Rescued
When the bullets tore through the walls of her apartment, she was scared, but she knew what to do. Her reflexes kicked in immediately, and she dropped to the floor, covering her head and shimmying toward the door. Heart beating out of her chest, she slipped into the hallway, curling up into a ball against the unscathed drywall.
Here she was safe, or as safe as she could be. She had to think of an escape route, but the part of her brain that controlled movement didn’t seem to be working, her legs cramping up beneath her. Hands shaking, she withdrew her handgun, quickly checking the safety and flicking it off. If Frank Castle wanted her dead, well he’d have to get a little closer and stare down the barrel of a gun himself.
The hail of bullets stopped, leaving only the sound of a screaming child echoing through the hall. Karen made a small prayer, hoping that no one had gotten hurt because of her. The lights in the hall flickered and went out, an ominous sign for sure. It shook the paralysis out of Karen’s limbs, and she heaved herself up off the floor.
She cursed everything she’d read in books, quickly realizing that sudden bursts of adrenaline did nothing positive for a terrified person. Her hands still shook nearly uncontrollably, her heart fluttering in her chest like it might take off and fly away at any moment. She struggled to control her breathing, to quiet it, as she crept down the hall.
The guards were gone. Karen felt sick thinking about what had happened to them. They shouldn’t have been trying to protect her. It was useless with the kinds of enemies she had. Maybe it wasn’t Frank, maybe it was Fisk. The thought didn’t give her much comfort, neither option would result in anything but her certain demise.
She got to the end of the hall, hearing the faintest whisper of footsteps coming around the corner. She cocked her gun, squaring her stance, fully prepared to go down fighting. But she didn’t get a chance, the gun was knocked away before she even saw her attackers, a sharp pain at her temple giving way to total blackness.
Frank watched them haul her out of the building, limp like a rag doll hanging over one of the men’s shoulder. His nostrils flared angrily, the sights of his gun unable to get a clear shot at her kidnapper. He pulled back, methodically packing up his guns and shouldering the bag.
He was quick, using a rope to scale down the side of the building rather than take the stairs. The dipshits he followed made it easy for him. They were too relaxed, dumping Karen in the back of one of their vans like a sack of potatoes, stopping to smoke and shoot the shit.
Frank took three of them out silently, stragglers hanging around the back of the van. Their necks snapped like dry twigs under his hands, falling to the ground in an inelegant heap. Whoever hired these pricks should have been more discerning about their muscle.
Karen tasted copper. It coated her tongue thickly, triggering sudden nausea. It was dark when she opened her eyes, so dark that for one panicked moment she was afraid she couldn’t see. The fear subsided when she saw a pinhole of light coming from a couple feet away.
She twisted toward it, grunting in pain when she realized her hands were tied behind her back, thick rope chafing the skin of her wrists. Her ankles too, roped together painfully, her feet bare. She fought her bonds, trying like hell to loosen the ropes, but it was useless and only resulted in painful lacerations.
Too afraid to scream, she scooted toward the only source of light, heart thundering in her chest as she watched it blink in and out of existence. Something was moving in front of the hole, rapidly as it blocked the light and moved away. She wanted to call out for help, but feared her captor would be the only one to hear it, and then what?
The flickering light stopped, going dark indefinitely. The sound of metal scraping sent her heart into her throat, but she steeled herself. She would kick and scratch and scream to the bitter end.
A door in front of her swung open, her eyes going blind from the sudden light of a street lamp. She felt a hand on her ankle, pulling her toward the exit, and kicked viciously at it. “Get your hands off of me!”
Surprisingly, the grip loosened and fell away. She blinked, willing her eyes to quickly readjust to the light. The sound of many pairs of feet running filled her ears, and the person in front of her cursed softly before grabbing her leg and dragging her out of the van.
In one swift move she was up over his back in a fireman’s carry. She bounced against the angles of his shoulders, the breath going out of her as he ran, much to her confusion, in the opposite direction of all the noise.
Frank didn’t know who the hell was after the blonde woman, but sure a shit they were persistent as hell. His lungs were beginning to give out, his physical conditioning not really up to hauling a fully grown woman while he ran from a group of mercenaries. He ducked into an alley, sliding her down before turning to dig through his weapons bag.
Something hard came down in the middle of his back, nearly knocking the breath out of him. He turned, looking up to see a very angry Karen Page ready to slam her tied-together fists down on him a second time.
Ducking out of the way, he slipped his hand down to his boot, unsheathing his knife. “Ma’am, listen–”
“You killed, Reyes, and now you want me. Well, I’m not gonna make it easy for you.” She lunged at him, hopping awkwardly with her feet tied together.
Frank twisted to catch her before she fell, throwing his knife out of the way. Her fists landed with a painful thud in the middle of his chest, both of them falling to the ground. Frank banded his arms around her tightly to prevent any sudden movements. “Shh, shh, just listen. It wasn’t me. I swear.”
