Neither of them slept particularly well, not Frankie who was plagued by visions of her brother in his final moments and the funeral she never attended and not Elijah who woke over and over with nightmares. In all the time they'd slept beside one another, Elijah had never stirred like this, never shot up with his breath in his throat searching around in terror. He was always the calmer of the two no matter the situation and seeing him like this worried her.

Frankie hadn't had allowed herself to really think about her brother for months, she didn't like the guilt and absence that she felt when she remembered he was gone forever. No, instead she tried to distract herself with other people so that she needn't hurt herself, instead of allowing herself to think of her brother, she turned her concern to Elijah.

As someone so stoic and steady always, Frankie was surprised when she felt Elijah shift beside her for the fourth time, his head shooting up as though to check if anyone was nearby. A moment later he'd stilled, sliding back down beside her, now certain they were alone again only to clutch her more tightly to his chest as if he was afraid someone was going to pull her away.

"Hey," she mumbled, rolling over in his tight grip to face him. Her eyes peeked open at him and her arm raised to press the hair back from his face, fingers running through his hair as she stroked gently, "You okay?"

"Did I wake you?" Elijah replied, his voice soft though it was clear a layer of anxiety lay beneath it, "I'm sorry."

"It's all good," she smiled. Her fingers still lay tangled in his hair and so she swiped her thumb gently down across his eyebrow as though coaxing his eyes to close, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Elijah gathered her tighter in his arms, "I just need you to stay as you are."

"I'm here."

Frankie allowed the slightly suffocating tight grip he had on her, her head tucked against the crook of his neck with her body pulled snug against him though she wriggled an arm out to wrap around his waist. Their legs had shifted slightly too, all tangled together while she felt Elijah slip one of his legs over hers.

Frankie most certainly couldn't move away, nor could anyone help her slide from Elijah's grip. It was rare he was this clingy but it was clear to Frankie whatever had happened in his dream was something that struck fear in his heart and forced him to need her close.

She didn't know how to help him, she couldn't push someone to talk about something they wanted to push away but too she couldn't let him lie here with anxiety. Her fingers were circling across his back where she held him too and her lips pressed soft kisses against his jaw but when his grip didn't loosen she decided to change the topic to hopefully draw his mind from what was plaguing him.

"I've never been to a funeral before," Frankie confessed, "Ric's would've been my first one."

"You don't need to go," Elijah replied, ever concerned with comforting her, "I'm sure Camille will understand."

"I'll be alright."

"Are you sure? I know you're important to her but she'd want you to be comfortable."

"I want to be there for her," she said.

As she spoke, Frankie stifled a yawn, hoping to hide it from Elijah but ever present as he was, he noted it with a frown.

"You should sleep, it's late. I'm sorry I woke you."

"You don't need to be sorry," Frankie had to wriggle about to reach his his lips but she did so, kissing him tenderly before pulling back to look at him, "You're here for me way more than I am for you 'Lijah. I know you're old as fuck so you think you're good but it's okay if you ever want to talk about stuff."

"Thank you," he said, a short laugh erupting as he pulled her back for another kiss, his grip loosening on her as the terror seemed to simmer down, "It means a lot to know you care."

"Of course I do you idiot," she rolled her eyes, "I'm not saying you need to share every deep dark secret but I worry about you sometimes."

"The Frankie Rossi worrying about me," he chucked, "I'm fine, truly."

"I take all the nice things back then. If you're truly fine I won't worry and best leave," she tried now to roll from his grip with a grin on her face.

She actually pulled herself so successfully from him that she made it halfway across the bed before Elijah had tugged her back, pinning her beneath him with his eyes dark with amusement.

"You can't leave after all that," he told her, pressing kisses against her jawline and then her neck, "Not now I know you care and you worry."

"Surprisingly I feel tired all of a sudden," she teased, her hands placing themselves on his shoulders while she pretended to give him a quick shove, "Best sleep so we're not exhausted in the morning."

