"Alright, you stay put for a second I'll be right back . . . don't die!" Cordelia broke their sole soft moment, wiping Frank's blood on her jeans, going paler still as she did so.
"I wasn't . . ." Frank groaned as he rolled his injured shoulder. "Wasn't shot anywhere important." He lumbered to his feet, still tired, but the ongoing ache had wained to a bearable load. "The kid? Bring Max over, he's jonsing for his munchkin fix." He reasoned the only plausible explanation for rushing to his side then abandoning him. Max began to pant and pace at the prospect of seeing Dahlia.
"Frank, One. You know I don't fuck with that horse of yours." Cordelia was halfway out his door. "Two you know how many times I've been shot? Zero. Zero times. And even I know there's no such thing as being kind of a little bit shot. You were shot Frank. Now stay there try not to bleed everywhere and don't die. You can bring the beast over for dinner."
"Don't have much of an appetite." Frank shook his head, he didn't have time for a dinner date, he had to get back out there, the Irish were closing in, they were looking for him, that shooter hadn't lucked in on him, it wouldn't be long till they found him.
"Then it's a good thing I didn't ask if you were hungry!" As much as Frank noticed Cordelia's diminishing complexion she could see Frank hadn't exactly been taking care of himself, gunshot wound aside. He had added more bruises to his collection, she couldn't hazard a guess the last time he slept or ate or did anything not self destructive. His eyes were as dark commanding and alert as she remembered but now they were also strained and tired, his skin was still tanned and tough as nails but he was also cracking at the seams. "Now Dahlia's locked in the bathroom and that little girl thinks you and that fire breathing dragon hate her so-"
"Dragon?" Frank rolled his eyes, now she was just getting ridiculous.
"I've gotta go get her, I'll be right back! You two are going to suck it up and eat dinner with her!" Cordelia disappeared.
With a cough from deep in his gut Frank pulled off his shirt, important or not he had to sew the injury shut. "What a god damn idiot. Knife to a gun fight." Frank cursed as he grabbed his patch kit. Sitting next to it was Cordelia's handy kitchen knife. It really sunk in, she had come over to his aide with no idea what she was walking in on, and had not even the beginnings of a good plan for what to do if shit hit the fan. Sure locking Dahlia in the bathroom short term seems like a good idea, keeps her safe, but what happens when Cordelia walks in on whomever tracks Frank's scent down first and her kitchen knife is no match for their gun power? Does Dahlia slowly starve to death clawing at the bathroom door? That likely outcome came all too quickly to Frank but he wasn't sure if it had even been considered by Cordelia.
The fact that Cordelia wasn't as calculatingly morbid as him came as no surprise to Frank. Even before the incident war had played such a heavy role in his life that he hadn't noticed when it began to bleed from his unconscious mind to his conscious one. The bullet that pierced his skull blew whatever barrier holding the two apart, now it was all he thought about, always at the forefront of his mind. That's why as he finished the first row of stitches he was mad, not at Cordelia and her piss poor planning, at himself for getting distracted for getting lost in thoughts and feelings. He could have, should have avoided all this. There was no need for her to be cleaning him off the floor, putting herself and the kid in danger. 'My fight, not their's'
"Oh God fucking dammit!" The door swung open, Cordelia couldn't possibly get any paler so instead he skin started to take a pea soup undertone. "A little warning next time!" She managed to gag out.
"This is my apartment you know?" He used her knife to cut the thread holding his flesh together.
"If you want privacy fix your lock." She took a big bracing breath. "Do you . . . want me to get the other side?" Her fingers cringed inward at the thought.
"Don't look all that steady Super Girl." He shook his head as he struggled to reach over his shoulder with the needle. "Why fix it if they're just gonna break it again." He tried to brush her off, but Cordelia was determined to help fix Frank. She snatched the thread out of his hands, gulping heavy before starting to sew.
"Let me know if I'm hurting you." Cordelia offered though she knew she would hit bone before getting Frank to admit he felt pain like a normal human being.
"You expecting your blind friend again?" She tried to make small talk, as if any of this was in anyway normal.
"Cord." Frank sucked any casualness out of the air as he said her name, his nose wrinkling as she tugged a stitch tight.
"Frank." She attempted a scowl as deep and brooding as his.
"Listen alright? I don't care if you hear them skinning me alive. Don't come for me next time."
