"This night ain't for the faint of heart

'Cause the faint of heart gonna fall apart."

– Wicked Ones, Dorothy

Riley Cohen had always been fascinated with outlaws. Growing up she spent many days curled up on the couch with her mother watching films like Thelma and Louise. The characters didn't fear being caught or thrown behind bars—in fact they would do anything just to have that one final ride of freedom. Back in high school when her tenth grade teacher assigned a writing prompt based on America's most influential figures, she wrote a piece on Jon Dillinger and how he later inspired a generation of criminals. When her classmates referenced famous couples like John F. Kennedy and Jackie O., Riley dove into the actions of Bonnie and Clyde.

The glorified bank robbing, shootouts, and car chases appealed to her younger self in ways that she couldn't comprehend. It wasn't the killings or the weapons that appealed to her, but the way they all lived on the edge. They took their lives into their own hands without anyone defining what they could or could not do.

When her parents passed away in a fatal car accident off the bridge near their home, Riley went through multiple court proceedings. Lawyers and law officials tried to take her away, but her brother fought for her. She had just turned sixteen and he was edging onto his twenty-first birthday. To prove that he was a responsible enough adult, he dropped out of his community college courses and worked full time at Mr. Rogers' mechanic shop in town. Both Mr. and Mrs. Rogers vouched for him and they never failed to invite the pair over for holidays and weekly dinners. Riley finished her high school education with state officials dropping by occasionally, making sure her home environment was suitable enough. She kept her promise to Jax that she would behave and live under his rules even though he didn't have many. The residents of the small town watched them too, their nosey eyes following them wherever they went.

The siblings had always been close, but together they were forced to grow up quicker than their peers. While their friends went partying out in the backwoods, the pair worked night shifts at their respective jobs or hung out on the couch binge watching their favorite programs. It was a steady rhythm, but when Mr. Rogers left the mechanic shop in Jax's name, Riley knew she wanted more. Jaxon was happy taking over for the older man when he and his wife decided to move out towards sunny California, but she didn't want to spend the rest of her life there.

Her thirst for adventure refused to be quenched and she soon found herself moving to the heart of Hell's Kitchen. She needed the noise and chaos of the city. Upstate New York was beautiful and alluring in its own right, but she was tired of seeing the same faces everyday. Here, she melted into the crowd without having others spare her glances full of pity. Here, she wasn't the orphan that lived on Birch St. with her older brother. Here, she was just Riley.

The single, twenty-seven year old woman that lived on the fifth floor of an apartment building that cost more than its worth.

The universe, however, had other plans.

During her search for identity in this new life, she found companionship in a lonely Irishman. She hadn't meant to fall for a member of the only Irish gang in New York City, but Sean had been charming and full of life when they first met. He made her laugh and forget about her problems, convincing her that life really was worth living. It had been great and within those first few months, the pair moved in together. She tried to ignore the initial signs—the late night calls and strangers that showed up at their door. He always told her it was just family business and she accepted that. It would take awhile for her to finally figure out what that meant, as well as the mess that would eventually come from it.

The mess that included his dead body on her floor and the Punisher hanging out in her living room.

"So…what now?"

After drinking three cups of water (and a shot of tequila), Riley was finally able to deal with the situation. The "situation", of course, being the fact that she hired the Punisher to take out her ex-boyfriend. Had she really hired him though? Sure she had told him about what was going on, but he initially denied the request and instead chose to follow her. Technically, Frank Castle had been in the neighborhood and just so happened to step in at the right time. Yes. Technically.

"In five minutes you'll call the police. Tell them he broke into your apartment and it was self defense."

"Self defense? His head is nearly based in! That's not self defense, that's fucking homicide."

"Hey, lady, I wouldn't have even come here if you hadn't sought me out. Now you're having second thoughts about the way I do things? Well, that's too damn bad. This shit's on you."

"I'm not saying he didn't deserve it!" she sighed, dropping into the couch opposite him. She had been pacing the floor, but it was just making her more anxious. Frank was sitting in her armchair, staring at her as she tried to get her thoughts in order. "I'm just saying…the police aren't going to believe it. We need to bury him. Make it look like he was never here."

