Pain. Power. Punished.

Set after events of The Punisher- Season 1. Karen comes across a story that will change her forever and Frank as always- tries to shield her from the bad. Centred around two of Marvel's beautifully complex characters that I find myself entranced and inspired by.

I had spent weeks without seeing Frank, Matt was gone and even the promise from Foggy to always be there for me, had proven null and void. Being a journalist was challenging and demanding, it pushed me onwards to something I valued immensely- the truth. Though I wish that was enough to sate my life fully, it wasn't. Even when I'd have the relief of revealing the truth of an untold story to the world, I would come back to my deathly quite apartment and eat take out food alone. I would walk through the threshold and my eyes would play tricks on me, they would see Frank's silhouette in the curve of shadows and my heart would begin to race irrationally until I flicked the lights on to an empty room. I had no expectation he would return but beyond what was good for me, I hoped to have that surprise at the end of my long day- every long day but I was always greeted by silence. I could almost picture him now, staggering across the floor, most likely moving oddly groom broken bones, blood dripping onto my hard wood floor from many wounds and bruises assigned to every inch of his face. Yes, that I could imagine and yet he would manage to politely call me 'Ma'am' at least once and focus on me so intently as if the pain he must be in did not exist at all. I wondered if he felt the pain anymore, he never let on and I never asked. It was like that with so many things between us.

That night, I settled on my small desk and looked over the paperwork of my latest story that spilled over onto the floor either side of my work space. Four missing people in the last three weeks. Three male, one female all under the age of twenty five. The police were not getting anywhere quick, I knew that from my source with a badge. Today I'd visited the mother of a 19 year old boy named Toby. Thirteen days he's been missing and his mother looked like she'd lived a year for every hour her son wasn't found.

"He had his dinner on the table that night, but he…. He never came home. I knew right there something was wrong" she said, frowning into her lap where she squeezed her hands together tightly. I felt a sorrow for her, I could say nothing, no words made this kind of pain ease. So I leaned over and squeezed the woman's hands.

"He was always home for his dinner?" I asked. The woman sniffled then a laugh escaped.

"Toby was late sometimes but never for my chilli, he eats it in buckets" She smiled and I smiled too, embracing the woman's warm memories like my own. It wasn't hard for me to find a tie to people, to feel their pain or their joy. Sometimes if felt like a gift, other times it felt like a line to parts of myself I always knew to be there and always ignored…..Until I tried to understand and empathise with Frank Castle. I slowly became aware that the dark parts of me were rising in acknowledgment of his. Like metal drawn to a magnet. Even if it was deeply buried, the magnetic pull from Frank's darkness had made mine bleed through the surface. I had told others it was to understand his violence but if I was wholly honest, it was to understand mine.

"Is there anything that your son did irregularly leading up to the weeks he disappeared? Did he meet anyone new…. Anything you may have remembered?" I asked. I knew the police must have asked her but sometimes it was worth asking again.

"Nothing. He always plays his computer games when he's not at college. Well, and he volunteers at the shelter on Sundays….he's such a good kid" She said. Wiping away a tear that slid down her face.

"He sounds like a credit to you Mrs Preston. I can't think of anyone his age that volunteers" I said, careful not to upset her further. She smiled.

"Yes, he's never had a bad bone in his body. Just yesterday I found a card in down the couch- it was a thank you note from giving blood. He hadn't even told me he'd donated" She smiled sadly, a gentle sob rising from her chest. I sat back a little.

"May I see the card Mrs Preston?"

"Of course….."

The next day I had checked with my source and confirmed one other missing person visited that same blood bank, two days before she went missing. However, the two remaining boys had no known link. Even though everyone else seemed to think I was jumping ahead, I felt there was a connection here. Like a dog that caught the scent of meat, I would pursue this lead.

I sat in the chair, a nurse beside me and a needle draining the blood out my arm. I'm not fond of needles but I needed an excuse to question the staff at this centre.