"Frank no need to be-"
"Say it. Say you'll mind your own business." He was so adamant, so rigid in this statement his new stitches threatened to pop.
"Frank you can't-" She stopped as she felt him reach over his shoulder, grabbing her hand in his, nothing would move forward till she relented.
"It's you and the kid remember? Above anything else, I can take care of myself, don't get stupid over me. That kid needs you alright?" He would not budge on this.
"Yeah." Cordelia let common sense smack her across the face. "I'll mind my own business Frank." When he finally let go she finished her wobbly stitch job.
"Don't throw yourself a fucking pity party! What do you want to die? You want to get shot to hell? Huh? I'm tryin-"
"Shut up Frank I get it!" Cordelia cut off the lose thread with her knife, which even she had to admit looked like an easy bake oven accessory compared to Frank's arsenal. "I understand Pumpkin Spice butter too, doesn't mean I have to like it. I just . . . I feel fucking useless Frank. Here you are, a one man army taking on the baddest gangs on the block, saving who knows how many people. I can't even look out for just one . . . I can't have your back Frank. Admit it or not, you've been babysitting me when-"
"Cord I needed-"
"Needed to keep me safe right? Cause I'm a 'damsel in distress'." The bitter taste that label Frank had given her weeks ago left read all over her face. "The second you're in danger though . . . You're telling me to look the other way. . . And you're right, I couldn't help you if I wanted . . . I would try and fail and as a kicker right before you get killed I'm sure you'd super solider your way into saving me!" Cordelia was kicking herself from one corner of Frank's apartment to the other.
He remained silent for an uncomfortably long time, just staring at Cordelia, head cocked to the side, blinking thoughtfully. He was thinking, plotting out each of his next maneuvers, because this was a situation he couldn't shoot and punch his way out of. Frank Castle needed to use words to prove his point. He paced as he thought, finger twitching like always. What did he want to say? He found a fresh shirt and slowly pulled it over his head. Nothing, he didn't want to say anything, he was a man of action not words, but this wasn't for him. So the question changed, what did Cordelia want him to say? What would make her understand he needed her safe?
"You know they think I can't be killed. Like I'm death itself, coming after em." He started off slow and methodical.
"Read the room Frank, now is not the time to gloat." Cordelia chimed flatly.
"I'm a strong, hard headed son of a bitch." He continued on course. "But a bullet doesn't give a shit how stubborn you are. You see this?" He lifted a bulletproof vest off of one of the many miscellaneous crates littering his apartment. "This is what keeps all my blood and guts from spillin all over the city, what keeps me from kicking the bucket. That's what you are Cord."
"Huh?" Cordelia had not expected a metaphor out of Frank and this one was getting lost in translation.
"No one's ever going to notice, no one is going to care cause it ain't flashy like a gun or a bomb, but you're that part of war that saves lives, the part people overlook, underestimate. You're Kevlar, keeping me together when everything I'm doing is beggin for me to be mulch. Leave the fighting to me Cord, it's what I'm good at. Just be those few inches keepin me from a body bag huh? Can't that be enough?" He was trying, trying so hard to let her know that he was keeping her safe, not because it was something to do to pass the time, he had a need for her he up until recently hadn't known existed. For all this effort Frank was rewarded with Cordelia's laughter. At an earlier date this would have come as a bruise to his ego but he welcomed it, basked in it, knowing it was a sign of his success.
"Max I've created a monster!" Cord shouted at the dog who at the call of his name began to bark and leap, he was losing iss patience toenails scratching the hardwood floor with each jump.
"You've created a monster?" Frank untethered Max nodding at the door.
"Scary enough being a silent killer but now Frankenstein, now you can lay it on thick like the best of em." Cordelia was grinning as they left his apartment, finally some color in her cheeks. Was it enough? To be Frank's emotional support? No of course not, Frank had all of about three emotions, anyone could have been his 'Kevlar.' She had just been in the right place at the right time. But Frank was trying for her, she could do the same, she could try and let that be enough for now, till she found some other way to help him.
"All thanks to you?"
"Well I am the best of em!" Cordelia boasted as they entered her home.
"Isn't that right Dahly?" She hoisted the slightly frazzled child into her arms. "Aren't I the best?" It was Cordelia's turn to gloat, a way to mask her persistent insecurities.
