The Punisher: Vendetta

I woke up this morning with dread and a slight headache. I don't get hangovers, but this is the first time I have felt close to one. A lot happened last night. I sit up as I try to sort through it all and notice that Frank isn't here with me. Sarah and Erykah are sprawled around me in bed.

I drag myself out of bed and take a shower, then get dressed. By the time I get to the kitchen, I see Frank making breakfast. The scent of bacon and coffee is a welcome sight, but something is off about him. His movements are practiced but stiff.

"Frank?" I called out softly. "What Is it?"

When he turned to face me, I froze. His face was smooth and stoic, but his eyes were brewing with many emotions.

"...What happened last night?" I asked him.

"We gotta talk, Red," he sighs heavily.

"Okay," I breathe out, afraid of his despondent tone.

"Dean's talking about wanting you back," he says without preamble.

"...What?" was the only response I could give him.

Why the hell would Dean think that I'd go back to him after what he's done? I don't want to read too much about this, but Frank doesn't seem thrilled. So why tell me?

"I know you need answers," he continues, setting up plates. "I know you need closure. I also know that you're angry, but seeing him hurt you last night, and you need to tell him everything."

"...You want me to talk to him?" I asked quietly.

"I want you to have all the facts," he amends. "You deserve that."

"Okay," I nod, sitting down at the table. "So you think I'll have some life-altering conversation and forget what almost happened the other night? Is that what this is about?"

A muscle jumped in his jaw, but other than that, he kept working in the kitchen. So he was avoiding this. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed the plate he was holding.

"What is this about?" I demand.

He finally looks me in the eye, and I'm taken aback by the storm brewing in them...he's just as conflicted about this as I am.

"It's about you having a choice," he murmurs.

"No," I deny. "It's about a way out. There's nothing worse than feeling like my choices are being made for me, and that's kind of what it feels like-"

"-I don't want you anywhere near that asshole," he admits. "But I also know that there's history between the two of you that spans decades. Micro told me. I-"

"-Nothing he says could change my mind," I tell him. "Or are you hoping it will?"

I put the plate down, and I pull him close to me.

"What do you want, Frank?" I wonder.

I slid my hands up his chest and wrapped my arms around his neck. He buries his head in my shoulder. After everything we've been through, he still believes he's not a viable option for me. That's not true. If he wants me to do this, I will. But I don't want Dean back...I hope Frank will figure out what he wants.

"I want you to be sure before you go all-in with this," he breathes into my hair before he pulls away from me.

I don't give him a chance to object before I lean up on my toes to crush his lips to mine. I'm shocked when he pushes me away, his forehead brushing mine.

"What is it?" I asked.

"We shouldn't do this," he explains.

"...Why? We almost did last night. You know that..."

This time, he initiates the kiss, and for a fleeting moment, I hope he drops this, and we can figure this out. But he pushes me away again, and I can feel the conflict, the desperation, and the love. There's no godamn way this is one-sided. I can almost taste it.

"If we did this now, then there wouldn't be a choice to be made," he assures me. "He'd be the last thing on your mind...which is why I gotta back off. Let me be perfectly fucking clear. I don't like that son of a bitch. I don't like what he's done to you. But what sort of man would I be if I didn't let either one of you hash this shit out? If I could save Maria, I'd take it."

With that, I realized the weight of the situation. He knows what he wants, but he's willing to risk it because of his values. I back away because I respect it—and I respect him. But the space between us stung. By the time the girls had woken up, breakfast had been made, and he said he had to leave. I'm sure I nodded.

"Lace, what happened?" Erykah asked. "You look...uh-"

"...Frank wants me to talk to Dean," I murmured.

"Okay," she replies, "I figured as much; he wants you to get some closure before you two take the next step."

"-Dean told him that he wants me back," I cut her off. "And Frank says that I have to make a choice, and I didn't understand at first until he brought up Maria."

