The first time it happened Karen almost shot him. She was coming home from a late night out. She worked until midnight, eyes burning as she stared at a blank screen. The story she was working on was kicking her ass, she had no leads and nothing to work off of. When she couldn’t take it anymore and needed to get out of the office she called Foggy and they went out for a few drinks. When the night grew old and the conversation grew stale, she made her way home. Walking the streets of Hell’s Kitchen at night never used scared her. She never had a reason to fear for her life, she was a good girl, she tried to stay out of trouble. Trouble had a way of finding her though. She had a knack for finding things out, for getting into things that she honestly had no business getting into.
After Frank Castle she took to simpler stories. Stories about gangs or corrupted political figures, prostitutes and even a child pornography ring once, stories that wouldn’t necessarily get her killed. She just needed a break from life threatening stories. She also started carrying her gun. She didn’t know why she felt safer with it, it was so deep in her purse that she would most likely get shot or kidnapped or whatever the bad guy wanted to do first before she even got it out. That didn’t stop her though when she opened her apartment door and found a man on her couch. She grabbed the gun before the door was even all the way open. It was dark but with the moon shining in through the window she could make out the outline of his body. She walked toward him after closing the door, the gun still pointed at his head. It was Frank Castle.
He was asleep. She noticed that he also had a gun, lying on his chest, finger by the trigger. His face was covered in bruises, bloody cut on his forehead, split lip. She watched him for a minute and then took a breath and poked him with her gun.
“Frank” she whispered, not knowing how he would react. He bolted upright, gun up, pointing at her head. “Hey, it’s me” she said, voice calm. She knew that Frank would never purposely hurt her, never put her in un-necessary danger, so it wasn’t a surprise when after a moment, his eyes focused and the gun lowered immediately. She put hers down too.
“Why are you here Frank?” She asked, gun down but safety still off.
“I – I needed a place to crash.” He said, voice sleep rough.
“And you chose my couch?”
“Yeah”
“Okay” was all she said and then turned her back on him. She grabbed a blanket from the closet threw it at him and then walked into her bedroom. She heard him lay back down as she shut her door, and locked it. She may semi trust Frank but she still needed a locked barrier between them. She didn’t have time for Frank tonight; she was too tired, a little tipsy and had too much on her plate for his bullshit right now. She placed her gun on the nightstand and then slowly peeled her clothes off. She changed into shorts and a t-shirt and climbed into bed. Her body wanted sleep, everything felt heavy but her brain decided “not tonight”. She thought about the man lying on her couch. How she said she was done, he was dead to her. How his answer had haunted her for weeks now. “I’m already dead” he said and then shut the door. It felt like he was shutting the door on her, on whatever relationship they could have had.
It hurt to know that he was gone. The man that smiled when he talked about his son hiding cookies, the man who loved his wife and kids immensely, the man who dove on top of her and protected her without thinking about his own safety. She knew he was still in there somewhere that the only reason he killed people was because he had no other outlet for his grief, it was too big, too vast for his heart to control. She just didn’t know if she would find him again. She wished she could help him more, help him grieve in a way that wasn’t killing people, she knew for him it might take away some of the pain for a little while but after a while you will just go numb. Karen didn’t want that for Frank but she was afraid that she was too late.
When she woke up the next day he was gone. It was like he wasn’t even there; the only evidence was the folded blanket on the back of the couch and the slight smell of blood.
“Oh Frank” she sighed and headed into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.
The second time it happened was two months later. She kept hearing about the killings on the news. Bad guys would be found beaten and bloody in alley ways, one bullet shot through their head. “Bad guys” she hated that, what made a bad guy. Was it robbing a store, shooting your neighbor, getting revenge, cheating on your wife, killing to save yourself? It was such a vague description, one that many people didn’t agree on. Were they the bad guys or did they just make a mistake. And what happens to these bad guys? Do they deserve to die, what level of crime do they have commit before someone says your time is up? If it were up to Daredevil all the bad guys would be beaten up and then taken to jail, let the cops handle them. Let them be put into the system and then kicked back out again when their parole kicks in or it gets overcrowded.
If it were up to the Punisher, they would all be dead. Doesn’t matter the crime, if he thinks they could have done better, made a better choice but didn’t, then he’d kill them. Karen had such a hard time wrapping her head around it. She knows Frank should be in jail; he should be left to rot in a God damned jail cell for what he has done to people. But at the same time she understands it. She knows what it feels like to want the “bad guys” to pay for what they did with more than just a slap on the wrist and time behind bars. But why does Frank get to decide that. She was having a hard time getting her head and her heart to agree.
