#kastlefic

[yourfriendlyneighborhoodem]

When the Smoke Clears

Frank thought pushing Karen away was the only way to keep her safe. Then the Snap happened, and he learned just how wrong he was.

___________________________________________________________

“You gotta walk away.  Right now. That’s what has to happen, you hear me?”

Frank’s voice is unwavering, but his eyes are pleading as he stares at Karen.  She’s standing at the foot of his bed like a sentry, her arms folded defensively across her chest.  She’s wearing one hell of a poker face, but the look in her eye is obvious.  He’s hurting her, and he hates himself for it. 

“You don’t get to do this,” she exclaims.  “You don’t get just… decide who gives a shit!  That’s not on you, Frank.”

“Not on me?”  He looks to the side, a huff of dry laughter rising from his throat.  “No, it is on me.”  Throwing off the scratchy hospital blankets, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed with more effort than he cares to think about.  

“Because I know you, Karen.  You’re strong, and you’re brave, but you’re so goddamn stubborn; you’ll do whatever it takes when it comes to me.”  He pauses, dark eyes boring into her. “Tell me I’m wrong.” 

But she just turns her head away, scoffing. 

“Yeah.” Frank hums. “That’s what I thought.”

He pushes himself to stand. More effort.  The cuts on his face and the bruises on his body weigh him down, but not as much as the knowledge of how he got them.  He’d been one-upped by Russo, played like a jackass; beaten.  Beaten so badly that Karen dropped everything– the good, stable life she’d been building for herself– to sit by his side and wait for him to wake up.  

“You put yourself before others,” he says.  “And I can’t let you do that.  Not for me.”

Blue eyes, alarming in their brightness, shoot toward him.  Karen motions toward the door, where Midani and Amy are probably waiting somewhere outside, hearing every word.  “So it's okay for them to risk everything, but not me?”  

It isn’t, but that’s beside the point.  This is different. Everything is, with her.

“What do you think’s gonna happen?” He growls.  

He takes slow steps in Karen’s direction. It’s like wading through water, trying to get to her, being drawn in and pushed back by the same current.  Part of him thinks it’d be easier to just lay down, let the current sweep him in, but he knows that life isn’t meant for him, not while breath still fills Billy Russo’s lungs. 

Frank allows his expression to harden.  He has to puff out his chest, show his teeth; be the monster everyone thinks he is.  

Everyone except Karen. 

When she looks at him, he sees something else behind her eyes.  He’s now sure what it is— or maybe he is and is too much of a coward to admit it— but he knows it's dangerous. Every time he sees it, sees her , his heart rattles a little harder against his ribcage; whispers things he knows he can’t have. That feeling has no place here. He needs to change her mind; make her see him like the rest of the world.  Maybe then she’ll walk away… so he doesn’t have to.

_____________________

Continue reading here.

[benedictsvestcollection]

Yo Kastle fam....

I know life sucks right now with this virus shit going around. I’m lucky and still have a job (but still practicing social distancing when not at work!) but I’m off Friday & Saturday and would love to TRY and get back in the swing of writing for them for our entertainment. 

But if I do... I’d want to update an existing fic... So I have anon off right now for personal reasons but don’t be shy to send me asks about any of my fics to get me back to wanting to write about them again!

We’re all in this together. (I sang that in my head, oops.) And let’s try and help each other through this shitty or frustrating time by maybe writing some fic? 

Just a thought. Maybe we can do a Kastle fic week soon or something for our sanity and entertainment? 

[hipsterfrankcastle]

After Karen calls her Dad, she calls Frank.

She takes a breath. One in. One out. Pulls herself together. C’mon Karen. Get your shit together. Pull your fucking socks up and let’s get on with it. She shakes her head. Dries her eyes. Lets the engine rumble to life beneath her and puts both hands on the steering wheel, forgets her dad and Vermont and the tiny list of numbers in her favourites list and just fucking drives.

Do you have somewhere you can go? Sister Maggie asks and for a moment Karen’s whole mind fogs and she thinks she might cry again. But then her blue eyes shock clear as she huffs out a little breath and wonders why she didn’t think of him before.

Karen? She takes a moment. Above her, the ceiling rumbles with the church’s organ groaning to life. The air has a sweetness to it down here, rising above the damp and dust of the basement. It’s still a heavy smell, a lingering permeation of mould lying beneath, but it wraps round her, arms of warmth snaking around her shoulders. Her chest shakes with a breath. ‘Hey Frank.’

