bellare | ( OPEN ) Frank Castle

[ edits in relevant meme ]

Frank comes to looking a right mess, but that's not new. Neither is the dream that plays out behind his eyes. He comes to with a violent start, head jerking back and forth and chest heaving as he looks down to see a slim hand clutched over his. Her light hair and soft floral scent do nothing to dispel the memories flashing as if projecting directly onto his eyelids. He fights it, pushing up from the depths of grief in order to clutch her hand back, the cuffs rattling against the bed frame and signaling to her that he's up.

"Karen?" It's like waking up from a dream only to find you're still dreaming, but he keeps looking down at their joined hands and up into her face. She's really here. He's really here. For solid minutes, he thought Russo killed him. "What are you doing here, Karen?"

His voice sounds small even to his ears, and he grimaces past a wave of pain followed by the odd, floaty feeling of morphine and swallows past his unpleasantly scratchy throat.

Edited 2019-02-02 14:46 (UTC)

It was a whirlwind of events, as most things regarding Frank Castle are. Karen was up to her neck in busy paperwork trying to get Nelson and Murdock back together when a familiar text sound rang out. Hearing it only made her sigh, assuming it was just more work to add to the pile. Her fears were almost confirmed when she saw the flash of Foggy's name, but when she read the message, she felt a different kind of fear. "I think you should see this." with a link to a news article. Her first thought was Fisk as she quickly tapped the link, but when she saw Frank's name she felt her heart sink. Her hand dropped and she curled her fingers around her phone while digging it into her chest, biting onto her lower lip. She just--needed some time. To think. To process.

It only took her minutes to get ready and head out the door, she didn't even bother responding to Foggy--no time. She still didn't really have any real idea how she would get past the police or anything, but she'd figure it out when she got there. Surprisingly enough, though, all she had to do was throw around a few legal terms to make way.

She inhaled deeply, unsure of what exactly she was walking into. A scolding from him, most likely, but... As far as his condition went? Slowly she entered the room after quietly closing the door behind her to find him unconscious, unsurprisingly. Another deep breath was released as she stared at him a minute, curling her knuckles against her lip and chin. Oh, Frank. It's never easy to see him this way, and each time it feels worse and worse. The only way she was sure he wasn't dead was by the beeping monitor he was hooked up to.

Hours had passed, but she never moved from her position on the chair beside him. It was important for her to show him when he woke up that he wasn't alone. That he had someone who cared about him and that wanted to be by his side. When he finally starts to come to she sits up, wide eyed. "Frank?" She questions, before he immediately begins to fight his restraints, despite the many injuries he's suffering home.

Quickly, she stands up over him. "Shhh, shhh! Frank! Frank, it's okay," She knew it was fruitless, but she attempted to restrain him to a certain degree to get him to quit thrashing and prevent him from making his wounds worse. Delicately she held onto him, to touch and reassure him. "It's okay," she repeated again, maintaining her position just above him.

When he begins to calm she smiles, but it's quickly gone once she hears the strain in his voice. Not wanting him to see the worry on her face, she quickly pushes through and presents him with another smile, only this one a little less genuine. "Do I really need to answer that?"

It's never okay — he isn't — but he doesn't bother correcting her, taking a long shuddering breath as he comes back to himself. His right hand squeezes, at least it's not as broken-y as it was. Imagine what mandatory bedrest can do for a person like him, to say nothing of all his injuries that might be infectious by now if it weren't for him being brought in. Frank remembers acutely the last time he saw Karen and though it was hardly a pleasant scenario, neither is this and he can never fully regret the opportunity to see her in any capacity. He smiles, but it comes out as more of a grimace as he turns his cheek towards the wall away from her.

"Nah, some things never change. Karen Page is still all heart."

It's managed with fondness even if he can't muster up much mirth in the moment. As usual, she shouldn't be here, but she is anyway. And he's starting to think he shouldn't be here either. This version of Frank Castle is used to waging psychological warfare and doesn't fall for ruses such as the one Russo pulled back in that warehouse, at least not without questioning the logistics. If Billy and company had run, why hadn't those women? They weren't tied down or drugged that he could discern or that anyone was talking about. And also unlike a certain someone, he's kept his mouth shut. He knows his rights very well, perhaps even better than Karen.

"I take it you started quoting the Constitution until the guard let you in?"

A soft nasal laugh is pushed out of her nose as he makes that comment. He isn't telling her to leave right off the bat, so she must not be in too much trouble. Not that it would really matter or she would listen if he told her to leave.

"Something like that," She brings her hands down to one of his and holds it there while sitting back down in her seat beside him.

Her eyes scan his body, and even though he's awake she gets the sense that he's almost disappointed he's not. It's not unlike Frank to be in that mental state, but there's something... different about it, this time. Karen thinks it could be the pain, but is compelled to quickly dismiss that reasoning because she's never seen him outwardly complain about physical pain before. He's not looking at her and that strikes her as strange. Even when she was interviewing him when they were first getting to know one another, he always made a point to maintain eye contact with her... but now?