"I get it," Sarah sighs. "No matter the circumstances, Frank is still a family man...he'd rather sacrifice his desires to see someone work it out. This also plays into the belief that he doesn't see a light at the end of the tunnel for him."

"There's always something in the way," I whisper.

"I don't trust the guy," Erykah spat. "But I agree that having a conversation with him might help. You never got to tell him how you feel about the shit he pulled. Once your head is clear, he'll back off, Frank will accept what's right in front of him, and we can focus on taking down Cerebus!"

"I'd also like to bet that Dean knows you'll kill him next time," Sarah points out to Erykah.

"Damn right," she growled.

I hug my knees to my chest...I hadn't realized that I ended up on the kitchen floor. My face was damp...the girls were right. I have to pull my shit together and deal with this. But first, I needed a cold shower and strong coffee.

"Lacey," Ellis waves his hand in front of my face. "Earth to Lacey Gordon."

"I need to change my name," I mutter. "I'm not his wife anymore...I just never...I thought he was dead, so..."

"Are you sure you're up to doing this story? Maybe you're too close to it-"

"-He won't let anyone else write it," I cut in, even as I felt a hollow ache in my chest.

"I don't think you should do this alone," he admits. "take Erykah with you. She's already interviewed Agent Madani. You two are one hell of a team."

I nod before I head to my office. Everyone wanted the story of a Marine returning from the dead after Cerberus had been exposed. Somehow, the demand had us reprint Karen's articles about Frank. When I reread them, I noticed something. There had been something between them. Does he see me as a replacement for her?

Am I reading too much into this? I'm exhausted. My head was swimming with questions and confusion about what had happened this morning, so I decided to dive into something I could control: my job. I also had to write an article about Billy Russo coming out of his coma, so I decided to take a risk and visit him. According to Agent Madani, he's lost his memory, but she didn't buy it. She's been visiting daily to see if he slips up.

I head to the hospital, and I'm led to Madani.

"Any change?" I ask.

"None," she sighs. "He's either very convincing or lost his memory."

"Maybe I can trigger it," I suggest.

"You're right," she realized. "He's obsessed with you. Still might be."

"The Bulletin wants a follow-up," I sighed. "...And I've also been asked to interview Dean."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow. "Are you ready for that?"

"It doesn't matter," I tell her. "I'll have to talk to him eventually."

"And what does Frank think about that?" She asks shrewdly.

"...It was his idea," I whisper, clearing my throat. Logically, I understand why, but emotionally, I didn't want to.

"I don't know the dynamics of your relationship with him," Madani said after a slight pause. "But I know Frank well enough that the only reason he hadn't killed Billy is that you'd needed medical attention. He didn't even care if Billy had answers. I also know how he feels about families and marriage. He'll want you to resolve the situation with Dean one way or the other. It also gives him time to figure his shit out."

"Yeah," I sighed. "Alright...I'm going to go in now."

She nods and bids me goodbye. I knock on the door, and a soft, feminine voice tells me to come in. Ah, Krista DuPont, his court-appointed psychiatrist. She looked a bit hostile until she realized it was me.

"I thought it was Madani again," she mutters. "She's been harassing him. I've had to place a call to her superior."

"Why?" I find myself asking.

"None of you believe he's lost his memories," she hissed. "He doesn't remember anything after he served as a Marine! All of you want to put his head on a spike!"

She gestures to his sleeping form, and I see that his face is covered in scars. I remember kicking him into the glass, but Frank had taken it further.

"You do realize that he's a part of an illegal smuggling operation, and he kidnapped me and three other people...don't you?" I ask her quietly. "He had a hand in the attack that killed Frank Castle's family!"

The way she blinks at me is concerning...as if nothing I've said has registered.

"Well, he doesn't remember any of that," she countered dismissively. "And constantly bombarding him with your grievances-"

"-Grievances?" I cut in. "He's a murderer. A kidnapper and God knows what else!"

"You can't hold him accountable for things he can't remember!"

