TC Stark: The inspiration for the title and theme of the story is the song "Wake Up" by Mad Season. The title is directly a line from the song. Check it out - it's a great song.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

There were things that many people didn't know about Frank Castle. Sure, the papers had painted a pretty picture. There was no denying he was a man who lost everything. He was once a decorated Marine who used his skills from the military to cause chaos against his enemies in Hell's Kitchen. Anyone responsible that day at the park would sooner or later find themselves on the receiving end of The Punisher's...well, punishment.

What many didn't know were his likes. He liked funky seventies music. Once, he let his daughter paint his toes. And he liked to cook. Maria was a master of the kitchen, but on Sundays he treated his family to traditional Italian dinners. He felt like an Italian grandma - spending all afternoon cooking sauce and making meatballs. That of course, when he was around. But, he remembered he liked those things.

Karen Page knew this. While she was working late one night at The Bulletin, Frank decided to repay her for letting him stay at her place. It was hard to remain hidden after everything that had happened. The boat explosion was supposed to be the death of him, but apparently God had other plans. For someone who wasn't religious anymore, he supposed Red had rubbed off on him a little.

Not only had she let him stay, but his dog as well. Karen was a saint. There was no way she deserved any of the bullshit Frank put her through. Shit, from tanking their case on purpose, to dragging a man off to die in front of her - he wondered often why she bothered letting him back into her life. Once upon a time, she'd said she believed him. Knowing her better now, the Punisher felt she saw more of herself in him than he'd previously thought.

After petting his pitbull on the head, the widow made his way to check on the chicken in the oven. It was obvious Karen didn't eat well. Not because of how she looked. That woman was gorgeous. There was nothing dainty about her. They were the same friggin height, yet she was a graceful goddess while he was a raging bull. With long legs and a supple figure, Frank was pretty sure she could have been a model if she had wanted to be.

There were just so many friggin frozen dinners in the freezer. Karen could cook too - she had for him before. But, it wasn't a normal occurrence. Most often the only items in her actual fridge were beer and maybe a carton of eggs. From either being stressed due the dynamic of her former friendships or working late, she hadn't much time to put together anything decent to eat.

Which led to Frank deciding he was gonna make them both a roast chicken with mashed potatoes and string beans on the side. It was damn right domestic of him. Karen had teased he was her stay at home wife, to which the man found himself joking about wanting a brand new car. He didn't know why joking around with her was so easy.

Pulling the oven door open to start basing the chicken, Frank's mind wandered to Maria. He remembered the one Thanksgiving where his wife's water broke while she was preparing the turkey. They were expecting family over - his girl insisting she could host the holiday. The doctor had told them she wasn't due for another week. But, with an hour still needed on the bird, they shut that shit off and rushed to the hospital. If he remembered correctly, he ended up only eating jello that day.

Suddenly, the realization Frank had just been standing there - oven door still open - dawned on him. He quickly shut the thing and stood back up, seeing around the apartment as if it was the first time. He needed grounding; reaching out to grip the counter top before he could fall down. The dog was whimpering; he knew something was wrong.

This wasn't his house. This wasn't his house, with his wife. There were no sounds of laughter from children echoing throughout the room. The smell of food reminded him of dinners with his family, yet they were nowhere to be found. This wasn't right...it was a clenching in his heart, alerting him that something was wrong.

"Shit." Frank cursed under his breath, sinking to the floor to hold his head. Of course, of course he was feeling this way. Just when he was feeling a small piece of serenity - a tiny moment of peace, his mind wouldn't let him be. Even when he was attempting to make a life forever himself after the tragedy, all he could think about was his family. His soul wouldn't let him be happy with Karen.

Karen Page. He didn't deserve her. And she didn't deserve a man who was in the middle of a breakdown, in her kitchen; because he was actually happy. Fuck, what was he doing? This wasn't right. It should have been Maria, by his side; teasing him for being so goddamn domestic. What was his problem? Who did he think he was, trying to pick the pieces back up? Frank Castle wasn't meant to be happy.

Just one second of peace. That's all he wanted and he'd never get it.

The door suddenly jiggled open and a tired, yet smiling Karen stepped through, "Mmm, smells wonderful."

Frank was suffocating. He quickly scrambled up off the floor, probably looking out of his mind. In the background, he heard Karen ask him what was wrong. But, he felt disoriented. Grabbing his head, he practically stumbled passed her, mumbling something about needing to leave, "I...chicken...in the oven."

"Frank...Frank!" Karen attempted to get through to him, though; he was already at the door, "What's going on, Frank?"

Stopping momentarily, Frank almost lost his footing while turning around, choking out the hardest two words he ever had to say, "I'm sorry," before walking out.