-

David calls him out of the blue on a Monday. He’s out on a run. He’s not sure when Frank Castle became a man who jogs. Maybe it’s all Pete; he’s not sure. But he likes his route. It takes him along the river. Down past the bridge. Their spot. The place where he’d met with her, months ago now, her all wrapped up in that dark coat and – ‘Lieberman,’ he pants into the phone. ‘You seen the news?’ Cold runs through him. Up from his ankles and through his calves and right along to his fingertips, ice in his knuckles and turning over his stomach.

The Bulletin. Some asshole dressed up in a Daredevil suit attacked The Bulletin. Three reporters dead. One on life support.

He holds onto the wall and leans so far over he almost falls into the Hudson river just trying to get his breath back in his body.

When he thinks to pull his phone out of his pocket, thinks to tap in the number he has memorised back-to-front, there’s already a name flashing up on his caller ID. He almost drops with relief, knees giving out as if the whole pavement had been yanked out from under him like a magician’s rug.

‘Karen?’ A pause. A shuffle of breath down the phone. Even just that – that little agonised puff of air is so familiar, so inherently her, that if he shuts his eyes he can practically see her. Can reach out to touch her, the corn silk softness of her hair, the roughness of her ribcage and the sharp spike of her elbows. ‘Hey Frank.’ ‘You’re okay?’ He clears his throat. Wishes his voice wasn’t so thick. Coated with honey and horror. ‘I’m – I, uh.’ She breaks off in splinters and he, for the first time in a long time, presses both hands to his forehead and prays, the phone caught between his palms. When he pulls it back to his ear, she’s still silent, and his voice surges, water against rocks; ‘You’re not hurt? Karen?’ Still no answer. ‘Karen. Hey. Please –’ ‘You know, I called my dad.’ Into the quiet, she laughs, hard and hurt. ‘I know. I’m as surprised as you. I wanted to go home – back to Vermont. I told him – I told him how bad I messed up. And I really messed up this time, Frank. People are dead because of me. Again. People I work with, with families. I said –’ he listens to her heave in a breath and he closes his eyes, imagines he’s with her, imagines he can wrap his arms round her and absorb all the hurt, soak it up like blood to a bandage. ‘I said that I was just trying to do the right thing. Trying to do good. But it – it went wrong.’ Her voice keens and he realises she’s crying and when he lifts fingers to his face his cheeks are wet too. The plastic case of his phone creaks under his hold. ‘He told me – he told me that’s what you do, Karen. And he – he was right. Y’know? I fuck up, I’m – I’m a curse.’ One final, wheezing breath and his heart clenches in his chest and she tells him; ‘sometimes I think we might all be better off if I wasn’t here any more. You ever get that way, Frank?’

He rests his forehead against the cool wall and tries not to scream into the stone.

‘Karen?’ ‘Yeah Frank?’ His throat is wrapped in a vice. All his words come out choked and he can’t see across the river for the blur in his eyes.

‘You forget Vermont. Forget your Dad. Fuck him. Fuck him. You come to me, alright? You come home.’

[garglyswoof]

Hi, I saw an image which was aptly reblogged as kastle vibes (i tossed a link in the replies since this hellsite is making a direct link in the post remove this from the kastle tag), and now here we are an hour later please don’t stare too closely at the plot (there is none). This is the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written. set after tp1, before dd3

An hour’s subway ride has taken Karen to another planet, the unmoving ferris wheel casting its shadow across her face, wind whipping through the wooden supports of a coaster, its cars sitting idle. The whole place gives her the creeps, to tell you the truth, so transient-feeling, like a city upended in the midst of an apocalypse. She spots the Nathan’s Hot Dog sign, half-wonders if there will be half-eaten dogs on unfinished plates if she draws close. New York interrupted.

Or just Coney Island in the winter, devoid of humanity since it’s 10 degrees outside and most people are sane enough to keep off the waterfront. She stabs her hands deeper in her pockets, ducks her head into her wool trenchcoat, wishing she hadn’t lost her scarf on the train.

Temperature outside: 10 degrees. Temperature on the N train? Volcano hot.

She scans the waterline, tracks back to the subway and the gate that had screeched open on unoiled hinges, resists the urge to check her phone. He’d said he’d meet her here, and Frank wasn’t one for follow-up messages. Just the thought of it makes her smile, that they’re here now, in this place where she has a space in her head for Frank Castle’s communication preferences. That he knows something about hers, too, after she’d sleepily asked him to never call early on the weekend unless someone was dying. Which in Frank’s world wasn’t even close to inconceivable, but still.