"You're the best Dilly!" Seeing no sickness or fear in Cordelia's face had a quick calming effect on Dahlia.
"Mr. Frank is alright sometimes too huh?" Cordelia started to make her way to the kitchen. 'Chicken noodle is good for a cold . . . what helps when you've been shot?' With her free hand she rummaged through her cabinets for something to feed everyone.
"Mr. Frank?!" Dahlia knew what that meant and with that she half death dropped to the floor to greet Max who had been much to Cordelia's dismay jumping at her leg feeling woefully ignored. Mid pet Dahlia stopped, somehow there was something more important in the world than showering Max with unconditional love.
"Mr. Frank?" For the first time Frank saw a bit of unhappiness in Dahlia's normally cheery eyes.
"What's up kid?" The more he thought about it this was the first time he had really spoken more than a word or two to Dahlia, normally she was too busy with Max to be bothered with boring old Frank.
"Are you mad at Dilly and me?" She might have been young but Frank's avoidance of them hadn't gone over her tiny head.
"I . . ." He paused, how do you tell a child the fact that she was alive was the reason for his distance, his resentment, his anger at her. "Yes." He would face it head on like everything else. "I was, not anymore, you don't got to worry."
"Why?" Dahlia was not satisfied by Frank's attempt at a polite vague answer.
"Sometimes grown ups get mad at people for things that ain't their fault."
"Why?" Dahlia could do this all day.
"Dahly don't be a nudge." Cordelia broke away from the pasta she had begun to cook, she wasn't cruel she would save Frank.
"Kid think what's the worst day you ever had?" Frank had meant it when he said he didn't want or need saving, he made a shooing motion at Cordelia sending her back in to the stove.
"Hmmmm" Dahlia mulled over his statement. Frank was finding slight amusement in wondering what a six year old's worst day was.
"Last week me and Milo got in a big fight, we were playing squish the lemon and he pushed me and-"
"Now think about waking up every morning and the first thing you do is get in a fight with Milo. No matter what you do, how much you don't want to fight. You get in a fight every morning." He could see a long story coming a mile away and knew if he didn't cut her off there she'd go on for hours. "After you fight Milo every morning you see Cord, having a good day. It ain't Cord's fault you and Milo fought, ain't her fault that you keep fighting Milo every morning. Ain't her fault she's having a good day but you get mad at Cord, why does she get to have a good day and you don't?"
"That's not fair." Dahlia was somewhat grasping the concept.
"Ain't her fault the world's not fair."
"Why aren't you just mad at Milo? Is your Milo a bully? Is that why you have a black eye? My Milo is-"
"Your boyfriend?" Frank knew how to defuse this question bomb of a child.
"Nooooo!" Sheer terror was written all over Dahlia's face.
" I was your age once. Only reason a little snot nosed boy is gonna push a little girl is-"
"No!" She stamped a foot in adamance. "Dilly tell Mr. Frank Milo isn't my boyfriend!" Dahlia was bordering on hysterics.
"Well not yet. I probably won't let you start dating till you're ten or eleven." Cordelia joined in on the ribbing from her spot at the stove.
"Did you have a boyfriend when you were ten?" Dahlia buried her face in Max's fur to escape the torment.
"Hmmmm Nah, Paul asked me to a dance when we were … thirteen?" Cordelia couldn't quite place the date, that whole year had been a big transitional period for her.
"You dated Paul?" Dahlia's tiny face totem polled on top of Max's square skull, her body splayed out on top of his.
"Took the words right out of my mouth." Frank's lasting image of Paul was him cowering on the hallway floor, baring a striking similarity to the stumbling scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.
"Oh now you two are going to gang up on me? Nope, not today. Wash your hands it's time for dinner." Cordelia as always kept any tid bits from her past short and shrouded in mystery.
When it was finally time to sit down, Frank approached the table slow and skeptical, waiting for something to go wrong. For a bomb to blow this apartment off the face of the earth, killing them all before he got to eat, but there was no explosion, no bullets, just spaghetti and breadsticks. It wasn't lost on him how out of place he was, how long it had been since he had a home cooked dinner but that didn't stop it from being pointed out to him mid meal. "Slow down Frank it's not running away." Both Cordelia and Dahlia had stopped eating to watch Frank barbarically shovel massive fork fulls into his face.
"You like Dilly's spaghetti?"
