KASTLE ONE SHOT/POST S01/KAREN'S NIGHTMARES.

Lewis Wilson had fucked her up more than she'd like to admit. The days after Frank had saved her and left her alone in that elevator, his blood on her hands, had been like living in a constant horror film. She would have nightmares of screams and gunfire at first, the scenes ending in a loud explosion as she would bolt awake, terrified and not realizing that she was home and safe in her own bed.

She stayed glued to the news channel, the pot of white roses never moving from the window. She waited for him. Hoped to God that the knot of mild terror in her stomach was just her being paranoid. But he never came. The news stories did though.

Over the course of a few hours, all of Hell's Kitchen knew that Frank had saved Detective Madani and two young people while putting Billy Russo out of commission. Unfortunately, Frank Castle had sustained numerous injuries and the loss of blood proved too much. Homeland announced Frank Castle deceased, a misunderstood and heroic soldier that, in the end, gave his life to protect others. In her mind, Karen knew that Frank had been pronounced dead before and hadn't been. But he never came. And the nightmares turned into waking dreams.

It moved from the screams and gunfire to his voice. All around her. In pain and telling her to leave, to abandon him. Then she started hearing him while she was awake. Sitting at her desk, typing up her own article on Frank, she heard it.

"Karen."

The blonde jumped, spinning around in her seat, bright blue eyes wildly searching, hoping, for Frank Castle. The office stayed the same though, empty save for herself and the glow of her computer screen. A wave of terror touched her. Quickly, she had gathered up her things and sent the finished article to Ellison before hurrying home. She'd tried to call Foggy but only got his voicemail. She knew he was busy, so she didn't keep calling and instead opted for some Merlot and a hot bath.

The water seemed to clear her mind a little bit. Steam curled up into the air above her, twisting around in the dim light of the bathroom. She hadn't really realized that Frank had meant as much, no, meant more than Matt had to her. There was a bond, yes, but what caused that bond? The fact that she had helped him remember? Helped quell that loneliness that surged inside both of them since Matt's passing? Or was it that the darkness in her, the animalistic need to survive, reached out to him, a man that was more beast than man, a man that had survived everything?

She felt it sometimes, when he spoke to her, when he entered her personal space and his very aura demanded her darkness come to him. Memories flooded her. Her younger brother's laugh, Frank's rough hand on her cheek, the gravel in his voice, a flash of red from Matt's glasses, Foggy's worried face. The pain front Matt's death and now from Frank's welled up in her throat, her eyes burning.

Karen sighed loudly and let her head fall back against the tub. She waited there until she felt the burning in her eyes reside. Gathering herself, she finished the bottle of Merlot and her bath.

Once nestled down in her light blue comforter, she finally closed her eyes. It seemed like once she finally let her body rest, it only hurt more. The blonde focused on her breathing. Focused on a place far away from Hell's Kitchen where she could finally find peace and not be haunted by the memories of dead loved ones. Finally, she began to drift into the darkness that welcomed her so lovingly.

Softly, rough skin moved up her arm. The heavy weight of his own arm falling around her and pulling her close to him, the warmth of his body against her back.

"Ya gotta rest, Karen. Shh, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice granite beneath velvet. A sob escaped her and the burning returned. Except this time, she just let the tears come. She knew she was half asleep, she knew that this was all in her head and in the morning, his memory would still be the only thing she had left of him. She knew there would be no happy ending to this. So she sank in deeper, pressed into the warmth as his arm tightened around her and she felt his warm breath on her neck as she cried.

"Shh. That's it, sweetheart, it's going to be ok. Get some sleep," He whispered in her ear, a soft kiss placed against her hair. A final sob escaped her lips and she succumbed to the darkness.

In the early morning hours, when the night is at its darkest, Frank untangled himself from Karen. She murmured in her sleep, pale fingers gripping at the skin of his arm. He knew it was wrong but he couldn't watch her struggle through another bout of night terrors brought on by him. He should have killed Lewis when he had found Curt in that old guy's house. He should have told Karen what he was going to do. He should have taken better care of her. But he couldn't and still can't. It was too late. Coming back, staying in her life would only cause more damage to her. She deserved happiness. She deserved a normal life, a chance at a family and children. He was too fucked up. Too damaged beyond repair to be able to give her that and there was no way he was going to make her live through his own demons as well as hers. No, this was for the best.

So he slipped away into the darkness. He'd keep an eye on her. He'd watch her from afar. It was better this way. He had to keep telling himself that.