He was on her couch again. Awake this time, gun still taking up its spot next to him. She startled when she walked in, not expecting to see The Punisher in her apartment, but there he was. It felt like a breath of relief was sucked out of her when she saw him. Every day she expected to hear on the news that The Punisher was dead, or in jail. Every day she wondered if Matt would show up at her apartment and give her the bad news. Daredevil, The Punisher, God her life was a mess.
“Frank?”
“Ma’am”
She sighed “What are you doing here?” She threw her purse down on the table by the door and slipped her heels off, kicking them under it. She could feel his eyes on her the whole time. When she looked back up at him he was looking down at the floor, his face covered in darkness by the ball cap on his head.
“I needed a place-“
“To crash. Yeah” She said walking towards him but stopping a few feet from him, just out of arms reach.
“You should really lock your windows; it’s not safe out there”
“And you should learn to use the door” she said. His gaze was intense when he looked at her. “Coffee?”
“Yeah”
She practically ran into the kitchen. She needed to do something, her hands needed to be busy. This was weird. Frank Castle was in her living room, sitting on her couch. What do you do with that? How does one handle that? You make coffee of course. 7 o’clock at night coffee with a murdering, vigilante sitting on your couch. Frank confused the hell out of her. Her morale code went out the window when he was around. She was honest with herself and with him, and that scared her. It scared her that he brought that out in her. That he took down the walls she tried to build up. The pot was finished so she poured two cups but then paused. She didn’t know how he took his coffee. She turned to ask him when she was startled again. He was standing in the entryway.
“You need to wear a bell” she said, a small smile on her lips. He didn’t say anything. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee”
“Black” he answered and reached out for it. She saw the small flinch when he grasped the cup.
“Like your soul” she said. It just came out; she didn’t even really mean to say it, just one of those jokes that automatically come out. She was surprised when he actually smirked. That’s when she saw the blood, the slow drop that followed the curve of his chin and then flowed down his neck. She put her cup down on the counter and slowly stood in front of him. With shaky fingers she pulled the cap off his head and gasped. He had two black eyes and a deep gash under his left eye and a tear in his lip.
“Frank” she whispered.
“I’m fine. Its fine” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“No its not. This is not okay. You’re a mess. Go…go sit... Please” she said, adding the please with the raise of his eyebrow. He took another sip of his coffee and then turned to go sit on the couch. She walked past him to the bathroom and brought her first aid kit back to the couch. She then found a needle and thread and a lighter. She knelt down between his legs and then started cleaning. Once all the blood was away she stopped. She took the coffee cup from him and placed it on the table.
“This needs, um I have to…stitches” she said, suddenly nervous.
“Okay”
She sterilized the needle, threaded it, and then slowly began the task of stitching his cheek. She was shaky and nervous the whole time but she did it. When she was done she sat back on her heels and studied him. He looked a little better, but she needed to look at his arm. She knew something was wrong; he was too quiet and too unsteady.
“Take your jacket off”
“No”
“Frank, please, let me look”
He slowly sat up and then took his time taking off the jacket. When it was finally off and sitting next to him, she stared at the blood, so much of it just leaking out of a badly wrapped wound.
“What the hell happened?”
“You should see the other guy”
She paused “Was that a joke Mr. Castle?” she asked smiling.
“No”
She sighed and then un-wrapped the gauze on his arm. It was a stab wound. She didn’t know what to do with a stab wound. “You-“
“Either you stitch it up or I will” he said
She looked up at him; his eyes were glazed, looking just over her head. She did as she was told, a little more confident then the first time. When she was finished she wrapped it and then put her things away. She sat back on her heals and stared at the white skull on his chest. She ran her hand down it and then looked back up at him. He was looking at her now.
“Why”
“Because I have too. Can I stay or no”
“Yes” she found the blanket from the closet again and then locked herself away in her room, sleep evading her. When she woke the next morning, he was gone. The blanket was folded on the back of the couch and when she went in the kitchen she found a small bell and note on the counter. “Maria used to say that too” She smiled as she made her morning coffee.
