Cradle the Fury
Frank wasn’t sure what was stranger, the fact that the guards thought this delicate looking blonde was capable of hurting him, or the fact that in spite of everything she’d been accused of - things he knew she had done - he still couldn’t keep himself from crossing the thin red tape on the hospital floor.
She was handcuffed to the bed, dark circles under her eyes camouflaged by an array of bruises. Her knuckles were scraped and swollen where they had collided with more than a few unyielding cheekbones. His heart ached when he thought about the pain that motivated her, the grief fueled rage that lived in her bones. It ached even more when he thought about the picture tucked safely in the case file behind him.
They looked at each other intently, a staring competition of sorts. Karen’s jaw was clenched shut, big blue eyes boring into him. She wasn’t going to be the one to blink. Frank sighed, “Look, there’s more here than meets the eye. Let us help you.”
Her jaw unclenched, and she let out a bitter laugh. “You boys don’t know shit. I killed those men, all of them. I’m not sorry.”
Frank frowned, suddenly angry. He whipped around and snatched the photo he’d been thinking about, lunging past the red tape and waving the thing in her face. She looked a bit startled, vulnerability flashing across her features before she repositioned the mask of anger. He knew she loved the children in the photo, the angelic little blonde cherubs clinging to the legs of their mother and father.The woman in the picture was staring up at the man as if he were the moon and stars, a smiling from ear to ear. She swallowed painfully, and Frank took it as his cue. “Don’t you want answers?”
Karen couldn’t answer, for fear of falling apart in front of the lawyers. She couldn’t take that, the self-righteous little one, Nelson of Nelson and Murdock, giving her disgusted little glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. And Murdock, standing there innocently pretending that she hadn’t kicked his ass a few nights ago, pathetic little vigilant unable to disguise the unmistakable lilt in his voice. She didn’t want them to see her weak, ever, but it was Frank, staring down at her desperately that she really couldn’t fall apart in front of. She clenched her teeth together harder, staring up at him angrily.
He continued. “We want answers too, but no one will get them if you’re rotting in jail… if your cellie kills you!”
Matt reached forward, hooking a hand under Frank’s elbow and pulling him away from the bed. Frank let it happen, easing back from Karen. He could see the pain swirling inside of her, great waves of it crashing one after another against the shores of her soul, absolutely unrelenting. He felt bad for raising his voice..
“Where did you get that?” She croaked out the question, unthinkingly reaching out toward him with her cuffed hand. The clink of the metal sliding along the railing of her bed was a cruel reminder of the situation she found herself in.
Frank softened somewhat, stepping forward once again to drop the photo in her lap. “From your home.”
He could remember the way it looked, as though it had been frozen in time. Toys were still scattered on the stairs, folded laundry sitting on one of the beds, a table set for a breakfast that was never going to happen. He ached for the loss she must constantly feel.
She picked the photo up, tracing the tip of her finger along her husband’s smile, caressing his face in the picture. She could close her eyes and feel him, smell the aftershave he was wearing the last day she saw him. She didn’t think it was something she would ever be able to forget. And her children, little balls of energy and love running circles around them. She couldn’t even bear to look at them in the picture. Tearing her eyes away, she looked up at frank. “You went to my home?”
A part of her wanted to be angry at this invasion, but instead she felt surprisingly grateful. It was the first time anyone had cared about her as a human being, and not a relentless killer, since all of this had started. She hardened herself against the feelings invading her. No one ever did anything for anyone else unless they wanted something. “Why were you in my house?”
The top of Frank’s ears reddened a bit, and he could hear Foggy and Matt shift to stare at him. He really shouldn’t have been in her house, shouldn’t have been snooping around in a situation that he literally had no power to make better, but for some reason when it came to Karen Page he couldn’t help himself. He knew what loss was like, the things it made you do.
He was saved from having to answer her sharp question by noises coming from the hall. Reyes’ voice angrily carrying through the musty air of the hospital, the district attorney’s heels clicking forcefully as she stomped into the room. Frank, leaned forward quickly, eyes locking with Karen’s. He spoke lowly, only for her to hear. “Someone is lying about what happened here, Miss Page.”
This time when the mask of anger fell away from Karen’s face she let it, her heart caught in her throat as the three men were ushered out into the hall. Frank didn’t break eye contact with her until he passed through the door, communicating with his relentless stare that he was on her side. The tears that rolled down her cheeks were the first ones to fall since everything had been taken from her.