AN: I haven't written anything in quite some time, so I apologize ahead of time for any rust. I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. The biggest upset for me this season was that we never found out what happened to Frank's dog after the Irish dragged it out of the room. Ugh.
Karen groaned as she climbed the stairs that led to her second floor apartment, the tall black pumps on her feet making it rather difficult on tired legs. There wasn't an elevator in the building so she was quite fortunate that the place she had found had been on the second floor and not the top. It was like her luck had picked up a fraction lately. Walking down the hall, she dug for her key in the large brown bag that also carried her wallet, slim laptop, documents, and a heavy but necessary .380 pistol. Grabbing her keys and unlocking her door, Karen moved into the space of her newer apartment, dropping her back on the couch before moving towards her kitchen.
In the past few months she'd made quite a few improvements to her life, one of the larger ones being her new place.
This apartment actually consisted of more than a single room that was her kitchen, bedroom, and living room all crammed into one, with a tiny closet like bathroom attached. Back then, she only had the somewhat irregular income that her job at Nelson and Murdock provided, so her options had been quite limited. It wasn't like her landlord would have been willing to accept homemade food in lieu of actual money for rent each month. At least their clientele had kept them all well fed, so when she came home to an almost bare kitchen each night it wasn't that large of an issue. Back then she'd managed to have more home cooked meals than take out. It did count as home cooked meals, even though they weren't actually cooked in her actual home, right? That place hadn't really felt like home to begin with though, instead being a place that she went to sleep at night. It wasn't in the worst neighborhood, which was great considering that it was still in Hell's Kitchen and the rent was fairly cheap, so she could ignore the permanently stained walls and the odd smell that she couldn't get out of the air no matter how often she would burn incense.
It only took her a few weeks after getting her job at The Bulletin to realize that her steady paychecks would allow her to afford a better place. Moving out of her old apartment just felt like another nail in the coffin that was Nelson and Murdock Attorneys at law. She'd never have been able to afford her new place with what she had been making back then. Now, her place consisted of an entryway/living room combo, separated from the small but cozy looking kitchen by a lengthy counter, complete with a separate bedroom and bathroom. She didn't have to snake her way around furniture anymore to get around her place, but actually had room for activities (If she really had any other stuff to do other than sitting on the couch on her laptop whenever she was home for a weekend).
All but collapsing onto one of the tall kitchen stools that sat at the edge of her counter, Karen kicked off her black pumps. Her feet were all but throbbing from how much she walked today. She had been chasing leads all over Hell's Kitchen this week and it was really taking a toll on her poor feet. Crossing her legs and taking a foot into her hands, she tried to rub the tension out of the sole. Groaning at the feeling and the sudden exhaustion that the release brought to her, Karen rested her forehead on the cool counter top. She'd have to invest in a pair of comfortable tennis shoes if she was going to keep up with the constant traveling that came with active investigative research. Otherwise, she'd probably have to look into just how much it'd cost her to start taking Taxi's all over the place. It had been so much easier before Ben's car had gotten completely wrecked months ago by a certain truck wielding vigilante. She'd swear that he could turn just about anything into a weapon if the situation called for it.
Frowning, Karen lifted her head and ran a hand through her strawberry blond locks. She hadn't talked to Frank in months. That man had been a whirlwind in her life, exiting it just as quickly as he had entered it, staring up at her with a bruised face while strapped down on a hospital bed. He left her conflicted but stronger in the end. She was surer of many of the choices that she'd made after meeting him. He was what pushed her into taking the job that she now all but lived for. He reminded her of what it was to be passionate towards something, to never settle for something other than the truth.
Of course, evidence that he was still out there, fighting the good fight, was everywhere in the papers. She hadn't taken up writing about any of his more bloody endeavors after she last saw him standing on a roof, staring down at her and leaving her with an aching feeling in her chest. She tried not to reflect on the thought that he had shown up yet again to save her hide, even after she completely swore him out of her life.
Shaking her head, Karen slipped off of the stool, kicking her heels towards the direction of her door. Stepping around the counter, Karen reached to open the fridge. Last night she had ordered enough Chinese take-out to last her for the next few nights. She had a piece to start writing tonight and didn't want to worry about having to attempt to cook edible meals to sustain her over the weekend.
Just as her hand touched the metal handle of the fridge a loud buzzing noise sounded throughout her apartment, indicating that someone was at the front door of her apartment building for her.
Who the heck?
Pulling her cellphone out of the pocket of the black coat that she was still wearing, Karen checked to see if she had any missed calls that would hint to who was calling for her to let them in while the buzzing persisted. The screen lit up to show her the time, 11:15pm, but no missed calls, voicemails, or text messages. Sighing in defeat, Karen walked to the com next to her doorway and pressed the speaker button that would allow her to talk to her visitor.