The third time they fought. Frank came to her window on a Saturday night. She was reading, something that she hasn’t done in a long time. Between her job and worrying about Matt out there at night doing whatever it is he does as daredevil, and now her worry for Frank, she just didn’t have time to sit. She looked up as she heard him open the window. When he slowly made his way in and stood in front of her she sighed. It was going to be another long night of stitching him up, getting no answers and being disappointed when he wasn’t there in the morning.
He wasn’t hurt though. She could tell by the way he was standing that he was fine; his face wasn’t covered in fresh bruises, just the lingering shades of yellow of healing ones. It was a relief for her that she wouldn’t have to stitch him up, make him whole again. Every stitch she did on him was a piece of her heart being ripped out of her and sewn onto Frank Castle. She didn’t know why he was there, why show up if nothing was wrong? It was still early, around dinner time so Karen was confused about why he would be in her apartment. He didn’t come unless he was hurt and needed a safe place to heal.
“You hungry?” She finally asked. She didn’t know how to do this without blood, and pain, and needle and thread.
“I could eat” he said and then walked the rest of the way in, peeling his jacket off and placing it gently on the couch. He was wearing a black sweatshirt, and jeans, boots heavy on the wood floor. He left his gun leaning against the armrest, and then fell into the cushions of the couch letting them take his weight. She stood and grabbed a few take out menus from the kitchen and placed them on the coffee table in front of him.
“Um, so we have all the basics, Italian, Chinese, tai, and Indian. I’m not…what are you in the mood for.”
“Doesn’t matter. You pick” he said, his voice gruff but gentle.
She picked pizza, it was the easiest. After she ordered she didn’t know what to do, or say. This was all so new to her. When she worked with him on the trial, it was easy. They had things to talk about; she could ask him about his family because it was relevant. Now though, now she didn’t know what to say, too much was already said between them. She knew how vulnerable and honest he was, how he could be. She wasn’t sure how ready she was for that; if she was ready to open herself up, again, with him. It hurt too much to go back to that place.
“Why are you here Frank?” she finally asked. She needed to know what this was.
“I needed a place to go and this seemed like a good a place as any” he said, his eyes trained on the open windows.
“Oh”
“Listen, shit is going down out there. Red is all over the place, bringin guys in. Some type of ninja gang, I don’t know. And then there’s this whole thing with Tony Stark and some super hero registration act, it’s got people going crazy. Lots of people buying guns who don’t know how to use em’, protecting themselves against Spider-man and Captain America or some shit. And don’t get me started on the Russians. If I gotta take one more of those fuckers out I might scream. So I’m here checking on you, making sure you’re alright.”
“Ok. I get that, I work at a newspaper; I know all the nasty shit that’s going down. I write about half of it, but you told me to get out Frank. You said I should walk away from it, from you, but you keep showing up here. I don’t understand what you want from me” She said.
“You also said I was dead to you but yet here we are” his smirk was back, almost like he knew it was lie then and is still a lie now.
“We’re here because you keep putting us here!” she was angry now. She stood up and started pacing. His eyes watching her the whole time. “You can’t do this. Either I’m in it or I’m not but I’m not gonna sit here and pretend that it doesn’t suck and my heart doesn’t break every time you show up here looking like someone bashed your face in with a hammer. And I’m not gonna act like I don’t care about you, cause I do Frank. So if you keep showing up here then don’t get angry when I start looking into things. When I start digging into gangs and Russians.”
“No” was his answer to some unasked question. She stopped and looked at him. His face was passive but his eyes were angry.
“No what?”
“You’re not gonna start looking into shit. This is my mess, this is my choice. So you’re going to stay out of it. If I come here it’s just so I have safe place to rest and I know you’re safe. That’s it”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me ma’am”
“Don’t you ma’am me! Don’t you dare do that! This isn’t just happening to you. I live in this city too. And you want a safe place to go, a safe place to rest then you don’t get to make rules, and keep me out of this. You want to protect me by keeping me innocent, keeping me away from all this but it’s not going to work. I’m not this innocent child you need to keep behind closed doors; I can take care of myself.” She took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea to get him mad. She knew what he was capable of. She took a step back when he stood up.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you, ever. You’re safe with me Karen” He said and then grabbed his gun and made his way back to the window. She thinks that the first time he’s ever said her name. It was always ma’am or just a haunting look her way. Just as he opened the window she took the few steps it took to reach him and put her hand on his arm. His whole body froze, every muscle in it tense. He was warm and the warmth lingered when she took her hand away.
