Chapter 2
“So Marci said to me ‘Hey, Foggy Bear, I love you and want to spend all our time together. Why don’t we move in together?’ And I said ‘Of course, love of my life. Nothing would please me greater than waking up every morning in your presence and you being the last thing I see before I close my eyes and dream of you.’” Nelson shrugged. “So I moved into her place.”
“Really?” Karen said, clearly trying to hold back her laughter. “Because Matt told me you got drunk, passed out at Marci’s, lost your key so stayed with her long enough that your landlord thought you were dead and sold your apartment, so now Marci is stuck with you.”
There was silence for a long time, before Nelson muttered “For god’s sake, Murdock, you had one job, you traitor,” and stomped over to his bag of medical supplies that had been dumped in the corner. He started pulling equipment out grumpily, ignoring Karen’s chuckles.
Frank gritted his teeth, reining in his impulse to snap at the man. There was a dead guy on the floor, displayed artfully to look like a normal burglary gone wrong but it was a bit too clean and matched the description of victims for the case Frank was working on. He needed to confirm whether it was the same person, the same M.O., so he could either start investigating or leave it for one of the other guys to handle as something new and go back to the station. He didn’t have the time or the patience to listen to Nelson prattle on about his girlfriend and their recent – apparently accidental – relationship progression.
However, biting Nelson’s head off was a sure-fire way to get the silent treatment from Red for at least three days. Nelson was his best friend, his family, and Red would eviscerate anybody who hurt him. Frank had literally seen Red stop mid-autopsy, put down his scalpel, grab a bone saw, and charge at a visiting sergeant who dared to call his friend an incompetent idiot. Frank didn’t blame him; he’d do the same if someone threatened Curt or Amy or someone else he considered family. The fucker had lodged a complaint about their ‘violent and mentally unstable coroner’, but Madani had just smirked, asked if the sergeant had called Nelson an incompetent idiot, and then told him he was lucky Matt hadn’t broken out the rib shears. He’d backed off and left with his tail between his legs, which probably had something to do with Frank cornering him in the break room and threatening to shove his badge so far up his ass they’d find his details imprinted on his intestines if he so much as looked at Matt again.
Red had laughed and offered to lend him his forceps when he’d told him.
Frank had something special planned tonight, so insulting Nelson even a little was off the table. He’d just have to be brave and the bigger man, pulling on all the skills he’d learned during long stake-outs and interrogating assholes with $1000 an hour lawyers to hide his frustration and remain patient.
“Have you called your parents to tell them you are not, in fact, dead?” Red said, bending under the police tape and strolling into the room. Frank was unable to suppress the little smile that flittered onto his lips at the sound of his voice, or stop the warmth that pooled in his stomach. The dark room suddenly seemed brighter, warmer, and Frank’s attention was instantly drawn away from the dead guy and towards his partner. Frank hated how sappy he sounded, but it was just like Red to pull his focus from the darkness and death and focus on light and life. How a person could make scrubs and cloth slippers look sexy Frank didn’t know, but somehow Red had mastered it. Frank was so incredibly lucky, and he’d never forget it.
“You haven’t told them?! Foggy!” Karen exclaimed.
The three of them had formed some sort of weird, unbreakable friendship; Frank had never seen people become that close so quickly unless it was in battle or a particularly rough case. It reminded him of his own relationship with Curt. Karen was down in Autopsy almost as much as Frank, they went to the gym together, went out drinking, and there was that one memorable time Frank had found Nelson unconscious and taped to his swivel chair with Red and Karen giggling like schoolgirls. Frank wasn’t sure what the three of them were doing in Autopsy at 2am, and when he’d asked Red the M.E. had just smiled darkly and kissed him until Frank couldn’t remember his own name, let alone that he’d asked a question.