"...Do you even care, or are you more concerned about a feather in your cap?" I ask her. "For someone who studies mental health, you seem oblivious to the pain he's caused...or has he already gotten to you?"

"Why are you so determined to vilify him?" She asked.

"Why are you in denial?" I fire back.

A soft groan from the bed stops our argument. We'd woken him. His eyes light up with faint recognition when he stirs, but not the slimy way he used to.

"I think I recognize you," he says softly. "You're Dean's wife! He talked about you all the time. Maybe I'd have settled down if I'd met someone like you..."

Then he smiles—a soft, innocent smile—and I'm rattled. Between my conversation with Frank, the prospect of speaking with Dean, and now this, I can't. The room tilts at a dangerous angle, and I feel lightheaded. I take a deep breath and sit down in the chair opposite hers.

"Um, yeah...that's me," I reply. "Do you mind answering a few questions?"

I felt drained. I didn't even have the mental capacity to detect if Billy was lying. He didn't even seem to remember being tapped for Cerberus...I got home, and Erykah was still at the office. Sarah had errands to run. I probably could have called Frank, but I chose not to. I knew what I needed to do.

I decided to follow my instincts and head to a brownstone that he'd purchased years ago in Manhattan. I didn't want to live in it because it felt haunted, but I couldn't bring myself to put it on the market.

When I arrived at the front door, I saw that the place looked cared for. My hands were shaking so badly that I could barely fit the key in the hole. I had to steady myself, but then the door opened...and there he was. He looked dirty, and now I knew why the house was maintained.

"You're here," he states. "How did you know where I'd be?"

"Lucky guess," I replied.

"We have a lot to talk about," he continues, letting me in.

As I look around, I'm assaulted by my past life. Everything looks the same as it used to. We used this house as a vacation home, as it had been passed down from his parents. He spent his leave restoring it and making it ours. Pictures of our wedding day, ceremonies of him receiving medals, my journalism awards, vacations...

"Lacey-"

I fucking snapped. I hauled off and slapped him across the face.

"Do you have any idea about what the fuck I've been through while you ran off to save yourself?!" I snapped.

He pressed the side of his face, which had grown an ugly shade of red. Good.

"Tell me," is all he says...as if that would absolve him.

"I thought you were dead," I rant. "But there was nothing to bury...all they sent me was a Purple Heart and a folded flag...they didn't give me any answers. Nothing. I spiraled, Dean! I was drinking and fighting, and then I stopped leaving the house altogether..."

I felt the fire fade out because I was getting to the worst of it. I felt the lump in my throat and the sting behind my eyes. I didn't have the will to fight as he eased me into a chair.

"Lace," he calls out because he sounds far away.

"...One night, I ran out of alcohol," I continue in a dull voice. "I get into a wreck, predictably. I don't remember how or where. But I remember asking them to leave me there. To let me die...to let me be with you-there was so much blood, but I couldn't feel much back then, even before the accident. That's what I wanted-"

"-Shit, I-"

"-When I was admitted, they had me evaluated...then they revealed to me that I had been pregnant."

I heard a sharp, shuddering gasp. I felt his arms around me, and the familiarity broke me even more. I hated feeling so weak. So worn down. I've had to carry this for so long without any closure. I'd moved on, so to speak, or so I thought, only to have it come back to haunt me.

I felt him tremble, and I realized that he had started to cry, too. Now, he feels a small amount of what I've been feeling. A small, petty part of me relished it, but the humane part knew we'd been robbed of our lives. It doesn't change the fact that he left me behind. Yet...he felt remorse, it seems. As closed off as I'd felt, that matters to me.

At some point, he's wiping tears from my face and apologizing profusely. I'm unsure how I feel now, but I'm tired of fighting. I can't. He cradles my face in his hands as he's done so many times in our lives. His eyes search mine, and I'm confused. Vulnerable. I shouldn't be. I know who I want and what I want and-

Why am I letting him kiss me?