darkest before the dawn

June6th, 2012

7:12AM

Maria Castle, wife of Frank Castle and mother of Lisa and Frank Jr Castle, stared down the hallway, her gaze sharp and poised with hands on her hips at the two equally unflinching children standing merely six feet away from her, the air tense and thick.

Lisa Castle, dark-haired and eyes just like her father’s, tilted her head up with a challenge. Frankie, bless his heart, tried to mimic his big sister’s attitude, but ultimately ended up looking nervously between his mother and sister, foot fidgeting on the ground. He kept his mouth shut though, refusing to say a word and stayed his ground, shoulder to shoulder with his big sister.

The sun was rising, the morning rays hitting the windows and illuminating the house. Maria was directly in the sun’s light, still dressed in sweatpants and a Marine's Corp shirt. Her children were still in their pajamas, Frankie wearing cotton PJ’s with monster trucks and Lisa wearing shorts with the pattern of ninjas and a shirt with the words Fight like a Girl. Maria’s coffee was sitting on the counter, alone and forgotten as she stared down her children. 

See, Maria Castle did not mean to have a staring contest with her children at seven o’clock in the morning. She simply meant to have a nice, hot cup of coffee in peace and maybe read a book in the quiet calm of the wednesday morning before her children woke up. Her husband was coming back from his TDY in a few days. It was summer. It was going to be a good day.

She did not expect to hear a muffled thump and whispered words of panic as she went to go check on her kids. And then for the door to her daughter’s room to be locked. And for her son to come running out of his room in a panic, refusing to answer her questions. And for her daughter to unlock her door and quickly shut it behind her, giving Maria a quick glimpse of a pile of blankets on the floor. And for both of her children to vehemently deny any wrongdoing.

So, standoff.

“What’s in your room, Lisa?”

Lisa crossed her arms. “Nothing,”

“Then why was your door locked?”

“.....I was reading.”

Maria, realizing that Lisa wasn’t going to talk, shifted her gaze to her son. “Frankie?”

He swallowed, eyes shifting between his sister and mother. “Ummm…..”

“If you tell me, you won’t get in trouble.”

Frankie blanched and Maria had found a weak spot.

Lisa knew it too. She viciously stomped on her brother’s foot. “Don’t you dare!”

“Lisa Barbara Castle, we do not hurt our siblings!”

Frankie curled protectively away from his sister. “She could help, Lisa!”

Lisa stomped her foot on the ground. “No! I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone. You’re not supposed to tell, Frankie!”

“Tell what?” Maria tried to interject, but her children were too busy arguing.

Frankie scowled at Lisa. “We gotta protect him, Lisa. We gotta be soldiers, like dad.”

“We promised we wouldn’t tell anyone!” Lisa seemed close to tears. “You’re just being a stupid-head!”

Frankie was outraged. “I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“You’re a stupid-head and a bad friend!”

Frankie was about ready to cry and Maria wished to spike her coffee with the whiskey hidden in the cabinets. “Mom!”

“Enough!” Maria put her hands up, looking sternly at the two children. They stopped fighting. “Lisa, let me in your room.”

“Mom-”

“Now, Lisa. Or I’ll call your father.”

Lisa bit her lip, looking nervously at her brother. Frankie nodded, six-year old wisdom. “Okay. Just promise you won’t get mad.”

Maria pinched the bridge of her nose. “I promise.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Stick a needle in my eye,” Maria sighed. She wanted her coffee. And her husband. Frank should be the one dealing with this shit. Him and Billy. Idiots extraordinaires.

Lisa gestured for her mother to follow her, gently cracking open the door. Maria followed, slippered feet against the carpet. Frankie hung back, most likely in case he needed to make a quick escape. They entered Lisa’s room, her bed unmade and a book tossed in the covers. There was a pile of blankets on the floor, but Maria didn’t pay it much attention. Lisa’s dinosaurs were flung about and there was a flashlight on her bedside table with a bag of cheetos. There was a poster of the Avengers, one Lisa had begged for right after the Incident. Frankie had one, too. 

Nothing was out of place.

Maria turned to her daughter, eyebrow raised, when suddenly-

The previously still pile of blankets on the floor moved.

Maria took about eight steps away from the mass of what must be all the blankets in the house as Lisa rushed to explain. “Mom, it’s okay, he’s okay.”

“What?”

The dry screech of her voice startled the shit out of the blankets because they stopped moving. 

Maria’s heart was racing and her fingers were itching for the handgun she kept in her drawer..

