thenightgoesonasimfadingaway.

ooc; This is part of the story arc that Brett came up with for Frankie and Yates. Frankie belongs to Brett and Yates is my own character. This will be the third part of the arc. Hope you like it.

His fingers shook as they looped around the neck of the near-empty bottle, trembling violently so the flattening liquid inside sloshed against the green glass. His eyes were glazed as he simply stared at the carpet before him, arms pressed against his torso so that his hands hung down between his legs. The male's chest rose and fell at a steady pace, one that could claim to be a sign of relaxation, though other things signalled that he was far from relaxed. The air was thick with a blanket of smoke, a contaminated grey with mixtures of white that had been expelled past his lips since he had arrived back home with the kids after walking them from school. But, it hadn't really felt like home.. not for a long time, not without Frankie there. It just wasn't the same and it seemed like it never would be, not after the news that he had received that morning.

Letters were something that Yates had looked forward to when they had first got a house of their own. He'd enjoyed the simplicity of something being addressed solely to him, like he held some kind of importance, even if the letter was simply some kind of advertisement or a bill. Since Frankie had left to be in the National Guard, it had turned into something more like a dread. Each time he worried that there would be something about his wife contained in one of those envelopes, informing him of her death or her disappearance. He panicked each time he saw something that looked mildly official, simply staring at the lettering of their address until his curiosity over-powered that worry and dread. He couldn't count the number of times that he had breathed a sigh of relief as he found it to be some kind of bank statement, though the numbers were hardly something to relax about.

It had been rather early in the morning that he had noticed that man standing outside of his door, wearing a uniform that made Yates' blood run cold. He was walking back from dropping Luke off at school and Felicity at a day care so that he could go to work, his shoulders hunched and gaze downcast until he reached a couple of houses before his own. He'd just stood there, staring blankly at this man, feet rooted to the spot. There were so many reasons that he could have been there, but all of them just linked back to the most important woman in his life, the woman he just couldn't live his life without. His hands had shook in his pockets, clutching against the material as he tried to ready himself for whatever this man had to say, though he remained stuck to that same piece of concrete, terror screaming through his widened eyes. He couldn't handle this, no, he really couldn't. He'd been so worried, so paranoid about each letter and each knock on the door. What if this guy brought the news that could shatter his world into a million more pieces? It wasn't like Lucas to be so terrified of simply talking to someone, but you could hardly say that it was just any person.

The uniformed man turned away from the rather worn door as he made his way to leave, aiming to perhaps leave the letter in the letter box or perhaps a number to call so the news could be explained to him. However, it only took moments for his eyes to lock with Yates', the man's expression instantly changing to a solemn look. The news he brought was written in his eyes, explaining that he was not there to inform Yates of his wife's return home or that she was safe and sound. There was a silence that hung in the air between the two strangers, only disrupted by the sound of cars on the road and the chattering neighbours that Yates had never really taken the time to get to know.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but your wife has gone missing."

It was the strangest sensation to hear those words as they fell so seemingly easily from that man's lips, the rehearsed tone only making it sound even more like the younger male's frequent nightmares. Denial hit as strongly as the silence held between the pair after the news was declared - Yates didn't make a sound. He just continued to stare, in much the same horror as he had upon first seeing this man at his doorstep. He hadn't wanted to invite him in, nor act as if everything was okay until he knew what had happened to his Francesca, his other half. So, they just stood there outside, in the cold November air whilst the words screeched relentlessly at him, ignoring his thoughts of hope. 'No, she can't be missing.' 'This isn't really happening.' 'Frankie wouldn't go missing.. she promised that she'd come home.' But it was useless.

Yates hadn't cried. He hadn't poured out his soul, fallen to the ground and begged for his wife to be found. Not even after the other man had left. He hadn't called Jason and told him of what had happened. He didn't tell anybody, not at the time. It would be like confirming that she had gone, confirming that it was even more likely that he would never see her again, that he'd never hear her voice. He'd never be able to hold her close to him, watch her smile, or kiss her. They wouldn't be able to watch their kids grow up together, interrogate Luke about his first girlfriend or laugh when Felicity came out of her room after her first attempt at putting make-up on. Yates couldn't admit that to himself, yet. He refused to allow himself to believe that those chances had risen so much more, that Frankie could be dead out there and there was nothing that he could do about it. Nothing.

Those glazed eyes continued to stare down at the dusty carpet in front of him, a mixture of anger and sadness boiling within him. He shouldn't have let her go. He should have begged her to stay. He should have held her back, clung to her so tightly that she couldn't leave. He'd tried. Oh, how he'd tried. But it had all been thrown back in his face, every word that had passed his lips and pleaded for her to stay seemed to only drive her further away. He could remember those final words that they had exchanged and he cursed his very existence each time that he thought about what he had said. What they had both said. But nothing could take it back.

"Yates, I can't alright. So just drop it."
"I can't. I can't do this without you, Francesca."

