"Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach."
-Ayn Rand
Frank is fully aware of how creepy it is incessantly follow a woman who told you you were dead to her around- he don't need no freakishly angry, perpetually drunk bird who picked up a car the first time they met to tell him that. He's got shit to do, people to kill. Still, somehow, he always ends up here; tailing her all the way from the Bulletin to her apartment- just to make sure she gets in safe. Because Frank owes Karen Page his life. If one were being particularly poetic, one might say that Frank Castle owes Karen Page his humanity but he ain't, so he isn't. His head is on a constant swivel for any trouble, for anyone that could hurt her, for someone to fight to ignore the swirlings of feelings that are like a punch in the throat every time he sets his sights on that pretty face of her's. That's how he notices the Devil of Hell's motherfucking Kitchen doing the same thing he is- protecting Miss Karen Page.
Huh.
Red is just sitting there as Karen finally makes it into her building, happy as can be, completely oblivious to the two vigilantes protecting her like a couple of whipped guard dogs. He turns his head just as Frank walks up because Red never lets anyone forget that he has super-fuckin-sonic hearing, says, "Frank?"
"Red." Now, you see, Frank isn't an idiot. He is a soldier, a survivor, and you don't get to be either of those things without having something rollin' around up there in your skull. So Frank hears the question in the way Red says his name, hears the barely contained fear and paranoia. Not for the first time he wonders exactly how much shit Karen gets up to if goddamn Daredevil feels like he has to watch her back. Frank'd march over to her apartment right now and demand an explanation if he thought it would end in any other way than Karen using that cool little .380 to put his sorry ass down. "Not your usual scene."
"No it isn't." The other man takes a breath, seems to fortify himself. "But it seems like it's yours." Frank says nothing, just shakes his head and runs his hand over his hair. Goddamn he needs a haircut. Ain't any of Daredevil's business what the Punisher gets up to. Frank helped him, still sometimes helps him, because the Code demands it. You never leave a brother hangin', not in a warzone. And that is exactly what he and Red are: brothers in arms waging a war they're both too stubborn to admit they're not enough for.
"Ain't none of your business what I get up to, Red. I got my job and you got yours."
"Since when has protecting Karen Page been your job? Since when has she been yours to protect?" He angrily demands, stepping up close to him. Frank just looks at him, seeing everything and putting it away for later. The Devil may wear a mask but that don't mean he ain't just as easy to read as the rest of 'em.
"Like I said, it isn't any of your business." He turns his head to the apartment building, counts three windows to the left and five up, where Karen's got the light on for the time being. Every other light is off except for her's and ain't that just the sweetest little metaphor? Karen Page- a light in the darkness when everything else is bleak. "She's a friend."
Red smiles sardonically, it's the first time Frank has seen the kid's teeth without them being bloodied. "You don't have friends, Frank."
He shrugs. "Maybe not, but she...that woman's the closest thing I got. She don't need any unnecessary bullshit, Karen don't deserve that." Not that they spent a lot of time talking about her personal history, but Frank got enough to know that she's been around. She's seen shit. Done shit. But she's still full of light and compassion and strength and...and beauty. Ol' Frank Castle, he doesn't really get to see as much of that as he used to. So he walks her home. He makes sure no one messes with her. He may not be the defender of truth and justice like Red is but that's because he doesn't really see the need for it. The world is a shitty place full of shitty people and trying to hold everyone to an ideal that hardly exists as it is doesn't work. There ain't no use trying to turn bad people good, but Frank sees the merit in protecting the good that is out there. And Karen Page is just about the best good there is.
"You should stay away from her." Red says it like Frank's just gonna agree, salute him, and be on his merry way.
Well, newsflash, Santa Claus, Frank Castle barely followed orders when he was a Marine. "Why the fuck you care man? What's she got to do with you? Because the way I see it- I'm up here because she would fuckin' shoot me if I was down there. Now, that's her right and honestly, I get it. She's done with me. Said so herself." Red's back tenses and he turns away from him, like he struck a nerve. "Now, ya see, that's why I'm up here Red. What'd you do that you're in the same position?"
"I, um," Red wets his lips. Frank catalogues the nervous tick. "I lied to her. I mean, I did, and then I didn't. I thought she would understand, like Ele-never mind. It's not...that's over now. She won't see me but I needed to know that she's safe. I got her into this mess, she's my responsibility."
He cocks his head, raises an eyebrow. "Karen ain't no one's responsibility, kid. Don't do her the disservice. You care about her. You want her to be safe, ain't nothin' wrong with that." In the back of his head, he remembers the word projection and tries not to think about it too much.
"Yes. Yes, I care about her. Which is why I'm telling you to keep your distance, Frank. Karen does not need your own personal brand of violence corrupting her anymore than it already has."
"I have been keepin' my distance, dipshit, but thanks for the advice."
Red turns his head, angling his ears to catch something that Frank has longed since learned to never try to hear. Red's a freak of nature, ain't no doubt about it. "I gotta go. The police are having trouble three blocks west." He goes to leave but turns back. "I meant what I said, Frank...just stay away from her, okay?"
"Whatever you say, Red. Have fun fightin' the good fight." Frank keeps his eyes on Karen's window, where the light's gone out. Good, it's gettin' late. He can tell she needs to sleep more, can tell that she's running herself ragged trying to keep up with the crime in Hell's Kitchen, trying to tell her story.
If he ever got the chance to talk to her, he'd say that he really liked her first article. The one about being a hero. Now he wonders if she wrote it for Daredevil, doesn't know why it even occurred to him that she would write about him. For as much as Karen seemed to understand him, Frank was never under the impression that she thought he was anything other than a monster. He don't take no offense to it, because that's what he is. He's a monster. But he's a monster with a righteous mission, nothin' more or less, and that's what Frank likes to believe she sees.
It's important that she understands. That she knows. Because, even if no one else understands, even if Red thinks he's batshit, even if people hate him- it don't matter if Karen Page gets it. No one else's opinion matters because she understands him so much better than any of the rest ever will, because if Karen Page believes in him then he's not as far gone as he thought it was.
If Karen Page believes in him, then Frank Castle's got a chance.
Hey guys, it's kamlo-ren. I'm posting this story on my old fanfiction account to contribute to the Daredevil fics on here! This is actually me, not someone stealing the story!
Have a wonderful day!
-Geez/Kamlo-Ren