Lisa’s voice was calm as she spoke to the blanket monster. “It’s okay, it’s just my mom. She won’t hurt you. She can help.”

“Lisa."

“Mom, it’s fine.” Lisa returned to coaxing out the blanket monster, “C’mon, it’s fine, you’re safe.”

The blankets seemed to hesitate. 

Maria wanted her children to stop taking after their father.

Frankie watched excitedly from the door.

Lisa waited patiently.

Then the blankets shifted and revealed-

A kid.

A kid, maybe a year or two younger than Lisa, with curly brown hair that curled down to their shoulders and dark eyes the color of black coffee. Freckles against sun-tanned skin, with rhinestone glasses that were broken. Small and skinny, nearly drowning in the blankets. Wearing some of Lisa’s old pajamas, a backpack tossed in a corner. Chapped lips with a hunched-over chest.

That’s not what catches Maria’s attention.

What catches her attention is the swollen black eye with the busted lip. The glasses that were broken and taped many times before. The scraped palms and the fingerprints around the neck. The fidgeting and the wary expression. The pure and absolute fear.

“Mom, this is Peter,” Lisa says softly, “He needed a place to stay.”

“I’m sorry,” the kid-Peter whispers, “I didn’t-”

He stops and Maria thinks longingly of coffee and quiet mornings before giving Peter a soft smile. She knows Frankie is giving Lisa a smug look judging by the pure rage on Lisa’s face, but she ignores it.

“You want some breakfast, sweetheart?” 

Peter hesitates, then, after a quick look at Lisa, nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

Francis David Castle, your ass better be home quick.

❁

Two days later, Maria Castle has accepted her fate as a mother of three.

Peter had left quickly after breakfast, despite Lisa and Frankie’s protests. He had thanked Maria in that soft voice of his, apologizing again over Maria’s continued reassurances that it was okay. Lisa, a glint in her eyes, then asked for her Pj’s back, and while Peter was busy changing, she shoved food into his beaten backpack.

He left in torn, grass-stained jeans and a Iron-Man t-shirt with small holes.

Maria, having sat in mostly silence at breakfast while Lisa and Frankie chatted and Peter offered up small bits of conversation, then turned her questions on her children after Peter had left.

Lisa, less ferocious after realizing Peter wasn’t going to be tossed out on his ear, answered the questions as best as she could.

Peter was a kid at her school, not in her class but she had seen him around, hoodie and torn-jeans. She hadn’t really ever talked to him, but they were paired up in gym one day and Lisa had seen a hand-shaped bruise on his wrist, peeking out of his sleeve. And so, deciding Peter was going to be her new friend, she set out to find out who he was.

He lived just outside of Hell’s Kitchen, in an apartment with his father. Mother was missing, vanished off the face of the earth, Lisa reported. He was small and asthmatic, but really smart and did gymnastics. He didn’t have any friends, but Lisa had made an effort to seek him out during lunch and recess, so they were almost friends now.

Maria calmly asked her how Peter got in the house last night.

Sheepishly, eyes downcast, Lisa explained.

She had seen Peter that afternoon. He had been sleeping on a park bench. His dad had kicked him out for the day and he didn’t want to go back just yet. So Lisa had invited him to her house. He had refused, but Lisa managed to coerce with him the promise of food and warmth and he gave in.

And as the doors had been locked, as soon as Maria went to bed, Lisa had snuck Peter in through the window.

Frankie had helped. Heard the noise and had been begged by Peter and threatened by Lisa not to say a word.

Peter had supposed to sneak back out before Maria woke up, but he was dead to the world. Ergo, this conversation. 

Maria, after sending Frankie away with a warning never to lie to her again, fixed Lisa with a stern eye and asked if she knew why he got those bruises.

Lisa hesitated, but ultimately gave it up.

His dad was a real piece of work. That was all Peter had said. CPS had been called, but nothing was ever done.

Maria had half of a mind to go grab her bat and beat him up, but instead she told Lisa that Peter was welcomed at the house anytime, just tell her. And stop letting strangers sleep in her bedroom, goddammit.

Lisa had beamed and hugged her, running off to her room while Maria stared mournfully at her cold coffee.

Peter didn’t come over or stay that night, but he did come over the next morning, sporting a shiny black-eye, shyly asking if he could have some food. The kids, upon spotting him, dragged him inside where Maria made him a sandwich, and literally sat on him to make him stay as they watched Clone Wars.

So he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Lisa seemed to have declared herself Peter’s best friend, something the child in question had no idea about. Frankie thought Peter was cool, because apparently Peter had once seen Iron Man at the Stark Expo once. 