"Hey it's not that bad" Cordelia took note of Dahlia's awe at the prospect that someone wanted to eat her food. "I'm no Emril but I did use his sauce!" She took a forkful herself to prove it was edible. 'I can't win with these two.'
"It's hot." Frank spoke through stuffed cheeks.
"Like spicy? I didn't add anything to it." Cordelia took another bite now doubting herself.
"Nah like . . ." He finally had to swallow. "temperature." Home cooking aside, short of coffee Frank would be hard pressed to tell you the last time he had bothered to heat anything up past the temperature of the can it popped out of.
"Nailed it." Cordelia rolled her eyes realizing she could have placed burnt toast on Frank's plate and he would have eaten it with the same vigor.
"Can I give Max some?" Dahlia was not nearly as enamored with the second night of spaghetti that week, her partner in crime could be of great use.
"I . . . horses eat hay not spaghetti Dahly." Cordelia sighed but simply did not act quick enough to stop Dahlia from taking a fist full of red goop and bringing it down to the dog sitting at her feet. "I don't know if I can handle this being a regular thing." Cordelia cringed as she watched marinara and dog drool rain down on her floor.
'Regular?' Frank had finished his plate in short order and finally was able to take in the moment as a whole. He didn't have time to make this a regular thing, but he wished he did, he wanted to, he was feeling almost happy, almost alive. He was most assuredly still dead but this was the first genuine moment since he woke up he wished he wasn't.
Eventually the normal eaters at the table caught up with the ravenous Frank and just like that, dinner was over. Part of him didn't want any of them to move, to ruin the moment, but the girls were still alive, they had to keep moving, keep living. It seemed second nature to them but he had been six feet under so long this everyday ritual seemed outright alien to him. "Wash up Dahlia, you have to practice then it's time for bed." Cordelia's eyes traveled over to her sad little worn in keyboard.
"Oooh! Mr. Frank! I can play I can see the light! want to hear it?" Dahlia was out of her chair, hastily washing her hands.
"It's from a movie." Cordelia added when she saw no recognition in Frank's face. "Dahlia that's not practicing that's showing off. Now you can't-"
"Just real quick please? Do you want to hear it?" Dahlia tried to sway Frank to her side.
"I'm more of a piano man guy myself but-"
"Dilly can play that one. She knows all the songs, she can even play I've got a dream. But hear my song first."
"That's also from . . . it's her favorite movie . . . just assume it's all from Tangled." Cordelia decided to cut her loses. "Real quick Dahly, then real practice."
With that a much more willing Dahlia sat on the weathered stool in front of the keyboard. "O.K here it goes." Painstakingly slow notes filled the air. Dahlia's short breathed and unnecessarily loud voice following suit as she tried to impress her first audience in quite some time. "All those days watching from the windows . . ." A pause to adjust her small hands.
"If you had started with your exercises that would have been easier." Cordelia couldn't help but interject.
"All those years outside looking in" Dahlia continued on. "All that time never even knowing Just how blind I've been. Now I'm here blinking in the starlight." It wasn't smooth but it was still impressive to watch the young girl work. "Now I'm here suddenly I see. Standing here it's all so clear. I'm where I'm meant to be. And at last I see the light. And it's like the fog has lifted, And at last I see the light. And it's like the sky is new. And it's warm and real and bright. And the world has somehow shifted. All at once everything looks different Now that I see you" Cordelia had been siting, watching like a proud mother hen and most upsettingly she had been sitting there missing her cue. "Dilly?!" Dahlia cried out, how could Cordelia ruin her performance?
"Huh? Oh no Dahly you're mistaken, I'm not singing." Cordelia shook her head vehemently.
"Stage fright?" Frank smirked.
"Oh no. Just a bad singer . . . might hurt the horse's ears." Cordelia did not want to open up another opportunity to be mocked for being bellow average at something.
"Play I've got a dream Dilly! You don't have to be a good singer for that one." Dahlia tried to help Cordelia out.
"Thanks." Cordelia chuckled.
"We won't laugh. Right Mr. Frank?" Dahlia got up from her seat giving Cordelia the spotlight.
"Scout's honor." Frank nodded with a level of determination and curiosity. He honestly was interested in the skill level at what appeared to be Cordelia's only pass time.
