A Trans-Atlantic Relation

Three years ago when the Punisher had made a trip to Belfast, Ireland, Jade's husband, Cyril, had been one of the men he killed. She had yet to gave a chance to thank him.

Cyril had abused, beaten and turned Jade into a woman who was ripe to become what she was now. She was a fragile woman, teetering on the brink of death every night. Would he beat her? Would he rape her? Would he just pass out in a pool of his own vomit? She never knew what his arrival would bring home, but there was one thing it wouldn't, a pay check. She did what she could to get extra money, and with that said, she did everything she could and received worse beatings and two abortions as a result, but she didn't look back in anger, she didn't blame her past. She knew what she was doing now, and she liked it.

She wore headphones on the flight and slept most of the way, ordering a rye and coke when the stewardess asked her if she could get her anything.

Before she knew it the flight was over and she had landed in New Jersey. A young mick, looked to be Finn's nephew, Peter. He gave her the quick once over and she eyed him.

"You Vendetta?" he asked, his little eyes watching her, looking at her breasts, her thighs; sizing her up in the way most men do. She brushed it off.

"Depends," she kept walking past him, letting her eyes slip to a black car that waited outside. She smirked and walked to it, her carry on slung over her shoulder as she sauntered to the Crown Victoria.

She pulled on the passenger's seat handle and smiled at Finn Cooley. "Really, Finn, ya couldn't've sent a nice blonde boy ta pick meh up? Ya know Ah prefer 'em."

She smiled and climbed into the passenger's seat that had been Peter's spot. He now had to sit behind his uncle in the cramped space of the back seat.

His hand rested on her leg as she put her back between them. "Ah know, luv, but Ah'm jus' not up ta publicita like Ah used ta be..." he smiled and rubbed her thigh. She put her hand over his and smiled at him.

"Ah'd say i' was an improvement," she smirked and eyed him with a fierce gaze. After her husband was killed, before Finn's accident, they had been involved in a bit of a sexual relationship. Neither was much for romance, so the strictly sexual basis for their relationship suited both just fine. When Finn's face was blown off and he retreated to Canada, the relationship was unofficially over.

"Ah, ya know ya can' resis' me, luv; even if ya try," he winked at her, well, as best he could with no eyelids and did what was a half smirk. "Ya know, jus' cause we've been on a hiatus..."

"Ya lef' me in Belfast ya rotta'," Jade looked out the window at the buildings they were passing on their way out of the Garden State and into the Big Apple. "It'll take a li'l more than some sweet words ta get inta mah pants this time."

"If Ah rememba right, didn't take any tha last time," he leaned a little closer to her at a red light and whispered: "Jus' a real big bomb at a British Army Headquarters an' you were all but beggin' me for mah big bomb."

"In ya dreams."

"Ev'ry night, sweet 'eart. Ev'ry night."

"So, what's this job ya wan' me ta do?" she brought their conversation back around, turning the course to anywhere but their past relations. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy them, it was more that she would rather not repeat her past mistakes.

"'is name's the Punisher, Frank Castle," Finn started out.

"Ah was hopin' ya'd say that..."

Jade and Finn discussed the job at length the entire ride back into the Kitchen while Peter drifted in and out, watching the familiar streets around them.

Streets that they would throw into chaos with their petty squabbling. Streets that would be filled with the blood of innocent women and children, just like in the Emerald Isle. Peter believed in the cause, a free Ireland, but the blood that was being shed, innocent blood on both sides... How could he live with himself....