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The way Karen touches him, Frank can almost believe he can start over. He can almost believe that he can be a different man, a better man.
For her, he wants to.
But every night, all their faces come back to him in his dreams and he wakes sharply, remembering every bloody memory, every brutal fight, every life he took. He’s still that man. He’s still the Punisher, hard as he’s trying to find whatever else he can be now.
Karen’s hand smooths over his chest as she wraps herself around him. She doesn’t ask him what he dreamed about. She doesn’t say a word.
All she does is trail her fingers over his bare skin. Sometimes her fingertips catch on a roughly healed scar, but she doesn’t shrink away from him. If anything, she holds him closer.
And every night, Frank feels his heartbeat slow, feels his breathing sync up with hers. Every night, she soothes him back to sleep with the gentle touch of her hands.
As he fades back into the weight of sleep, he wonders if his scars will fade under her fingertips. There’s something magic about her, something deep and powerful in his connection to her that should terrify him, but it doesn’t.
In the morning, when he wakes to find all his scars still there, it doesn’t bother him. Karen is still curled against him, warm and soft against his back, and when Frank turns to face her, her face splits into a wide smile. She nuzzles her face against his chest and he squeezes her close.
He doesn’t deserve her, but he’s going to try.
For her, he’ll do whatever he has to.