The night air was cold and frigid, tiny ice cycles forming over the street lights that towered over the empty sidewalks in Hell's Kitchen. Karen Page was fleeing for her life in three inch heels trying desperately not to slip and fall on the slick ground beneath her. Times like these made her question why she loved journalism. A part of her felt as though she could make a name for herself without the physical powers of being a superhero or a vigilante. A journalist had the ability to investigate and expose a criminal without necessarily having to use force. Karen was different, however, seeing as how she had killed someone before. If she was being honest she would do it again if she were forced to. When it came to survival in this city, she knew what it took to be at the top. The law and the vigilantes could only protect her so much. When it came down to it all she needed were her own skills and perhaps that involved carrying around a .380 in her purse when she wandered the streets by herself at night. She was a survivor of Hell's Kitchen. She would always survive.
As she sped quickly down the streets, her breath was becoming more shallow as she realized just how weak her body was. She made the mistake of coming into the crosshairs of a drug deal gone wrong and witnessed the murder of two innocents being stabbed to death. When the criminal noticed her presence, he immediately tried to shoot at her. She fled the scene with all her might, but he was catching up to her quickly. Shouting profanities and doing his best to reload his gun as he chased after her, she managed to find a dark alley with a fire escape that reached to the top of a roof. Her heart was beating profoundly within her chest and she felt as though she might faint, but she persevered. She reminded herself of her own strength and encouraged herself to keep going and to keep surviving despite how badly her lungs and feet ached.
Climbing up the fire escape was not easy and she found herself loosing a heel as she clawed her way to the top. The man behind her was laughing manically, clearly enjoying the thrill of the chase and his prize at the end.
"Give it up blondie!" he shouted, his voice dark and chilling, "I'm going to kill you!"
She trembled at his booming voice, but she didn't let it stop her as she finally reached the top of the roof. Fumbling for her gun, she ran out of her other heel and hid behind a brick wall just a few feet from where the killer would emerge from the fire escape. She could hear his heavy breathing, his laughter dying down into an eerie chuckle as he slowly climbed up the stairs and on to the roof's landing.
"Where'd you go, sweetheart? Let's have a chat," he purred. She could feel her heart pounding manically inside of her chest as she moved to turn the safety off of the gun. Finding the courage to approach her killer, she jumped out from behind the wall.
"I'm right here, asshole!" she shouted, pulling the trigger and aiming right for his head.
The killer was stunned, but the outcome of his demise wasn't the result of her pistol. The massive holes that mutilated his body was from the work of a military machine gun. She gasped when she realized her ears were ringing and her skull was thumping profoundly from the impact of the gun fire. This wasn't her handy work. This was the work of The Punisher.
Tears were beginning to weld in her eyes as she let out a shaky and uncontrollable breath. Her eyes averted from the body of the dead criminal to the building beside them. Frank was lowering his gun mid-air when his eyes caught hers. She gazed at him with a look of mixed emotions before she crumpled to the ground, her pistol falling to her side.
Frank felt a jolting pain within his chest as he watched her faint. Immediately packing up his gun he jumped the small distance between the two buildings and approached her delicate form. He didn't even give the criminal a second look as he knelt down beside her and checked her body for any significant damages. Breathing a sigh of relief when he realized that she was fine, he brushed her hair back from her face and gave her a half smile.
"Always gettin into trouble," he muttered as he noted her .380. Smirking at the sight of it he placed it within his large coat and scooped her up into his arms.
They had not spoken to one another in over a month and he had not seen her since the night he stood atop the roof to help Red with the ninjas. He remembered the way she looked up at him; confused and relieved to see that he was alright. It made his heart sink to think about all the pain he had put her through over the course of the trial and then with the murder of Blacksmith. She wanted to stop him from turning into the monster that everyone believed him to be and a part of him wanted to trust her. However, he cared more about his revenge than he did about her.
Karen was not aware that he was secretly keeping track of all the articles she had written of some peculiar criminal activity that had taken place near the docks. There was a serial killer on the loose who targeted women, severing their necks with giant knives after he had mutilated them otherwise. It was a gruesome occurrence that sent shivers down his spine and his trigger finger aching. He knew Karen was stubborn enough to get to the bottom of the mystery and no one could convince her to let it go. It was a part of her that he admired even though he found himself worrying about her constantly.
Frank was following her that night in particular because she was headed to find some clues on the situation. There were a few shopkeepers in the area who had some information on who they thought it could be and she was determined to find some answers for her next article in Sunday's paper. After she was finished with her questions, she was heading out the door to leave when she spotted a drug deal gone wrong in a dark alleyway outside of one of the shops.