"My friend let me know where to give blood. I've been meaning to do it for a while now" I said. Just a small smile from the nurse. It looked as if she deliberately was avoiding eye contact with me so I began to speak again. "He has dark hair, green eyes. 19. I don't suppose you seen him here?" I asked again. She sighed heavily.

"Day after day, people come in Miss" she said, seeming annoyed I'd asked.

"I was only asking because he's missing. See he's probably having a rebellious phase but his mother is worried sick. If you could take his name to check who assisted him with donation around two weeks ago it could help….." I stop short with the withdrawal of the needle being tugged out abruptly.

"Like I said, too many people come through to remember a name or face. Your done here now Miss" she handed me a card identical to the one that led me here and she backed out of the curtain.

Later that night I pushed the key into the lock of my front door and swung it open. Dark and quite again. I walking in and without dumping my bag down, I poured myself a drink. Out of my peripheral, I yet again thought I saw Frank's towering outline. I sighed, downed my drink and turned the light on.

"Karen" Sounded a voice unmistakable for anyone else's. My heart thudded harder and I turned to see Frank. He wore his normal clothes, Jeans, boots, a t-shirt that stretched over his broad chest and a Jacket slung over that- All dark colours but certainly not shadow. I gripped my chest.

"Jesus Frank!" I exclaimed. I hadn't realised I had already got one hand on the weapon in my bag. He put his hands up in front of him, a calm exterior as always. I put the bag on the counter and pulled Frank to me. He was reluctant but finally put his arms down and settled into the embrace. I breathed in his scent, and it made me feel at ease. I pulled away. "You never came back. I didn't know what had happened to you. Again" I said, unable to mask the hurt.

"I had some things to take care of" he said, his voice deep and raspy as if gravel continuously rattled in his throat.

"And they are taken care of now?" I asked. The light hit his face, mound of scars were highlighted and his broken and re-broken nose emphasised. All of that and he still carried a charm, a sense of attractiveness I couldn't ignore. He looked at me, so focussed and intent.

"How are you Karen?" He asked. I took a breath. I looked down only to feel the rough skin of his gentle hand on my chin. The touch alone sent shivers down me. "Remember we don't lie to each other, not us" he said.

"No Frank, we don't. But we don't tell each other everything either. You don't tell me anything anymore" I said, walking away to sit on the couch. He followed, sitting beside me.

"Karen, the things I do….you don't need to hear that. The things I see…. You don't have to picture that when you close your eyes. I don't want you to" he said. I ran my fingers through my loose curls, brushing the heap backwards.

"Then why are you here? What do you want?" I asked, steadily. He rubbed his face with his hands.

"Karen, something's going on out there. People, they are being taken and I need you to stop looking into it" he said, the words were stated as a fact.

"How do you know I'm looking into it?"

"When you investigate Karen, it's never quietly. You go around shaking every tree you see, at the same time not noticing all the shit falling out around you" he said, with a slight curve of his lips on one side but the same stern tone.

"Are you kidding me Frank? Appose to your ever so subtle approach of torture and execution?" I said, in disbelief. He sighed, waited a moment and lifted his hand to place it on my face. His eyes were big and they captured me. His solid, intimating frame, cautiously moved inched forward. I gulped as quiet as I could, even though I knew he saw how he affected me, I was keeping no big secret from him there.

"Karen, you could get hurt. I can't let that happen and you know if I get involved there's no lawful arrests and fair trials, I hit um so they can't get back up again" he said.

"How about you can let me get on with my job. What it is with men and their patriarchal bullshit? I carry a gun, I've used it before and if I have to….. I will use it again" I said, hating him for making me say it out loud. I stood, facing away from him and before I built the strength to tell him to go, I felt his hand slip into mine. My fingers tightened before I could stop them. I looked into Frank's eyes.