Peter, on the other hand, was extremely confused and really just wanted to eat some food. He kept apologizing for bothering them and was on edge the entire time. It wasn’t until Lisa straight-up told him that they were keeping him for the afternoon and that they were now friends that he finally grasped the situation. 

“Wait, what?” Peter squinted at Lisa, who rolled her eyes at him.

“You’re my best friend now,” She enunciated the syllables, “That means we hang out. So that’s what we’re doing. Also, we’re having a sleepover.”

Peter looked to Maria, but Maria shrugged. “If you two behave, then it’s okay.”

Anything to keep him out of that house.

Lisa clapped her hands together. “Great! Do you have any pajamas? Or a toothbrush?”

“I-I’ve got a toothbrush. No pajamas, though.” Peter looked hopeful, under a mask of shyness and fear and Maria’s heart was melting. “Ar-Are we actually friends?”

Lisa huffed. “Yes. Now get back over here so we can finish the episode.”

Peter scurried over to Lisa, taking a seat on the couch next to her and curling in on himself. Lisa pulled his ponytail out and began to try to braid it as Frankie sat on his legs, giggling when Peter surrendered to the Castle kids and allowed them to curl up next to him as the cartoon blared on the TV.

Maria sat down next to the pile of children on the couch, tugging Frankie off of Peter’s legs. “Alright, settle down you three. We’re watching television, not having a pillow fight.”

Frankie perked his head up. “Pillow fight?”

“NO-” But it was too late. A pillow came careening for Lisa’s head, starting a battle that had to be finished.

Peter watched them wrestle on the floor with a small smile on his face. Maria nudged him. “Whenever you need a place to go, our door is always open. Don’t forget that.”

She was surprised to find the small eight-year old clinging to her in a hug. “Thank you.”

Maria returned the hug, hand tugging through snarls of dark-brown hair. “It’s okay, Peter.”

Lisa and Frankie eventually grew tired of fighting and Lisa then dragged Peter to her room, talking excitedly about her collection of toys, Frankie stalking behind them and scowling at being left behind. Maria left them alone for a bit, only emerging to shout at Frankie to stop daring Peter and Lisa to climb the roof, because they will and can do it and she is your sister. Frankie asked sweetly if they could go to the playground together and Maria aquienced, letting the three run ahead of her while they walked.

That came to an end when Lisa tripped and scraped her knee and soon after, Peter began to have an asthma attack. He had his inhaler, and used it while digging up band-aids in his bag for Lisa’s knees. Maria did not know what else was in that backpack. She did not know if she wanted to know.

Frankie got one too because he wanted one.

When the sun had just set, Maria had turned on The Little Mermaid, despite Frankie’s protests, and they had all sat down and watched it, Lisa and Peter curled together, a popcorn bowl forgotten as they fell asleep. Frankie had managed to flop on top of them and was snoring. It was very cute, except for the fact that Maria could no longer feel her legs.

Then the door opened with a click of the lock, and her husband walked through the door, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

Frank Castle smiled softly at the sight in front of him, dropping his duffel bag. “I missed you.”

Maria reached out a hand, leaning over the couch. “I know.”

Frank opened his mouth to say something, then caught sight of Peter being used as a pillow by his kids. His eyebrows creased. “Who’s this?”

Maria Castle grinned. “Francis David Castle, please meet your third child, Peter Jonathan Parker. Lisa found him and hid him in her room.”

Frank’s face went through what looked like the five stages of grief. “What?”

Maria couldn’t stop the laughter that burst out, waking up the kids as she shook with laughter. Lisa popped her head up, eyes scanning the room until she caught sight of Frank. “Daddy!”

The children swarmed their dad, attacking him with affection. Eventually, this would wake Peter up and Maria would have to explain what happened yesterday with Lisa and Frankie beaming happily. And then she would have to stop Frank from turning around and murdering Peter’s dad, Peter watching them with wide brown eyes. And then Frank would toss Frankie up in the air, all while grounding Lisa and him for life, which would not last for long. And then Peter would ask if he should go home, only to be tackled by Frankie, who proclaimed that Peter wasn’t allowed to go home. And then she would have to break up an argument about the morality of kidnapping before she finally got the kids to go to bed, Frankie pouting under his nightlight, Peter insisting the pile of blankets were fine, and Lisa whispering stories to her new friend when they thought Frank and Maria had gone to bed.

But for now, she took delight in the confusion and amusement in her husband’s face and hoped it would never end.