Her hair is whipping against her face now, the blond flag of it striking against the dishwater sky. She tries to tuck it into her coat, irritated at how unprepared she is for this. He’d called her and she’d come running and she’d do it all over again as she knows now he would for her. She just wishes she’d brought a hair tie. And a hat. And that scarf.

Still, she’s a Vermont girl born and bred, used to colder winters than this, and she tugs up the collar of her coat, walks down to the water’s edge and simply wishes Frank would hurry the hell up.

“This is a much better place to meet in the summer, I swear,” Frank says from behind her and she jumps, her hand drifting to her purse, then back when she recognizes his voice. She turns and he’s grinning at her, and it’s one of those smiles that you can’t deny, a full-toothed smile that narrows his eyes and crinkles the corners and refuses to let you not respond with the same. So she does.

“I don’t know,” she says with a shrug and that smile, “I’m kinda digging the post-apocalyptic vibes.” She turns and starts walking, because she’s still not sure what this is and she’s afraid to ask. Afraid that he needs something she won’t be willing to provide. Afraid that’s all he wants. It’s easier not to look at him directly.

She hazards a glance as he keeps pace with her, his profile striking beneath the layers, a ball cap tight above his brow and hoodie pulled down low. His beard is back and the thought screams across her brain before she can stop it, how that scruff would feel against her skin. She shivers, and he notices, linking her arm in his and rubbing at her hand to try to give a little warmth.

“I’m sorry, let’s get off the beach at least.”

“No“ she says quickly, because she’s building this up and she wants to rip the band-aid off. “Just, what do you need, Frank?”

He stops then and she does too from his grip on her arm. “I - look Karen… Shit,” He laughs then, short and self-deprecating. “I guess I deserve that, yeah?” He reaches his other arm out, grabs at her coat and turns her to face him. His eyes are flickering over her face, for a moment lingering on her lips. “Honestly, I- I just wanted to see you, Karen. I’m just, uh, shit at picking meeting locations, you know? Even with half the city wanting me dead, I coulda found something better.”

He’s babbling but it’s ok, because she hasn’t gotten past the first sentence. “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why did you want to see me?” Maybe it’s unfair to push him, maybe it’s too early to press despite the things that swirl in her head, despite her memory of the elevator, the air weighted with what lay between them. Maybe it’s wrong, but she doesn’t care.

He ducks his head, turns away to study something on the far shoreline and each beat of silence is loud with her regret until he speaks. “Because,” he breathes at a whisper, “I've been thinking, yeah? When I was talking with Sarah you know she was missing her husband so bad-”He pauses, head bobbing from side to side as he gathers his words and Karen's heart lodges somewhere behind her throat.

"I told her, yeah, that you gotta find something, gotta...have something to care about. And she, she asked me if I had and I-" He cuts off again, sweeps a hand across, encompassing the rocks, the sea, coming back to clutch his hoodie where his heart lies beneath the layers. The gesture is so awkward, so unlike his controlled physicality that it hammers the truth of his words home. “I, Karen, I think - you’re the something else there is to this world now.” He stares down at his feet, rasps out the close, “For me.”

Her breath is a sharp inhale that cuts across the sound of the water lapping on the shore and she is in his arms and her hair is circling up and out and he leans in, he can’t help it, can he ever with her? He leans in and kisses her on the cheek, like he did weeks ago, like he wants to do forever - the thought is terrifying but it’s there, it’s real in his head. She shivers again, and it’s still not from the cold, her arms reaching up to circle his neck, tipping her forehead to meet his own because there’s something in her that wants these things to always be at the core of them, together.

It’s in the shadow of the ferris wheel then, in this place that lies in the city and without, it’s here where the wind whips and the cold bites and their lips touch, softly.

[onlykastle]

Out of all the Kastle fanfics that have been written so far, what is your favorite one? I personally have so many, that it’s hard for me to choose! But I want to know your guys favorites. Send me titles and authors! Send me links and fics!

[acrimsonphoenix]

V-Day Special

Karen and Frank have dinner plans for Wednesday.

An entry for #KastleValentine

Enjoy!

AO3

Karen: Hey, are we still on for dinner this week?

Pete: Yeah. Steakhouse ok for you?