"I can't lose you Karen" He whispered, his voice broke as if he were being torn up. I turned and felt his head rest on my shoulder as I stood there, I wrapped my arms around him, his short hair prickling against my neck. To be here, so close to him, to feel his warmth and hold him in my arms was something that made me want to cry with sweet joy- and cry with helplessness that I couldn't lessen his pain. Franks suffering won't stop until his heart does, a fact he carried plain on his face to see every remaining day of his life. As I knew him more and spent more time in this confusing, dangerous loop with him, I carried more of his suffering with me also. I feared that I would carry it- to a degree- for the rest of my life now. I ran my fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp where I could find the spaces with no raised scars. He lowered his shoulders, relaxing a little. As I felt his head on my fingertips I recalled the X-Rays of that same skull. It was first time I'd seen anything to do with Frank. A white outline of the bones that encased his brain and a prominent hole to the left side. Frank was shot in the head the day his family was massacred. Something that had always come back to me, was being told Frank's life support was shut off but as his heart began to still, he woke. Even then, he was saying 'fuck you' to the corrupt system, to the ones that wanted him dead and those same ones that included his family in that. That drive that brought him back, dragged him through the hell of actually living again . His pain was so staggering it rivalled death and although I couldn't condone his methods, I had to admit to excusing it.

I remember the conversation with Matt where he realised this and I saw the surprise and….disappointment on his face that I was able to justify a killers actions. Matt was a catholic and it's something I loved about him from the beginning. He had strict morals, a sense of what was right in the world and that had always made me admire him. That's until he told me he was Daredevil. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen- handing his helmet out to me in proof. He judged me that night in his apartment when I'd come out with it and said Frank's methods were affective. When in fact, he'd been guilty of something Frank wasn't, being two people. A life covered in lies to support his other one. Even now, after everything, it still stung and I wished I could now more than ever- let it go. Matt was gone and even if he wasn't dead like everyone thought, he was still not here. Why do I have doubts of his death? I hadn't seen his body, I hadn't pulled back the sheet and witnessed him pale and still. I hadn't looked upon his face and knew his eyes would never again open. Frank had been assumed dead and he sat in my apartment, face muffled into the curve of my neck, my arms keeping him there. Foggy was truly broken with Matt's death, understandable as close as they had been for years. However, when I tried to muster that same emotion for a man- despite his misgivings- whom I had loved, I felt a vacant and empty. My gut says it's one of two things; Matt isn't really gone or I have spent so long in the dark there's no hope in clawing my way back out.

Frank stood, withdrawing from the tender seconds we shared. I was torn between wanting more than few seconds and knowing I'd never get them. Just then my phone chimed in my pocket, playing some basic three note tune for a text. I looked down at the screen after typing the passcode in, and my eyebrow pulled together.

….Miss Page, following your donation we urge you to return to the clinic regarding an abnormality in your blood donated….

The message continued to say a time the following day, again urging me to attend. My mind began to tick in a suspicious way.

"What is it?" Frank urged, reading me like a book. His words repeated in my head 'we don't lie to each other- not us'.

"I gave blood today, I was following a lead. Two of the missing people had visited the same centre shortly before they disappeared. They just sent me this" I said, turning the screen to face him. His eyes narrowed with the same suspicion I had.

"So what are you thinking? They use this as a cover to lure people in and abduct them?" Frank asked. His mind grinding the cogs just as mine was. I shrugged, running my fingers through my locks again.

"I guess I need pull at this thread to find out"

"Karen, on my watch- no one touches you" he said, deep conviction his raspy voice. I took a breath.

"Frank, there are parents out there, crying for their kids to come home…." I said. The words froze him, his jaw tightened, he shoulders tensed. His eyes wandered to a place I couldn't follow.

"I'll have your back tomorrow ma'am" he stated.

Just now I was realising he was free from his usual bruised complexion and bloody exterior.

Had he stopped the fighting? I didn't want to be the thing that tempted his trigger finger if that was the case.

"Frank….. no killing. Make that promise to me" I whispered. There was a static moment, he looked off to the side, seeming to avoid my gaze for a moment.

"We don't lie to each other….remember?"