"I'll buy you a coffee," he promised, his lips finding hers again.

The sun began to rise around them before either's eyes had slipped shut again. Elijah had few plans to sleep in actuality but when he'd seen Frankie yawn for what felt like the eighth time he pretended he was tired since it was clear she was staying awake for him.

His arms were wrapped around her while hers circled his neck and his waist, their legs tangled and their lips so close one only had to roll half an inch over before they'd be pressed together again. They hadn't redressed either and so the sheets were tugged high up on their shoulders to keep the chill from entering. Frankie's fingers had been running gently through Elijah's hair when they first fell silent but it wasn't long before her lips had parted and soft snores came from her lips with her hands stilled.

Unfortunately Frankie barely slept three hours before the buzzing of her phone told her it was time for her to wake to attend Kierans funeral. She could feel Elijah was still wrapped up beside her and she smiled as he pressed a kiss against her cheek.

"Morning."

"Morning," Frankie yawned as she spoke, fighting hard to keep the exhaustion from pulling her back under, "Did you sleep at all?"

"A little," Elijah lied, "Can I run you a bath?"

"I'm not eighty," she teased, reluctantly pulling away from the warmth of his grip to roll from the bed, "I'm just gonna shower. Do you need to get anything from your place before we go?"

"I'll be fine, I'll get it when I get your coffee."

"You don't really need to get me coffee," she rolled her eyes, watching him from the doorway and noting how his eyes didn't exactly meet hers, roaming across her body instead. She was still naked and she grinned each time his eyes lingered in one place, his reply taking longer than normal to come.

"I do," he told her when he met her gaze again before flicking to her neck, "Because you might need a little more makeup than usual today."

"Really?" she groaned, her fingers rising to the bruise that Elijah smirked at, the one that had certainly been absent when she'd returned home the night before. It wasn't exactly as though she was innocent in the issue, she'd certainly done her best to leave just as many hickies on him the evening before, it was just that his skin didn't quite take to them so well.

"Really."

"I can't believe you're making me turn up to a funeral with a hickey," she grabbed her jeans that had been discarded on the floor the night before and threw them at him, "You're the worst."

Elijah sped towards her before the jeans even neared his head and he pulled her towards him, "Let me make it up to you."

"Oh my god," she groaned, "Are you offering more sex or to heal me because as much as we both want one, I need the other and a shower."

Elijah chuckled, pulling his wrist to his lips and then to hers. It was barely a gulp before he pulled back, the wound on his arm stitching itself up as the mass of purple and red on her neck began receding too. However much it secretly delighted him to see her with a piece of him across her skin, he knew it was something she far from enjoyed and he didn't want to leave her with something that made her uncomfortable.

"I'll be back in an hour," he promised, "If you don't feel up to the funeral you can always join us at Rousseau's for the wake afterwards."

"I'll be good," she stepped back, "See you in an hour."

The funeral was shittier than she'd hoped and about as unpleasant as she'd expected but she was glad to be there for Cami. Poor Cami who clutched her hand so tightly that at one point Frankie actually considered whether you could lose a limb like that.

At last it was over, the casket was closed and the considerable population of New Orleans who attended the funeral left the church for the wake held at Rousseau's. There it seemed each of them joined with one goal in mind, to get as extraordinarily obliterated as possible. Frankie particularly agreed with this method of hurrying the day, she couldn't stop her mind from returning to the fact that the little black dress she wore was the one her brother had gifted her that she'd intended to wear to his funeral.

Waves of guilt passed over her each time she remembered her inability to attend and so each time they returned she'd pulled the glass to her lips. The guilt was so bad that at one point when she'd gazed out the window she could've sworn her brother was there watching her. Instead of worrying about it, she downed the remnants of her glass before pulling Klaus' beside her to her lips as well.

"I was drinking that," he snarled, "Just because you and Elijah spend the entire night not sleeping doesn't give you the grounds to go around taking what you please."

