Bullets
The rest of the week passed in much of the same way. Frank would be waiting outside with coffee sometime in the late afternoon, take Lola on a run or to the dog park, and when he came back, we’d start making our way to a restaurant, but inevitably end up back at my apartment, order takeout, talk for hours, and fall asleep on the couch. Frank never stayed over and I never asked him to, never tried to push anything physically. It was his presence I enjoyed, just the solid warmth of him and his “ma’am”s and “sweetheart”s that he seemed to reserve just for me. Though he let me talk the majority of the time, he slowly began telling me more about his current life. We never touched on anything from his past and I could tell that this was a calculated effort on his part. On Wednesday we went back to the gym and even sparred for a while. By Thursday, I felt like I’d known him for months.
I got so used to this routine so quickly that it was a shock when on Friday, he never called about my coffee. Lola and I waited in my office until long after I usually left on Friday’s and my apartment felt too big for just the two of us when we got home. Lola seemed sad too, nosing around the apartment and curling up with a sock that Frank had somehow left behind on Wednesday.
I had several invitations from friends to go out, but I begged exhaustion and promised I’d meet up with them later in the weekend. Instead, I ordered Thai food and watched The Office until I finally went to sleep in my bed, rather than on the couch.
I was woken abruptly by something smashing in my apartment and I sat bolt upright, scrambling for the .22 I kept in my bedside drawer. Lola was barking like crazy at my bedroom door, scratching at the handle and trying to get out.
“Who the fuck is there?” I yelled, swinging my legs out of bed and pushing Lola back with a sharp “stay.” I closed the door to my bedroom and started advancing towards the kitchen, heart pounding. When no one answered, I clicked off the safety and crept into the kitchen, the gun held before me.
“Holy shit.” I clicked the safety back on and let the gun fall, dashing over to where the one and only Frank Castle was bleeding on my kitchen floor, having thrown himself through my window.
“Frank, Frank, Frank, can you hear me? Come on, Frank.” I bent down and shook his shoulder, cupping his cheek in my hand and turning his head toward me.
“Ma’am.” He said weakly, coughing and spitting out something that sounded suspiciously like a tooth when it clattered to the floor.
“Frank what the fuck happened?” I was hysterical, pressing my hands over his body trying to find the source of the hot fountain of red oozing out of him.
“Shot. Left side.” Frank hissed, letting his head drop onto my thigh.
“No, no, come on baby you gotta stay awake.” I let the pet name pass without meaning to and shoved Frank’s shoulder. “Come on we gotta stop the bleeding.”
I sat back on my heels and counted out ten deep breaths, running my hands over Frank’s head in my lap. “Okay, okay. I’m going to go get my first aid shit you stay here and you DO NOT DIE ON ME FRANK CASTLE. You got that?”
Frank muttered a weak “yes ma’am” and I got up, sprinting to my bathroom where I opened my cabinets and started yanking out anything remotely resembling medical supplies. Lola was still barking and whimpering in my room, but I called “Lola, quiet, it’s all okay” and she immediately stopped. I loaded my arms up with clean towels and dashed back into the kitchen. Frank has managed to roll onto his right side and shrug out of his coat and I snatched the scissors from my counter.
“Okay, Frank.” I took another deep breath. “I’m gonna cut your shirt off okay?”
“Mhm.” Frank mumbled, turning his head to fix me with one half-shut eye. “It’s not deep, you gotta get it out.”
“Okay, okay.” I said hysterically. “I’ll get it out. Hold still.” I dug my shears into the material of his shirt and peeled back the fabric, biting back a sob when I saw the mess that was his left side. Scraped raw with bruises already forming, then there was the bullet hole, which was leaking more and more blood with every beat of Frank’s heart.
“Tell me what to do Frank, I’ve never done this before.” I said, trying to steady my voice. Frank took a deep breath and when he spoke, I was encouraged to hear his voice was stronger.
“Pour rubbing alcohol all over the area and get your tweezers disinfected.”
