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Frank Castle hated being too late, more than anything else, maybe. He’d been too late too many times, now, lost too many of the people he loved because he simply hadn’t moved fucking fast enough.
After he heard Karen’d been taken off the street—news travelled fast in the city, and Frank knew where and how to listen, now—he’d thought he’d be too late again. The world focused diamond sharp behind his eyes, everything going cold and clear and obvious as he crossed the city, trying not to close his eyes so he didn’t have to see the images that rose from the twisted pit of his imagination.
He found the place where they were keeping her—the last of a whole row of apartments, abandoned after some kind of chemical spill—and his heart tripped over in his chest, but his hands stayed steady. The first man Frank came to was talking to one of his buddies, laughing, “Hope they leave some for us, you know what I’m saying?” He grabbed the front of his pants.
Frank stepped around the corner, snugged the barrel of his gun against the base of the man’s skull, and squeezed the trigger.
The other man never got the chance to scream.
There were less than a dozen of them, all told. Still too many for such a small place. They got in each other’s way, trying to get away from him.
And there was Karen.
Still alive.
Frank didn’t bother listening to the man who held her. He dropped the sack of trash and watched Karen stumble and his—and he managed to take a breath all the way into the bottom of his lungs, even as she struck out at him, her gaze unfocused and unseeing, right up until she realized who held her.
And then she looked relieved.
#
Anyone woulda been relieved, Frank reminded himself, over and over, all of the way out of the city, to his cabin, through patching her up, even after she fell asleep again, her hair fanned out across his pillow. Karen woulda been happy to see whoever came through that door with the intention of getting her out of there. He just happened to be the first, and what the fuck was up with that, anyway? Red’d dropped the ball there, maybe Frank would need to have a talk with him, give him some pointers, help—
Karen made a sound in her sleep and shifted restlessly. Frank shushed her and smoothed his palm back over her forehead, avoiding the goose egg over her left temple. Her hair was greasy and lank. He straightened the fall of it, humming under his breath and inspecting the lines of her face.
Not too bad. She’d heal. She was all in one piece. Her face was all—all whole, still. And the point was, the point was that she’d have been glad about anyone coming to get her out of there. Didn’t have anything to do with it being him, and he knew that, he did. You get zip-tied to a chair and have the hell beat out of you, you’re happy even if it’s a dead man that comes for you. Just how it is. Human nature.
She twitched, her fingers gripping at his wrist even in her sleep.
“Sh,” he murmured, stroking his thumb across her cheek. “Sh, sh, I got you. You’re okay.”
#
Karen didn’t sleep as long as she needed to. Pills wore off, probably. She started stirring around and cracked her eyes open before the sun peeked up. He cleared his throat. “Morning, ma’am.” Better for her to know where she was right away. Mind played tricks when you first woke up, especially after it’d been knocked around a bit.
Karen’s eyelashes fluttered. She managed to focus on him on the first try. Good sign. That was a good sign. She said, “You’re still here.” Her voice had gone hoarse and thin. Screaming did that. Lots of screaming. Strained the vocal chords. Frank’s fingers twitched.
“Course I am. Said I would be. Besides.” He lifted his arm slightly. She’d maintained her grip through the night.
She pulled her hand back, red staining along the purple and black that already covered her cheeks. His wrist felt cold. “Oh. Oh, sorry. I’m—I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay.” He stretched his neck from side to side and rose to his feet. One of his legs had fallen asleep. Pins and needles prickled under his skin. She looked up at him from the cot, her hair falling over her shoulder. She twisted her fingers into the blankets, picking at a worn spot on the fabric. He shook his head and dragged his hand back over his scalp. “I’m gonna—I got some food out there. And, uh coffee.”
Karen’s stomach rumbled, loud enough for him to hear it. She dipped her gaze down. “That sounds great. T-thanks.”
He nodded and got stuck in the motion. “Okay. Alright, good.”
She didn’t call him back when he left the room. He tried to shake off the itch at the back of his neck, checked the rigging on the window and the door—everything was all set and sound. The cabin didn’t have a fridge, nothing like that. Barely had electricity. But he had field rations, lots of them, plenty of bottled water and instant coffee, disgusting shit that it was. Worse cold even than it was hot, but it was better’n nothing.
He mixed it up and spun around when one of the loose floorboards creaked.
Karen leaned against the wall, one of her arms curled around her ribs. She raised her other hand and managed a small smile. “Don’t shoot,” she said.
Frank frowned. “I wouldn’t.”