Karen: Sure, it’s been ages since I last had a good steak. :)

Pete: Tuesday?

Karen: I got an office thing Tuesday night. :( Wednesday?

Pete: You got it. I know a good place but they’re popular. Gonna make a reservation.

Karen: Great, thanks!

“We just got some stuff in for the Diemer story. E-mails, account info, memos. Looks like there’s some useful info in them, if you want to get started on the docs right away?” Ellison placed a filing box on Karen’s desk.

“Uh, normally I would, but I’m meeting someone tonight, sorry. I was just about to leave,” Karen said as she quickly ran a brush through her hair and slipped into her coat.

“Oh, yeah, of course you do. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Good thing we’re talking about it. I gotta finish up myself in a few minutes, Becca’s coming by to pick me up and she’s not going to happy if she finds me buried in a story.” Ellison replied as he smacked himself on the top of his forehead. “Have fun! I’m glad you’re getting out.”

Karen threw him a confused smile and a quick wave as he left her office.

Two minutes later, Karen stepped out of the Bulletin building and immediately spotted Frank across the street. She walked over to him and enveloped him in a quick hug.

“Still keeping your distance from my office?” she asked bemusedly.

“Yeah, figured if your colleagues are half as smart as you they’ll recognize me in no time, beard or no beard,” Frank replied with a sheepish smile. “Steakhouse’s just a couple of blocks down the street if you wanna walk?”

“Sure,” Karen said as she hooked her arm through his.

On the way they updated each other on how their respective weeks were going. When they reached the steakhouse, there was a line on the outside.

“Wow, that place really is popular,” Karen said as she raised her eyebrows. “Good thing you made a reservation.”

Frank grunted.

“Yeah, got lucky, too. Guy on the phone said that he’d just had a cancellation before I called. Everything else was completely booked for tonight,” he said as they walked past the line right up to the entrance.  

“Good evening and welcome to Chico’s. Did you make a reservation?” the hostess greeted them with a wide smile. Her name tag identified her as Evie.

“Yeah, the name’s Pete Castiglione,” Frank replied. Karen still had her arm hooked into his.

“Reservation for two. Your table’s ready for you, if you follow me please,” Evie said as she grabbed two menus and lead them through the jam-packed restaurant to a table in the back corner.

Frank pulled Karen’s chair out for her and then took a seat opposite her. Evie handed them the menus.

“We have a special V-Day menu tonight that you’ll find on the first page. Two starters, two mains, two desserts and a bottle of wine for 25% off,” Evie said. “Enjoy!”

Karen opened her menu as Frank scoffed. “V-Day!” he said mockingly. “V-Day’s in May, not in February.”

Karen bit her lip and held up the first page of the menu that was covered in hearts.

“I don’t think that’s the V-Day they mean,” she said. Frank narrowed his eyes for a second and mumbled something unintelligible. Then realization dawned on him and he blinked quickly as he looked around the restaurant. Karen’s eyes followed his, and now she saw what she hadn’t noticed earlier – they were surrounded only by couples, each table was decorated with a candle and a single red rose, there were a few heart-shaped decorations on the walls, and soft, romantic music was playing in the background.

Karen mentally kicked herself and looked back at Frank who was taking in the room with an indiscernible expression. She reached over the table and placed a hand on his lower arm.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize what date it was today, otherwise I would never have suggested this evening. I understand if you want to grab dinner some other time,” she said sympathetically. She couldn’t even begin to fathom what it must be like for Frank on a day like this, surrounded by happy couples.

Frank’s gaze darted to her hand on his arm and then up to her eyes.

“Nah, ‘s okay. Unless you – “ he trailed off.

Karen blinked in surprise. “No, ah, I’m ok,” she said as she pulled her hand back.

“Okay,” Frank confirmed with a nod.

“Okay,” Karen repeated. They looked at each other for another moment before Karen broke eye contact and cleared her throat.

“Ah, I guess we should have a look at the menu then,” she said, and both of them quickly turned their attention to the folders in front of them.

“What do you think?” Karen asked after a few minutes.

Frank clicked his tongue. “I’m thinkin’ the menu’s looking good, if you’re up for it,” he said.

Karen hummed. “Sounds good. Red wine?” she asked.

Frank folded the menu and placed it to the side.

“You got it,” he confirmed.

Given the circumstances, it was a surprisingly light-hearted and relaxing dinner, Karen found. As a matter of fact, Frank seemed quite at ease, and they ended up talking about anything and everything. When dessert came, they placed both plates in the middle of the table so that they could share both of them.