"You've been watching way too many crime shows, lady."

Riley groaned, frustrated with his aloofness. Didn't he understand the seriousness of the situation? There's a corpse in her bedroom. Running a hand down her face, she slumped back into the couch. Who the hell was she kidding? She knew exactly why Frank Castle didn't care. He took great pride in taking scumbags off the street and this wasn't an exception. The only real difference was that she happened to be involved and she wasn't ready to have a bounty over her head.

You'd think that all those episodes of Dateline would have prepared her for this. Unfortunately, that show only talked about how detectives found bodies. She needed Sean to remain buried.

"Well, what do we do with him then? And stop calling me 'lady', my name's Riley. Feel free to use it."

Frank glared at her.

"We are doing nothing. I did my part. As far as I'm considered, 'we' are done."

They were far from done.

Two hours later, Riley sat bent on her knees as she attempted to scrub away the bloodstains on her floor. They had placed a sheet over Sean's body so they wouldn't have to look at his disfigured face any longer, but some of the blood had splattered towards the rug and the walls. It was a little disconcerting, but more importantly, it gave her something to do.

"How'd you know he was here?" she asked, peering up from her spot on the floor to see Frank still resting in her chair. In the moments of silence that passed between them, she wondered if he dozed off while she scrubbed the nearby area. He didn't say anything and his figure was surprisingly relaxed. She guessed she had expected him to remain alert and ready to spring into action at any moment if necessary, but yet again, Frank Castle went against her expectations.

She wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

Frank shrugged with his eyes still closed. "I saw him enter the building, but I wasn't sure if it was him until the lights went off in your apartment."

Riley paused in her scrubbing of a particularly stubborn stain and furrowed her eyebrows, twisting around to look at him.

"You watched me undress."

There was a pause.

"I was scouting the area."

Riley scoffed and sat up from the floor, frowning down at her bloodstained hands. Frank's eyes were open now and he was sitting up straight, fingers tapping on the armrest to an unknown beat.

"You really should shut your blinds though."

"I'll make a mental note for next time," she teased, taking a step back to admire her work. The stain wasn't completely gone and she was temporarily reminded of a scene from Macbeth. Shaking her head, she turned towards the kitchen and rinsed the blood away from the cloth before throwing it in the bin. There was no way she was going to use it again.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"I got a feeling that you'll ask anyways."

Riley smirked. "Why didn't you just shoot him? I mean, I'm glad that you didn't because it would have been loud and brought unwanted attention with the glass breaking and all, but I'm curious."

Frank stood up from the chair and stretched his neck, circling around the living room. He glanced over the paintings on her walls and stopped in front of her table, picking up the photo frame that rested there. It was an image of her and Jax when they were younger. Her hair was separated into two braids and Jax was playfully pulling one of them, their faces covered in mud. There was a glass door behind them and you could see the reflections of their parents laughing as their mother snapped the picture. Frank put the photo back down.

"It was dark and I couldn't get a clear shot. You were fumbling around too much."

He didn't have to clarify what he meant by that. Riley bit her lip, looking down. She imagined him standing on the rooftop of a nearby building and peering in. She wasn't sure how she felt about him watching her while she undressed, but she was glad that he was there. If he hadn't come bustling in through that door…

"Look, Riley, is it? I've wasted too much time here. I need to get going."

"What, no! You can't just…leave. It's been too long for me to call the cops! They'd be suspicious on why I didn't tell them sooner, even if it was self-defense. That ship sailed long ago. Please. Just help me get rid of him and then you can leave and act like nothing ever happened."

"You're a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, I know."

The sun was beginning to rise, its orange rays peeking through the clouds above the horizon. Riley lit her second round of incense, trying to disguise the growing smell of blood in the air. It was starting to leave an iron taste in her mouth and battled to overpower the vanilla scent she wafted through the apartment. She had finally managed to convince Frank that they were in this for the long haul and insisted that he take a shower to rinse off the blood caked on his face. He had raided her kitchen, complaining that she was keeping him there, and ate a bowl of cereal. He munched on it while sitting in her armchair—his latest residence—and eventually slipped off his boots. He left them beside the chair, claiming his spot, and walked toward the bathroom. A fresh towel had already been laid out for him on the counter and she waited outside the door for him to give her his dirty clothes.

