He sighed heavily as he tilted his head and looked up at the tall hotel before him, his vision slightly obscured by the hood pulled over his head. He dug into his coat pocket and read the text message on the burner phone he’d get rid of after this,
Four Seasons, East 57th
Meet me at the bar.
The man looked back up at the hotel again and let out another breath. He was out of his element. Completely so. He was clothed in a worn drab green utility jacket over a dark hoodie, and equally worn jeans that wrinkled up over his black boots.
He stuck out like a devil in church.
Thankfully, though, he’d shaved and gotten a haircut.
He turned the cellphone off before he put it in his pocket along with both of his hands, and headed past the front desk into the bar. He was pulled up short when a woman stepped in front of him and invaded his personal space.
He took a step back to create space and looked up, finding a familiar pair of piercing blue eyes and fiery red hair.
He cracked a small, but probably the first genuine smile he had in a long time. “I don’t let just anyone in my personal space, Ms. Page.”
“I’m well aware,” Karen responded, careful not to use his name. Her voice was light and airy. "C’mon,” she said quietly as she headed toward the elevators.
They stepped in together, though he took a protective stance behind her, his left shoulder touching just behind her right, close enough to feel the warmth even between their clothes.
“I don’t let just anyone in my personal space, you know,” Karen said. Again not using his name. He gave a chuckle as he glanced down and nodded, hood still over his head.
“Yeah, I’m aware.”
The elevator stopped on one of the suite floors, and Karen stepped out and turned to him as he hesitated, “It’s fine,” she said. “I checked.” She unlocked the door and stepped in, leaving the door slightly ajar. He glanced behind him out of habit, and then to the sides when he stepped out before he followed, closing the door behind him.
He reached up and pulled down his hood, taking off his jacket. “Whatever you’re doin in San Fran pay this nice?” he asked as he looked around at the room.
There was a view of Central Park, almost the entirety of the suite. A living room area with expensive looking furniture, a bed off in another room and a large bathroom area with glass and marble everything.
His eyes were scanning his surroundings as he walked the area. Always on alert. Always waiting for something or someone.
Karen chuckled lightly as she went over to the little bar and poured two glasses of bourbon, “It pays enough,” she said as she went over to him, finding him in front of the bedroom. She reached out and passed him a glass. “I know I can’t tell you to relax, because you don’t actually know what that is…But you’re alright, Frank, I promise,” she reiterated.
Frank Castle’s dark eyes met her blue ones, their fingers brushing as he took the glass from her. A million words were said between them, and he hadn’t opened his mouth. He didn’t say anything, and she understood. He trusted her, irrevocably so.
He looked at his drink, holding it in his hand as he cleared his throat and walked further into the suite toward the couch. Eventually his eyes found her and his face softened, a small smile curling the corners of his lips.
“I was half expecting you to show up with a mop top and beard,” she teased as she picked up the bourbon bottle before she went over to the couch and sat, pulling her legs up underneath her. The bottle was seated on the table before her.
He snorted quietly, “Ah, I didn’t wanna show up looking like I could afford this place,” he joked quietly. “Seems like a place a bunch of rich hipsters’d spend their time. That what you’re doin now? You runnin some…start-up company for a guy with a man bun who makes way too much doin nothing worth an actual shit?”
She laughed at that, smiling from ear to ear as she shook her head, “Not at all.”
“Nah? Well there’s no way you’re still doin journalism or that….that paralegal bullshit, or whatever the hell you were doin before.”
She didn’t say anything though as she shrugged and took a sip of her drink.
“Secrecy, Ms. Page?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “Really?” He cracked another smile as he set his drink down and bent forward, taking off his boots so he didn’t mess up the expensive looking rug. He picked his bourbon back up and headed toward the window, eyes scanning as always.
“There’s no vantage points.”
“How would you know?” he asked as he turned for a moment to look at her, voice light and teasing. “There’s plenty of em, you just can’t see em.” Frank’s eyes went back to the acres of trees and outlier buildings.
“Yeah, well, not everyone shoots like you, Frank.” There was a beat of quiet between them, mostly from him. “Are you going to sit down?”
“I ran into your boy the other day,” he said almost as soon as the question left Karen’s mouth.
Now it was her turn to be quiet.
“He came lookin for me,” he said as he turned toward Karen once he was satisfied that they weren’t in any immediate danger.
“Did he?” she asked, taking a sip that was larger than the first.
“Yeah, he did,” he nodded. He lifted his drink and took a small sip before he sniffed, his nose scrunching for a moment as he lowered the glass from his mouth. “He came with a…piece of evidence from one of his cases, I think…..or a case that was…a uh, a shell casing with a symbol on it…My symbol..” his eyes looked at the wall behind her, but weren’t focused on it. He was back with Matt rehashing the conversation they’d had.
She looked at Frank, feeling the mood change. Contempt was slowly starting to flow from him. “Frank..” She said his name, just above a whisper. A calling. One to bring him back to the present.
He cleared his throat, his eyes clearing for a moment before he continued on. “He punched me. Kinda took me by surprise.”
Karen’s eyebrows shot up to her red hair.
“I uh…I guess I sorta pushed him to it. I told him that he came to me lookin for permission to do…whatever it is he’s gonna do…”
“I don’t think that would make him-,”
“I brought up Foggy,” Frank said as he finally looked at her.
She went quiet after that.
So did he.
The silence hung around them. A silence so thick that it was difficult for either to do more than breathe.
His eyes studied Karen’s face, reading her as easily as he read a book. He waited a moment before he moved and went over to the couch. He sat beside her, though he sat as far as the furniture would allow.
“I should’ve reached out-,” Karen shook her head and gave a quiet ‘no’, which caused him to stop talking. He held his rock glass between both of his hands, looking down at the amber liquid.