For the next twenty minutes, Frank coached me through extracting the bullet from his side, which made a satisfying clink as it dropped into the glass I’d put out for that purpose. Frank’s voice never faltered until the bullet was out and I told him I could handle the stitches and general bandaging on my own, at which point he let his head drop to the floor. I was sitting with my legs splayed, and once again I felt his hand wrap around my ankle as I dug the needle into his skin.
When I was finished stitching, I gently touched Frank’s face and asked if he wanted to take a bath since he was coated in dried blood and what appeared to be mud and gravel. He opened his eyes and started to sit up, saying “No ma’am you’ve done enough. I shouldn’t even be here. I’m gonna go.”
“What are you talking about?” I hissed, raising my hand to his chin and forcing him to look at me. “You can’t leave, you can’t even stand!”
“I shouldn’t be here. I’m putting you in danger.” Frank winced, pulling his face out of my grip.
“Oh shut up.” I said decisively, memories of Matt giving me the same speech flooding me. “You know, all you vigilantes are the same, always talking about how you’re putting the people around you in danger, but guess what? I knew what I was potentially getting into when I gave you my number at the gym, so I don’t want to hear that bullshit. Quite frankly, all I’d like to hear is the sound of your body getting into my bath so I can get all this blood off my goddamn floor!”
There was a moment of silence and I was worried for a split second that I’d pushed too far, but Frank smiled and shook his head.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good.” I said, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “Now how in the hell are we going to get you to the bathroom?”
“Just get on my left side and support me there.” Frank said, already starting to push himself up with the assistance of my kitchen counter. I ducked underneath his left arm and avoiding touching his side, let him wrap his arm around me and in a very slow, awkward hobble, we made it to the bathroom. Frank sat on the floor, leaning against the wall as I filled up the bathtub, and I could feel him watching me.
“What?” I finally said, turning off the taps and getting up to help him take off his shoes.
“When you said, ‘all you vigilantes are the same,’ it sounded like you’ve had some experience with uh, this sort of thing before.” Frank said, gesturing to himself.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to mention it, but your former lawyer, a one Matt Murdock, happens to be my cousin.” I said, crouching down and pulling off his left boot.
“No shit, Red?” Frank said wonderingly.
“Yep, the one and the same.” I said bitterly, removing his right boot and both his socks. Frank didn’t push any further, which I appreciated. “Pants?” I asked.
Frank blushed and started to undo the button on his black military pants and I had an opportunity to study his impressive torso. It was hard to ignore the muscles that rippled just beneath the surface of his scarred skin and I had to compose myself as he started to awkwardly shimmy his pants down his legs.
I sighed and once he’d maneuvered the pants down to his knees, pulled them the rest of the way off. So. Here was Frank Castle, sitting banged up and bleeding in my bathroom in his skivvies. I bit back a smile at the absurdity of the situation.
“Ready to get in?” I asked, not even bothering to ask about the boxers vs no boxers situation.
“Yes ma’am.” Frank grunted and with my help, managed to stagger to the side of the tub and slowly eased himself in. The bullet wound was high enough up so that it didn’t enter the water, which was a blessing because I had no interest in revisiting the bandaging experience anytime soon.
“Can I let Lola in?” I asked, just as another loud whine pierced the air from my bedroom.
“Shit yeah,” Frank breathed a sigh of relief, letting his head rest back against the tile of my bathroom wall.
I got up and let Lola out of the bedroom. She immediately went to the kitchen and investigated the scene, but Frank whistled low from the bathroom and she sprinted in there. When I got back after pouring myself a stiff drink, I found her standing up with her front paws on the rim of the tub, licking Frank’s face.
“Oh, gross, I hope you got the mud off of your face before you let my dog lick it!” I shrieked. Frank laughed and winced.
“I did, I did, I promise.”
I looked down into the filthy bath water and assumed it was true.
I told Lola to lie down and took a sip of my drink and when I caught Frank staring at the glass, offered it to him. He smiled and downed half the contents in one go.