"What are you, my mother?" He grunted, handing them to her through the cracked door.

Riley decided it was best to keep her mouth shut as she accepted them, hearing the shower head turn on. The thought of Frank Castle standing naked only a few feet away though made her heart speed up at an unnerving pace. Quickly backing away from the door, she turned towards the kitchen and scrubbed the blood off his shirt over the sink like she did with the washcloth.

It was irrational, but she was secretly relieved in knowing that her bathroom didn't have a window. She wasn't trying to hold him hostage or anything, but it gave her a small piece of mind in knowing that he wouldn't climb out and disappear into the early morning sun. Although, the thought of Frank Castle climbing out her imaginary window in only his boxers brought a giggle to her lips. Once the blood disappeared down the sink, she put the clothes in the dryer on high speed so they would dry properly. She also took the liberty of tossing in a fresh dryer sheet for good measure. Frank didn't seem like the kind of guy that spent many days inside of a laundry matt. Or maybe he did. How would she know?

The shower shut off and in a few minutes Frank stepped out, wearing a towel around his waist and an expectant look on his face. Her eyes immediately went to his muscular chest, which was covered with scars and bruises. She didn't mean to ogle him, but he was definitely fit. A small, knowing smirk spread across his face making her cheeks redden in embarrassment. Swiftly averting her eyes, she landed on his feet that left wet footprints on the wooden floor. His toes wiggled against the floorboards and it made her realize that despite what the vigilante was capable of, Frank Castle was sill a man.

A man wearing only a towel around his waist.

"Clothes! Right. Hang on, one second." She stuttered, practically running towards the washroom and pulling his pants and shirt from the dryer. The jeans were still a bit damp, but he would have to manage.

Frank nodded in thanks when she handed him back the clothes, retreating towards the bathroom to pull them on.

She needed to get a hold of herself.

Going back to the kitchen, she pulled an apple out of the refrigerator drawer and tried eating it. Her head ached from lack of sleep and the food would help put some substance in her body. The strong taste of iron lingered, however, and tainted the flavor of the apple.

The blaring red numbers of the digital clock above her microwave reminded her that she had an hour before her shift started at Metro General. Taking another bite of the apple, she debated whether she should call in sick or take the day off. Workers were obviously allowed to call in sick, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to. The realization of having a dead body in her apartment was really starting to weigh down on her. How was she expected to go to work and help save lives when she willingly collaborated on a crime in her own home? She didn't regret it; the bastard had it coming to him. What did that make her though? At work she didn't know anything about her patients except their medical history. She didn't know who they were on the outside; if they were criminals themselves and committed violent acts. It wasn't her job to understand how they received their cuts and bruises, other than to just patch them up and send them back on their way.

She wasn't stupid. She knew that some of the patients that staggered into the hospital during her late night shifts were shifty. The glares they gave her and the negative feelings that surrounded her, warned her that she didn't want to mess with them outside the hospital doors. There, though, she wasn't allowed to judge them. It was her job to pull out each bullet wound, stitch up their gashes, and carry on to the next bed over. It wasn't her choice to discriminate who she would or would not help. If she had known though, would that influence her decision to help them? What if some of the lives she helped save were rapists? What if she patched up men like Sean that appeared to be charming and nice, but really deserved to be dead? Had she unknowingly led to another person's downfall by saving the life of someone who hadn't deserved to be saved? Questions continued to plague her mind when Frank exited out of the bathroom, fully dressed in his clean clothes.

Looking at him though, she knew her answer. She needed to get out of her apartment. The poignant smell was overwhelming and making her lightheaded. She needed the outdoors, to breathe in fresh air and remind her that she wasn't living in a morgue. She needed some sense of normalcy, to make sure that she hadn't fallen off the deep end. She had wanted this, wanted the Punisher to take care of her problem. She just didn't expect the execution (no pun intended) of her plan to take place in her very apartment. Plans change though, and she needed to adapt in order to survive the next few hours at work.