“Wait” She said and almost gasped when he looked back at her. His eye showed so much pain. She wondered if that was the first gentle touch he’s had since she met him all those months ago. “At least stay for pizza, yeah?”She was relieved when he did.
“So the Russians are back?” she asked when the pizza finally came and they were sitting on the couch again. He explained what was happening and then when he had nothing left to say, they sat in silence. When it got late she asked if he was staying and he said no. She watched him leave out the window, and wished that his life wasn’t so messed up that he couldn’t at least leave out the front door. When she turned back to the couch she noticed that he left his sweatshirt. She carried it with her to the bedroom, locking the door and then putting it on. Tears fell down her cheeks as she fell asleep thinking about him, her nose filling with the scent of him, smoke and blood.
The fourth time she was drunk. It was her birthday so Foggy took her out and she got wasted. Work was stressing her out, Matt was stressing her out, and Frank was stressing her out. Her life seemed to revolve around all these men who put their lives in danger, and she hated sitting on the sidelines just waiting for them to get hurt. So when Foggy asked if she wanted to go out for her birthday she immediately said yes. She needed a night to unwind, to not think, to let go. That was also the night that Frank decided to show back up, after months of being away.
“You gonna be ok?” Foggy asked when she finally got her door open, after three different tries.
“Yes. I will be fine. I’m just going to my bed and sleepy time” She said with a smile on her face, her words slurring only just a little for her drunken state.
“Ok. You go sleepy time and I will check on you in the morning”
“Yooou got it boss” She said and then started hysterically laughing. Foggy just sighed and shut the door. She locked it and then stayed leaning on it, her head against the cool wood. When the dizziness faded she stumbled her way into the kitchen for a glass of water. While she was running the tap she heard the tinkle of a bell and turned so fast towards the window she fell. When she hit the floor she leaned back against the cabinets, laughing and smiling the whole time.
“I caught you!” She practically yelled when Frank showed up in the entryway of the kitchen. “I caught the Punisher” Her smile was huge.
“Are you drunk?”
“No. are you?” She asked trying to stand but failing. She gave up and surrendered to sitting on the floor. She smiled when he sat down next to her.
“Here” he said handing her a glass of water.
She downed the whole thing and after he filled it again and she drank half, she asked what she always asks when he shows up. “Why are you here Frank?” She leaned into him, to nudge his shoulder, but then stayed leaning on him, her body too heavy to move.
“It’s your birthday” he said shyly but also like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“It is! It’s my birthday today. Work got me cake, it wasn’t that good. And Foggy, sweet, gently foggy, well he got me a beautiful notebook and pen set. I almost cried when I opened it. The pen is engraved Frank. Engraved. Matt, well matt got me a bracelet. It’s so simple and elegant and I love it. See!”She held up her arm in front of his face to show off a simple, white gold bangle. “And then they took me out for drinks. Matt left but me and Foggy, we painted the town red tonight. And god did I need this, it was perfect. But then you show up, with your scowly face, and growly voice, and warm body, and I just get so confused when you’re around Frank.” She stopped, her head falling on his shoulder, eyes closing.
She doesn’t remember getting from the kitchen floor to her bed but she did wake up when she felt the soft mattress underneath her. She watched as Frank slowly, gently pulled her shoes off, and then pulled the covers up over her. She was shocked when he pushed her hair back and softly stroked her cheek.
“Why do you have to be the Punisher, and why do I have to be falling for you” She sighed, her eyes falling shut, her heartbeat slowing for sleep.
“Goodnight Karen” his rough voice was the last thing she heard before she passed out.
She woke the next morning with a huge hangover. Her head was pounding, she felt sick, and she felt like she was run over by a truck. She gathered some strength and sat up, noticing the aspirin bottle and glass of water on the night stand. She smiled as she remembered Frank being there, making sure she got into bed. When she finally made it out of bed she made her way into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. She stopped short though when she saw the small wrapped box on the counter. There wasn’t a card, just a small post it that said Happy Birthday. When she opened it tears sprung to her eyes. It was beautiful, and again so simple, just a long silver chain with a small anchor hanging on the end. When she lifted it her eyes caught on the bangle hanging from her wrist and her heart tore in two.