"Ugh. If I play it will you practice . . . and will you stop encouraging her? Both of you just bad bad influences on each other." Cordelia sat at the keyboard, glaring at Frank and Dahlia.
"Promise." Dahlia nodded.
"Beginning to think you don't know how to play Cord." Frank taunted, eyebrows raised in question.
"Don't know how to play." Cordelia muttered under her breath, she could not let that stand. She began the intro to the campy Disney song but before even really getting started Dahlia cut her down at the knees.
"You gotta sing the words Dilly, Mr. Frank doesn't know this song."
"Yeah sounds catchy, might be a must add to the playlist." Frank smirked, as much as he teased he also felt oddly proud of Cordelia. Could she play? Could she cook? Could she sew a gun shot wound closed? The answer to all three was yes to varying degrees of success. What was he proud of her for though? What was impressive over a else? This was Cordelia's battle ground, she was fighting tooth and nail to provide a life for her and Dahlia in this gutter of a city and she was wining. Overcoming adversity and keeping her head above water. He also felt grateful that even just for one night he was allowed to leave his battle and be a part of her's. This wouldn't be a regular thing like she had casually implied but this night would keep that black hole inside of him at bay for just a bit longer. It wasn't bullshit even if he hadn't convinced Cordelia of that, she was Kevlar. she was keeping the scraps of life still lingering in Frank safe, safe from the city, safe from the gangs, safe from the punisher.
"I'm malicious mean and scary." Cordelia spoke the words with a heavy dose of reluctance and sarcasm as she started the song for a second time. " My sneer could curdle dairy. And violence-wise, my hands are not the cleanest But despite my evil look And my temper, and my hook I've always yearned to be a concert pianist." As Cordelia and Dahlia got caught up in the camp of it all Frank sat there, hunched over and torn, pride and gratefulness were light fleeting emotions, Frank needed something heavier.
This was silly, childish, a waste of time that had no value to his mission, this whole night had been one giant distraction. Frank rarely got distracted, once his mind was set on something he was laser focused till completion. He especially didn't get distracted when a mission was at hand, and this was the mission to end all missions. Trouble was Cordelia and Dahlia were the distractions to end all distractions. Somewhere in his miscalculations he had made them a mission too. His bullet shredded brain couldn't make heads or tails of this conflict of interest, so instead he just sat and stewed.
Eventually Dahlia did practice, followed by a quick shower a prolonged goodnight to Frank and Max then she was off to bed. "I've never seen you stay in one place so long Frank. What's up?" Cordelia had expected him to storm off after dinner.
"I got shot remember? Takin it easy tonight. That alright with you?" Frank was slowly getting eaten by Cordelia's couch. He was surprised by the look on her face, it was not alright.
"I . . ." She was going to press Frank's out of character actions but she didn't, she held back, sure it was out of character but she didn't want Frank to storm off. "Sure." She nodded sitting beside him, leaning her head on his uninjured shoulder. An awkward half an hour of T.V passed before Frank couldn't take it anymore.
"Something on your mind Cord?" Her unease wasn't as well hid as she thought.
"This isn't how you're supposed to do it Frank." Cordelia's eyes were solemn as she looked up at him.
"Huh?"
"You don't leave people with a good memory to hold onto . . . you burn em on the way out so it doesn't hurt as much when you're gone."
"What are you going on about huh? I've been here all day, thumb up my ass. I can't stay here and play house as my shoulder heals up I ain't got the time-"
"Exactly. That isn't you Frank, you're letting yourself breathe for a second because this is your swan song. You're planning something big aren't you? Something you might not survive?" She wrapped her arms around one of his, holding him in place as if there was a fire fight right outside her door, calling out to him.
"I'm a tough man to keep down. It's ain't smart to bet against me." Frank did not deny that the chips had begun to steadily stack against him, that waves and waves of heavily armed men were out for his blood, but he would also not concede defeat. He had survived death on muscle memory alone before, he was confident he could do it again.
"Say you do survive . . . then what?"
"What do you mean then what? Then I go after the rest of em, till I'm done." He actually bothered to answer her dumb question this time.
"Without Kevlar." He was missing what she was not so subtly hinting at. She could tell by the way he staid, how he was hesitant to leave that when he finally did, he wasn't coming back. "Just because you can lay it on doesn't mean you need to rip it off like that."
