Chapter Text
“HO-HO-HO!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS!”
Karen almost falls backwards.
She thrusts out her right hand to steady herself, forgetting she’s holding her umbrella. It makes contact with a cardboard cutout of a dog and cat cuddled together. She has to lunge forward to keep the whole thing from toppling over.
“You… too.”
She grunts, adjusting the red Santa hat one of the volunteers had placed on the cardboard golden retriever’s head. A wave of sadness washes over her. Joaquin – the kind, quiet teen who came to the shelter every Wednesday to play with the abandoned cats and kittens had decorated the sign. In fact, the snowflake stickers and tiny Christmas tree atop the check-in counter were from Joaquin’s latest trip to the dollar store.
His love of Christmas reminds her of Kevin...
She won’t be able to tell the kid goodbye...
“Miss Page?”
Karen finally looks at the older gentleman. She’s been volunteering at the San Francisco SPCA for six months and knows most of the employees and volunteers…but she’s never met him before. Maybe he started volunteering behind the desk while she was back in New York…
At the thought of Manhattan, an image flashes through her mind. A newspaper article from last year.
Holiday Miracles:
Vigilantes Freed from Fisk’s Island of Horrors.
Not all of them…
“Can I help you with anything Miss Page? Picking up food or meds?”
Karen snaps back to reality, looking at the man – Nicholas per his name-tag – again. With his twinkling blue eyes, pink cheeks, and curly white beard – Nicholas reminds her of a Santa at FAO Shwartz.
“No, I… I was a volunteer here. Wednesdays and Sundays. I just saw the lights were still on. Wanted to stop in and wish everyone a happy holiday.”
Karen looks around the shelter. She can hear a few meows and woofs echoing down the hallway, but besides that it’s quiet. She checks her watch: 6pm. Tess – the nighttime volunteer who’s studying to be a veterinarian- usually locks the doors and starts turning off the lights in the lobby at 5:30. Karen’s opens her mouth to ask why shelter is still open when the Nicholas interrupts, extending a steaming paper cup towards her.
“Here.” Something in his warm smile reminds her of Ben Urich. She takes the cup.
It smells of cinnamon and tastes like chocolate, unlike the usual coffee kept in the SPCA break room.
“Miss Page, if you don’t mind my saying…you look like you need a little holiday cheer. There’s nothing a good cup of coffee can’t fix.”
A good cup o’ coffee…
She can hear his voice.
See his face.
A ghost of Christmas past dressed in black Kevlar.
What she wouldn’t give to go back in time…
Karen takes a deep breath, stopping the swirl of thoughts. Frank Castle is dead. There’s no point in thinking of past Christmas Eves and missed chances.
“I…I’m not really a Christmasy kind of person. Besides I…”
Something bumps into her ankle, and she looks down with a start. A sleek brown tabby cat with a red collar is rubbing its head along her black leggings. She bends over to give the cat’s forehead a scratch and the animal responds with a chipper meow.
“Rudolph,” Nicholas playfully taps the cat’s rear bed with his boot. “Quit flirting and let her finish.”
“I’m just tired. I spent all day hauling the furniture in my apartment to Goodwill...”
The cat stills at her feet and Karen suddenly feels like she’s said something sac religious.
Nicholas blinks at her. “I’m all for generosity, but…you’re clearing out your apartment on Christmas Eve?”
“I’m moving back east. My flight is at 6am tomorrow morning and I guess…”
Karen gestures towards the flyer taped to the side of the counter. The one with the picture of the silver pit-bull.
“And…I guess I’m a little sad I didn’t get to say goodbye. I always miss my chance…”
Stay safe.
Karen takes a deep breath. “How’s Bella doing?”
Bella was a rescue, a poor dog forced into illegal dog fights. Tess had been on duty when a Good Samaritan had carried her into the shelter at midnight two months ago. Since then, the whole team had been nursing the neglected dog back to health. They’d tried to contact her rescuer to say thank you, but Tess said the man wanted to remain anonymous.
“Someone took her home three weeks ago.”
Karen fingers the picture. She’d desperately wanted to adopt Bella but putting her on a cross-country flight would be cruel. Besides, Matt detests pets.
Her face must say it all because Nicholas pats her shoulder.
Buzzzz…buzzz…
“Excuse me.”
Karen steps to the side, digging her phone out of her purse. A picture of her, flanked by Matt and Foggy on that long ago Saint Patrick’s Day flashes across the screen. She can’t ignore the pang of guilt that she chose this memory – instead of one of their engagement – as Matt’s contact photo.