“Fan of chocolate, ma’am?” Frank’s eyes twinkled as he watched Karen carefully scratch every single remainder of the chocolate mousse off its plate.

“Hm-hm,” Karen said as she licked the spoon clean. The wine had given her a light buzz, not enough to actually make her drunk but sufficient to leave her feeling happy and a bit fuzzy.

The waitress brought the folder with the check, and Frank placed a few bills in it. When Karen made a move to get her wallet out, Frank shook his head.

“Nah, that one’s on me,” he said gruffly.

Karen tilted her head and was about to protest when her eyes met his. They held the same unreadable expression as when they’d first sat down together, and Karen relented.

Frank helped her into her coat, and when they stepped out on the street together, Karen reached out to squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’ve really had a good time tonight.”

Frank briefly squeezed her hand in return, but only let go once they’d reached the front door of Karen’s apartment after a short walk.

Karen got her keys out of her bag and turned to face Frank.

“You ok?” she asked gently.

“Yeah,” Frank said after a beat. He curtly nodded his head.

“I’m glad you weren’t alone tonight,” Karen said earnestly.

Frank narrowed his eyes at her.

“What?” Karen asked in confusion.

“You think that’s what you are? A – a placeholder? A Samaritan who’s makin’ sure I’m not alone?” he asked gruffly.

Karen swallowed, and a hurt expression flittered across her face.

“A friend,” she said with a slight tremor in her voice as she crossed her arms across her chest. “I know how difficult it is to keep the memories at bay, especially on days like this. I don’t want to you to have to deal with those memories alone.”

“Memories,” Frank repeated, his voice barely a whisper as his eyes darted around the hallway before they landed on hers again and he spoke up, his voice still rough. “Shit, Karen, I wasn’t tryin’ to deal with the memories, yeah? I’s tryin’ to make new ones. With you.”

At that, Karen’s eyes grew wide and she just stood there staring at him.

“You really not seein’ that? Karen, I appreciate the concern, I do. You made me remember, kept me sane from the moment I met ya, ‘n it really helps to talk ‘bout Maria ‘n the kids ‘n have someone just listen. But Karen, you’re not just that. Never were. You’re… you’re… “ Frank’s eyes darted around the hallway again. “… you’re… uh… After.” He finally finished, not quite looking at her. When he finally worked up the courage to meet her eyes after a few moments, he found them shining with tears.

Karen slowly reached out to place a hand over Frank’s heart, and Frank covered it with one of his. Then Karen suddenly stepped closer to him and placed a careful kiss on his lips. Frank reciprocated by pulling her closer to him, causing Karen to throw her arms around his neck and to melt into him.

They stood like this for what seemed like ages and only broke apart when someone cleared a throat next to them.

“Excuse me.” Mrs. Schlesinger, the old lady living next door to Karen indicated that she needed to move past her in the small hallway with a clipped tone. Frank pulled both of them against Karen’s door, and Mrs. Schlesinger slowly shuffled past them with her walker. When she’d finally closed her front door, Frank rested his forehead against Karen’s.

“Can I take you out tomorrow night?” he asked, his voice raspy.

Karen smiled. “Yeah,” she breathed and pressed her lips back against his.

[ohmypreciousgirl]

94

Prompt: “I bet I can make you scream my name.”

Note: Ignore any grammar mistake or awkward wording, this wasn’t beta’d and English is my third language oops.

“Stop distracting me!” Karen protested, trying to remain serious while pushing Frank away with her elbow.

They were in the kitchen, decorating gingerbread cookies they had made for the Lieberman’s Christmas party that would happen the next day.

Well, more like Karen was decorating the cookies while Frank tried to divert her attention from the cookies to him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he pleaded, plastering his body at her back. “Just a lil’ kiss, uh?”

Karen narrowed her eyes at the tone he used. The one Frank knew that she couldn’t resist whenever he asked something from her.

Tough luck, soldier, she thought. At the moment, it just aggravated her.

Rolling her eyes, she puts down the piping bag she was holding and turned to him. Karen sent him a look, raising an eyebrow at him. In answer, being the goofball he secretly was, Frank wiggled his eyebrows and puckered his lips at her.  

She couldn’t stifle the laughter that bubbled out of her lips.

“You’re ridiculous,” she shook her head, before leaning forward to kiss him.