"You got caught," She begins, stating the obvious. "You're uh.... You're usually a lot more careful than that." She speaks softly and carefully to him, like she's treading dangerous waters. The last thing she wants to do is upset him, but she can't help her curiosity about what the hell happened and why he was in this condition. She didn't care about the news articles or the stories the police were giving her, she wanted to hear it from him herself.

Caught. It draws a snort out of him as his hand hangs limply in hers. He doesn't try to wrest it away, he probably wouldn't have the strength to as it stands. But he has to wonder what Karen's take on this whole situation is.

"I was careful," he says flatly, remembering the only other time he had been tired enough to be caught as it were. And she'd visited him just this way, reminded him of his beautiful wife and beautiful son. His entire family, too, gunned down senselessly. Karen saw him through all of that — and was it really only two years ago? Slowly, his gaze swings back around to meet hers, but it's dim and tired, the morphine cutting into his usually bright stare, yes, but it's something else too. Like there's an albatross around his neck. "Have they charged me yet?"

Once a cop, always a cop. Something like that. It's probably pointless to think of due process when he's the Punisher, isn't it?

There's another part to that sentence he starts before he asks her about his charges. She lets her head hang for just a second before looking at him. There's no beating around the bush with him, that's for sure.

"They said that you killed members of that gang that's been robbing a bunch of banks lately, uh..." She's pulling a blank at it's name, but she'd never forget who the ringleader was. "Billy Russo's gang?" And she pauses, because this is the part that made her question what she was being told. "And... there were some women involved, apparently."

He nods, stiltedly, swallowing past his dry throat and turning to look at their joined hands again.

"I think I was set up," he begins, but it's soft, not certain on any level. "But if I wasn't, then that makes me the monster, doesn't it?"

Hazel crashes into icy blue as a wan smile tugs at his torn lips. He wants to say she shouldn't have come here, again, but what good would it do him?

"I believe in innocent until proven guilty," She begins, knowing he's not a believer in that statement whatsoever. "I think your past and your name speak for itself. The Punisher doesn't exactly kill innocent people, he punishes the bad ones. You had no reason or motive to kill these women, Frank, so even if you didn't tell me that you think you were set up I would have already came to that conclusion on my own. And I did, that's why I'm here."

Karen gives him another soft squeeze, offering a small smile back at him. She'll always in his corner, even if it's her biggest downfall.

He can't help but roll his eyes at that. Innocent until proven guilty, what a joke. "You were at my trial." He was convicted, he is guilty, just... maybe not of this crime, in specific. He does squeeze her hand back this time, though it's meek. He looks from her hand back up to her face again. "I didn't clear the room, Karen. I can't say for sure what happened."

So she's here to... what, investigate? Just thinking about that tires him out.

"Does Matt Murdock know you're here?"

"He will, I'm sure. I didn't tell him I was coming, if that's what you're asking." Why would she? Things with Matt were... Getting better, for the most part. They all three were transitioning into a career and a life together again, but she still had her reservations about him.

"Foggy is actually the one who told me about you. I thought maybe he was trying to get a hold of me about some paper work or something." It was obvious even to those around her how much Karen cared for him.

"Foggy," he says softly, in a tone that could almost be mistaken for fondness. "He had to know you'd come down here."

Frank closes his eyes, there's something peaceful about him now, like he's finally given up. Maybe he can finally get a fucking nap, at least.

"That he did," Karen agrees with a single nod, running her thumb over the top of his hand. In the back of her mind she wonders if this is something he wants her to be doing. It's been a roller coaster of emotions with him since she's met him, but the last thing she wanted was to do something that would push him even more further away from her than she already was.

"Why don't you get some rest?" With attentive as she is and with how bad he looks, Karen takes notice of his eyes closing. If he's willingly doing that he must be tired. She gives him one final squeeze before gently pulling away from him.

"You can ask anything you want while suppressing the urge to tell me to leave when you get up again," She gives him a bit of a tease. "Because no, I'm not going anywhere."

"Deal," he murmurs as he slips off again. He's either learned that he can't talk her out of anything or he's just too tired to argue. Let's face it: it's probably an even combination of both. He's out for another hour, approaching 90 minutes, when he suddenly wakes again. Much less violently than the first time and almost immediately lucid. Frank looks down at their hands where they're still entwined and sighs at the feeling of the cuffs. At least he'll be able to get some real rest, right? Except whatever Karen is about to suggest he's already assuming will be some type of insane, and he'll probably go along with it because he has nothing left to lose.

That is: except Amy. He swallows dryly, watching Karen doze uncomfortably against the rail of his bed and rattles the cuff against it to try and wake her.

"You're going to get a cramp doing that."

( OPEN ) Frank Castle

for @divulgence

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