apageinthecastle

[apageinthecastle]

In response to your tags, respectfully, I'm calling bullshit. Because my question was specifically about abuse and how Shia's language was dehumanizing in the way he spoke about his victim. There were other valuable questions as well. But maybe you missed that because you were too busy focusing on the fact that the man stutters. God forbid he not be perfectly well spoken.

i missed the ama that day in the RO discord but what Q did you ask and did he say anything at all? i'm waiting on them to upload it so i can listen, i wanted to ask him how the idea of interviewing shia even came about or did he say anything about that?

this was my question(s):

in your opinion, how do we navigate and cultivate a culture of forgiveness and rehabilitation towards abusers when victims of abuse are not allowed nor given the same space, treatment, and respect to be forthcoming with their own experiences and vulnerability??

how do we position these conversations about extending second chances to those we deem unfit in ways that honor and uplift survivors of abuse rather than platforming their abusers???

this is his response, verbatim (minus the stuttering):

“I can only really speak to this- to what we’re doing, and the folks that we have had on and the people that we are going to continue to have on. And you know, this word “platform”, the folks that we’re going to lend our platform to. Look, two weeks before Shia was on, I had another really really dear friend of mine who, for the first time ever, really publicly talked about the abuse that she suffered.

I can talk only about what I can control, and I really believe that, for me, the reason why Shia came on my show was because of my relationship with Shia and because I wanted to know where he was at, and because we had done an interview with him and we decided to not air it. And again, it was not to give him a platform, it was not for anyone to pass judgement or to vindicate or vilify Shia. It was a ‘I want to see where you’re at’, and I thought maybe that this conversation could be useful. And then he came on and we, as a team, decided it was useful and we stand by that because of this conversation right here.

But, in no way, you know, I’ve had people on my show who have victimized people. I’ve had murderers on this show, you know? I’ve had people who have put people in prison on our show. I’ve had people who have saved people’s lives on this show. I’ve had people who have taken lives and more. I’ve had people who have done things that they weren’t ready to admit to. But every single person who have come on here, all I’m really trying to do is foster genuine, absolutely honest, absolutely authentic, conversations[.] I stand by these people [who] are being honest and aren’t coming in with an agenda. They’re not coming in with an agenda. They aren’t coming in trying to sell you anything. I’m not trying to sell you anything.

I wouldn’t have absolutely, absolutely, and will lend this platform and bring on people who suffered all kinds of abuses and any kind of abuse. And again, it’s not my interest of my focus or my mission at all to vilify or vindicate anyone. It’s just not what I’m trying to do. I consider it a blessing that people will talk to me. I consider the relationships that I have a blessing and I’m so sick of so much of the discourse that’s out there and that it’s agenda driven, and this isn’t. So I think that’s the only way I can really answer that.”

I truthfully cannot remember what he said about the initiating of the Shia conversation, but he emphasized that Shia is his friend and that he felt it was his responsibility to check on a friend. I guess his way of doing so is in front of a camera and microphone instead of a friendly phone call or brunch or something but… that’s just me. There were so many questions and so many that remained unanswered. I was very disappointed by the quality and content of the questions being asked but, again, that’s just me.

[apageinthecastle]

Oh you give author comment?? You give author little kudos on their fic?? LOVE FOR READER!! LOVE FOR READER FOR ONE MILLION YEARS!!

[apageinthecastle]

Frank Castle | Karen Page

in THE PUNISHER

[apageinthecastle]

life really is just like. you meet people you love them and then you lose them and you never see them again. and it's inevitable and it happens to everyone and there's nothing you can do about it

[apageinthecastle]

endless gifs from daredevil - 27/∞

[apageinthecastle]

Friendly Reminder

Karen never once had an issue with Matt being Daredevil. Her issue is with Matt himself.

The difference between her treatment of Matt and Frank is that Frank never lies to her, whereas Matt lies to her all the time.

Karen has said this, repeatedly.

[apageinthecastle]

Looking for a place to nerd out over the original Netflix MCU? Please join us at NMCU NYC: A friendly server for all things Jessica Jones, Daredevil, Luke Cage, Iron Fist and Punisher. We’ve got good conversation, daily questions, events, headcanons, and fanfic recs galore. We’re pretty fun to just chat with, too.

So head on over, make the move to NYC, and we’ll be there to welcome you! 

[apageinthecastle]

NMCU Flash Bingo Summer Event!

