Chapter 3
Karen Page rounded the corner into the bullpen of the Bulletin. It was 8 A.M. and the office was already bustling. Amid all the flurry of a typical Wednesday morning, something was off – the door to her office was open. While it’s not like she had anything to hide, or even anything private in there, it was still concerning. A million anxious “what-ifs” raced through her mind – what if Fisk had caught up with her, what if something had happened to Matt, or Foggy, or what if Ellison had changed his mind… She quickly pushed everything out of her mind and figured there was only one way to find out what was going on.
She shifted around the files in her arms and took a few deep breaths. No need to panic – it’s a crowded office first thing in the morning. Probably just an intern looking around for something, or Ellison waiting with more than a few words about her column for her… again. She had figured that after having her own column for the better part of a year, Ellison would have run out of critiques, but quite the opposite – he seems to have gotten tougher on her writing as time marched on.
Exhaling, she set off across the office; as soon as she stepped through the threshold, she was greeted by a face she usually saw on bus advertisements – Trish Walker. Puzzled at the radio personality sitting in her office, she opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but before she could say anything, Trish spoke first.
“Hi, Miss Page?”
“Uh, yeah. Can I help you?”
“I apologize for catching you off guard – your editor said I was welcome to wait in your office. My name is Trish Walker, I host a radio show – Trish Talk, we air every afternoon from twelve to two. We’re local, but nationally broadcast live. I read your work, and I think you have a great perspective. I came to ask you about the possibility of coming on the show.”
“Me? On the radio? Why – What would I talk about?”
“The station ran demographic polls, and my boss had the idea to give the discussion a boost by getting a news segment. I’m a fan of your column, your opinions, advice. If I have to have someone reading the newspaper to my listeners, I want someone smart who will give people what they need to know, straight up. Hit the headlines, point out the things people need to be paying attention to, tell them why they should care; five minutes each day.”
Karen sunk into the chair behind her desk – this was too much. First the column, which had morphed into daily advice with an opinion piece every Sunday edition, and now radio? Public speaking doesn’t really get any more public than that, she mused.
Trish continued in an earnest, no-nonsense tone, “Look, I know it’s a lot to consider, but I need someone, and I think your experience and background would be great for radio.”
Karen hesitated. Was this Ellison’s idea, talking her up, trying to promote the Bulletin, using her as a spokesperson – that wasn’t her at all.
“If it helps you decide, you’re welcome to come by the studio today or any afternoon this week and get a feel for the broadcast.” Trish unsnaps the outer pocket on her purse and extends a business card.
Karen props the card up against the base of her computer. “I’m still not sure that people will really care what I have to say – would I be taking calls on air?”
“Think of it as an extension of your work here at the Bulletin,” Trish started, thoughtfully leaning forward and resting her forearm on the chair armrest, “You’re a reporter, first and foremost, right? What I want you to do is report what people need to know – break down the facts and cut right to the heart of a story. I invite and moderate an on air discussion about current topics and issues relevant to everyday life; the more people who know the topics before, the more diverse the conversation. Your perspective on what’s important, your commitment to hard truth in reporting – I value that; it’s why I want you for this.”
“Thank you. I’ll think about it,” Karen conceded.
“You’re welcome at the studio, I’ll leave your name at the desk. Come by, take it in, think about it, please. I think you’d be a good fit for the show,” Trish said, rising from her seat and finishing her spiel.
“Thank you, I’ll let you know,” Karen shook her hand, and Trish smiled as she bid her a good day and left the office.
Karen, finally alone in her office for the first time today, sighed and leaned back in her chair. How was she always the one to get mixed up in things? Apparently anonymity in this impossibly large city was just wishful thinking. If Ben were here, he would tell her to use it to get the truth out there in the open. She thought about calling Foggy and asking his thoughts – he’d probably tell her to go for it, maybe she’d get famous out of the deal and get a fruit basket or something. Then he’d seriously tell her that she’s always looking for a way to change minds and get the truth out there, and this would be a great way to do it.
As she opened up her email and started to go through the questions and stories submitted to Paige Angel, she mulled over Trish’s proposal. She was content at the Bulletin, writing came easily for her, even if the ideas didn’t always come easily. Though, if she was perfectly honest with herself, there wasn’t that much work to keep her occupied at the paper. Ellison told her to just focus on her column and still wouldn’t give her a beat in addition to it, and any extra articles were usually handed off to an intern or whoever was lowest in the pecking order that week.
The truth is, she could use something else to occupy her time. Especially since Matt is still out of the picture and Foggy is usually too busy at his new firm to hang out much. If she does take the job, maybe that will give her an excuse to stay later at the office – not that she doesn’t already, despite the lack of work. She just…doesn’t want to go home; the feeling of being alone in that space, with nobody else around, it’s a little terrifying.
