Yes, I’ll Take That Coffee Black
29 hours before…
Karen sometimes wonders what would have been happened if they’d gone to Proof Coffee that night.
Maybe things would have turned out differently…but no, the tension between Matt and Foggy had been too much. She encouraged her lawyers to take a break from work and head to Josie’s. Talk things out.
Trading coffee for a beer seems innocent enough.
Until Matt makes a confession…
Her hand freezes over the beer on the table. An all too familiar, uneasy feeling setting in her stomach.
“What have you been hiding Matt?”
Karen looks up at her friend, expecting to see his face cloud over. Instead, he squeezes his white cane and looks down. The neon lights of Josie’s illuminate the fear on his face.
“Frank Castle is back. He hasn’t been hunting those men wearing his emblem…he’s been asking about you. He’s been worried because…because…Bullseye is back. Frank told me he’s been posting threats on the dark web. Threats against you. Both of you.”
The bar seems to blur in and out and for a minute Karen feels off balance. Then there’s a hand steadying her.
Foggy.
He’s got a hand on her shoulder. Then he and Matt are exchanging words. They’re walking out of the bar arguing but Matt wins. Walks down the alleyway to do whatever he needs to do. It’s kind of ironic how Foggy calls out to him…
“Be safe, okay?”
Then there’s a bang…
A crack…
A hello Karen…
And her best friend is lying in his own blood never to be the cool uncle.
Somehow – seconds or hours later - she’s simultaneously aiming a gun at Bejamin Poindexter and cursing the pain in her lower left rib. Praying - as she spies Matt and Frank amid the chaos- that they make it out of this okay.
And make it out they did…sort of…
27 hours before….
“Be safe, okay?”
He leaves the room.
Karen watches as Frank leaves the room…and a thousand thoughts fall into place. Thoughts about diner coffee and an elevator and a red line and a gravestone that reads Maria Castle.
“Be safe, okay?”
Karen’s heart shudders and she makes a choice.
“Dinah…how…how long do we have before the FBI comes?”
Her friend sighs, placing hands on hips. “Please don’t tell me you want to - ”
Claire interrupts, putting her hand on Karen’s wrist. “You need to rest for 24 more hours. I’ll talk to the new nurse on shift, he’s a fan of the Bulletin. He’ll play along. The woman pauses, locking eyes with Dinah. “Can you hold that swat team off?”
For a moment the only sound is the hum of the vitals machine. Then Dinah shrugs.
“I’ll give my contact a call. See what I can do.”
At that same moment…
Be safe, okay?
Frank turns, walks back up the stairs. The nurse or health tech, or whatever he is steps out of the way, allowing Frank to open the door. Before he knows it, he’s back in the ICU, walking to her room, opening the door and locking eyes with Karen.
“I sent Curt to get you real coffee,” he says. “I would have gotten it myself…but I promised Nelson I’d ask you something…”
”So ask me,” she says.
Now…above Metro General.
A flash of white catches Peter’s eye. He notices, for the first time, a white van. A familiar white van. Parked by the Emergency Room exit.
If those two FBI agents walk five more feet, they’ll notice the van.
“Sorry, Curtis whatever-you-last-name-is,” Peter whispers. “Say bye to the coffee.”
A second later he’s swinging through the air on a strand of web, aiming for Curtis Hoyle’s arm. He lets go and…
“Holy shit!”
The coffees go flying. Curtis and Peter tumble to the pavement. The two FBI agents are scrambling to get out of the way.
“Sorry Sir!” Peter yelps from behind the mask, hastily wiping Curtis with his red sleeve. They both smell like spilt coffee and cinnamon.
“I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by the hospital! Like to check on things, superhero stuff, you know?”
Curtis shakes his head, looking at the beat-up paper cups. “I don’t…”
Peter doesn’t really hear what the man is saying, his eyes are locked on the white van. He sees a curly haired man ushering a black ball cap and a grey clad figure into the passenger side. The man gives a thumbs up. Starts the car. And they pull out of the driveway.
“You two alright?”
The agent holding the coffee rushes to help Curtis and Spiderman up. He gives the Marine a swift pull, helping to steady him.
“You better dust yourself off and go visit your friend.”
Curtis blinks, dumbfounded. “I…” He nods at Spiderman. “Okay, thank you.” He rushed through the hospital entrance without another word.
Spiderman and the agent stand there awkwardly, when the second man’s voice grabs their attention.
“Goddamnit Tommy! Our target is gone.”
The disgruntled agent stuffs his cell phone back in his pocket.
“Probably left the area 24 hours ago. There’s a new patient in the room too! What kind of bogus Intel are you dragging up?”
“Sorry man,” the agent with the coffee – Tommy – bites his lip. “Castle’s always been a slippery one. Tell the team to come on back down.”
He lowers his voice and leans towards Peter.
“Dinah Madani she owes me. Big time.”
Meanwhile…
Curtis Hoyle tries to even his pace as he races into the ICU. He marches towards Karen Page’s room, ignoring the team of FBI milling about in the hall. Hesitates for only a second, watching whoever led the team into the hospital yell at a male nurse with shaggy blonde hair and blue scrubs.
Thankful he isn’t dealing with that altercation; Curtis opens the door to the recovery room.
He stops short and looks around.
Dinah Madani is lying in the hospital bed.
“Good to see you Curtis,” she waves cheerfully.
Curtis blinks, unsure of what the hell is going on. He looks at Nurse Temple questioningly. She’s standing in front of the bed, an amused expression on her face.
A man – not Frank –is sitting in the chair beside Dinah. He’s wearing a grey Brooks Brothers suit, white cane resting at his side. Red glasses obscure his face…but there’s something oddly familiar about him. Curtis thinks he’s seen the man’s face in a newspaper clipping before.
Nelson, Murdock, & Page. Matthew Murdock, the lawyer of Hell’s Kitchen.
That’s it. That’s why the guy is familiar. He must have come to visit Karen.
“Good morning Mr. Hoyle.” The lawyer seems to sniff the air. “I think you brought the coffee? One with a sprinkle of cinnamon.”
His name rolls off Murdock’s tongue with an odd familiarity. Curtis immediately begins to question if he hasn’t crossed paths with this guy during one of Frank’s shenanigans.
“Good morning…I don’t have…the coffee are…where…where’s Miss Page? And Frank?”
Matthew Murdock gives a smile that can only be described as bittersweet, gesturing to the bedside table. Curtis takes a few steps forward, noting a crisp twenty-dollar bill folded with military precision by a napkin.
A napkin with Frank’s familiar scribble on it.
Much, much, later…
The smell of coffee wafts into the bedroom. Karen stretches, still hesitant to get up. It’s barely 6am. Besides, she enjoys the feel of these grey Vuori sweats too much. They’ll only fit for a few more weeks…
She pulls the yellow comforter up to her chin and closes her eyes. The sound of the Pacific is calming, like a lullaby. Reminding her it’s okay.
Okay.
Be safe, okay?
“Hey sleepy head.”
Frank’s walking into the room, still wearing that ridiculous plaid rob. With the beard and the long hair, he is such a California hipster now. Karen reminds him of this fact daily.
He retorts it’s just part of the Castiglione identity.
“Hey.” She grins, reaching for the cup of coffee he gives her.
He kisses her forehead. “What are you and Maria Franklin doin’?”
Karen pats her still-somewhat-flat belly. “I was telling her about her uncles. And about that note you left.”
Frank huffs, taking a sip from his own cup. Savoring. Remembering.
Curt: Enjoy the hipster coffee.
~ Frank
P.S. She said yes.