The first day Frank Castle he was discharged from the hospital with a new identity and a new life ahead of him, he ended up hiding in an alley few blocks away from the building. He wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead. There was a twisting pain in his chest and he was suddenly caught in a momentary panic, worried if he just ripped his stitches again. It took him a few minutes for his heart rate to calm down, another few deep breaths for him to gather himself, to stand without feeling nauseous. He gripped the new identity card in his hand a little too hard, the word Pete Castiglione peeking out from between his fingers. This was his life now. A thirty-five years old man born and raised in New York, who owned a small shelter at the outskirt of the city. Pete was his new beginning now. No more murder and vendetta and mission he had to finish. A new life. In the form of a small card. He slipped it back into the wallet David gave him, his anxious eyes darted towards the oblivious passerby, a question in hung in his head.
How does a person learn to live a new life?
Aside from the stack of money David gave him, Frank Castle also held a small set of keys to his new home. Home. The words still felt foreign and used to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. But it was different this time. There was more. A little bit more warmth and hope blooming in his chest, sending a slight tingle that made him tensed up in anxiety. It was okay, he repeated in his head, pulling the hat lower to cover his face. He was okay.
New life, new person, new him.
.
His new home was two hours forty minutes’ drive away from Hell’s Kitchen, a decent sized house at the less populated area of Hudson. Frank stopped his car, courtesy of Madani, and looked out of the tinted window. The small shelter Madani mentioned earlier was not as small as he initially thought. It turned out to be a small farm next to his new house, with vast green pasture at the back. He gazed back at the brick red colored house, feeling tightness in his heart as he pushed open the car door. His boots made a crunching sound as he stepped on the gravel driveway.
“Madani, what did you do?” He mumbled to himself, a ghost of a smile flickered across his still gaunt face. He took in his surroundings, the crisp fresh air and the cool breeze of October provided an added comfort as he reached the wooden porch. Everything about the place was new, from the paint to the small pots of plants neatly placed on the steps of the porch.
He fished out the keys from his jeans pocket, hand shaking a little as he brought the tip of the key to the lock. But before he could slide it in, he froze, ears perking up in alert. There were faint footsteps behind him, the sound getting louder as it made contact with the gravel. No one was supposed to be here, he thought. His right hand slowly reached for the knife he hid in his combat boots, slowly turning around to face the intruder.
A skinny black mutt was trotting towards him, tail wagging excitedly at the prospect of newcomer and Frank, who not-so-secretly was a fan of dogs, couldn’t help smiling at the stray dog. He lowered his knife, sheathing it back into his boot and crouched down to the dog’s level, stretching his hand slowly, letting the dog sniff him.
“Are you lost, buddy?” He scratched the back of the dog’s ear, earning a happy bark. There was no collar around its neck and the dog seemed quite malnourished, judging by the protruding ribs and hipbones. He pushed back the anger at whoever abandoned the poor dog, focusing his attention on the mutt in front of him. The dog panted happily, licking his face as it jumped at him. Frank let out a small chuckle and pat its head before he stood up to open the front door.
“Come on, then.” He tilted his head with a small smile and the dog yapped happily before it ran inside, its feet making clicking noises as it sniffed every single object it laid its eyes on.
.
In the next two months, Frank found himself caring for the mutt, a female dog he named Max, an old horse he adopted from a couple who lived few miles away from his place, a dozen chickens, four cattle cows, and two stray cats who decided to live in his house with or without his permission. It was good, as weird as it sounded. But he busied himself caring for the animals, collecting eggs and milk, and making his way to the Millers, lovely couple who were more than happy to help him sell the eggs and milk at their small market stall downtown. He used the money to buy groceries, some clothes, and a recipe book. He spent the rest of his days cleaning up the barn, stacking hays and feeding the animals before he took a hot shower and slept for decent hours for the first time in years.
Some days, when he felt a little too alert and tense, he would stay in the kitchen, reading recipe books and attempting to recreate the foods. David and Curtis visited him every weekend, eyes a little brighter and smiles a little wider at the sight of their best friend standing in the kitchen with a small pot and confused frown.
“It’s not going to cook itself.” David commented. He had been watching Frank staring–no–glaring at the chicken for the past ten minutes. Frank turned to him with a glare that would make other people cower, and let out a sigh.
“Fuck you, Lieberman.”
“You need a hand with that?” Curtis laughed good-naturedly before he stepped into the kitchen.
It took them another two hours to get the food ready, but they couldn’t care less. Frank was laughing and there were little sparks of hope blooming in their chest as they watched their best friend live his new life.
.
Madani visited him once, a week after he moved in. She came in with a tight-lipped smile on her face and a basket of fresh fruits. David, too ecstatic to care, quickly walked past her, grinning excitedly as he made comments on interesting stuff Frank had bought downtown.
“You bought a cactus?” David gleefully asked, picking up a small pot of succulent from the windowsill of the kitchen.
“I bought five.” Frank deadpanned, willing himself not to blush in embarrassment.
“It’s nice.” Madani spoke up, her posture less tense than she was when she walked into his house. Her eyes roamed around the living room, taking in the warm and homey ambience. “I hope you like this place. I asked them to give you the best place for you to live. You deserve some quiet and peace after what happened.” She continued.
Frank nodded, boots scuffling against the wooden floor. He rubbed the scruff on his jaw and gave Madani a tilted smile. “It is. Thank you.”
“I’m glad you like it.” She said. “I brought you some… things as well.”