"It's tactical, nothing personal Cord. Why does everything. . . . every god damn thing have to be a fucking fight with you?" Frank didn't bat an eye this time, just running a hand over his annoyed head. The trick had lost it's allure, she had made sense of his thoughts before he had. The only way to complete his very much conflicting missions were to keep them separate. If and when he survived the kitchen Irish it would only be a matter of time till the next group of goons with too much time on their hands found out who he was, where he lived, that Cordelia and Dahlia were important to him. He had to find and finish off every last one of them if he wanted to continue to keep them safe. If she knew all that, had known it all this time she must have known how it was less than an easy decision to make, why couldn't she cut him some slack?
"Says the man who is literally fighting all of New York . . . all at once, with a fucked shoulder. Yeah it's my fault we fight so much. I think I've been understanding as - "
"Alright alright I get it." Frank realized that Cordelia was simply out of slack to give. "You understand though right? It's just gonna get worse Cord and I can't . . . .I won't let you-" His arm wrenched out of her hold as he slammed a fist into his hand.
"We're holding you back." Cordelia sighed, she knew it, all those changes that any sane person would see as signs of improvement Frank was seeing as signs of weakness.
" I need this Cord, I need it bad. I need em to pay and I need to be able to get just as down and dirty as they are. If you hadn't come bargin in like fuckin Rambo this would've been a hell of a lot easier but you just had to-"
"So you were planning on outright ghosting us. You were planning on doing it right. I would have hated your guts Frank." Cordelia's laugh did not brighten the room like it normally did, instead it just added to the darkness.
It was true, before falling to the floor in exhaustion and having his epiphany he had planned on going to his apartment, feeding Max, getting prepared for his next fight and then moving on, keeping a safe distance. "Kinda figured you already did by now. You're a smart girl Cord didn't expect you to just sit around and wait for me to come to my senses you know?" He hadn't taken for granted how despite all of his actions she had without hesitation brought him in.
"Don't kid yourself Frank. I wasn't sitting at the window sill waiting for you, I went on living just the same. So by the time you come back after what ever shit storm your running to now, things might be different I-"
"Back?" Frank was baffled by that small word, there was no going back, only throwing himself forward, into the line of fire.
"There's only so many bullets and warm bodies out there Frank, you can't hide behind that vengeance mantra forever, there has to be an end." Cordelia wasn't exactly lying but she wasn't exactly telling the truth either. She couldn't see Frank ever feeling satisfied, ever feeling adequately done but it didn't matter she was giving him what no one else could, a light at the end of this never ending tunnel. She couldn't help but smile when saw it, if she had blinked she would have missed it but for a split second Frank Castle let himself feel that hope he hated so much.
"And when I get back-" He used definitive terms when in reality it was very much up in the air if he would ever make it back, but he could want, he could hope. "You might be here?"
"Maybe." Cordelia gave a soft nod, it was rubbing off, she was wanting, she was hoping.
"With the line of men just waiting for me to leave?" The levity finally returned as Cordelia laughed.
"Maybe, I have a nice smile and a great personality or so people say."
"That so?" Her answer to that question had no effect on Frank in the slightest. If by some freak happenstance he made it back to this couch one day it wouldn't matter if prince charming himself was in front of Cordelia on bent knee, Frank would come in and win her over somehow, prove to her all the time and effort she wasted on him was worth something.
Much like Maria and his kids Frank by no means viewed Cordelia and Dahlia as his but if any man thought that they deserved to have Cordelia laugh the way she did for him, pick their brain and search their soul like she did for him, touch them gently to take away the pain like she did, more than him they were sorely mistaken. If anyone was going to protect them, be there for them, be the body for Cordelia to lean on, if Frank was breathing and within earshot it would be him. It wasn't a mission, not yet, but it was a lofty goal.
Their daydreams of an improbable future were shattered by a knocking on Cordelia's door. Frank shot up, adrenaline surging from nowhere, fists clenched in ready fists. "Frank it's just-" Her mouth was clamped shut by one of Frank's palms.
"Shhhhh! stay quiet hear me?" He waited for her to nod then without a sound approached the door. Staring through the peephole he saw the threat at the doorstep.
"Cordelia? Did you nod off again? You really need to get a healthy sleep schedule. I was reading an article about shift sleep syndrome and it say-" The big threat was Mrs. Bell.