"If we're gonna take care of this thing, then I need some supplies. Despite what you might think, I ain't never dumped a body before." Frank said, standing on the opposite side of her counter. He probably helped with some of his fallen comrades during his time in the military, but she knew that's not what he meant. "Too many people are out during the day so we'll have to wait. Less suspicious."

She agreed. It would be safer moving him under the cover of darkness. She just wasn't sure how safe it would be to leave him alone in her apartment all day long.

"Sounds good. I have to be heading out to work anyways, but do you think it'll be ok? Leaving him here?"

"We'll have to wait and see."

Riley bit her thumb, looking back at the body. He really wasn't giving her much confidence but there wasn't anything else for her to do. It's not like she could call someone up and have them house sit her dead ex-boyfriend. Frank was watching her, growing antsy for being inside her apartment for so long. She wondered where he went during the day, invisible amongst the citizens surrounding him. He said he was going to get supplies, but she wasn't ready to think about what that would be. She would know in a few hours, anyways.

"Ok," She nodded. "My shift doesn't end 'til the afternoon, so let's meet back here at five. It's been getting dark earlier and most people should be out since it's a Friday."

Riley grabbed her purse, following Frank out of the apartment and into the hallway. His baseball camp was pulled on, adding to his "disguise" as he waited for her to lock up the place. The sound of another door opening revealed her neighbor, Betty, whom lived down the hall. Riley cringed, already knowing that the woman would try to stop them for a conversation. It's not that she was unsociable, but right now really wasn't the time to play catch up.

The older woman was one of the complex's first residents, whom originally moved in with her husband when they first built the place. He had passed on a couple years back, she had learned, after being caught in a conversation with her when she moved in herself. Betty took the liberty of filling her in on some of the other residents of the complex, telling her stories of their private lives and affairs. She was a sweet old woman, almost reaching her seventy-fifth birthday, and Riley normally didn't mind spending time with her. She knew that she was just lonely and wanted the company of someone to talk to. She had three kids, but they had all moved on with their lives while she remained here in the city. Riley sometimes wondered why she didn't leave or move into an assisted living facility so she would have more people her own age to communicate with, but Betty took pride in her independence.

"As long as I can keep climbing up those stairs, I'm golden!" She always said whenever someone questioned her capability of living on her own. Riley admired that about her and kept an eye out just in case, but right now she needed to leave and Betty was blocking the stairwell.

It was too late for them to maneuver around her without being rude and she took a deep breath, accepting the fact that they couldn't avoid some sort of interaction. She stole a quick glance back at Frank, warning him to go along with whatever story she came up, and turned towards the older woman that was waving at them.

"Riley, dear! Good morning! Is everything alright, I heard quite a bit of fumbling last night?" Betty questioned, eyes full of concern until she caught sight of Frank. She could feel him move out from behind her, stepping to stand alongside her as to not provoke suspicion. "Oh I-I'm sorry, dear. I didn't know you had company."

Riley wasn't sure if she liked the way that Betty's eyes lit up, drinking in Frank with eager eyes. There was almost a bounce to her step.

"G'Morning, Betty. This is, uh, Jon. My friend."

Betty's eyes twinkled upon hearing the word friend, obviously implying more than just companionship. Riley coughed, feeling her cheeks reddening. Much to her surprise, Frank stepped in.

"I'm sorry about the noise, ma'am. We got a little carried away if you know what I mean."

Riley's eyes widened. What the hell was he doing? The older woman giggled.

"That's quite alright, dear. I was young once too." She laughed, winking at the brunette. Riley tried to smile back, but she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. Maybe then she could wake up from this nightmare of her neighbor flirting with the Punisher.

"Well it's great seeing you, Betty, but—"

"What is it you do, Jon?"

"Construction! Jon's in construction." Riley interrupted, grabbing a hold of his arm and trying to steer him away from the older woman.

