Consequences of a Missing Week

When Frank was mourning his wife, Mary, he disappeared for a week and returned as if nothing had happened. Now, 13 years later, he must face the consequences of that week, which will change the future of his family forever.

Rated M

This is the longest story I have ever written. Every time I though it was wrapping up, the dust bunnies under my bed (you know, the ones that give me my ideas for stories?) kept throwing wrenches at me.

Feedback is appreciated and asked for, but not required.

Will post a chapter every day until done.

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In the two months after Mary had died, Frank had felt nothing but numb. At night, he found himself still reaching out for her but his hands only found air. Her side of the bed would remain cold and empty.

He'd taken time off.

He couldn't cry.

He only went about his duties as if on auto-pilot. The department shrink ordered two more weeks off. Time to be spent with his family in an effort just to feel again.

His family.

Danny had Linda and the boys. Erin had Jack and Nikki. Jamie and Joe seemed to be taking comfort in their bond as brothers that was quickly growing into a bond as friends. Although his father, Henry, knew what he was going through, Frank still felt a disconnect. So he did the only thing he felt was logical.

He crawled into a bottle.

Henry worried when he disappeared after the first Sunday dinner after Thanksgiving. The holiday had been just another reminder that Mary was gone—and never coming back.

When Frank called the next day, he sounded VERY drunk. He also wouldn't or maybe couldn't tell his father where he was. Instead, he insisted that he was in a safe place and didn't know how long he would be gone. He repeated the same story when he called the next 3 days. On the fifth day, he still didn't sound good, but, at least, he didn't sound drunk.

The sixth day, he neglected to call at all. On the seventh, he showed up at church early. For having been on a bender for most of the last week, he showed up looking surprisingly put together in the same clothes he had been wearing when he left but they—and he—were clean and freshly laundered. And he smelled nice. Like he was wearing cologne but it wasn't his normal scent. He made confession then sat with his family as if nothing had happened.

The second week of his forced leave he spent with his family. Henry got the feeling that something had happened while he was gone that forced his perspective to change. Henry could only sigh and be thankful for it—whatever it was.

Over the next years, he wondered where Frank had been, but when asked, his son would only say that he had been learning an important lesson, so Henry let the matter drop. Four years later, when Joe died, he was afraid that Frank would go on another bender, but it seemed the lesson he learned during his missing week had been learned well as he took comfort in his remaining children rather than the bottle.

The full consequences of that missing week had yet to be seen.

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Frank stepped out of the restaurant after his lunch meeting and onto the wide sidewalk followed closely by his detail, Jim. Halfway across the sidewalk on the way to the PC's SUV, he heard a shout and Jim pushed him against the side of the vehicle. Jim hit the vehicle next to him and they felt the truck breeze past behind them and heard the thud as it made contact with someone else behind them.

She landed on the ground at Jim's feet and he ordered Frank into the vehicle, but Frank had to know if the person the truck had hit was OK. She was looking up to the sky with a shocked expression on her face and as she struggled to get up—only to be held down by the detective—Frank realized that he recognized her.

Jim was calling for a bus, so Frank slid into his customary seat in the back of the SUV and waited there until the area was crawling with his people.

He rolled down the window to speak to Danny, his son and the detective who happened to catch this case, and who had decided to investigate the incident as an assassination attempt until he hoped to find otherwise.

Danny greeted him then they watched as the woman was carted away.

"Jim says she saved your lives," Danny informed him.

"How so?" Frank asked.

"She saw the truck coming and hollered but knew you couldn't move in time," Danny explained. "So she shoved you both out of the way. The truck swerved a little late, but it still nicked her. The medics say they have to wait until she's examined by a doctor, but they think she'll be all right."

"Good," Frank replied. He continued to watch as they loaded her in the ambulance to take her away. "Where they taking her?"

"Saint Benjamin's is closest," Danny replied. "And they take homeless patients."

Frank looked at him. "She's homeless?"

"That's what she told them when they asked her where she lived," Danny replied. "Do you know her?"

"She looks familiar," Frank admitted.

"Where from?"

"We really have to get back to the office," Frank evaded.

"Well, I'll let you get back to work then," Danny said. "I know where to find you if I need anything else."

Frank nodded and leaned back in his seat as he rolled up his window.

Little did Danny know, it was not the first time that this particular woman had saved Frank's life. She was older of course, as was he, but she had aged well, even though she was homeless. He wondered if she had been that way since he had seen her last, sitting on the counter in her closet-sized studio apartment in Midtown near Hell's Kitchen. Or had she been able to find her way home to South Dakota like she had planned, only return to the same boat back in New York City.

He'd met her during the missing week.

The week that he hadn't spoken of since, not even to the shrink he spoke to on occasion when he needed to unload on someone and know they wouldn't repeat it to anyone. That he'd only revealed in confession the day he returned to his family.

He had hoped his family might never know, but now, as Jim headed not to 1 Police Plaza, but to the closest hospital, it looked as if it might come out.

Because the last time he had seen that particular woman, he had spent the week with her. She had pulled him from his numbness and helped him to grieve for his wife and the lessons she taught him had helped him eventually grieve for Joe, too.

She'd been at the right place at the right time and Frank couldn't help but love her for that.

"What are we doing here?" Frank asked as they pulled up to the emergency room behind St Benjamin's Hospital.

"Just a precaution," Jim answered. "I hit the side of the SUV pretty hard and wrenched my wrist. We just want to make sure you're not hurt, too." He got out and opened Frank's door before repeating, "Just a precaution. I talked to 1 PP and Garrett and Sid are on their way."

Frank shook off his nostalgia. "Good," he said as he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the SUV. "I don't think this is necessary, but this is where they brought the woman." He started to the door. "I want to know how and who she is."

"That's another reason I brought you here, sir," Jim told him. "I knew you'd want to know."

He stalked into the outer ER then was immediately whisked away to a private exam room. The initial check showed that he was unhurt save a few bumps and bruises, including one on his jaw.

When the doctor finally came in to release him, Frank asked about her. "She's been released," The doctor told him.

"Already?" Frank asked.

The man nodded. "We barely had enough time to check her vitals when Cora Levine was having her picked up in a private ambulance," he said.

"She said she was homeless," Frank said as he signed the release form and handed the clipboard back to the doctor.

"I don't know what's going on myself," the doctor said. "She looked like she might be homeless in the torn hoodie, but that might have happened in the accident."

"Do you know where they took her?"

"I'm afraid I don't know that," the doctor replied. "I couldn't tell you if I did."

Frank nodded and put his jacket on as the doctor handed the list of release instructions to him.

"Try to take it easy the next couple of days," the doctor told him. "If any new pain crops up, see your doctor."

Safely back in the SUV, Jim told him that Cora had had the woman, identified as Anna Bryant, transferred to New York-Presbyterian.

"Who is she to Ms Levine?" Frank asked.

"She's her personal assistant," Jim said with a glance back at his boss. "Has been for about ten years."

"Then why would she say she's homeless?"

"Technically, she is," Jim replied. "The only address for her in the city of New York is a PO box."

Frank nodded. "Do you want us to head over there?" Jim went on.

"No," Frank replied. "My father's good friends with Cora. I'll have him give her a call."