Frank had gone out with them a couple of times, including the first night they’d gone out together. That had been uncomfortable as Karen hadn’t known he and Red were a couple, despite them not hiding it and the whole precinct gossiping about it, and she’d got a little…clingy towards Red. Lots of fluttering of eyelashes (that Red couldn’t see) and stroking Red’s arm (that Red didn’t notice) and invading his personal space (that Red just found a hazard). Frank may have got a bit possessive and slammed Red against the table, hiked his leg up around Frank’s waist, and kissed him like his life depended on it, ignoring Nelson’s squeak of alarm and Karen’s spluttering. Frank had no regrets: Karen hadn’t made another move, instead being one of the greatest advocates of their relationship, and Frank had one of the best nights of his life when Red dragged him back to his place and didn’t let him leave the bed until mid-afternoon the next day.
“They called me last night asking me to speak at your funeral,” Red said to Nelson. “I told them I’d be honoured, so can you let them know you’re not dead soon so I don’t actually have to write the speech.”
“Oh, we could write it together!” Nelson said brightly. “Come on, how many people can say they chose what was said at their funeral? We’re gonna make people cry, Murdock!”
Frank’s shoulders tensed and his fists clenched. He didn’t have time for this. There was some psycho out there murdering people with no remorse and no signs of stopping, with the dead guy lying ignored on the floor potentially being the latest clue in the saga and a fresh and concrete lead in a case that was stale and full of unknowns. He felt on edge, like his skin was extra sensitive and would react to the smallest stimuli, and was practically vibrating with the need to do something. Anything but stand here chatting away about Nelson’s fictional funeral and potentially letting leads go cold and a killer escape justice. This was when Frank was most dangerous, it was the type of situation and emotions that had given him his not entirely undeserved reputation as trigger-happy and violent: when something could be done, when evil could be destroyed, and it just wasn’t.
Of course, Red being the perceptive person he was and knowing Frank better than anyone noticed his jitteriness. He’d been able to notice the signs long before they started dating, and knew just how to handle it. Red strolled forward and rested a hand on Frank’s shoulder as he passed, brushing up against him briefly and Frank instantly relaxed. It was kinda scary how much power Red had over his body already, his touch making his whole body turn to mush and his kisses causing his mind to fog over, either making Frank go into a mindless, animalistic frenzy or feel a sense of calm drift over him. There was no in-between with Red, intensity was the definition of their relationship.
Red’s touch didn’t linger though, much to Frank’s disappointment, and he’d stepped away quicker than Frank would’ve liked. After Nelson had walked innocently into the Autopsy Room, Stahl’s blouse ripped open and the two of them attached at the lips, to find Frank strapped to the autopsy table with Red on top of him, he’d insisted on professionalism in the workplace. That meant no kissing, no eye-fucking, no actual fucking, no lingering touches or longing glances across the room, and ‘definitely no weird scalpel play.’
Frank was understandably upset and frustrated, but – and he’d never vocalise it – he could admit Nelson might have a point. Two weeks after they started dating, Frank had found himself spending half his shift in Autopsy even though he’d been working a drug case with a rookie where there were no deaths involved, and whilst he was still closing cases, it was taking longer than usual. He didn’t think that could be entirely blamed on the newbies.
Red’s response to Nelson’s demand had Frank chuckling every time he thought of it. “Fine. But if I find Marci’s bra in the freezer again, your shirt ripped in the desk drawer, or even a stray hair that isn’t yours or mine – and believe me, I will use the department budget to test it - I promise I will have Frank naked on that table, restrained and maybe gagged, and scalpel away to my heart’s content whilst you watch. I might even bust out the speculum if I’m feeling particularly creative.”
Frank didn’t really know what a speculum did, but the way Nelson’s face went white and he practically fled the room with a confused Stalh following behind him had Frank curious to try it. He hadn’t known whether to laugh, blush, or be turned on by Red’s promise, but had settled for a quick kiss to the cheek and his own whispered promise of “later” before heading back to work.
“Found the swabs,” Red said cheerily, holding up a container of sticks with white heads and rattling them. “They were under the liver probes. You want to take it, or shall I?”
“I’ll swab, you prod?” Nelson suggested, taking the container from his friend.
Red nodded and instantly bent down, hands running gently over the body as he used his ‘enhanced senses’ - Superpowers. They were superpowers, Red - to do a quick examination. He tilted his head in that way that Frank found adorable, a thoughtful frown on his face, before he nodded and stood up again.