"Hello?" She asked, unable to hold the confusion out of her voice. Originally, she would have thought that maybe it was Foggy, here to whisk her away for a Friday night drink but it wasn't his voice that answered her in a dark, gravely tone that sent heat all but rushing through her limbs.
"Wanna let me up?"
There was no mistaking Frank's voice at the other end of the com and before she could think twice about it, her finger was pressing the button that would allow him to enter into the building. Karen could hardly hold onto a single train of thought except for the question of what the hell could Frank Castle want with her right now after going months without any sort of communication? He wasn't the type of person to make house calls without any warning; unless he was in some kind of trouble? Oh goodness, she really wasn't ready for this again. Karen worried her lip, wondering if her life was going to fall into chaos all over again, just right after she was finally settling down into something that felt like normalcy.
Before she could really comprehend just how much anxiety this unexpected visit was already brining her, a steady knock sounded at the door just a foot away from her. Taking in a shaky breath, Karen reached up to move the cover of the peek hole and gazed through it to find The Punisher himself standing on the other side.
It was far too late now to pretend that she wasn't home, wasn't it? Would she even want to pretend? It really had been months since she had last seen him and the warmth in her limbs hadn't gone away and she was starting to feel way too hot in her otherwise air conditioned apartment and-
Another knock on her door had her fumbling with the locks and swinging it open to the surprisingly unbruised face of Frank. The breath all but shot out of her lungs at how his presence filled the small hallway outside of her door. She couldn't stop herself from searching his face, her eyes going over the stubble on his jaw, and oh yeah there is some bruising right under his chin, like someone got lucky enough to upper cut him in a fight but it looked like it was already starting to fade. Her eyes all but trailed away from his face, avoiding the intense bout of eye contact that he was attempting to make with her, instead moving on to take in his clothing. He was wearing the same heavy black overcoat she'd last seen him in. It was covering the skull painted vest that has become his symbol in the papers now a days. She couldn't tell if he was carrying guns on his person if only because the moment that the thought arrived in her mind, her eyes noticed that it wasn't just Frank standing at her door.
Standing at Frank's side was a large male Pitbull. Karen felt her jaw drop. She'd normally relate the dog's breed with violence and dog fighting, especially in Hell's Kitchen, but the dog in front of her was wagging its tail with such determination that it's butt was wiggling with the effort. Her face must have looked absolutely ridiculous because Frank cleared his throat to grab her attention away from the dog- His dog?- and back towards him, somewhat successfully. Her eyes just started jumping between the two, trying to come up with what connection that the two shared and Why?
Not sounding nearly as comfortable and she was beginning to feel, Frank asked "We just gunna stand here all night or are you gunna let us in?" The word "us" stood out in what he said and she couldn't quite wrap her mind around the idea that he wanted to bring a large dog into her apartment. Her apartment which she was sure didn't even allow cat's much less big, hulking pitbulls. Glancing down again at the dog that had now started panting, it's face breaking out into what looked like a dog's version of a smile while it's tongue drooped out of its mouth. Karen's nose scrunched as a line of drool fell from its tongue onto the carpet of the hallway.
Blinking out of her shock based stupor; Karen stepped to the side of the doorway, allowing Frank to enter her apartment, his companion following closely at his side. Karen closed the door behind them without removing her eyes from the very odd pair. Frank was all dark and angry looking, the dark circles under his eyes from what had to be a lack of sleep making him look all the more menacing of the pair, and the too-happy dog now sitting at his side.
She watched as Frank's eyes roamed around her apartment space, from the light tan colored walls of her living room; to her large bookshelf, small television, and bright sky blue colored couch smack dab in the middle of the room. "Uhhhh," The sound escaped her mouth at the sheer disbelief that this man was standing in her living room, one large dark mass of black sticking out like a sore thumb in the colorful environment that she created for herself. It had been enough to bring his attention back onto her, his eye still as sharp as they had ever been. His body turned to face her again, and with the movement of his coat, she caught a glance of a large gun that she figured he'd have somewhere on his person.
She found herself trapped in the intense eye contact that she had been trying to avoid in the hallway, but his eyes had managed to find hers as he took a step closer to her person, a leash falling from his hand as he moved closer. She didn't realize that in that moment she had scraped her teeth against her lower lip and moved to take a step back herself. He stopped the moment she felt her back hit the closed door behind her and her breath caught when his eyes moved down her form slowly.
"Frank," As soon as his name fell from his lips, his eyes locked onto her own again. Trying to gather her thoughts without the distraction of the man in front of her and the dog still sitting a short ways behind him, Karen cleared her throat.
"Why did you bring a dog to my apartment?" A huff of breath left Frank as he stepped back to give her some more space and looked back to the Pitbull that was watching the two of them, tail still wagging.
Silence followed right after and she watched as Frank appeared to hesitate –very out of character from what's she's learned of his personality in the short time that they've spent together- before opening his mouth to respond to her.
"He needs a place to stay,"
Help? I think that I'm on this Trash train until the end. Feel free to ride it with me.