“Well then, maybe I should get you your own!” I said, gazing ruefully into the nearly empty glass. Frank shook his head and when I stood up to go into the kitchen, caught the edge of my t-shirt and said, “will you stay, just for a minute?”
My heart melted and I perched myself on the edge of the tub, my fingers absentmindedly going to run through his hair.
“I’ll stay as long as you want.”
Frank closed his eyes and his breathing evened out. I watched the blood and filth slowly leach away from his skin and finished my drink. I let him be for about fifteen minutes then picked up a washcloth and started running fresh water so I could wipe off his shoulders and face. I let the washcloth run down his neck and onto his chest and he rumbled his satisfaction, which made me shiver. I finished cleaning him off as best as I could and told him I’d give him some privacy to do whatever else he wanted and to pull the plug when he was done.
I walked into the kitchen yawning furiously and groaned when I saw it was 4:30 am. Of course, I was intensely curious as to what Frank had been doing before he crashed through my window, but at the moment I could only summon enough brain power to throw away his ruined shirt, stuff his coat into a garbage bag, sweep up the shattered glass, and run some bleach wipes all over the floor where he’d been lying. The bloodstained towels, I stuffed into another garbage bag and chalked up to a loss.
When everything was relatively clean, I walked back towards the bathroom and knocked tentatively on the half-shut door.
“Can I come in?”
“Mhm.”
I pushed the door open and saw that Frank had managed to get out of the bath and wrap himself in one of my few remaining towels and was sitting on the rim of the tub. Lola was sitting next to him and when I walked in, they both looked up at me.
“So, what’s the game plan here?” I asked.
“Hateful Eight?” Frank cracked a smile.
“Why not.” I sighed. “It’s only 4:30 in the morning. Perfect time to watch a movie. Can we please just go to sleep?”
Frank stiffened slightly.
“Yes, in my bed. Sleeping. Like normal people, not on the couch.” I continued, moving towards him and hovering my hand over his shoulder. To my surprise, he leaned into my touch.
“Yes ma’am.” He whispered.
“Great.” I said, moving over to his left side and ducking under his arm again. He smelled good, like my soap mixed with his own clean and sharp smell, something slightly metallic. He stood up, holding onto the towel, and I was shocked to see how he was already moving much easier, barely leaning on me at all. I steered him in the direction of my bedroom and Lola raced ahead of us and jumped up on the bed. I helped Frank sit down and swing his legs onto the bed, and then we both suddenly realized that he was naked under the towel.
“Hang on,” I said. “I think I’ve got an old pair of boxers somewhere.” I couldn’t help but notice that Frank frowned very slightly when he heard this and my heart thudded once. I dug through my closet and emerged clutching a faded pair of grey Calvin’s. I went out into the kitchen one more time to give him some privacy and looked disparagingly at the gaping hole where my kitchen window glass used to be. “Shit.”
I turned off all the lights and went back into the bedroom, where Frank was already lying under the covers, Lola across his feet at the end of the bed.
“Sorry ‘bout your window, sweetheart.” He said quietly, his eyes half-shut. I chuckled softly.
“Definitely not the biggest concern of mine surrounding the events of this evening.” I shut off the overhead light and moved cautiously in the darkness to my side of the bed. I got under the comforter and immediately moved towards Frank’s warmth. He exhaled sharply as I carefully curled my body into the shape of his uninjured side and I felt his arm come around to rub my shoulder.
“Hey,” he whispered, and I tilted my chin up to look at him.
“Hi.” I whispered back, and then he kissed me. It was slow and lazy, his tongue tracing the line of my lower lip and his hand moving into my hair. I ran my hand over his chest, fingers exploring the dips and swells of his muscles and scars, feeling sparks explode in my brain as our mouths moved. When he pulled back, I moaned and he laughed softly.
“Plenty of time for that, sweetheart. Right now you need to sleep.” He pressed his lips to my forehead and I obediently closed my eyes, letting exhaustion carry me down, down, down.