At her sudden hesitation, Frank perked up. He watched Madani took out a small phone from her bag and set it on the kitchen table. “I have a laptop for you to use as well, and David said he wants to help install the wireless connection for you. You don’t have to use them,” she paused, “but it’s there if you need them.”
Frank Castle looked away from Madani’s contemplative gaze, hoping she wouldn’t catch the longing in his eyes.
.
He dreamed lot. He dreamed of the colorful cotton candy at fairs he went to when he was still a little boy, of the bright sun on a summer day, of the woman with long blonde hair and eyes as blue as the sea. Never the deaths. Not anymore. There were occasional nightmares, where he would wake up drenched in sweat, hand gripping the combat knife under his pillow a little too hard, Max sitting next to him in worry. Nowadays, his dreams were filled with one person and one person only. It had been twelve months since he left Hell’s Kitchen, thirteen since he last saw her. He had come to term with not seeing her face again, feeling the warmth of her embrace, the softness of her skin. She deserved better anyway, he told himself as he got off the stool to open his door for an unannounced guest (probably David, who tended to pop up anytime he wanted).
Frank couldn’t breathe. She was there. Not a dream, he frowned. She was still blonde with blue eyes filled with fiery spirit and gentleness that made his heart hurt. Her lips were curled into a hesitant smile and Frank fought the urge to pull her into a hug, or a kiss. No. It wasn’t the right time.
“Karen?” The name slipped out of his lips before he could stop himself.
“Hey, Frank.” She greeted, eyes glancing at Max, who yapped happily at the prospect of a new friend. She turned back to Frank a moment later, gaze a little warier at his silence. “Cute dog.” She finally said, wincing at the awkward tone of her voice.
And just like that, the tension between them disappeared. Karen mumbled a tiny curse under her breath, cheeks tinted pink. Frank let out a breathy chuckle and opened the door a little wider. His heart beat a little faster as she looked up at him, hopeful and curious.
“Do you… Do you want to come inside?” He asked her. “I’ve got that tea you like so much.” Frank added with a hint of blush on his cheeks. He could kill a person six ways to Sunday and still turned into a giant pile of nervous mush in front of her.
Before he could take back his words, a warm smile bloomed on Karen’s face and Frank, in his all plaid shirt and lumberjack aesthetic glory, felt his muscles relaxed, letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Yeah. Tea sounds nice.”
.
He boiled some water on the stove while Karen wandered around the living room, Max trailing behind her. She ended up sitting on the couch few minutes later, hands gently brushing Max’s soft fur while she watched Frank prepared the tea. A wave of emotion came over her all of a sudden. Frank, so domestic and so much happier than she had last seen him, with that small shy smile and twinkling eyes, was standing in the middle of the kitchen, making her a nice cup of tea. And it was just too much. And Karen, unable to hold her composure, quickly looked away from the kitchen, blinking back the tears threatening to come out.
“You okay, ma’am?” His gruff voice came from behind her and Karen turned to see his face filled with worry and concern.
“Yeah.” Karen nodded, sniffling a little. She took the cup from Frank, basking in the warmth it brought her while Frank sat on the single couch in front of her.
The silence that followed was not unwelcomed. The last time they saw each other, everything was too loud, her ears were ringing after the explosion and her whole body ached. There were still too many things left unsaid and Karen itched to blurt out questions after questions. But she bit back her tongue, and sipped on her tea instead, eyes fixed on him thoughtfully.
It was Frank who spoke first. His voice was still gruff with a nice low timbre that made her feel all sort of things. He was staring at the green pasture outside the window where his horse was grazing peacefully.
“I still read your work. Still talented and reckless as always,” Frank turned to her, lips pressed into a thin line and Karen would’ve laughed and kissed him if things were different. “You just have to write about those damn Morettis, don’t you?”
Karen didn’t miss the pride laced in his voice and she smiled smugly at him. “You know me.”
“I do.” His voice softened and she swore her heart skipped a beat or two. “I know how stupid you can be.”
Karen laughed at his reply. He was grinning at her as he spoke the words. She didn’t need anyone’s approval, never did and never will. But boy it was good to see the proud smile on Frank’s face when she told him about her next piece of work. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled widely, chuckling every so often at her story.
“I’ve missed you, Frank.” Karen said once she finished her now-cold tea. She leaned forwards to set the cup down and reached out her hand towards him. A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips when he took her hand in his.
“I dreamed about you.” Frank told her. He raised his free hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a simple gesture that felt so intimate. It reminded her of the little farewell in the elevator, the tiny promise and the kiss they almost had.
“Was I wearing a nice dress?” She asked cheekily, beaming proudly when he chuckled.
“Yeah. Yeah you were.” He nodded. His hand was still near his cheeks and she leaned in a little to the touch. Frank looked a little surprised before he relaxed again. “I don’t want to be selfish.” He added after a while and Karen knew what he meant. So she did what he told her years ago at the diner. She held on to him with her two small hands, eyes bright with fresh tears as she cupped his face.
“You should, Frank.” Her voice broke at the end. “I know I am.”
Frank seemed to mull over her words for a moment. Karen didn’t miss the slight redness of his eyes when their eyes met again nor the smile that appeared on his face like sunshine after the rain. He was so beautiful, so warm, and gentle and so Frank. He leaned in a little and Karen tilted her head upwards, lips touching his oh-so-gently.
“I heard they have a little festival downtown tonight.” Karen whispered. “Do you want to go with me?”
Frank didn’t say anything. He just pulled her into a proper kiss. It felt like home and everything she dreamed about and more.
She considered it as a yes.