Her smile shrank a little and shifted to something softer. She said, “I know,” and shuffled further into the room, back over to the couch. He shook his head. Good sign that she was walking on her own and seemed to have her balance mostly back. He’d been worried about her knee, the left one, all swollen and ugly, but if it was taking her weight, it was probably okay.
He gathered the food and brought it over, holding out the piss-poor excuse for coffee first. She sipped it and grimaced, before glancing up at him and humming, “Mm.”
“Not exactly Starbucks, or whatever, yeah?”
She shook her head, her nose crinkling up. “It’s, uh, it’s fine. Thank you. Are you gonna, gonna sit? Or just…?” She gestured. He was looming, probably. Always had a problem with that. He sat on the other side of the couch and spread out the food on the small table in front of it.
“You can take whatever you want.”
No one should have looked so grateful to eat that crap. Karen peeled open a meal and started stuffing food into her mouth. He watched out of the corner of his eye, stirring his own coffee into being to give his hands something to do. She glanced up at him after a moment and blushed again. She said, “I haven’t—it’s been a while. Since I ate.”
“It’s okay. I got plenty.”
After a moment he picked up a ration of his own. Didn’t really taste them anymore. They were just calories, fuel to keep him going. The wind blew hard outside, rattling the walls. Karen shivered and jerked her head up. He touched her shoulder, un-thinking, and then drew his hand back. He said, “No one’s getting in here. Don’t worry.”
“Yeah.” She smiled with half of her mouth, turning the cup around in her hands. “Um. Is there, uh, a bathroom? Here? Anywhere?”
He deadpanned, “I got a bucket,” just to see the way she tried to keep her expression from twisting up. He snorted a laugh and smiled—wondered if that was ever going to feel normal again. He jerked his chin down the hall. “Straight back that way. Water runs, but don’t expect it to get hot. Take your time.”
She stood and brushed off her skirt. He wondered if she was worried about crumbs or wrinkles. Lost cause on both fronts. And she stood there for a moment, until he glanced up at her. She said, “Thank you.”
He stared at the wall for a long time after she limped down the hall.
#
Frank was in the midst of cleaning the guns he’d brought along to get her out of that shithole when she came back. Her hair hung in a wet braid over her shoulder. She’d cleaned most of the blood and dirt off of her face and neck and arms. There were wet splotches on her shirt. Must have tried to get the blood out of the fabric. Probably a lost cause, especially with the white cloth. She looked around the room and then sat beside him on the couch. Wasn’t really anywhere else to take a load off. She leaned her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. He eyed her, the line of her throat, jerked his gaze away, and asked, “Feel better?”
She laughed.
Something stirred in his chest. He cleared his throat. “You know how to do this?” He gestured with the gun.
“Oh. Yes.”
He raised his eyebrows at her in question and reached for a different firearm, offering it out to her along with a rag. She took it after a moment. He listened to the whisper of the rag over the barrel, glanced over and got his attention caught by her fingers. Her knuckles were all scraped up. She asked, shaking him out of his head, “Aren’t you going to ask why, uh, why they took me?”
Frank shrugged. “I heard.”
She scoffed and bent her head down.
“Sure it wasn’t the whole story, ma’am. But. Enough of it. You been checking out Marceno’s operation. Brought the heat down on him, yeah?” He shrugged again.
Silence stretched between them for a moment. Karen started bouncing one of her legs, sniffed and dragged the back of her hand across her nose. She said, “You know what the worst part is?” He hummed. “It doesn’t even matter, you know? None of the, the legitimate research I did. It’s—he’s dead now, so who’s going to care about the people he hurt? I just…” She put the gun down and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders quaked. Frank stared, started to reach out, to put a hand on her back, and caught himself. Dead to her, he reminded himself. This, all of this, was just her still in shock. He wouldn’t take advantage of that.
He said, trying to find the right words, “He won’t hurt anyone else.”
“No thanks to me.”
He winced. “That’s…. Ma’am—”
“I need to get back to the city.” She stood quickly and then swayed, but steadied herself before she lost her balance. She crossed her arms over her chest, looked at him and then quickly away. Her face was all blotchy. “Please. Can you drive me back, or, or call me a cab, or…? Shit, my phone, I need to…” She trailed off, taking her bag when he handed it to her and digging around through it. He stood and went looking for coats while she cursed at her dead battery. He was surprised she’d stayed as long as she had. He handed her one of his heavy, spare jackets and she froze, looking up at him. Her shoulders dropped, just slightly. She whispered, “Thank you.”
