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Frank was an asshole. An inconvenient asshole.
He knew Matt couldn't go out in the day all dressed up in his red kevlar, he knew it would draw too much public attention. So, of course, it's during the day that Frank does most of his 'work'. Work which Matt wouldn't even know about, if it wasn't for the aggravating phone calls to the office.
"Nelson and Murdock, attorneys at law, this is Murdock speaking. How can I help?"
"Just thought you oughta know I'm takin' down some corrupt government scientists today. I'd tell you the address for you to join me, but I think you're a bit busy with work, aren't you, choirboy?"
Frank hung up before Matt could even think of a threat, leaving the younger seething in the confines of his tiny office. This was the fifth goddamn time this month, and Matt was sick of it. So sick of it, in fact, that he decided to fuck the rules he'd made for himself. It was time Daredevil made his first day-time appearance.
By the time he had gotten home, suited up, and was primed on his favourite rooftop spot to listen for Frank, it was exactly 53 minutes before sunset. He could tell the light of day was already dimming as he heard the click and thrum of more and more people turning on their lamps or lights. But still, Matt felt an extra thrill at being out geared up when it wasn't pitch black outside.
He listened, concentrating as hard as he could, turning this way and that, pacing around the rooftop, trying to catch any sign of Frank Castle in the sea of people that surrounded him, until, finally, he picked up on a familiar sound; The Punisher in pain.
Without hesitation, Matt turned on his heel, and ran.
-~-
He came to a stop on the roof of a large warehouse. Inside, he picked up seven heartbeats, including Frank's, which was beating rapidly, too rapidly considering Matt knew his heartrate didn't even flutter when he shot a man close-range.
"Dammit, Frank, what have you gotten into." Matt growled to himself.
On his way, he hadn't concentrated on the faint words being exchanged between Frank and his captors, too focused on Frank's heartbeat, on getting to Frank and saving his reckless ass. Now, though; he needed context.
"There we go, that wasn't so bad, was it?" One man spoke, voice high and lilting, patronising.
"Go fu' y'self." Frank. Voice soft and slurred. Drugged? Perhaps the only way they could have taken him down.
The man laughed, as though he genuinely found Frank's cursing funny, "That last injection should spark you back up in no time. Although, you're a bit bigger than our usual test subjects. Older, too. Hm..."
"I could give him another dose, sir."
"Yes. Yes, one more. What harm could it do, right?" And there was that laugh again, and Matt wanted to be sick. He needed to get to Frank, now, before the effects of whatever they were doing to him were irreversible.
Fighting six people would take too much time. He needed a distraction.
Matt has never really been good with distractions.
What began with a pair of pliers, a wastebin full of paper, a battery, and a strip of foil ended with the entire warehouse's power being shut down and a fire of considerable size burning through their filing cupboard. Matt managed to get Frank out within ten minutes, only needing to punch one asshole in the jaw on his way.
What the head scientist (Dr Wright, Matt had learned) had said before had been true; whatever they had last injected into Frank's blood stream did indeed 'spark him up'. Frank seemed to be radiating energy, heart fluttering incessantly, breathing fast and hard. Matt had been expecting to need to carry Frank out of there, but instead, it was Frank who scooped Matt up over his shoulder and carried him, sprinting out and running and running until Matt couldn't keep up with where they were.
Eventually, Frank slowed enough for Matt to get his bearings; they were still in Hell's Kitchen, that much he was certain. Close enough to Times Square that he could hear the electric hum of the billboards, and high enough that the wind didn't carry any strong underlying scents of street food and smoke.
"42nd and 10th?" He guessed, still slung over Frank's shoulder.
Frank grunted, as though surprised he was still holding the masked vigilante, and set him down gently, "You're good."
"I've been told." Matt muttered, taking a moment to shake the feeling back into his limbs before remembering, "They gave you something. We need to get you to a hospital, or Claire, before it-"
But Frank was huffing out a laugh and pacing to the edge of the roof, sitting down with a sigh, "I'm fine, Red. Harmless, they told me. It'll wear off."
Matt shook his head slightly, confused, "What will wear off? Is it some kind of strength, adrenaline booster? 'Cause you ran-"
"Truth serum." Frank interrupted, and had his voice always been that... wistful? "They were gonna ask me questions. About you, about that Jones lady and her boyfriend. About anyone I knew with abilities."
"Shit, Frank- We gotta stop them, gotta destroy this- this serum-"
"Can't," Frank interrupted, again, "The serum wears off, but only after I've exhausted it. Only after I've told the truth about things. Don't know how many."
Matt sighed, pacing over to Frank and crouching down next to him, "Then we need to exhaust it. I'll ask you questions, you answer, and when you can lie again, we'll go back and take them down. Together."
Frank leaned closer to him, and Matt could hear the smile as he spoke, "Together. Fire away, Red."
It was so unlike Frank to be so... pliant. It was like he was drunk, or high, smiling at nothing. His heart was still beating unnaturally fast, but it was a beat that remained steady, and Matt decided he could let his guard down, a little bit. He settled next to Frank on the rooftop before unclipping his cowl and removing it, setting it to the side. Sunset would be in approximately 4 minutes.
"What day is it?" He asked, laughing at Frank's answering groan.
"You gotta ask the boring ones? Tuesday May 3rd, two-thousand sixteen."