She navigates her email inbox and picks a question for tomorrow’s “Ask Angel” column: “BFFs in Brooklyn” has feelings for his best friend. How typical, and the plot of basically every romantic comedy. She rolled her eyes, though she had no room to talk; it’s a real dilemma: be honest about your feelings, or consumed by the terror of change. Seems like an easy choice to her: honesty, because she’s seen where keeping things from people you love ends up – you wind up losing them, one way or the other.
---
Karen shivered, suddenly extremely aware that she was leaning against the refrigerator door, holding it wide open, completely spaced out. She rolled her eyes, grabbed the carton of leftover lo-mein, and settled in on the couch. As she picked around the noodles with her chopsticks, her mind roamed back to thinking about Matt. Maybe it was time she forgave him, let him back into her life. As secure as she was in being independent and alone, truthfully, she was exhausted; weary of always being alone. She was friendly with her coworkers, with lots of people, but at the end of the day, nobody had ever been able to replace the gaps left when she fell out with Matt, and then Foggy distanced himself, which she understood.
Maybe I’ll just get a cat or something, she found herself thinking, they’re a lot less complicated than people. She snorted at the thought of replacing people in her life with cats – that was some crazy cat lady logic, thought the thought of Matt Murdock in cat form (Catt Purrdock?) actually caused her to laugh out loud at an embarrassingly loud volume.
Moving swiftly forward from her ridiculous thoughts, she thought back to the night in Matt’s apartment, they were prepping for the Castle trial. She hadn’t fully thought things through before she opened her mouth; she wasn’t sorry for saying what she thought, but more that he couldn’t understand how Frank stood by his methods, as violent as they were. Of course, in hindsight, knowing that she was talking to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, she was out of line to insinuate that the best way to save the city was by putting down the criminals – committing such a cardinal sin.
How do you apologize for something like that though – a difference of opinions that she had no idea at the time was so polarizing of an issue for him? How can she even reach out to start that conversation without things being awkward? Besides, the way she left things was…a little cold, to say the least. She had told Matt that until he could be completely honest with himself and the people in his life, that he had no right to call himself a friend, because Matt Murdock was incapable of being there when his friends needed him. It was harsh, but especially after the trial and all that aftermath – seemingly pretty accurate; and when he finally told her about being Daredevil, well, she was more than a little upset for keeping it from her.
Maybe even the devil deserves redemption, Karen thought, grinning. Because the truth is, she wants Matt back in her life, even if it means dealing with the devil. They were good together - whatever manner of gray area they fell into, they made it work, and she missed that.
Shaking her head in attempt to clear it of thoughts of Matt Murdock’s stupid face, she picked up her phone. With a few swipes of her finger, she found herself staring at number, accompanied by his face staring back at her from the screen. With any luck, she’d get his voicemail and wouldn’t have to face the prospect of babbling to Matt in real time.
What would she even say? She thought apologizing may be good start, but she had no idea. It would be easy to take the blame and smooth everything over, but she wasn’t really sorry for anything she said – not her views, certainly not for being honest. All she really knew was that she wanted Matt back in her life – no, she needed him back in her life. The reality was, the feelings were eating her alive, and she just wanted to make things right.
Outside her window, the sudden blare of sirens jarred her out of her thoughts and back to her apartment. Karen put down her phone – Matt was busy, too busy to deal with her right now. Maybe she’d call him during the day, offer to meet up for lunch or something. She leaned forward, grabbed the remote from the coffee table, and flicked on the TV. As long as Matt wasn’t on the news again tonight, she’d be good.
---
After giving her name at the front desk in the lobby of the communications broadcast building, Karen was led back to a small room control room with a large window into the equally small studio room. Trish, while listening to a caller, looked over at Karen and waved, beaming. Karen politely waved back, still not sure if she was entirely comfortable here. The woman in the control room offered her a chair and a set of headphones.
She sat and listened as Trish expertly navigated callers through a conversation about gun control in the city. Karen wasn’t sure she wanted to spend two hours every weekday listening to people be so unapologetic about their destructive opinions, but the halfway commercial break was coming up, and Karen would thank Trish for her consideration, and be on her way. She turned her attention back to the radio feed coming through her headphones, in which the conversation had shifted to discussing vigilantes – is that all anyone ever wanted to talk about these days? The caller was going on about how it’s a shame that lunatics are out on the streets and how terrible it was that Castle wasn’t immediately put down instead of captured. Karen nearly ripped her headphones off and walked out, but Trish cut them off and jumped right in with a rebuttal.