Betty frowned at her. "I'm sorry, dear, but I think your friend can speak for himself. You know my husband worked in construction for a while in his early days. He used to tell our son about getting a job for the city, but he was always more of the academic kind; didn't like getting his hands dirty."

Frank nodded. "'Can't say I blame him. Education is important though, you must be proud."

Betty's smile widened and she aggressively nodding her head in agreement. Riley worried that she unleashed a beast. Frank was now the center source for the older woman's entertainment, a new person for her to explore and converse with.

"He went off to law school and now works at a fancy firm inside one of those high risers. I don't get to see him that much other than holidays and the occasional lunch—he's so busy these days—but he's a good boy, my Samuel. I tried getting Riley here to go on a date with him before he proposed to that woman, Cindy. Now, now, before you look at me like that, I would just like to say that I am a supportive mother, but they just don't match. Riley's a good girl as I'm sure you already know—real down to earth. Cindy, on the other hand…she coddles me. Wants to shove me in a retirement home down in Florida. I hate Florida. I'm a grown woman and can take care of myself; I've been doing it just fine on my own."

"I'm sure you can." Frank nodded, pleasing the woman.

Riley looked back and forth between them, surprised at how normal it all seemed. To any onlooker, Frank was just a friend of hers—who may have stayed the night—that happened to be having a conversation with her neighbor. There was nothing out of the ordinary and Frank continued to play his part well, even managing to disperse any lasting suspicion that Betty may have had revolving around the sounds in her apartment.

"I'm sorry, Betty, but we really ought to be going. I have an early shift this morning and Jon probably has things that he needs to take care of too."

"Mmm. Yes, honey, carry on. Have a great day at work. Now, Jon, you wouldn't happen to know how to fix a leaky faucet would you? I'd call my son but I don't want to bother him with my silliness."

Riley mentally slapped herself on the head. Couldn't this woman take a hint? She knew it wasn't her fault for not knowing that Riley had a decomposing body in her apartment or the fact that she was asking the Punisher to fix her sink, but it was making her anxious. She hadn't known Frank for long or if he would be able to stay within character. One wrong word could cause everything to go spiraling.

Frank chuckled, readjusting his baseball cap and running a hand along his jaw. "I can't make any promises, ma'am, but a quick look wouldn't hurt."

God damn him.

Within seconds Betty all but yanked Frank into her apartment, chattering the whole way there. Frank turned his head over his shoulder, giving her a look that signaled everything was fine, before disappearing from sight as the door shut.

Riley stood in the hallway in silence, blinking at the closed door.

Had that really happened?

Shaking her head, she started taking the stairs two at a time. The clock was ticking and one look at her cellphone told her that she had less than thirty minutes to get to work now if she didn't want to be late. It hadn't been a major deal before, but ever since Claire quit then her boss had really been on her ass about being tardy. She had been off that night so she really didn't know the reasons behind her coworker's resignation other than the fact that she was tired of the hospital carrying more about its reputation than its patients. That was something that they could agree on, especially when she had to deny a person care when their insurance wouldn't cover their medical bills. Her boss had told her that there was nothing that she could do, but there was.

She grabbed some pills from the medical ward and ran outside, secretly giving it to the man's wife. The woman had thanked her profusely and the two carried on, returning home. Riley had been able to cover the missing pills with an excuse of another patient needing them and it was swept under the rug.

Now though, that rug was causing her a problem. Sean's body was still lying on top of it and she couldn't get rid of the stain no matter what she did. When her and Frank met up again later that evening, she would have to find a way to get rid of the rug too. The bloodstains were obvious and she couldn't just dump it on the curb for the trash man to pick up. Speaking of Frank, Riley didn't understand why he willingly decided to help her neighbor. He could have made up an excuse, saying that he was in a hurry to get somewhere too. She knew that they had to keep up appearances, but would they be caught? The longer Betty looked at him, would she recognize his face from the one on the news? It wasn't as badly beaten up as it had been previously and there were only a few fading bruises that were hardly noticeable. Perhaps if he played his cards right then he would be able to escape without suspicion or maybe…maybe he was on to something. If he convinced Betty that they really were just two people having a fling together, then the older woman wouldn't be suspicious about seeing him hanging around her apartment again later that evening.