The fifth time, he stayed. It was exactly one month since she has last seen Frank Castle, one month since she opened that present on the counter, and one month of never taking the damn thing off. She was scared that he was never going to come back. The morning after her drunken escapades she remembered what happened, what was said, and she was nervous that she officially scared Frank ‘the punisher’ Castle away. She told him she was falling for him, like some drunken school girl who had a crush on the quarter back. She wanted him back though. She realized, has been realizing, that she misses him when he’s gone. She doesn’t want to have to ask why he was at her place, she always wanted him there. She didn’t want to wake up to presents on her counter; she wanted to wake up to him in her kitchen making her coffee. She wanted to feel his hands on her again, stroking her cheek, or holding her hand. She knew he wasn’t ready for that; his life was still so messed up, he still had so much anger in him from losing his family, but she wanted to take steps toward him staying.
He still needed to be the punisher and she understood that. She would never take that away from him, even if she did not fully understand the killing. She could understand why he needed it in the beginning, why he needed to destroy the men who destroyed him, but she still had a hard time wrapping her head around why he still needed it. She could live with it though, she would take Frank as he was and not need him to change as long as he came back to her. Even if she had to take him as just a friend for now as long as he’s in her life she didn’t care.
When he came in through the window that night it was a shock to her. She was not expecting him and she was a mess. Her apartment was mess, dishes in the sink, clutter on the tables, clothes folded in a basket in the hallway. Her hair was a mess, up in a bun on the top of head, and she was in sweatpants and his hoodie. Ever since he left it she took to wearing it, it didn’t smell like him anymore but she still wore it to keep him close. She smiled as he came in, setting his ever present gun down, leaning it against the wall by the window. He walked to the couch, his heavy boots echoing the loud thumping in her chest. When he sat down next to her, the couch dipping with his weight, she let out the breath she didn’t even know she was holding.
“Frank” she said turning her body so it faced his a little more.
“That’s my sweatshirt, darling” his voice was rough with lack of use, and it sent shivers down her spine.
“Um yeah. Well you kind of left it here, and I don’t have a way to contact you, you being on the run all the time and a vigilante ya know. So I was keeping it safe for ya” she let out a breathy laugh when the smirk appeared on his very much not broken face. “You look good”
“You know, I actually feel pretty good.”
“Good, that’s good” she faltered. She didn’t know what to say, she wanted to bring up her birthday, the necklace, the feelings but she also didn’t want to ruin it.
“Thanks for the necklace, I love it” she finally settled on.
“It was nothing. Just something I saw that made me think of you”
“Well thank you” she said as she fingered the anchor around her neck. “And um, about what I said that night. I was drunk and…”
“Hey, its nothing. I get it, yeah” He said taking her hand and giving it a squeeze before letting go.
“I miss you Frank. Okay. You always show up here, and at first I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. You were so broken but the last few times wasn’t so bad, I mean we fought that one time but who doesn’t fight. And I hate how badly you get hurt and I wish I could stop you from doing this but I can’t. But I can also live with that. What I can’t live with is losing you, and not knowing your ok.”
“What are you saying, what are you asking for here?” He asked his haunting eyes boring into hers.
“I guess, I don’t know really, I guess I’m asking you to stay. To not leave for months without a word from you. To not leave in the morning before I wake up. I’m asking you to be a part of my life, I’m asking you to be my friend, and maybe one day something more, I don’t know but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wait for you to show up bloody and broken, I need to know you’re going to be ok, and the only way for that to happen is for you to keep coming back here” She was fiddling with the necklace while she said this, her hands needing something to do while she poured her heart out. He was just watching her, silent. “Say something, please”
“Okay” he said and moved closer to her. “I’ll stay” and then he pulled her in for a kiss. It was soft and gently and the complete opposite of what she thought it would be. It was perfect.
“That’s not what I…It doesn’t have to be…”
“Shh” he said and then kissed her lips again, a short peck. “It’s not going to be, I just needed to do that.”
They sat together, her leaning on him, head on his shoulder, watching TV for a while, light conversation, nothing heavy. When the night grew late she stood and then was lost for a minute. She heard him sigh as he got up and grabbed the blanket from the closet and then sat back down on the couch. Her smile was small, shy even.
“You’ll be here in the morning right?” she asked
“Yes ma’am” he said with a smile.
She turned and went into her bedroom. She slept peacefully, dreaming of ships, and anchors and blue skies. When she woke it was to the smell of coffee and the sound of the radio, and a rough voice.
“You’re a shining star, no matter who you are…”