"Where are we?"
"If you don't start getting creative, choirboy, you'll be six feet under in no time." Frank huffed, "On top of some shitty hotel on 42nd street and 10th avenue, Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan Island, New York, America, North Ame-"
"Okay, okay, I get it! Fine. What- Has the sun started to set yet?"
Frank shifted slightly next to him, "Yes."
"Are there- is it cloudy?"
They were so close together that Matt could feel the way Frank twisted round, head tipped up, examining the sky, "A li'l. But only the wispy ones, sky's mostly clear."
Matt worried his lower lip, beginning to paint a picture in his mind; it had been so long since he'd seen the sky, "What's it look like? The sky? The sunset?"
"...Blue."
Matt sighed, and was about to prompt Frank to go further, when the elder continued, "But, it's, like... gradient, y'know? It's darkest in the East, behind us, not a cloud in sight, just an open sky of smooth, deep blue. It's... peaceful. If I could touch the sky, right there, it would be cool and silky. Y'know? And then over us, it gets a bit lighter, and the clouds start bleeding in. The way the sun's cutting through the horizon makes 'em look purple. Weird that, ain't it? Purple clouds. Of all the colours of the rainbow the particles of water could cling to, it clings to purple."
Frank pauses, shifting around again on the hard rooftop edge, before murmuring quietly, "Purple was Junior's favourite colour, last time I checked."
Again, Matt had hardly the time to open his mouth before Frank was ploughing on, leaning back on his palms, "Then we get to the West, and this is where the sky gets more interestin'. The clouds here are kinda pink, kinda orange. Peachy. They look... warm. Bright. Like the feelin' you get when you make someone you love laugh for the first time, how that pride fills you up inside, makes you feel content, warm, safe. The sky behind them is bright, too, bright, bright blue, and then it fades, turns hot white, and then- Oh, Matty, then we get to the horizon. And it's completely ablaze, golden, fiery, spreadin' out everywhere. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Midas had gotten his hands on that horizon, it's gold is so pure. I wish you could see it. It's fuckin' breathtaking."
Matt sucked in a shuddering breath, the perfect image of what the sky currently looked like overwhelming him, making his eyes sting and his throat close up.
"Yeah." He replied, breathless, "I can imagine."
They're quiet for a long time after that, Matt trying to pull himself together, it was just a shitty little description of the sky, dammit, and Frank not pushing, not pressing Matt for more questions. Until eventually, Matt opened his mouth, aiming to ask something like, "What does the building look like?" But instead, what came out was;
"What do I look like?"
He had felt his own face, of course. He knew his features better than anything, and people told him he was good-looking (Foggy more than anyone), but still... He wanted to hear it from Frank. Wanted the truth.
Frank was silent, frozen, but his heartrate remained the same, slow and steady, "...Red-"
"Please." Matt whispered, turning to face Frank.
With a huff, Frank also turned towards Matt, taking a moment before murmuring, "I don't call you Red 'cause of your dumbass costume."
Matt blinked, confused yet again, and Frank continued, voice still soft and quiet, "I call you Red 'cause- 'cause your lips always look fuckin' kiss-bitten, cherry red. Even in the dark on the roof that first time, they looked so damn rosy, thought you were wearing lipstick or somethin'. And you don't even know, do you? You don't even know the sight you make. You're- damnit, Red, you're beautiful. You're one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen. But you got this- this cheeky thing about you, the way you smirk, tilt your head, laugh. It's endearing as much as it is frustrating. Makes me want to- I dunno. And whenever I see you, if you're wearing your glasses or that... helmet thing, man, I just wanna tear it off, 'cause I fuckin' love your eyes. First time I saw 'em, I fell right into 'em, like fallin' into a glass of warm whiskey. They're hazel, with a ring of black around the edge, going from soft brown near the iris out to green, and I've never seen eyes like yours before, never so... unique. If I could hold you and look into those eyes, I would, for hours, for weeks- hell, forever, and I'd be happy. 'Cause you know what they say; eyes are the windows to the soul, and Matt, your soul is as breathtaking as that sunset. More so."
Matt choked out a soft sob that sounded a lot like Frank's name, unable to stop tears from streaming down his flushed cheeks. The elder moved, draping one arm around Matt's shoulders and pulling him close, the other coming up to gently brush away the tears, "Man, if you're cryin' at this, I hate to think what your reaction to well written poetry would be."
Matt laughed, wet and giddy, "Shut up." And then, to divert attention away from the fact that Frank had just made him cry, he asked, "What about you? What do you look like?"
Frank simply grunted, hand dropping away from Matt's face as his heartrate skipped a beat, and it was then Matt noticed it was no longer fast and fluttery, so did that mean- "I'm nothin' much. Nothin' like you. You're better off not knowing."
His heartrate remained steady throughout speaking, which meant the elder genuinely believed what he had said.
"Frank-"
"I think it's worn off now." Frank interrupted, pulling away from Matt and standing. "We should go."
Matt hesitated, wanted to argue, wanted to tell Frank he thought he was beautiful, too, but knew that it would be wasted breath. Frank hadn't loved himself for a long time, he was unlikely to change now, just because Matt thinks differently. Sighing, the younger pulled the cowl back into place and stood.
"Alright. Lead the way."