He could feel her heart beating against his chest, terror shivering through her limbs. He was lucky she hadn’t been armed, because she was determined as hell to do him some damage. She twisted in his grip, raising her face just far enough away to look at him.
His eyes plead with her to believe him, the set of his jaw not changing one bit as he repeated his earlier claim. “It wasn’t me.” He swallowed, thinking of the few times alone he’d had with her before this. She’d been the only person to look at him with anything other than disgust since his life had fallen apart. God, of all people he didn’t want to think he was capable of this bullshit… He took a deep breath. “I don’t hurt innocent people.”
He felt her relax, the tiniest bit, the stored energy in her muscles draining away. Gently he rolled her off of him, and picked up his knife. She tensed when he approached. “Just wanna get those ropes off, ma’am.”
She held her breath as he sawed at the rope around her ankles, gasping in relief when it fell away. He made short work of the bindings around her wrists too, watching her closely as she rubbed feeling back into her extremities. She seemed to be doing okay.
He reached down into his bag, pulling out two rifles, clicking the clips into place. Her eyes grew wide, mouth turning into a horrified oh. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Those pieces of shit that took you are about half a mile behind us and should be rounding that corner in a couple of seconds. Now, if you’ll just move behind that dumpster–”
“No way. Give me a gun!”
One of his eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t argue with her, pulling out a loaded handgun for her. She took it from him unquestioningly, checking the chamber and the safety. He was surprised and more than a little impressed. “Now will you go behind the dumpster?”
She nodded, following his instruction.
The men were dead, every last one of them, and Karen hadn’t fired a shot. Frank had been like a machine, one bullet per man, straight to the head. She’d watched in horrified fascination from her hiding spot as he’d taken them out.
They were professionals, dressed head to toe in black, flack jackets covering their chests, guns with silencers swinging at their sides as they’d ran, and yet they’d been no match for Frank.
When all was silent, she tiptoed from behind the dumpster, watching him take his gun apart and shove it back into the canvas bag, “Castle” stamped across the side. He must have made a visit home. The thought pained her, remembering the way the house had been, all the evidence of a happy life scattered between the rooms.
He turned to her, his gaze panning down her body. She shivered at the intensity of his look, no sign on his face of what he was thinking. A frown formed when he got to her feet. “Shit, you’re barefoot.” Without a word, he shouldered the bag and stalked toward her. “Ma’am, I’m gonna give you fair warning this time, so you don’t try to brain me with the butt of that pistol. I’m about to pick you up.”
The words had barely registered before she felt his hands on her, this time lifting her gently, one arm hooked under her knees, the other firmly supporting her back. Her arms instinctively went around his neck. She felt hysteria bubbling up inside of her. Perhaps she was still unconscious in the back of that van, dreaming that a wanted man was holding her in a bridal carry as they snuck out of a dark alley.
He was headed back to her apartment, so it seemed. She twisted in his arms. “It’s not safe.”
“You got a better idea? ‘Cause I’m all out of places to go.”
Frank set Karen down gently in front of the glass-windowed door, watching curiously as she fished a key from beneath her blouse. The light winked off the silver chain around her neck as she bent to unlock the door.
The inside of Nelson and Murdock’s offices were so strangely quiet at night, almost ghostly with the muted orange light filtering in through the blinds. Frank looked around, giving the place a cursory once over. It seemed empty enough. “Never thought I’d be back here.”
Karen watched him slowly move around the office. He looked so tired, his shoulders drooping, eyes heavy with exhaustion. This man had saved her life, for no reason. She walked up behind him, sure to make a little noise so he wouldn’t be surprised.
Cautiously, she moved around to face him, one hand moving to rest against his cheek. Her thumb brushed at the circles under his eyes. “You saved me, Frank… why?”
She moved closer, stepping fully into his personal bubble, the warmth of his body radiating in little waves toward her. For the first time since she’d known him, she saw fear flash across his features, vulnerability lighting behind his eyes for just a moment. He didn’t answer her.
She stepped closer, sliding her hand down to the his fluttering pulse as if that would give her some kind of response. Both of her hand on his chest now, she leaned forward, laying her ear against his chest. His heartbeat didn’t tell her much more, the sound of blood rushing in and out of the lifegiving organ was comforting to her though. She let out an involuntary sigh, melting a little when his arms came up to encircle her.
“Because you helped me.”
When he finally did speak, the sound of it rumbled through his chest, a pleasant vibration moving through Karen. She’d never felt safer, folded into his arms, standing in the dark barefoot. She wished the clocks would stop, so she could have sufficient time to unravel the meaning of it all, to figure out just what the hell this man meant to her.
As if reading her thoughts, he pulled away. “Call your friend, the lawyer. He can protect you.”
She blinked, feeling bereft at the absence of his arms, confused as to what he was talking about. “Foggy?”
Frank shook his head. “The other one.”
“Matt?”
He nodded. “He can keep you safe.”
“Matt? I don’t under–”
Frank grabbed his bag and headed for the door, not taking a second to look back.
She ran after him, stopping in the hallway. “Frank!”
The punisher was already gone.