemed like hours, the hallway ended in a lone wooden door. Without thought, Bianca ripped the door open, somehow knowing this was where she was supposed to go. She hurried inside. The room was in complete and utter darkness. She fumbled around, working to find a candle.
Suddenly, a small flame appeared in front of her. Bianca jumped back in surprise. She held a hand to her chest as a gentle laugh greeted her. She peeked over at dancing brown eyes and a charming grin.
“Bianca’la, what are you doing? I didn’t scare ya, did I?” Frankie held the candle up higher.
“Frankie.” Bianca exhaled, her hand dropping to her side. She was supposed to meet Frankie. How could she have forgotten?
“Took ya long enough. Where ya been? I’ve been waiting for you forever.” Frankie turned to her side and set the candle down on a table.
“I-I got lost. I’m sorry I’m late.” Bianca apologized, confused. There was something wrong, she could feel it.
“Lost? I’ve been right here the whole time. You didn’t forget, did you?”
“No, I’d never forget.” Bianca gazed around at the darkness. “Frankie, why are we here?”
Frankie gave her a duh look, “My job, of course. This is where I work.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I have to go now. You were supposed to be here so much sooner.” Frankie shook her head.
“Where are you going?” Bianca reached out a hand to stop her, fear trickling in.
Frankie only stood there, somehow out of reach. A smile played at the corners of her lips. Then, a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning blinded Bianca, forcing her to close her eyes. When she opened them, Frankie stood there, peering lazily down at her chest. Bianca followed her gaze to see a circle of blood forming on the agent’s chest. Frankie lifted her head, eyes locking on Bianca’s, “Bianca, what’s happening?”
“No, no, no.” Bianca chanted. She fought to rush over to the wounded woman, but something was holding her back. It felt like she was pushing against a brick wall. “God, no. Frankie! Look at me. Baby, look at me.”
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.
“NO! Reese, please. Don’t do this. Don’t do this.” Bianca screamed helplessly.
“Aww, that’s my favorite saying. I so do love when you scream it for me. Do it again.” A deeper voice spoke up.
Out of the darkness another form appeared, stepping up behind Frankie. He grinned evilly at Bianca, his cold dead eyes showing no emotion. His smile grew as he rested one hand on Frankie’s shoulder, his eyes never leaving Bianca’s.
“Say it one more time.”
Bianca watched as Michael Cambias plunged a knife into Frankie’s back.
“NNNNOOOOO!”
Bianca bolted up, the sheets tangled around her legs. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and a cold sweat clung to her damp skin. Wild eyes flitted around as her hands clawed at the mess of silk and cotton. The room was dark, the only light coming from the bedside clock.
With a great heave, Bianca tore away the sheets and flung herself out of bed. Tears blurred her eyes. She flew around the room, searching everywhere. She ran out, skidding down the short hallway. She threw open the first door she came to and sprinted inside. Where was Frankie? Oh god, they killed her. They killed her.
A soft sigh caught her attention, and Bianca spun around to see the tiny bed in the center of the room, the headboard pushed up against the wall. Miranda turned onto her side, her small hands nestling under her pillow. Holding a hand against her mouth, Bianca stumbled back, her body falling out of the room. She rushed back to her bedroom, her entire body shaking.
They had killed her.
Her mind could not stop repeating that one sentence. The scene played over and over again in her brain. Reese holding a gun to a bleeding Frankie. Michael Cambias showing up and stabbing her. Frankie standing there, unable to do anything.
Legs giving out, Bianca crashed to the floor. Her hand smacked against the bedside table, and her phone clattered to the ground. She stared at it. Then, she grasped at it, unsteady fingers dialing. She held it to her ear, fear building as the phone rang again and again.
“Hello?”
“F-Frankie?” Bianca croaked, tears blocking her throat.
“Bianca? What’s wrong? Are you ok?” Frankie was instantly on alert. She set down the sandwich she had picked up for dinner and stood up.
“Frankie.” She was alive! She answered. She wasn’t dead. They didn’t kill her.
“Bianca, talk to me. Where are you? Are the kids ok?” Frankie purposefully walked towards her front door, searching for her coat and keys. “God, it’s like three in the morning out there, isn’t it?”
Bianca sniffled, “You’re ok.”
“Yeah, of course I’m ok. I’m fine.” Frankie tugged on her coat, “Where are you? Are you at the Penthouse? I’ll call security.”
Bianca gulped in air, the pounding in her chest slowing down. Frankie was ok. The younger woman fought for composure, “I-I saw them k-kill you. They killed you, Frankie.”
“What? What are you talkin’ about?” Frankie pocketed her keys. She could make it to headquarters in twenty minutes if she hurried. She could get into contact with the Paris section and get people over there to help out.
Bianca shook her head. God, it had only been a dream. A stupid dream. “I’m…we’re ok, Frankie. It was a silly dream. I’m sorry. We’re fine.”
“A dream? Are you sure? Is somebody there, Bianca?”
“No, no. It’s only, it was only a dream. I can’t believe I did this.” How could she have been so crazy? Calling Frankie up about a dream and most likely freaking her out. Frankie was on the other side of the Atlantic. She was twenty-five years old. She should be able to handle this. But, it had been so real.
Frankie exhaled loudly, “Damn it, Bianca. You scared the hell out of me. I thought somethin’ had happened.”
“I’m so sorry. I had a nightmare. It’s nothing.”
Frankie shrugged her coat off and hung it up, “Must have been pretty bad for you to call me at three in the morning. What happened? Did me and the kid decide to start our own cooking show? I promised we’d put that off for a few more years.”
Bianca couldn’t help but feel grateful at how Frankie was attempting to play off what had probably been a very scary few minutes. “No, nothing like that. I just had a bad dream.”
“Come on, tell me. I need something to do while eating. You know how bored I can get.”
Bianca dug her palm into her forehead, “I dreamed that you were killed right in front of me.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Did I at least get in a good punch or two before I got taken out?”
“Frankie, it’s not funny. You died!”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Frankie sighed. “It was only a dream, baby. Nothing is gonna happen to me. I’m not even on a case yet.”
“Just like nothing was going to happen to you on your last case?” Bianca bit out angrily.
Frankie stayed silent for a moment, fiddling with the sandwich wrapping. “It rarely happens, Bianca. It was just a fluke or something. It won’t happen again.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. I would never hurt you like that. Besides, I’ve heard that I’m kinda scrappy in a fight.”
Bianca involuntarily chuckled, “You better not be getting into any fights, Frankie Stone.”
“Me? I’m an angel. I would never dream of getting into a fight.” Frankie picked up her sandwich. “Go to sleep. Everything is ok. I promise.”
“I love you.”
“Which is why I willingly put down my food for you.” Frankie joked, her tone then going more serious, “Hey, I, you know, love you too. Now, go to sleep. Sweet dreams.”