Riley arrived at work with only two minutes left to spare. She hurriedly rushed to the locker room to throw on her scrubs and tied her hair into a ponytail before stepping into the emergency room. Her boss nodded at her when she walked by, handing her a clipboard that listed the closest patient's medical history. It was a twelve year-old boy who'd fallen out of a tree and needed his arm x-rayed. Riley smiled at him and introduced herself, escorting him to the lab so she could have his arm checked out.

Patients continued to roll into the E.R. with some of them needing immediate medical attention, whereas others were less severe. Many of them were just parents who were paranoid about their kids having a concussion after doing some stupid shit at school that they weren't supposed to be doing. Riley lost count of all the stitches she had to perform and the band aids that she had to give out. Her head was pounding and on multiple occasions she had to grab onto a nearby bed so she wouldn't tip over from exhaustion. She hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours and it was beginning to really take a toll on her.

When lunch finally came around, she sat hunched over a table in the cafeteria with a face half full of pudding. There were still three more hours left until her shift ended and it already felt like a lifetime away. Her head kept dropping no matter how hard she tried to keep it up and her bloodshot eyes complimented nicely with the purple bags that rested beneath. Her jaw was sore too and she had trouble opening it when eating food. How were those college students able to stay out all night and then remain coherent the following day at school? She needed sleep. Desperately.

Her coworkers, Cynthia and Jasmine, sat around her at the table, enjoying their break from work. She met them when she first started working at the hospital and the three of them had a daily routine of sitting and having lunch together. Sometimes they would go out and take a walk through the park, but today they didn't mind being inside. Jasmine is a mother of two six year-old twins and is always gushing to the girls about their latest achievements. It always made Riley smile, seeing how proud she was of them. Cynthia was older, in her mid-forties, and acted as the mother figure within the group.

"Did you ladies see that car chase last night?"

"It was all over the news! I heard it had something to do with a drug ring. The dogs found some packets of cocaine underneath the seats."

"He crashed into a fire hydrogen for a couple snorts of coke? That doesn't sound right. Maybe he was already doped on it. Riley, did you see it?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. I only caught a few glimpses of it though."

"Are you alright, hun? You look like shit."

Always the charmer, Jasmine.

She nodded her head and covered her mouth as she yawned. "The college students downstairs had another party last night. I didn't get any sleep."

The lie came easily and the women bought into it, shaking their heads in disapproval. She wasn't being completely dishonest, but it was easier blaming her sleepless night on that rather than divulging the truth about what really happened.

"You should file a report to your landlord. That's not fair. Those kids can go somewhere else; not keep the whole place up with their shenanigans."

Cynthia leaned over and patted her head affectionately, leaving her alone so she could try to take a nap for the rest of their lunch break. Riley kept her eyes shut, but still paid half-attention to their conversation. She knew that if she knocked out then there wasn't a chance in hell of her waking back up again. It was tough, but she had to finish riding out the day.

Jasmine quickly forgot about the car chase and dove into telling Cynthia about the Krav Maga class she signed her daughters up for.

"Look, look! I took a video on my phone. Aren't they adorable? It's such a great way for them to learn self-defense. I never used to think about it but you keep hearing those stories about children being taken and I feel like this is good for them. Their instructor is amazing too and really teaches 'em valuable information. It really makes a mother feel better."

Riley lazily lifted her head and rested it on her forearms. Cynthia turned the phone toward her so she could watch the video too. Her eyes burned and she had to blink a few times to fully focus on the screen. It showed a classroom full of mats and punching bags with an instructor standing in the front, surrounding by about eleven kids. The camera spanned across the room before focusing on Jasmine's daughters. They were each partnered up with someone else from the class, simulating kidnapping scenarios and practicing how to get away from their captor. Riley leaned forward, watching as the little girl broke out of her partner's grip and knocked them to the floor. Cynthia and Jasmine continued talking, but Riley kept watching the video.

"Do they have adult classes?"