“Male in his early thirties, physically fit, no pre-existing conditions that I can sense. I’d say he’s been dead about six to eight hours based on rigor mortis, but he’s only been here for maybe three. The lack of blood around the body suggests he wasn’t shot here, but instead was shot somewhere else and then moved. It’s been staged.”
That was good news for Frank. Three hours wasn’t long in the grand scheme of things, certainly not for investigating, and it meant there might still be witnesses in the area and security footage wouldn’t have been erased. The confirmation that the scene was staged also bode well for this being linked to Frank’s case.
“Cause of death?” Karen asked, instantly switching from bubbly best friend to focused investigator.
“You’d assume the three shots to the chest,” Red said, voice lilting up at the end and a slight smile hovering over his lips that showed he didn’t really believe that to be the case. “But I can tell you more once I get him back to Autopsy.”
“Who found him?”
“Bunch of kids who broke in to hold a secret rave,” Nelson said, rubbing the swabs lightly over the body’s face and gently twisting its head to take some samples from the neck. He huffed a laugh. “Bet they won’t be doing that again. Nothing dissuades a person from committing crime than finding a dead body.”
“Do we know who he is?”
Red bent down to the body again, rummaging around in the guy’s pockets before giving a triumphant shout as he pulled out the guy’s wallet. He stood back up and wordlessly handed it to Karen, who flipped it open and found the ID.
“Stephen McDermott. 30 years old. Only lives a couple of blocks away.” Karen hadn’t been smiling before, but her expression shifted into one of sadness and heartbreak as she pulled out a photograph and showed it to them. “He has two kids.”
Silence fell on the group, all pausing to take a moment to respect the man and grieve for his children and loved ones.
“Is he one of mine?” Frank broke the quiet and immediately everyone seemed to spark back to life. It worried Frank sometimes how people in their profession could just bounce back from grief and tragedy within minutes. It couldn’t be healthy, but then that was the job. If they let what they saw get to them, there would never be any results and people would go unpunished.
“Boom!” Nelson said, standing and holding up a swab that was streaked with beige. “Mr McDermott has more makeup on than a Vegas showgirl.”
“You’ve never been to Vegas,” Karen said quietly.
Frank turned to Red, wordlessly asking for him to use his special senses and confirm.
Red sniffed subtlety, being able to read Frank’s expressions with ease. Normally, it would make Frank feel warm that him and Red were so in tune with each other, but all he felt was a cold anxiousness about what the M.E.’s answer would be.
“Yup. Sedative present. That makes three. Congratulations, you got your serial killer,” Red said with a smile. He frowned and tilted his head to the side; a move Frank had come to recognise as him searching the room with his super senses. “Where’s O’Connor? I thought he’d be ecstatic and chomping at the bit to get going.”
Frank grinned. “Desk duty. Finally managed to ditch the dick.”
“Already?” Red asked, surprise flickering across his face. “He hasn’t been here that long! What the hell did he do?”
“He shot a cat.”
“He shot a…”
“A cat, yes. I knew he was trigger-happy, but apparently he was jumpy too. Don’t know many officers who would hear a crash inside an apartment whilst questioning a little old lady at six o’clock in the evening and storm in, gun at the ready, assuming a burglar has snuck in through the one door past two cops and a woman who hadn’t left the house for four days rather than it being something innocent, then firing before thinking. Mr Mittens had to have surgery and O’Connor gets the pleasure of managing the tip line for the foreseeable future.”
“Damn, poor Mr Mittens,” Nelson said.
“Hopefully he’s back on his feet soon,” Red agreed.
Frank chuckled. “So I get Page,” he said, nodding at her. She smiled widely. “She’s more intelligent, doesn’t ask stupid questions, and doesn’t whine that she’s bored every ten minutes, which is a vast improvement.”
“Plus, she’s easy on the eyes,” Nelson contributed, snapping a photo of the body. “Makes your day a lot more bearable, am I right?”
“You remember I’m dating your best friend, right?”
