Hello, it’s me, bypassing my prompts for something that wouldn’t let me sleep.
I am suffering from Kastle withdrawal. This would be, I suppose, my fix.
It contais a few tiny spoilers for season 3. But you have to really look for it.
Much love.
It’s funny how fast you can get used to some things.
She tried for almost a year, to get used to the habits of her roommate when she first moved to New York. Her demons seemed adamant that she needed solitude, though.
For four months, she tried to adapt to the mattress that came with the place she rented after she moved out of Michelle’s. Lumpy and thin, she ended up spending almost a whole month’s payment on a new mattress - the one she still slept on to this day.
She never got used to the noise of honking so early in the morning. She never got used to the taste of eggplants, no matter how many times and how many different recipes mom tried.
She never got used to not having her little brother.
Nevertheless, Karen became pretty good at adapting. The things she had to twist over and bend around just to go day by day were too much to count. The things that agreed with her were rare and scarce, but they quickly became precious to her.
And this, so quickly, one of them.
Her head was pounding when she woke up. It was still dark, still quiet, but the ache on the back of her head told her she would need some pills to get through the day.
But it was warm. Warmer than usual in the early months of fall, but not in an unpleasant way. The feeling was familiar.
Just like the scent of the aftershave.
Opening her eyes, he crowded her vision immediately. Not a small man, Frank Castle.
“Hey”, was the first thing he said, and strangely - absurdly -, she wanted to close her eyes again and hide against him, let the world forget she existed, let him keep her there against him.
Just like this.
“Hi”, she said back, in a whisper, not moving from the position she was in, on her side, hands tucked against her own neck and chest. “What are you doing here?”
She liked that kind of chuckle that he let out, sometimes. It allowed her a glimpse of the non tortured version of him.
But, she liked this version better. Softer, in the dark, close enough that she could feel the heat waving off of him.
“Came here to yell at you, actually.”
Even smiling, it pulled on her muscles and it made her head throb.
“Can you get me some Advil before you do?”
It was dark still, but she saw his mouth curving, sweetly, slow.
“I had a bunch of things to say, you know? Like why the hell you didn’t call me, for example.”
She didn’t really have an answer for that. She did have reasons, but she was pretty sure he would not buy any of them.
“Or why you seem physically incapable of staying out of trouble for once in your life.”
All this, sweet as ever. Worried, like he cared, and she felt herself slipping, letting herself sink in that, get comfortable with it.
“But you’re no victim, are you?”
His hand found her arm, and the warmth nearly melted her skin off. Or set it on fire. One or the other.
“Guess I should have known by now, right? You run towards the fight, but you have a mean right hook.”
Still she lied there, facing Frank, feeling his hand on her arm, over her shoulder, smoothing her hair back.
“Do you have to walk right into the fire every chance you get?”
“If it has my name on it…”
He laughed, a huff of humorless chuckle that told her it was the wrong thing to say.
“Not when it’s Wilson Fisk, you don’t.”
She closed her eyes. She was done arguing with Foggy and Matt about it, and was not eager to start with Frank.
“‘If it has my name on it’.” He echoed, sarcastic and annoyed. But still sweet. “Right.”
“At least a bomb didn’t blow on you this time.”
“You think that makes me feel better?”
Not quite screaming, but no longer whispering either.
“I’d rather be blown up than hear from the news that you were-”
He stopped himself, and Karen understood that she messed up, right then.
Frank had done so much, to keep her safe. And she didn’t want to involve him, didn’t want to risk
him, there were so many reasons why she put the phone down right after picking it up to call him. She forgot to consider what would it feel like for him to hear about things from anyone else but her. How she would feel if the roles were reversed, and she had to find out from a reporter going live that people were trying to kill him again.
Not a nice feeling.
“Ran into Murdock”, he went on, his tone going back low, even if there was an edge to it. “Of all people.”
Karen was definitely curious about that. But she was feeling queasy again, so she just closed her eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.
“You tell me you’re done with that shit.”
“What shit?”
“This shit, Karen, this trouble magnet thing, you have to be done with that.”
“It’s kinda in the job description.”
He could wait until tomorrow to learn that the job itself was new. Again.
Frank didn’t say anything, but she could hear it, loud and clear.
“Then at least promise me you’re gonna call me.”
“Frank-“
“Don’t Frank me. I can’t go through this again, you hear me?”
Opening her eyes, she looked at him and saw him staring back at her.
Lord, why this man?
“Ok.”
“Right”, he said after a few seconds, raising his hand and running his palm over her face, to the back of her head, catching her hair through his fingers, just as he had done once, when their ears were ringing after an explosion. “Ok. You sleep now”, the pad of his fingers massaging her scalp, his thumb on her cheek.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Karen pulls off the highway mid-afternoon, winding through the series of roads that get smaller and steeper and less maintained, until the sun is streaking gold across the dusty windshield, and the GPS signal stutters off her phone for a moment every time she rounds a curve.
It's not easy to get to. That's kind of the point.