“It’s no secret that New York has a crime problem – with how accepting the city is of vigilante justice, wasn’t it just a matter of time before someone like Castle showed up and reminded everyone how dangerous that is? Yes, he kills bad guys, but the world isn’t divided into just right and wrong; people are not all good or all bad, as some would believe. Keep them off the streets and leave the enforcement to the cops, but realistically, the crime rate goes back up and more criminals roam free. So, which is worse out there, on the streets: criminals, or vigilantes?”
The switchboards sprung to life while she was talking, lit up like a Christmas tree. Her assistant started patching calls through – some agreed, some had venomous words for Trish, but she listened and stood her ground. Karen glanced at her phone wondering how much longer this was going to go on, when the door behind her flung open with a furious smack. Trish looked up and hastily wrapped to commercial break.
The interruption had come from an incredibly surly looking woman with dark hair – she burst into the studio leaving the door oddly ajar on its hinges, “What the hell, Trish?” She spat; their exchange was all fire, at least from her side.
“Jess, I’m running a talk show. And I have a guest. What’s this about?” Trish smoothed everything over – she must be incredibly used to these outbursts.
“Going after vigilantes? Trish, you’re going to paint a target on your back. Not only will people come after you, but bringing up Castle? What were you thinking?”
“Jess, you’re overreacting. It’s a talk show, and just because people get fired up about the topic does not mean that they’re going to come after me with torches and pitchforks.”
Wow. Trish was unshakable. She was right, but her cool demeanor was a bit astounding to Karen. “Are you going to fix my door and let me get back to my show now?”
Still fuming, she flashed a wicked smirk and rolled her eyes, “I thought fixing doors was your specialty, or is that just when they’re not your own?” She strode through the control room and out the door, leaving Trish sitting behind her microphone, shaking her head.
Karen tentatively poked her head through the door that wasn’t hanging quite right, not entirely sure she wanted to leave now.
“Sorry you had to see that – that would be my best friend Jessica – she’s a P.I., and a little over-protective,” Trish explained.
Karen half-smiled, “I understand over-protective. For what it’s worth, you don’t have anything to worry about with Frank. He’s … well, not harmless, but he’s okay.”
“Oh, shit. I had forgotten you were part of his defense. I’m so sorry, you must think-”
Karen waved her off, “No, no, it’s totally okay. I just have a different perspective than most people when it comes to him.”
Trish’s assistant gave her a thirty second warning to air time.
“Hey, listen, I know it’s fast, but would you mind joining me for the last half of the broadcast? You know him better than anyone, and it’s a chance to give people a different perspective, tell your personal experience with vigilante justice. I’ll steer you along the conversation so you can get a feel for it. Anything you don’t want to talk about, just wave me off and I’ll redirect.”
Terrified, Karen knew that if she left now, she was giving up any future radio opportunity. What the hell, she thought, as she nodded and picked up the pair of headphones on the desk across from Trish.
“Okay, your mic is live, just breathe, I’ll talk you through it. You’re going to be great.” Trish beamed as she slipped her own headphones back on and the “on air” light flicked back to a glowing red. “We’re back with the second hour of Trish Talk, and I have a guest in the studio with me – someone who has some insight for us on vigilantes and the Punisher. I’m here with New York’s own Paige Angel.”
She nodded to Karen. Karen leaned into the microphone, “Thanks for having me on today.”
Trish barreled right ahead with the questions, “Do you see New York City’s vigilantes as a threat?”
Breathe, Karen reminded herself, “Personally? No, Not at all. They save people, good people who have no one else to turn to. I’ve actually had several encounters with vigilantes – the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen has saved my ass more times than I really care to admit. I was also part of Frank Castle’s defense team.”
“You mentioned Frank Castle, the Punisher, what do you think of his way of going about achieving justice?” Trish asked of Karen, seeing she was relaxing a bit.
“Is he a threat to society? Maybe, sure, but so are a lot of things. You can’t deny that his methods, no matter how unbelievably brutal they seem, are effective. He was just trying to get justice for his family, despite his way of going about it, his motives were clear. He even goes out of his way to protect innocent people – Frank saved my life. I guess I just have a hard time believing that anyone who goes out of their way to save people, strangers, can be all bad. Like you said before, nobody is totally good or bad, we all exist somewhere in the gray areas in between. Vigilantes, they’re just trying to save the city in the best way they know how to. They’re not bad people – they’re actually ones with the best intentions, albeit some of the worst methods sometimes.”