"Right," Frankie scoffed, "I don't even know how you know that but that was fucking irrelevant. Now I know why I'm in a shit mood but what's up your ass?"

"Unless you're fetching me the means to fill this," Klaus raised his now empty glass, "I believe there's little you can do to help me."

"Christ, you do like your tantrums," she rolled her eyes. She did stand to fetch them a bottle of liquor but as she left the table she was sure to raise her hand and smack it across the back of his head, "Now sort your shit out because when I return we're gonna act like adults."

Frankie returned with a bottle and not long after Elijah joined them too, sliding into the seat beside her and refilling both their drinks while his free hand slid to sit on her leg. Despite his hand being well covered by the table between then, Klaus seemed to notice the comforting gesture and he let out another scoff before rolling his eyes.

"You doing alright there bud?" Frankie asked. She spoke with a mocking tone but in actuality, concern flooded her noting how disgruntled Klaus seemed at every action of hers or anyone around them. Not that Klaus was the most emotionally stable person, today he seemed so particularly glum and grumpy it worried her if something more had happened than just the death of Father Kieran.

"Seems rather uncivilised to be laughing and dancing around the body of a loved one," he noted, ignoring her question and throwing his hands up to gesture to those near the centre of the room who seemed to actually be enjoying themselves rather than soaking in their misery like Klaus.

"Yes," Elijah agreed in a tone that Frankie knew meant he was mocking his brother, "far better to practice your process of grief, Niklaus- denial, rage, and hoarding coffins in basements."

Hayley joined them now too and while Elijah explained Klaus' bratty behaviour, her eyes darted around the room. She was searching for Cami though her breath caught in her throat when she caught sight of her brother again. Elijah's hand tightened on her leg when she gasped and the pressure caused her eyes to fly to him, by the time she returned to see the same place again Alaric was gone and her chest was tight.

"What's wrong?" Elijah murmured.

Klaus reacted just as quickly with his face darkened as he snapped out in concern, "What is it?"

"It's nothing," she laughed lightly, pulling her glass to her lips with a slightly shakier hand than normal, "funeral's and wakes aren't my thing I guess. I thought I saw someone."

"Who?" Elijah pressed.

"No one," she rolled her eyes, passing her glass to Klaus who was pouring a generous refill of his own, "lets end this fucking day."

"Cheers," Klaus murmured, his glazed eyes sliding over her and then away, "let's finish this bottle and the next in hopes of drowning the demon who has chosen today to haunt me. Cheers, Mikael. Impeccable, Freudian timing."

"Elaborate," Elijah said sharply, his face falling into shock at Klaus' toast while his grip on Frankie tightened. Klaus didn't reply for a moment, instead downing the remainder of his glass so Elijah pressed again, "Have you dreamt of our father?"

"Was that-" Frankie looked to Elijah, her eyes widening in surprise as his shock placed together their pieces of Klaus' rage and Elijah's inability to sleep the night before. Elijah nodded shortly in reply to her unfinished question and she let out another short breath of shock, noting Hayley beside them who seemed more confused the longer the bizarre conversation seemed to flow on.

"Go ahead," Klaus threw his hands up in annoyance, "have a good laugh."

"I can assure you there is no piece of this that I find even remotely amusing, Niklaus," Elijah retorted, a tense expression across his face, "Especially considering I've been dreaming of him too."

"What?" Klaus exclaimed.

"If you are also seeing him-" Elijah broke off mid sentence, Frankie followed his line of sight catching the witch Genevieve weaving through the crowd near the doorway.

She kicked Klaus under the table who's face turned into a glower before realising who she was indicating towards. Once Klaus noticed who they were staring at she spoke, finishing the thought that Elijah had had when they'd spotted her, "Perhaps your elusive unknown enemy is planning some great attack against you."

"Well then," Klaus grinned, "What better way to punctuate from a day of peace than by killing someone?"