He shrugged and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just so you know, I ain’t got shoes that are gonna fit you.”
She laughed, small and surprised. He watched her pull his jacket up her arms, watched her zip up, hiding the bloodstains on her clothes. She had runs up the sides of her stockings. “That’s okay. I’m sure we’ll manage.”
#
They stayed quiet on the drive back. The rest of the world was still waking up. Commute was just about in full swing by the time they reached the city proper. Karen leaned her head against the window and he watched her as the traffic started and stopped, allowing them to creep closer and closer to another goodbye. Frank tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and ignored the ache in his guts.
She’d gotten a new place, moving out of the bullet ridden walls he’d been familiar with. She didn’t comment when he found his way to her new lodgings without the need for directions. Frank parked as close as he could get and cut the engine. Karen grabbed the door handle, but didn’t pull it. She stared out the window while he watched her. She took a deep breath, wincing at the end of it. His fingers twitched. He gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“Frank…”
And tighter.
Here it was, he knew. Where she’d need to remind him where they stood. He looked away, out the windshield. Wasn’t a complete masochist, after all. He delayed it. “You want me to come up? Just make sure things are…?”
“Uh.” He risked a glance at Karen. She looked away when he looked towards her. “Yeah, that’s, I mean… I have real coffee, so.”
Frank’s mouth curled, involuntarily. “Well, alright then.”
Karen pushed her door open. She stepped out and the wind caught her hair, snapping it like a flag. Frank followed her, through the entrance of her building and up two flights of stairs, wonderfully empty of other people at this time in the morning. She dug in her purse for her keys and let them in. The furniture looked the same. The lights were all off. Frank touched her elbow and stepped past her, clearing the rooms quickly. All empty.
He found Karen standing in the kitchen in front of the coffee pot, biting her lip. Her bruises looked worse in the kitchen lights. Frank stopped in the doorway. His boots were filthy on her floor. He winced and said, “It’s, uh, it’s all clear.”
She looked over her shoulder, hair sliding down over the back of his jacket. “Good. That’s, um. The coffee’ll be just a second, okay?”
Frank bobbed his head, rubbing the back of his neck. He should sit down, or… or maybe not. The apartment smelled like vanilla and lemon cleaner. It wasn’t a place for him. “Here,” Karen said, offering out a steaming mug. Frank mumbled a thank-you and they stood there, facing each other, cradling cups of slowly cooling coffee.
She looked down after a moment, scratching one of her nails across the ceramic, and said, “Frank…”
He grimaced. Inevitable. This was inevitable. Just was. Best to get it over with. Nothing to be gained by putting it off. He swallowed a huge gulp of burning coffee. Wouldn’t be sticking around once this was done.
Frank startled when she touched his arm, her fingers cold against his skin. He jerked his head towards her. She bit her lip and said, “Thank you.” She slid her hand down his arm and squeezed the back of his hand. He sucked in a breath and held it. He felt his pulse in his ears. “You should, um, I mean…” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, tilted her face up to the ceiling. “I was wrong,” she said, finally, and opened her eyes and kept staring at the ceiling, like she could see right through to the sky. Her mouth crooked up, it didn’t look happy. “Maybe we don’t, ah, don’t get to decide when someone is dead to us.”
“You, uh…” Frank licked his mouth, trying to ignore the fidgeting urge in his bones, glancing to one side and the other. “You sure?”
Karen laughed softly and took her hand off of his. “I’m sure.”
He nodded. They drank the rest of their coffee in quiet and she yawned then, so widely that her jaw popped. Frank shook himself. “I should go.”
Karen widened her eyes. “Oh, right. Right. You probably have…” She waved a hand.
“Yeah.” He at least had to do some checking about Marceno. Find out if he had any lieutenants left that were likely to cause Karen any trouble.
“Okay.” They shuffled their way to her door and stood there, almost-but-not-quite too close, or not close enough. He reached towards her arm and stopped.
“I’ll just.”
“Yeah.” Karen laughed, shook her hair back, and met his gaze.
He nodded and grabbed the doorknob. Didn’t want her thanking him anymore. Not when he shoulda been there sooner in the first place. He let himself out and stood outside, listening to make sure she locked the door. And then he took the stairs, quick and quiet, heading out the door and around the building, where he scaled the side of a neighboring apartment, reaching the roof in time to look through the window as she leaned against the door and slid down it, pressing her hands over her face. He watched her shoulders shake and turned aside.
Some things he wasn’t meant to see, recently resurrected or not.