That wasn’t so bad, now comes the waiting to get ripped apart by the callers, Karen mused. Thankfully, Trish took over a lot of it and went back to navigating the minefield of calls and opinions, until suddenly the voice through her headphones jarred her back into the conversation – She would recognize his voice anywhere. “Ma’am, those are awful kind words, but some people are beyond saving, especially if their methods are, as you put it, the worst.” It was Frank. Why was Frank listening – he knew she was here, was he following her? Karen’s eyes got wide. Scrambling for something to say, Karen gaped, speechless. Trish seized the opportunity, reading the situation perfectly, “Are you saying that motive doesn’t redeem any choices made, not even for the greater good?”
“I’m sayin’ that some people, like the Punisher, need to be left alone – they’re dangerous. Leave the vigilantes alone, they’re bad news, ma’am. Let whatever catch up with them when it does, they’ve made their choice, they knew the life going into it.”
Click. The line went dead.
Karen knew there was no point in asking for a caller ID – it would probably trace back to a pay phone, or a diner somewhere in the middle of New Jersey or something. Trish jumped right back into fielding calls and opinions – with the broadcast starting to wind down, Karen’s mind was racing. Did Frank know about her and Daredevil? Did he know about Matt? Wesley? Fisk? No, not the time or place, she thought, as she pushed all the different scenarios from her mind, though she still worried over Frank’s warning.
The constant barrage of callers kept going on about either rounding up the all the vigilantes and giving them badges or suggesting that the police gather them up and lock them all in jail – neither scenario was at all feasible, from her perspective. However, she had to hand it to Trish – she kept everything running smoothly and the show wound down without a hitch.
“Interesting points – but we are all out of time for today,” Trish spoke into her mic, cutting off a caller in the middle him saying something about Captain America being a secret HYDRA agent. “Thank you for joining me for Trish Talk, and again, a big thank you to my guest for the second hour, Paige Angel. You can read her daily column in the New York Bulletin,”
Karen wasn’t sure if she had the energy and mental capacity to listen to, to deal with this every day, but at least it was over, for now.
“You were great, a total natural. They’re not all that intense, usually it’ll just be the news,” Trish said, breaking into her thoughts. Just like that, the show was over.
Karen sighed, relieved, “Thanks, you’re the natural though,” she responded, “I just followed your lead.”
“So, will I see you back tomorrow, or have I scared you off for good?” Trish pressed.
Damn, she really wanted her on the air, for reasons unknown, Karen thought. “I still don’t know. I’ll let you know what I decide?”
Trish beamed, “You’re welcome back any time.”
--
Stepping out into the cool, balmy night air of the city, Karen leaned against the door of the Bulletin office and inhaled. It was a nice night, albeit a little late to be leaving work, even for her. As she slowly meanders down the sidewalk, stopping by Josie’s crosses her mind. She walks a few more blocks, mulling over the idea, and decides to at least walk past – it wasn’t that far out of the way, and the weather was mild. Karen slips down an alley – a shortcut she knew well, though it felt different. Outwardly unfazed, she casually slid her hand into her purse; shit – she didn’t have the .380 she had taken to carrying. She picked up her pace a little and nervously sped up, heels clicking against the pavement and echoing through the evening air. Nearing the sidewalk, she froze as she heard a pair of gunshots; a man in a hoodie rounded the corner and pushed his way past her. Before Karen could really process what was going on, she heard a soft clatter and turned to see Daredevil leap from the fire escape and take down the man at the other end of the alley.
Heart in her throat, Karen started towards the opposite end of the alley.
“Hey!” Karen called. Matt’s head whipped around, his hand gripping the front of the now-unconscious criminal’s jacket.
She could physically see Matt bracing, now standing only a few feet from the man she had been avoiding.
“Look, I’m sorry. I was…I don’t…” Karen was having a hard time finding the words she needed at that exact moment. Matt slowly moved forward, closing the gap between the two of them. She continued attempting to stumble over the apology she needed to get out, “That night, I shouldn’t have said –"
“Karen.” Matt finally spoke, cutting off her, “I’m the one who should be apologizing. This, all of this, is my fault. I should have…” his voice caught.
Karen was a little relieved that she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find the right words for this. She made a small noise and held up her hand to dismiss him. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” Matt responded, raw honesty in his voice.
“Can we not wait until shit happens,” she gestured at the man passed out on the concrete, “to talk again?” Karen asked.
“I’d like that,” the masked vigilante sighed, shoulders relaxing.
Karen took a half a step forward and reached out, gently touching his face, the warmth of his skin and the scruff of his beard prickling against her fingertips. Matt started to lean in closer, before he cocked his head slightly, and turned away.
“Sirens, probably responding to the disturbance,” he explained.
“Don’t be a stranger, okay Matt?” she practically whispered, before turning and hurrying to get out of the alley, leaving Daredevil standing alone as the sirens move closer.