The NMCU's NYC Discord server is holding a Flash Bingo summer event! We prepared five bingo cards with five summer themed prompts each. If you join the server, you can see the cards and choose one or two or even all of them to fill with art, fics, gif sets, videos, moodboards, etc. Just get creative! As long as your fill is summer themed and the NMCU characters are the main point, you can do whatever you want and please.

The event lasts until August 31st, so get your creative juices going!

You can join the Discord here and connect with other fans of the NMCU:

[apageinthecastle]

Matt: smart is attractive, tell me something i dont know!

Clint: the mouth of a jellyfish is also its butt

Matt: stop-

[apageinthecastle]

Looking for a place to nerd out over the original Netflix MCU? Please join us at NMCU NYC: A friendly server for all things Jessica Jones, Daredevil, Luke Cage, Iron Fist and Punisher. We’ve got good conversation, daily questions, events, headcanons, and fanfic recs galore. We’re pretty fun to just chat with, too.

So head on over, make the move to NYC, and we’ll be there to welcome you! 

[apageinthecastle]

A Quarantined Reunion: Chapter three - Ghost Stories

Frank and Karen find themselves stuck with each other for longer than expected, and a memory Frank thought he had buried resurfaces to pull him from the moment.

Keep reading

[apageinthecastle]

A Quarantined Reunion: Chapter three - Ghost Stories

Frank and Karen find themselves stuck with each other for longer than expected, and a memory Frank thought he had buried resurfaces to pull him from the moment.

Good morning, sleepyhead.

Frank woke with a start, Maria’s voice still ringing in his ears. Sitting up, he turned on the single, shadeless lamp beside his couch, the light harsh in the dark of the apartment. The sun wasn’t up yet. Grateful to have slept on the couch (undeniably for the proximity to the coffee maker) he shuffled into the kitchen, tossing the now-empty apple pie container and crumpled burger foil in the trash. He had eaten the cheeseburger while mulling over the fragmented conversation from the night before, stitching the silences together and getting nowhere. With Karen taking the rest of her thoughts and answers to bed with her, he had decided sometime around midnight that it had still been an apple pie kind of day, after all.

He filled Max’s food dish, shaking it a little before starting the coffee maker. From the time Frank had adopted the pit bull, he’d had to rustle any food in his dish to get the dog to eat. Maybe it was something left over from Max’s time with the Kitchen Irish, where Frank knew he had been mistreated. Maybe it was just that he was trained to wait to eat. Whatever the reason, it was a welcome part of their morning routine. He was grateful for Max’s company - after dropping him off at New York Bully Crew, Frank had imagined the pit bull happily adopted by some well-off family, maybe with kids… still, when he had returned to the shelter for work as part of his arrangement with the CIA and found Max still there, there was some relief in knowing he was able to readopt him and provide some semblance of a home.

It wasn’t until the first sip of his second cup of coffee that the Marine turned to the window, nearly dropping the mug at the sight of the mountain of snow already collected on the outer sill.

He’d have to get a whole damn pie delivered.

It was only a few minutes later that a messy-haired Karen made her way out from the bedroom. She adjusted the ace bandage wrapped around her wrist, more out of nervous habit than anything else. Beginning with every intention of saying good morning to Frank, the blonde froze in place when she saw the amount of snow that had built up. Oh, no.

Keeping their distance in the apartment had been reasonable last night. Social distancing hadn’t been perfect - he had carried her back to his place, for Christ’s sake - but it was enough that all things considered, she had felt comfortable with the idea of leaving his apartment in search of her own.

Seeing that snow, knowing there would be no hope of leaving during it…

Damn it.

Good morning long forgotten, she turned to him. “Please tell me there’s coffee.”

He nodded absently and slowly turned back to the kitchen with a resigned sigh, muttering under his breath. “Not enough in the world for this day.”

If Karen heard him, she had no audible response. It was probably for the best - they were both under-caffeinated, and, judging by the look on her face as his eyes flicked over to look, licking their wounds from the night before. To say he felt bad was an understatement; guilt was something that came easily to him, especially when it was for good reason. Max, having emptied his bowl already, nudged at Frank’s twitching fingers with his nose, bringing him back into the moment.

“Mugs are in the cupboard beside the fridge. You hungry?”

Karen shook her head, walking to the kitchen silently. She was, in reality, but she wasn’t about to start asking Frank Castle for more than she had to right now, and coffee, well that was non-negotiable. She reached into the cupboard for the mug, pulling it down and pouring herself a cup. She’d stopped taking milk and sugar in her coffee long ago - just one of many things tossed away from her time in Vermont and college.