"See Frank? Some of us have real jobs. I know you already shot a blind guy so it wouldn't surprise me if an AARP member is on list but please refrain from shooting Paul's mom, he already doesn't like you." Cordelia did her best to calm the beast.
"Not him." Frank turned around, no seriousness had left his face but at least the hair had stopped standing up on the back of his neck.
"huh?"
"I don't care who I come back to in your bed. Not him, I'll shoot him right down." There was no love lost between Frank and Paul. "Hello Ma'am." putting on his least bone chilling face he opened the door to the older woman.
"Oh . . . hello there, I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Mrs. Bell shot Cordelia a cheeky grin. Cordelia buried her face in both her palms.
'I'll never hear the fucking end of this.' She shook her hidden red flushed cheeks. "Let the record state, when you tell your bowling club . . . that I was fully clothed when you came in." Her muffled voice pleaded. Mrs. Bell was a perpetual gossip and while Cordelia gave little care of her public image it didn't stop grinding her gears the thought of Mrs. Bell and her friends sensationalizing her love life over wine coolers and bowling shoes.
"Just givin Cord a ride to work Ma'am." It was only Cordelia who saw no humor in the situation, even Frank got a chuckle out of it. "Come on Max. Ma'am. We'll be outside Cord." Frank excused himself from Cordelia's apartment, nodding at Mrs. Bell as he and Max left.
"So Cordelia-"
"Please don't." Cordelia to avoid any awkward conversation went to go grab her work clothes and ran out the door. "I'll be home by six thirty."
Frank did just as he said, gave Cordelia a ride to her corner store, and then came their goodbyes. "So are you two just gonna live in a van down by the river?" Cordelia made no grab for the door handle.
"Have to stop back, sort some things out . . . but something like that." Frank simply shrugged off the question, the less she knew about his plan the better. Why? Because when read aloud it seemed through and through like a suicide mission. For any man less than Frank Castle it most assuredly would be but he hadn't survived this long on luck, it was ingrained skill that had him triumph over insurmountable odds, he did have a sliver of a chance at success.
"Here." He pulled a folded knife out of his pocket. " This is a serrated Black Mule. If I see you with that damn kitchen knife again I'll lose my god damn mind." He watched as she took it with a hint of fear in her eyes. "It don't bite Cord just take it, I can't come to you all banged up again, no more just takin shit alright?"
"No just become amazing at hand to hand combat and comfortable using your crazy crocodile Dundee knife." Cordelia unfolded the blade then quickly snapped it shut. "I didn't know we were exchanging gifts Frank, I would have gotten you something." She tossed the knife in her purse, still not making any attempt to leave.
"Yeah like what?" Frank rose an eyebrow, he hadn't needed or even simply wanted something in so long.
"Like a new coffee maker, yours is garbage, a microwave so you can have above room temperate food? A gray T-shirt to add that pop of color to your wardrobe? The possibilities are endless. It will have to wait till your coming back party." Cordelia rambled, knowing she had long over staid her welcome. "This will have to do for now." In a quick motion as to not be pushed away by Frank she leaned in and kissed him. The kiss wasn't soft or delicate or even tender, it was blunt and harsh laying into him hard like a punishment. At first Frank was lost in the sensation of feeling Cordelia's real life lips against his, eventually reciprocating, kissing her back, holding her face in his hands studying her features with his finger tips. Then he felt it, her face tighten and twitch against his, she was fighting off tears. With the deepest of regrets he pushed her off of him. "Come on Super Girl, don't crack on me now."
"Don't forget us Frank!" She squeaked passed strained vocal cords as she opened the door. "Don't fucking forget to come back Frank!" The rusty door slammed shut. She couldn't ask him to stay safe, just over five hours ago he had been shot and now he was just walking it off. Everything she knew about Frank was from beginning to end unsafe. The best she could do was shout at him, pester him not to forget about them and hope it stuck.
Once Cordelia was inside the store Frank drove back to the apartment building. He sewed one last set of stitches, filled Max's food and water to the brim and burnt all the pictures Dahlia had drawn him. Except one, the first illustration of him an the mutt he stuffed in his pocket as he officially went in the wind, but Frank was no summer breeze, he didn't drift far or long, it was a short two days before he watched th Irish infiltrate the building just as he had expected. 'Mind you business Super Girl.' He waited to see how this would all unravel.