He gritted his teeth at the thought of what could have happened to her if he didn't follow her that night. There was a possibility that Red could have been listening in, but Frank didn't want to chance that. Despite their lack of communication these days he would never let anything bad happen to her.
Glancing down at her small form, he quickly picked up the pace of his strides and managed to take a few back alleyways to reach her apartment. Just as he was rounding the stairs to open the door, he felt her hands grip at his coat. Light blue eyes half opened, her lips parted to let out a soft groan.
"My key…is in my pocket," she said weakly as he nodded and gently sat her down on the stairs. Helping her retrieve it, he stood back up with her in his arms and opened the door quickly.
Marching up the stairs and rounding the corner to her apartment, he was in a hurry to get her inside. If anyone saw him with her passed out in his arms he was sure to be arrested.
"I'm gonna have to ask you to stand for a minute while I open your door," he said softly as she nodded her head. Setting her down to stand he kept his arm around her waist to keep her steady as he fumbled with the lock.
Bracing herself against his muscular frame, she was nearly about to faint again until he opened the door and quickly scooped her back into his arms. She let out a small gasp and she winced from the sudden pain in her side, her lips quivering into a frown. Gently laying her down on her bed, his gaze never faltered away from her as he watched her begin to shiver. It had just now occurred to him that she wasn't wearing any shoes and all she was wearing was a long sleeved shirt and a long pencil skirt. He made a face at her strange outfit choice and moved to bring the covers around her shoulders.
"Are you hurt?" he questioned as he turned on the lamp beside her bed.
"My side…I feel like I was just hit by a truck," she muttered as she moved to touch the aching part of her ribs. Moving the cover back and lifting her shirt, she groaned when she found the bruise that was forming on her side.
"Guess you hit the ground pretty hard," he noted.
She studied his facial expression for a long moment then, counting the purple bruises that formed over his cheek bones. His eyes were solemn and there was something longing about the way he looked at her. Was it regret? She had no idea.
"How did you know…I was being chased after? Were you following me?" The questions were spilling from her lips as different thoughts raced through her mind.
He shrugged, his gaze suddenly avoiding hers, "Don't worry about it."
Anger flashed through her for the briefest of moments, but she couldn't act on it due to the sheer exhaustion and pain she felt coursing through her body.
"Why did you even bother?" she asked then, her voice coming out like venom. She was not in the mood to play any games.
"Fine, I was followin' you. Is that what you wanna hear?" he spat in return, equally annoyed as she was.
Letting out a small sigh of frustration, she glared at him, "You haven't spoken to me in a month, Frank."
"Yeah? You said I was dead to you, didn't think that meant we were still friends," he said angrily, his tone almost mocking.
Her jaw clenched at the words as she reflected on the moment she said that to him. Just as he was about to drag Blacksmith into the shed she screamed at him that he would be dead to her if he murdered him. Frank chose his path and she knew in that moment the line that separated him from The Punisher was extremely fuzzy. There was nothing she could do to change his mind and for the briefest of moments she found herself mourning over that thought.
"Maybe you should go," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Frank scoffed at her cowardice and he moved to stand from her bed. A small voice within him protested against her demands, but his ego was much larger and he nodded his head.
"Yeah, whatever," he muttered as he moved to open her window. Looking back over his shoulder at her he noticed that a few silent tears had escaped her eyes. Her countenance was sorrowful yet cross and before she could take back what she asked for he disappeared through her window and down the fire escape.
Karen let out a small sob as she closed her eyes and held her side, her mind spinning with questions that she wished she had answers to. Why did this have to be so confusing? She didn't know how she felt about Frank, but she hated that she couldn't speak to him and level with him as she did the night at the coffee shop. Despite how brief their conversation was; it had been such a long time since she felt that sort of comfort from someone before. She remembered something the Colonel had said to her before he attempted to kidnap her, that Frank had this way about him that allowed him to peer inside someone's soul. She was conflicted on what made her decide to trust him, but she couldn't deny that a small part of her missed him.
Was Frank Castle still in existence or was he solely The Punisher now? Karen did not know and she was afraid to investigate to find out. She wasn't even sure that it was worth it. All she knew in that moment was that she wouldn't be able to solve anything in one night. Her tears stopped flowing and she moved to switch the lamp off so that she could her exhaustion take over her.
One battle at a time, she thought quietly before she let sleep take over her.
One battle at a time.
A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first fanfiction taking on the Kastle portrayal of things and boy am I excited to get the ball rolling on this! Ever since I watched season 2 of Daredevil a few weeks ago I've been brewing with stories involving these two amazing characters. This is only a taste for what is yet to come so expect a lot more drama/fluff/adventure and what have you in the chapters to come! I really would appreciate your feedback on this! Thanks so much for reading! ~merimekko