She leaned against the counter, blowing down into the mug for a few seconds before taking a sip. She looked up at him, studying him. So much of him was different - well, not different so much as the near present sight of injury she’d come to expect was gone - but so, so much of him was exactly the same. Grimacing against a larger gulp of coffee than intended, she let out a quiet sigh.

“I’m guessing if I try and walk out that door right now to go home, you’re not going to let me.”

He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling. “You’d be ankle-deep in that shit, but if you’re that determined, be my guest.”

It took about thirty seconds for her to drain the cup of coffee before she started slipping her shoes on. Did the walk home sound pleasant? Not at all. Did she want to be trapped in an apartment with him for two weeks once they could no longer reasonably argue against quarantining together? Absolutely not. Seeing him last night, waking up to him this morning, well. It had been hard enough on her. She didn’t know if she was capable of spending two weeks living as the choice he didn’t want to make.

“Y-- Ah, Jesus, Karen, don’t be ri-- think about it.” He set his coffee mug aside and rolled his eyes, starting towards her. “It’s freezing out there, alright, the snow is up to your ass. How far do you really think you’re gonna get in those shoes, huh?”

“Far enough.” He had enough of a point to give her pause, though. Another sigh escaped her lips and she stood there, shifting her weight. “You realize if I stay, we’re going to be stuck here together for two weeks, right? You really want that?” It took everything in her to ignore the part that was hoping he would say yes.

If we’re not stuck here for two weeks, already, Frank thought as he considered a response. The damn parameters for what was considered close contact or what prompted mandatory isolation had probably changed another five times since they’d gone to sleep. He drained his coffee mug and refilled it before managing an answer for the annoyed blonde in front of him.

“Seems like a better idea than you freezing to death or getting hit by some asshole who forgets how to drive in this shit.” It was a conscious effort to let her make the decision for herself.

Her fingers found her hair and she shook her head the tiniest bit as she considered. “You know what, why not?” came the exasperated response. She stepped back out of her heels, disbelieving even of herself. In what world had she just signed herself up for two weeks of torture? Apparently, this one.

“You’re going to have to learn to share your kitchen if I’m going to be here for two weeks.”

The visible battle to stop the smile tugging at the corner of his lips was lost, the evidence quickly hidden behind a coffee mug. Share his kitchen, huh? He couldn't remember the last time he had.

Right on cue, mid-morning memories of that day with his family flooded Frank's mind, springing free from their box. That Last Day. He thought he had thrown away the damn key. He gripped the coffee mug in his hands as, for a moment, he was transported to the kitchen in the home he'd turned to dust. The lazy sun of early April poured in through the window, bathing the edges of Maria's hair and skin in warmth. She was making breakfast. Frank Jr. was pestering his sister, begging her to teach him another of the nonsensical rhymes, swapping their juice cups when she wasn't looking. The earthy, bright smell of coffee wafted through the air. Frank had reached for the loaf of bread, intent on helping his wife. He remembered laughing, shaking his head as she lightly slapped his hand away with the spatula, oily from cooking eggs. She had flashed a breathtaking, mischievous smile that had nearly brought Frank to his knees. There was no sharing a kitchen with Maria Castle.

"We'll see about that," he breathed, as the memory dissolved. He found himself flexing his fingers, still feeling the rubber end of the utensil against them.

Karen was polite enough not to pry. A specific look told her better - the look that said his thoughts were no longer here with her for a moment, but years in the past when his family had still been alive. Hearing stories from that period of his life had always been few and far between, and it was something that had always come up naturally. Well, aside from the early days when she’d been crossing police lines and shoving stolen photographs in his face. Not her finest moments.

It was that look on his face once again that made the blonde want to reach out, to rest her hand against his arm in their old familiar comforts. Words had never been the way they communicated with each other, not really. Glances and the smallest of touches… she shook her head to clear it, taking a deep breath and nodding. Even after two years, she knew when he was deflecting, and she knew when to let it go.

[apageinthecastle]

A Quarantined Reunion - Chapter two: Chosen Wars

Painful reminders of the past plague both Frank Castle and Karen Page when they find themselves within the walls of Frank's apartment.

It didn’t take long to get her back to his place, something he was grateful for. He shut and locked the door behind them, still supporting Karen’s weight as he walked her to his couch, setting her down gently. Her eyes lingered on him for another moment before slowly looking around. She swallowed, clearing her throat and pressing her hands - still shaking - against her knees. It was the nudging of a wet nose under her arm that finally broke her out of her haze. Her lips barely curled into the hint of a smile as she looked down to see a friendly-faced pit bull, running her hand over his head.

