If someone had told her the nightmares would be worse than anything she had ever experienced in her life, she would have closed her eyes when pulling the trigger. Every night after, it was the same damn thing. It changed, for sure, but always the same. The pain and guilt that ripped through her as the scene played over and over was the worst of it. She would take it back and yet, she would do it all again because it was a moment of desperation and a moment of fear for her friends and the people close to her. He had threatened everything that mattered to her.

Wesley's eyes watched her from behind his glasses. She couldn't read him. "I must admit; you are very tenacious. Reckless, but tenacious. Any sensible person would have given up, would have taken the money. But you, you just kept sticking your nose where it didn't belong."

"You can't do this." Her body was heavy and her head was pounding. The drugs were slowly wearing off. Slowly.

The man gave her another look and leaned back, placing his hands together on his lap. "Yet, here we are."

His face distorted into one of pain and he had blood soaking up his neat white shirt. "Miss Page-" Dull eyes stared at her in disbelief causing a sickening sensation to run through her body. "You won't be the first to die."

Gunshots rang in her head and she sucked in a shaky breath, standing from her seat. She hadn't reach for the gun but it was heavy in her hand as she tried to leave. He was in front of her now, perfectly fine with a grin she would have found charming if they weren't on different sides. He distorted again like a computer glitch and he wasn't smiling anymore.

"I hate this city." Wesley was watching her like he was unable to recognize her and he stepped forward. "He loves this city. In a way you and I never could." His fingers felt cold against her jaw and she couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through her. "He loves his mother."

"You didn't tell him." Everything was quiet besides the echo of her words ringing off the walls of the empty warehouse and fading away.

Wesley tilted his head with a soft smile, his shirt soaking red once more. "No."

In that moment, he changed again and it was Wilson Fisk standing before her, large hands grasping her throat. He squeezed and his words shot through her like a bullet. "But I know."

Karen bolted up in a panic as she struggled to breathe and get her senses. Her face was wet with tears and she ran her hands through damp hair. Sobs escaped her and she shook so much the bed rattled. She never thought Wesley of all people would haunt her dreams like this. They'd never had any other interactions before. He must have known a lot about her though. Ignoring that dangerous thought, she stumbled out of bed and raced to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and chugging. Her throat burned and she choked, coughing and holding her sides as she breathed deeply.

For a moment she felt hopeless, trapped inside her empty and quiet home. She wanted to drink like she did the first night. The first night she had nightmares. The night after her kidnapping and her murderous secret.

Instead, she turned on the coffee pot and made coffee all through the night. There wasn't a chance she was getting any more rest this night. Opening her laptop and tossing around all her files, she begins to work under just a simple desk lamp to light up the words and pictures on paper. After her third pot of coffee, she was connecting everything about some shit bag who stole thousands from their client and his activities. This isn't something she would do. No, she would let Matt and Foggy handle their own case but she needed a distraction.

The words in her nightmare caused her anxiety to jump, but she shook it away. She would be dead if he know that she killed Wesley. Fisk was locked away with no one to turned to and yet, she still feared that this nightmare would become a reality. He killed Ben, why wouldn't he come after her?

"Christ," Karen downed another cup and rubbed her forehead. The sun was rising and the clock said it was time for her to leave.

Pushing all thoughts of Fisk and Wesley from her mind, she took a shower and dressed in her usual; blouse and skirt paired with black heels. Grabbing her purse, she headed out the door and into the cool morning air. Wesley had taken her away right here on the steps of her apartment building, but it was dark then and now it was bright.

Taking a breath, she again attempted to rid the man of her mind and walked down the street. Karen stopped only to get more coffee and a couple more for her coworkers. They were always so thankful when she brought coffee so early in the morning. When she entered the office, she was alone.

"Foggy? Matt?" Silence.

So she sat and waited and drank her coffee to clear the fuzziness of her mind. She was tired. Neither of the men knew about her night with James Wesley. They didn't know why Fisk had her so scared. They were the lawyers that locked him away. She was the one who dug up his past and killed his only friend. She was responsible for Ben's death and she still beat herself up over it, despite her friends attempt to comfort her.

"Are you alright?"

She jumped at the voice and looked up to see Matt watching her. Well, he was facing her. "Yeah, why?" Foggy was standing in the doorway of his office with his arms crossed.

"You- You just seemed stressed is all. We are worried about you." Matt gave a soft smile and she honestly couldn't help but smile back.

Foggy glanced at his watch and grabbed his jacket. "Well, Matt and I need to go to the courthouse. Just a little minor thing, but afterwards we should go get a drink." He grinned and helped his friend with his jacket.

Karen paused and her smile disappeared. "I think- I think I'm just going to finish up here and head home. Maybe next time, though?"

Matt watched her with hesitation but nodded and held his walking stick close. Foggy gave a nervous laugh and agreed. They exited out the door and she was alone again. She rubbed her temple and stood. Organizing files was a perfect distraction for her and she took the time to create sections and categories. It kept her mind off of everything and it was what she had really needed for just a few short hours.

Just like any other day, nothing happened. She went home and sat on her couch, kicking off her heels and just staring. She drank whatever beer was left in her fridge and she collapsed on the bed when it got too late. Exhaustion won over her attempt to stop the nightmares from returning.

"Why did you kill me, Miss Page?"

Again she was shaking, but this time they weren't at the warehouse. They were in her home. Karen was sitting on her bed in the shirt and underwear she fell asleep in, but he was wearing the same black suit he died in.

"You were never really in any danger. You just had to do what I asked. We could have worked together." It was like he was still alive, talking to her like this. Perhaps it was just her own guilt trying to torment her over his death. His face changed in a flash, the same glitch-like motion. "You, you left an impression-"

"Stop it." She'd hoped he would stop at her interruption.

Wesley just smiled softly as he continued back on track, the same words from that night. "The nice blonde lady with the big blue eyes." He frowned and looked away as if looking around her apartment. "I put the gun on the table to scare you, not kill you."

Karen covered her ears because these were words she had in her head. Of course it was all in her head. The traitorous thoughts calling her a monster and using anything against her to prove just how horrible she was. Wesley was a dangerous man who worked for a murderer but she just didn't feel right killing anyone, even if they deserved it.

She had replayed every moment of the memory since it happened and she had asked every possible question. Why didn't he tell Fisk about her finding his mother? Why didn't he just kill her when he grabbed her outside her building? Why had he come alone and why did he put the gun on the table, so close to her reach? The words were on the tip of her tongue. Just ask this ghost of the man in her head, perhaps he has her answers.

Wesley just laughed innocently and shook his head as if he could hear her thoughts. Of course he could. "I'm not real, Miss Page, but I will be here for a long time." Gunshots. He was bleeding again, slumped in the old chair in her apartment and she screamed.

"Fuck!" She gasped as she woke, covering her eyes with her hands. The energy to sit up wasn't there so she laid on the bed and cried. How much could her heart handle? After she was able to calm down, the clock read three in the morning so she rolled off the bed. Her clothes stuck to her body and she took them off as she stood.

The time in the shower was a blur. She could have been in there for ten minutes or it could have been an hour. Once she was out, she wore her towel as she made coffee and rested on the couch and turned on the television.

The nightmares continued for weeks on end. Some nights she'd be so exhausted she could sleep without any problems. Yet Wesley showed up to taunt her, remind her of what she had done. Getting by during the day was simple. When she was alone all the thoughts came flooding back. Nothing would stop the man from dying every time she closed her eyes and she was starting to get used to it, as much as that pained her.