Her heart tugged at the feeling of being pulled closer by her hips, his hands settling on her lower back.  

Her plan of giving him a brief kiss went straight out of window when he kissed her back. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she sighed in pleasure at the sensation of kissing Frank.

Whenever he kissed her, it was like Frank ignited every nerve ending in her body. She was ridiculously responsive to his touch, getting all shaky any time he decided to touch her.

She’d feel ashamed if it didn’t feel so good.

Groaning against his mouth, she tried to pull back. All she managed was to get him to slide his lips from her mouth to her neck.

“We really need to finish those cookies, Frank,” she said, arching against him.

“Make it worthwhile then,” he replied, emphasizing each word with a kiss.

“Like what?” She asked, muffling a gasp as Frank sucked at her collarbone.

“How about a bet?” he suggested between kisses.

“Listening.”

“I bet I can make you scream my name under fifteen minutes,” Frank said with a husky voice. “If I don’t, I’ll stop distracting you and actually help you to get shit done.”

“And if you make me scream?”

“You’ll ride me until I come,” he determined, moving his mouth up her throat until he reached her earlobe. “And then I’ll help you finish those stupid cookies.”

“Wait, you’re helping me either way?”

“Of course I will help you,” Frank declared in a offended tone. “I’m not a shitbag that will let their girl do all the hard work by herself.”

“Okay,” she nodded vehemently. That wasn’t so bad. She could make it. Only fifteen minutes.

He pulled away and tilted his head to the right. She followed his movement, finding that he was looking at the clock he had got from an antique shop as birthday gift to her. It marked 9:15 p.m.

“Try to resist till 9:30, sweetheart,” he smiled arrogantly before pulling her into another kiss, palming her ass.

Karen was able to resist until 9:25 p.m.

——-

Send me a number and I’ll write a Kastle ficlet :D   

[lightblindingme]

Only Me and Only You - Kastle Oneshot

based on the apartment scene from 1x2, Karen’s POV

AO3 link

He appears out of nowhere one afternoon - a homeless man playing on her kindness and generosity - and the moment he reveals himself to her is the moment Karen knows her peaceful days are over.

* * *

They go to her apartment, she offers him a beer, they exchange a few pleasantries. They even manage to fall into a brief banter of sorts when she mentions his looks and it reminds her of their time before.

Before he used her as bait, before that explosion, before he went after Schoonover, before she begged him not to kill the man but let her help him; before she told him he was dead to her and he slammed a door in her face.

Funny how things seemed so much easier when he was in hospital or jail, when he couldn’t run away from her, when their interaction wasn’t as strained as it is now, after so much has happened.

On the outside, he looks good. For once, there are no visible bruises marring his face so now that she can actually see him sans purples and blues, Karen thinks how much he resembles the person she saw on the photographs in his family home and at the same time, how much he’s changed since that night in the woods. The beard and longer hair suit him, though she knows he’s sporting them only as a way to conceal his more than recognizable features. He’s not as jumpy as before, giving her a slight hope he reached out to her to make amends, to tell her what he’s been doing all these months, to finally let her in on the inner workings of his mind.

He jokes about growing a man bun but she doesn’t have it in her to continue this empty chat. It’s has been too long and Karen’s too tired to beat around the bush. She’s angry and hurt but doesn’t show it; she has gotten good at compartmentalising everything Frank-related. Or so she likes to think.

“What are you doing here, Frank?” she utters at last, calming the turmoil within her, schooling her features in a perfect poker face. To her surprise, her voice is flat and devoid of any emotion.

He says he had business to finish – a straightforward answer that needs no further elaboration. Karen knows him and knows what his business is. His nod indicates the business has been taken care of; maybe that’s why he seems calmer.

Her back is to him as Karen toes off her shoes and takes a sip of the beer in her hand, hoping it will give her some semblance of calm, stop her hands from trembling, stop her from crying out the pain she feels stirring in her chest.

When she turns around, it takes him a minute but he confesses the real reason he’s there, giving her poor heart the final blow: he’s not there to see her or inquire about her life so far; he’s not even there to apologise for the way things ended between them. Nope. Frank decided to seek her out because he needs her help.

She suppresses a smile of pain because she knows it would lead to her crying and the last thing she wants to do is cry in front of Frank. Instead, she listens as he tells her about this guy, takes another sip of the beer, eyes trained on a random spot in front of her. Tears are burning her throat and she barely manages to cover the hurt in her voice. Not that Frank would notice with how scared he sounds.