“Hi.”
Matt’s voice is warm, concerned. Familiar. For a moment Karen feels better.
“Hi.”
She pauses, registering the chatter and music in the background. New York is three hours ahead and Tony Stark’s Christmas Eve party is in full swing.
“How’s the party?”
“Fun actually!” Matt’s voice sounds bright. “The Hulk made his famous chocolate chip cookies, and the Thunderbolts coordinated a white elephant gift exchange. Thor delivered a Christmas tree from some forest in Asgard that talks. It’s kind of creepy but it sings Christmas carols every half-hour.” - He paused before adding – “Mayor Bucky also stopped by for an impromptu speech. He took time to personally thank everyone who fought against Fisk last year. He was disappointed you couldn’t be here.”
Karen bites her lip, inhaling sharply.
“I’ve been coordinating a cross-country move.”
“One you’ve had a year to organize.”
Silence.
It’s the same old fight. Matt refusing to visit San Francisco. To know more about the part of Karen’s life she made out there. Her work as a freelance journalist; the award she won for her piece on at-risk youth; her SPCA family; Bella. Matt barely asks about any of it.
When Karen’s back in New York, she’s under his shadow again. Whether she’s looking for a job or talking to the wedding planner, she’s not Karen Page. She’s Daredevil’s fiancé. The “second-in-command” who stood up against Fisk’s Anti-Vigilante Task Force. It’s not a title she wants.
Not when Frank’s contribution has been forgotten.
“You know Christmas Eve is hard for me Matt…” She almost mentions her brother but gets cut off.
“At least we’ll have Christmas Day together. Foggy’s brother invited us over for dinner.”
“Meowwww…”
A pang of guilt washes over Karen as she locks eyes with Rudolph. The cat’s green eyes are narrowed as if he’s calling her out on her bullshit. Chiding her for allowing the memory of her best friend to be used as a buffer in the ongoing argument with her fiancé.
“That sounds really nice,” she says – not daring to look back down at Rudolph. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Matt. I’ll be ready to celebrate. Promise.”
There’s a soft - feminine - murmur on the other end of the line. Karen can’t help but wonder what Avenger groupie or paralegal is sliding up to Matt’s side now. Trying to flirt with him.
Her suspicions are confirmed when she hears a low chuckle, then he’s back on the phone.
“You better be ready to sing Christmas carols. We have to stop by the Fantastic Four mansion after dinner.” He pauses. “I’m joking Karen. At least about the singing part. I’ll be at the airport to pick you up at noon. I love you.”
She softens a bit because she knows Matt does. In his own way. That’s why she chose him and not…
She shakes her head.
“Love you too. Night.”
“Night.”
She glances back up from her phone to see Nicholas and the cat both staring at her.
“Pretending to be someone you're not just so you don’t hurt the people you love isn’t an act of Christmas spirit,” Nicholas says softly.
Heat rushes to Karen’s cheeks. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not celebrating Christmas.” She grabs her umbrella and turns towards the door. “I’d better go. Thank you for the coffee.”
She pushes open the door when the cat darts around her feet and into the rain.
“Rudolph!” Nicholas bellows.
“Shit!” Karen leaps onto the sidewalk. “Rudolph! Come back!”
The brown cat scurries into the street. Karen can see his red collar shining through the fog. Without thinking, she runs after him.
“RUDOLPH!”
Ding. Ding. Ding.
BBBEEEPPPP!!!
The ring of a bike bell or the trumpeting of a car horn. Karen’s not sure which she hears first. All she knows is that there’s a sharp pain at her side and then the world goes black.
…
…
“Karen?”
She blinks, feeling flecks of snow on her cheeks.
Snow…
It was raining in San Francisco.
She looks down, realizing she’s wearing a red wool coat and white skirt…when before she’d been in black leggings and a grey Patagonia fleece.
“Karen?”
The familiar voice catches her off guard.
Her eyes scan the scene before her. She’s sitting on a bench by the East River.
… In New York.
…And Ben Urich is standing beside her.
“Am I…”
An odd feeling of familiarity is buzzing in her brain. Familiarity. And fear.
… “Am I dead?”
Ben’s weathered face cracks into a smile.
“Not quite.”
“Then why are you…how are you…”
“I’m your Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come,” Ben says waving his hand across the city skyline.
“Welcome to your future Karen Page.”