Hope
The Punisher felt every bone in his body cracking, and it was beautiful. He sat on the rooftop and wincing as he reached for the cuts on his back.
Broken finger, nose, and rib probably. Cut on the back most likely needs stitches. Bruised everything. You will live. Get up.
And so he did. He found himself doing this every night, keeping a tally on all his injuries, gauging how close he was to death. The knife wound was the worst of it- he’d bleed out if he didn’t get stitched up. But that would require movement, and right now his body felt like it was on fire.
He felt his burner buzz, pulling him out of his thoughts. His brow furrowed. There were a total of 3 people with his number:
1: Micro (the fucker found it himself)
2: Curtis (to nag him about going to group)
3: Karen Page (so he can remind himself that she was safe).
Micro sent him daily updates and currently he is on a cruise with his wife, Sara, for the next week. It’s way too late for Curtis to be awake, he’s still on military schedule.
So Karen.
If he lifted his head just a little he would see her on her balcony, cold cup of coffee in hand and a grin on her face.
He honestly didn’t think he could move without having a heart attack. But he found the strength, because he would always find it for her, and answered.
Her sarcastic voice was on the line,
“I figured if I was lucky enough for you to give me your number, I should use it.”
He bit back a laugh, which hurt more than expected.
“Frank? You okay? You’re not on the roof today and I haven’t heard anything on the police scanners.”
He huffed, of course she has a police scanner.
“I’m fine, you won’t hear about it till tomorrow morning.”
She sighed, “You sound hurt. Where are you?”
He stayed silent. She knew where he was. She knew him. And he was too much of a fucking coward to tell her.
“I’m coming.” She said, as the line cut off.
He didn’t doubt her, he learned against that a long time ago.
It was a couple minutes before she showed up, and he hadn’t moved an inch. Whether that’s because he wanted to see her face up close, or because he couldn’t move in the first place.
She ran through the doors with a short women behind her. She had brown skin and a lab coat draped around her shoulders.
Karen didn’t hesitate. She never did. It was the first thing he noticed about her in that hospital room. Even when she shoved the picture in his face to remind him of everything he has lost.
She runs over and looks over every injury on his face and takes note in her head. “Claire, please.”
The other women comes over and kneels next to Frank. She opens her bag and gets to checking his blood pressure and heart rate.
“I’m fine, ma’am”
The lady, Claire, scoffs, “I’ve met enough of you to know you are the opposite of fine. And don’t call me ma’am.”
“You work in a prison or something?”
“No, I just happen to be a one-woman hospital for whatever masked idiot drags himself to my door.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“She’s a friend.” Karen explained. “Helps Matt from time to time. She’s doing me a favor.”
He nodded and let the woman do her job.
Karen steps away to take a call. Claire speaks up the second she moves away.
“You’re The Punisher. Frank Castle.”
She forms it as a statement but he nods anyway.
“I’m not here to turn you in. But if you hurt either of us, I will not hesitate to call my friend at the station.”
He huffed,
“I have no reason to hurt you ma’am.”
She laughed at that but paused when she realized he was serious, “You mean that, don’t you?”
“You’re helping me. And Karen…” His jaw tightened, “I would never hurt Karen.” He stated firmly.
Claire looks at him like she has a million questions but only asks one,
“Are you two…”
“No. I’m married.” He says, as Karen walks back.
It’s a lie. Or it’s the truth. He isn’t sure anymore and that hurts more than the stitches she’s about to start on his back.
“This is going to hurt but I need you to not scream.”
“Yes ma’am.”
She nods and he feels a sting as the needle pierces his skin. He doesn’t flinch as he taps his trigger finger on his thigh. He lifts his eyes and sees Karen with a questioning look on her face.
“Ask.” He said.
She blinked, “Ask what?”
“Ask whatever question has got you looking at me like that.”
She hesitated, “What happened?”
“Animal fighting ring.” His voice was flat. “Pitties in cages, beaten till they kill each other.”
She inhaled sharply but didn’t interrupt.
“There’s one in my jacket,” he continued. “Right side. He bites.”
Karen’s eyes widened. She rushed to his coat, carefully pulling out a trembling, scarred puppy.
“Shh,” she cooed. “You’re safe now. Frank got you out, didn’t he?”
Frank watched as the dog settled at her feet, exhausted, broken. He understood the feeling.
“The rest went to a shelter,” he muttered. “This one… I don’t know.”
He did know. This one was different. A mutt, beaten down and apart from the rest. Just like him. The dog sat at his feet and waited,
Karen smiled. “He’s protecting you.” She scratched behind the pup’s ear. “You’re keeping him, aren’t you?”
He exhaled. “Yeah. I like dogs.”
Karen laughed. “Of course you do. The big, bad Punisher has a soft spot for puppies.”
And you.
He caught himself fighting a grin when he saw Claire looking at the three of them.
Claire finished the last stitch and leaned back. “Done. Change the bandages twice a day, and for the love of God, rest.”
“He will,” Karen said firmly. “He’s staying with me.”
Frank’s head snapped up. “No.”
Karen crossed her arms. “I don’t want to hear it. You can’t change your bandages alone, and Claire has an actual job.”
“I’ll be fine,” he argued.
She scoffed. “She scoffed, “I’m glad you think this is a debate but I fear it’s not. If you can stand up by yourself, you’re free to go back to whatever hellhole you’re staying in.”
He wanted to prove her wrong. To walk away, keep his pride intact. But then he saw it—that flicker of hope in her eyes.
He knew every look she gave him by now. This one said: Trust me.
And, for her, he would.
“Fine,” he muttered.
Karen grinned. “Good. There’s a couch calling your name.”