He’s taking out flowers from the backpack he brought with him, and for a second, for one lousy second she allows herself to hope, to feel a meagre surge of happiness coarse through her body before Frank extinguishes it – it’s just a way they can communicate. Nothing else, Karen, stop with your childish wishes, she rebukes herself.

Her throat is constricted, tears are welling in her eyes and soon she won’t be able to restrain herself.

Okay, she tells him, with a forced smile. Okay, he tells her, his dark eyes bearing a soft glow to them when he says it; it’s that patented look of his that is supposed to mean something, that is supposed to convey more than he utters. She doesn’t have it in her to wonder what that more might be. Okay, she repeats, because she has no strength to say anything else.

He’s about to leave and Karen debates with herself if she should stay put and silent, or get up and yell her frustration out on him or-

She’s on her feet before she even realises and her arms are around Frank and it feels so so good. He is real and solid and he is right there, in her apartment. It’s not just a figment of her damage mind, she didn’t conjure him up in a pathetic attempt to alleviate the ache of her lonely heart. She inhales him, committing his fragrance to memory because who knows when or if she will ever see him again.

After her initial surprise attack hug, she feels Frank’s large palm on her back and his bearded face is pressed against the curve of her neck, and God, she wants to cry because nothing has ever felt the way this feels right now. It’s longing and love and comfort and ‘he’s alive’ all wrapped up in one, cloaking them for a brief moment as they sway, sway to the music only they hear.

Eyes closed, Karen hugs him tighter, pulling him closer to her wishing she could just absorb him entirely, meld their bodies together, hold him like that forever and let him hold her like that forever and they would never have to break apart and Frank wouldn’t have to go away again and wage another war because they would both be safe in each other’s arms.

That’s not the case, she is well aware. That may never be the case because there’s is war inside Frank Castle even when he is not in one physically and nothing she does or says will ever suffice to prevent him from doing what he does best.

There is no other way but to let him go.

It feels like tearing open her chest and viciously squeezing her heart when Karen finally gathers strength to unwrap her arms and take a step back.

“It’s just really good to see you” she whispers, and they share a look.

Then he out the door and out of her life once more.

The sense of utter solitude hits her then like a wrecking ball, tearing down the walls that had gone up when they entered her apartment and there is no way of building them back up.

Her cries and tears come in waves and torrents, she can’t stopping them. Doesn’t want to. Her knees buckle from under her weigh and she plops onto her couch, screaming her lungs out. She wraps her arms around herself, like that will keep her from completely falling apart.

Ben, Matt, Foggy, Frank... All the people she lost one way or another. People that are a part of her being, people she met here in New York that brought her joy and purpose in spite of the havoc that became an everyday occurrence.

Ben and Matt are gone forever. It’s a fact, a truth she had to accept, has to accept to function as normally as she can. Guilt lingers in her, an ever-present companion. Nightmares haunt her – of Ben being killed, Matt being crushed by an entire building as he tries but fails to save his one true love.

Once upon a time, she would have hated him for that, but the feeling has long since disappeared. Karen understands his actions now, insane as they were. Love makes people act and do things they never thought they were capable of. After all, didn’t she kill a man to protect her loved ones?

Foggy is there, but he is not. Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz keep him busy he hardly has any time for anything. Karen understands. She always understands, even when her loneliness is killing her and Foggy is her only existing link to Matt, she doesn’t pressure him but copes on her own.

But, Frank.

They are one in the same, she recognized long time ago, back when she was researching into his life and got to know Frank before he became New York’s murderous menace.

It wasn’t until this very day, this afternoon, that she realised how much she had missed him. It’s unlike the way she misses Matt, Ben, or Foggy.

Missing Frank is like an anchor that pulls her soul deep into the bottomless darkness of her sinful being.

The knowledge that he is alive and well feels like that anchor has been lifted slightly and the weight of everything isn’t as heavy as it was before.

The hug... was as if someone had put a life jacket over her and she is being pulled to the surface, breathing fresh air for the first time in forever.

She allows herself to cry it all out – the anger, bitterness, sadness, longing – and afterwards, she feels better, cleaner, lighter, happier.

I’ll see him again, I’ll see him again, she repeats this prayer that night until she is sure of it like she is sure the sky is blue. It lulls her into tranquility that left her months ago, when she lost him and Matt.

It’s back now, though.

And so is Frank.

She falls asleep with a smile.