He didn’t move as Karen shifted and leaned toward him, her side settling against his.
She was a physical person. Touch was how she spoke without words.
In a way he was a physical person too.
His language was more often clenched fists, tensed muscles and kinetic energy.
With her though, he was softer.
Forehead touches. Calming breaths. A caress of the face. A quick peck to the cheek.
“I should’ve reached out,” he said again after he gave her the time she needed.
“It wasn’t your responsibility to reach out.”
“It was,” he murmured. He knew she was an adult and she sure as hell could take care of herself. Yet he couldn’t help but feel responsible for her. For her safety. Her wellbeing. “It should’ve been. You were alone….I left you alone..”
The last time he’d seen her he’d pushed her away. He’d been handcuffed to a hospital bed, injured as he usually was. At the time, he thought he had killed innocent people. And even still, she’d offered him her hand. More than that.
She’d offered her heart.
So it’s okay for them to risk everything, but not me?
What if there’s a better way? What if there is? What if you and I, we figure it out together?
You cannot keep loving people in your dreams.
You could choose someone else instead of another war.
Make it mean something.
He had been so lost the last time they saw each other. So lost and broken.
Even now, he was still just as lost and broken, but she’d reached out to him. Micro had gotten hold of him and given him the burner phone in his pocket. She’d sent him a text.
Four Seasons, East 57th
Meet me at the bar.
Frank sighed as he turned his head, his cheek brushing against her forehead, “What do you need, Karen?” he asked, his voice a raspy whisper.
She shook her head, not sure how to answer. Not sure if she could.
So instead of pressing, he nodded once before leaned back into the cushions and lifted his drink, sipping it. He let the silence wrap itself around them again.
They sat together, drinking their bourbon. Emptying the glasses and refilling them. They’d sat for what had to be hours. The sun was set. Central Park had been swallowed by pink and orange skies, and then the blue of twilight. Lights in the city twinkled on, replacing the starlight that was drowned out long ago.
Finally Karen spoke.
“Foggy died…”
Frank’s jaw clenched, the muscle jumping at the corner. The pain in her voice, the cracking of it created fissures in his heart. He let out a long breath through his nose as he nodded.
“He…died…and I h-held my hand…over his heart..” she managed to whisper, tears wetting Frank’s shirt where her head had settled. “He laid there on the street…bleeding…and I tried…But I…I couldn’t…I f-,” she stopped herself. Still he didn’t press. She turned her head into the crook of his neck, crying quietly. “I felt….it s-stop..” Her body wracked as she tried to breathe.
Frank set his glass down on the floor beside his foot before he wrapped his arms around her, turning so she could bury unto his chest. He held Karen tight as she cried. He wondered how many people she’d spoken to about how she was feeling. He figured no one.
Knowing Karen, she’d bottled everything up.
She left New York for San Francisco. She’d moved to the other end of the country in an attempt to run away from what happened.
She was a runner under it all.
She’d stayed in New York for her new family, and that family had been torn apart.
Frank let her cry, holding her tight as he brushed his thumb along her temple.
After what felt like another few hours Karen managed to calm. “Sorry,” She sniffled as she pulled back and looked at him, her eyes red.
He shook his head, “Nothin to be sorry for.”
She sniffed again before she reached out and downed what remained of her drink. “I guess I needed that…”
“Yeah.” He poured them both just a little more. “Figured you might.”
Again silence, but thankfully not as long as the last.
“I wanted to see you today,” Karen mumbled. “I needed to….I feel so…lost…I tried to ignore what happened…I tried…but I couldn’t…I can’t. Every time I close my eyes I see him…I see him begging me not to leave him…He didn’t have to say it but I knew. I knew.” She pulled in a breath through her nose, trying to keep herself together.
“I told Red the same thing I’m gonna tell you…You fight,” he shrugged, lifting one shoulder. “I see my family when I stop moving and close my eyes…I hear my little boy every time it’s quiet….And I keep doing what I do because that’s what he tells me. Runnin across the US isn’t gonna stop any of what you’re seein or hearin…it just isn’t Karen, and you know that..”
Karen sniffled and nodded, wiping at her eyes.
“Red isn’t ready to do what he’s gotta to…not yet…but I think you are,” his eyes found hers. “You’re so strong, Karen,” he whispered as he reached up and brushed away a tear on her cheek with the pad of his thumb. He stroked her soft skin, “You’re so goddamn tough, but even you gotta break once in a while…I think you’re ready to rebuild and keep doin what you gotta do here.”
“What’s there left to do here, Frank?” she asked, her voice broken and raw.
“You could start by movin back and helping that jackass of yours figure his shit out.”
“He won’t listen.”
Frank shrugged again, “Then make him…Hit him a few times for good measure…he deserves it, you and I both know that.” That got a small smile out of Karen, which got a smaller one curling Frank’s lips.
He was quiet again. This time, though, instead of doing nothing he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. Their eyes fell closed as they relaxed into each other. They breathed the same air for a moment before Karen spoke, “Are you gonna disappear again?”
Frank shook his head, “No, not completely…not if you don’t want me to.”
“I don’t,” she answered quickly. Karen pulled back after a long moment and looked at Frank, her hands cupping his face. “What are you going to do?” she asked him.
“I uh…got some advice a while back from this…crazy red head who walks around with a cannon in her bag…,” he gave her an easy smile. “I’m thinkin of takin it.”
“Oh, yeah? Would I happen to know-,” Frank moved toward her, cutting her off as his lips found her own. The kiss was soft, hesitant even, unsure if this was what she wanted. He pulled away slowly, searching her face to see if he’d made the wrong decision. “Make it mean something, Frank,” Karen whispered before his smile grew and he leaned in and kissed her again.