The male abruptly stood up from where he was seated on the otherwise empty couch, settling his beer bottle down on the table beside him. The only thing that seemed to mildly settle him was watching his children sleep, their peaceful expressions the only thing that was able to make him smile. Slowly, he padded his way to their daughter's room, his hands pressing against the walls to guide him through the darkened house. Felicity's night light had been left on, enlightening her gorgeous little face as she lay asleep in her small bed. The moment that Yates laid eyes on her, the smallest of smiles twitched onto his lips, his legs carrying him over to her to tuck her in and to press a small kiss to her soft forehead. She reminded him so much of her mother that it was painful at times. The child's gentle breathing was soothing, in a way, a sound that he could listen to all day and it would just relax him. After kissing his daughter on the forehead one more time, Yates moved onto his son's room, to check that the boy was asleep rather than sitting up like a lot of nine year olds did, according to some of the other parents at the PTA, a group that he had found himself despising ever since he was forced to participate in Frankie's place.

Much like his sister, though, Luke was fast asleep, his limbs stretched out over his mattress whilst his head rested just below his pillow. Yates managed a small laugh as he attempted to straighten his son out of his, what looked like, very awkward position and pulled the duvet cover over him. He was glad that they had chosen to have Luke there, and he'd grown to love him like a proper father. The situation that he had been born into wasn't the best and Yates and Frankie had thought it best to part with him. But it had seemed like the best decision in the world when they got him back. Neither of them would ever have changed their decision, even though that was the reason that Frankie had joined the National Guard in the first place. 'To make ends meet.' It was what she'd had to do to keep them afloat. Yates stood there for several moments, just watching his son sleeping before lightly ruffling his hair, tucking the duvet around him a bit more and exiting the room.

"Don't you think that I miss all of you, and the life that we have? I do, but I have a higher calling right now-"
"Then you aren't the woman I thought you were."
"What?"
"The woman that I married thought that nothing was a higher calling than her family."

It was horrible to slip into the cold bed at night, but that day was probably even more difficult than it had ever been. He hated the fact that there was no one to reach out to in the night, that Francesca wasn't there to stay close to. The soft sheets beneath him were no comfort. They weren't as soft as her hair, or as warm. Yates frowned as he drew the cover up over his chest, the back of his head pressing into the lone pillow. He hated the fact that he'd started to think of everything like this, it made him seem simply pathetic in his eyes. He'd started to relate everything to her since she had gone. The smallest of things reminded him of her though he knew he was simply burying himself further under the stresses that his life had now thrown at him. Frankie had been there for him so much since they had first met, but now she wasn't there.. he just didn't know what to do.

"What are you doing, Francesca?!"
"Since I am not the woman you want me to be, I'm leaving. Oh, and while I'm gone, maybe you can find the one you lost!"

Though his eyes were tired, he couldn't get to sleep, not with so many words and thoughts buzzing about in his head. His mind was replaying so many scenarios, things that had led up to her joining the National Guard, times at their old school, problems they had gone through but dealt with and came out shining in the end. He missed those seemingly careless days when it was like they hadn't had a worry in the world but, in reality, everything was slowly creeping up on them like a dark cloud. His head tilted slightly to look at the contents of his bedside table, ignoring those thin, foil strips and instead watching the picture that had sat by his bed for months now. Frankie had always loved that picture, even though Yates was pulling one of the strangest faces he could think of at the time. She'd always said that it was an expression that summed him up perfectly, every time that they sat and looked at it together. She looked so beautiful in that picture, and happy. It was a wonder that she had chosen to share her life with him, in Yates' opinion, and he could never deny that he was thankful.

His fingers gingerly stroked down the side of the frame, his gaze focusing on its contents. He lightly bit his lip as he remembered those last words that they had shared, the words shouted between them that never should have been spoken. He shouldn't have said it and Yates knew that from the moment that he had blurted it out, the harshest words that he could think of at the time. They were lies, of course. It had been a sentence that had made him so angry at himself, made him develop a deeper kind of self-loathing that he never thought existed. Even as he thought about it, his fingers curled around the metal frame, skin pressing hard into the sharp pattern. Why had he said that to her? God, just what was his problem?

"Fine! It's not as though I loved you, or anything!"

He gripped that picture tighter against his palm as the words crossed his mind, pain mingled with anger just bellowing out in his head. The sound of shattering glass soon filtered through the room, a metal clatter as the frame hit the floor beside the wall at the opposite end of the room. A soft pant escaped past Yates' lips as he sat up in his bed, breathing heavily, the corners of his eyes dampened as he stared at where the picture had hit. Slowly, his eyelids closed over his irises, holding back those several thousand tears that just wanted to tumble down his cheeks. But he wasn't going to let them escape, he couldn't allow himself to show such a strong sign of weakness, not whilst he was the only one there for his kids. Luke and Felicity needed him more than anything, now, and he wasn't about to let anyone know just how much he was breaking up. How quickly he felt himself splitting at the seams. He'd been fixed so many times, but that one last tug could easily pull him to pieces.