“I try to repress that memory if I’m honest.”
Red laughed loudly and punched his friend on the arm, Nelson rubbing it with a pout. Frank smiled, wanting nothing more than to scoop Red up in his arms and hug him, making that smile wider and nuzzling his cheek until Red giggled. The first time he’d heard Red giggle – not the loud laughter he had when Nelson had said something funny or the dark chuckle he gave when he was messing with the rookies, a true, honest to god giggle – Frank had nearly fallen over in surprise and couldn’t keep the face-splitting smile off his face the rest of the night. Frank had had to constantly reassure Red that he wasn’t laughing at him, he was just so adorable it made Frank delirious.
Red had whacked him over the head with a plastic skull he had on his coffee table that had been part of a skeleton he and Nelson had stolen from their college lab in a drunken rampage - ‘I got custody of Brian’s head and the bones from the left side of his body, Foggy got everything else’ – for Frank daring to call him adorable, then told him to stay the night because he’d get arrested for being a creep if he went out with that smile on his face.
That giggle had quickly made its way to the top of ‘Frank’s favourite sounds in the world’ list; a list that, now Frank thought of it, was mostly a collection of any sound Red made. Frank endeavoured to get Red to make those sounds as often as humanly possible.
“Well,” Red said, chuckling. “Should we get Mr McDermott back to Autopsy? Sooner we examine him, the sooner Frank and Karen can catch the bad guy.”
“I’ll get the gurney.”
With the practiced ease of people who had done this far too many times, Red and Nelson had the body on the gurney and had started wheeling it towards the door within minutes. Their equipment was tucked away, the two of them leaving behind no trace they were there except the blood stains on the floor.
Frank stood back to give them the space to leave.
“Nelson,” he nodded pointedly as Nelson passed. Red wouldn’t think anything of it, just a casual nod of acknowledgement from a cop to the M.E.’s assistant, but Nelson would recognise it as something more: a reminder of Frank’s plans and to make himself scarce tonight.
“See ya, Castle,” Nelson said with a salute as he disappeared through the door.
At least Frank hoped he’d recognise it. Frank made a note to talk to Karen as soon as Red was out of earshot and get her to keep an eye on her friend, and make sure he wasn’t lurking around in Autopsy longer than his shift. Frank needed him gone for his plan to work and didn’t want a third wheel.
Frank hadn’t realised how damn hard it would be to surprise his boyfriend when said boyfriend had super hearing and could tell when Frank was lying.
When the two paused to lift the gurney over the step, Frank subtlety took Red’s hand and squeezed. Red smiled and laced their fingers together before squeezing back in return. As Red started to walk away, neither of them let go, dragging their hands along the others’ arm to keep contact as long as possible before they were forced to let go. Frank felt oddly bereft as he watched Red leave.
A shift behind him had Frank turning around to see Karen smiling widely at him, her eyes lit up.
“What?” Frank grunted.
“You are so smitten,” Karen said with a grin. “You two are adorable together. Your public image of being big, scary and angry, and never failing to get a confession with your aggressive interrogation techniques would take a pretty big hit if they could see the unflappable and frightening Frank Castle smile sappily and cling to his boyfriend when he tried to leave, desperate to never spend a second apart,” she said dramatically.
“Shut it, or I’ll have you put on desk duty with O’Connor,” Frank said.
“I didn’t shoot a cat.”
“Well, I’m sure I can come up with a convincing reason to get you thrown off the case,” Frank looked at her warningly. He wouldn’t, because the boss didn’t trust him to work alone – too many ‘incidents’ - and Karen was by far the least annoying of the rookies. Frank actually liked her.
He suspected Karen knew that too, and knew he wouldn’t follow through on his threat.
Karen raised her hands in mock surrender. “Ok, ok, no more stating the obvious and outing just how much of a marshmallow you can be.”
“A wise decision,” Frank said, and jerked his head at the door. “Shall we?”
Karen nodded. “Let’s.”
She ducked under the police tape Frank held up for her and Frank followed, trying to focus on the next steps of the investigation and not let his nerves about tonight overcome him.