"Max," Frank offered as explanation. The dog's ears perked up at the sound of his name.

“You… I, um. Where did you, I mean…” Karen's thoughts were still jumbled and trying to find the words she wanted was even more difficult than usual for the woman. “Thank you.” she finally settled on the simple phrase. Her body was tense and she still felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. She had been completely defenseless, and she shuddered to think what might have happened had Frank not shown up precisely when he had. She swallowed again, running a shaky hand through her hair. “Do you, um...beer?”

He fought a smile and nodded. “I, um, beer.”

Frank fidgeted as he made his way to the kitchen, rolling his eyes at himself. It was hardly the time for it, but the playful retort had fallen out of his mouth before he could think. Falling into banter with Karen was instinctual, easy as breathing. Time and place, Marine, time and place. ‘I, um, beer’, Jesus Christ.

He sighed as popped the caps from two bottles, walking back to the living room and pressing one into her trembling hands. He had never seen her like this. Not when she recounted her past or the stories about Fisk. Not when she’d been all but begging him to look for an After. Not even when she’d been held hostage by that kid, Wilson. What was his name? Lewis.

A fragile, unfamiliar silence settled like dust between them, and Frank found himself tapping against the cool glass of the beer bottle he held. She was coherent enough to speak, obviously, but he had no way of guessing at the things left unsaid. If given half a chance and enough beer, even in the state she was in, she would probably tear into him. He probably - no, definitely - deserved it.

With a quiet sigh and still unsteady hand, Karen raised the bottle to her lips as Max took a firm seat beside her, leaning his weight against her slightly. One long drink later, she looked back over at Frank. Other than the small mark on his cheek, he looked… well, he looked good. No bruises, no cuts, nothing to allude to the wars that had been his home for as long as she had actively known him. The wars he’d chosen over her.

Not that she would ever tell him that. Not that she would ever share with him that her choice to visit Frank in the hospital those two years ago had been the end of her relationship with Matt. She hadn’t been able to respond when he had asked her if Matt knew that she was there - a silence he’d taken as a no. In reality, her silence had come from the fact that with that choice to once again help Frank Castle, Matthew Murdock - ever unable to understand her own past and why she saw the Punisher as something more than his actions - had ended things.

Since then, they had barely spoken.

Karen couldn’t bring herself to regret her choice. She had cared about Matt, that much was a certainty. Hell, even Frank had been able to see it shortly after meeting her, telling her as much in that diner where he had effectively used her as bait. She did care, of course she did, but it paled in comparison to the way she felt about the short haired man in front of her. She hadn’t just wanted him to choose to love someone instead of choosing another war. She had wanted him to choose to love her. She certainly loved him.

None of that mattered anymore, though. He had said no. He had once again chosen war over the After she so desperately wanted for him. The After he deserved, even if he couldn’t see it himself.

Seeing him now, relatively unscathed compared to how he usually showed up, almost took what little breath she had away. Was he actually staying out of trouble? No. Even if he is, it doesn’t matter, Karen, she told herself. He had made his choice and she very much wasn’t it.

Whatever words had been about to come from her lips were lost before they ever found their way there and she instead brought the bottle back to her mouth. She took another long drink, staring at the green glass in her hands.

Across from her, Frank nodded, though he didn’t know why or to what. There seemed to be, as there often was, an unspoken agreement between them. Something understood without any need for explanation. This time, however, it made him anxious. He'd lost track of the things they were agreeing to. I should apologize. I should ask her how she’s feeling. I should explain how and why I showed up when I did, let her know I wasn’t following her, or-- he cut his train of thought short by clearing his throat, setting his untouched beer aside and running his hands unsteadily along his thighs as he stood.

“Karen, I…”

What the fuck are you even trying to say, Castle? He shook his head and gestured vaguely. There wasn’t a goddamn thing he could think of that would make any of the shit between them any better, any different. When he heard her voice fill the silence, he was grateful.

“So, how long have you been back in Hell’s Kitchen?” she asked quietly, looking over at him.

“Oh, um. Close to a year now,” he admitted, shifting his weight between his feet. He was only able to meet her eyes for small moments at a time, flicking them away and back again.

She pressed her lips together, nodding once and taking another drink from her beer. “Without a goddamn war, huh?”

A muscle in Frank’s jaw ticked and he fought to keep his expression even, nodding slowly. It wasn't a question, it was an accusation. He turned away and watched any hope he’d had of meeting her gaze fly through the crack in his living room window. His voice was soft and distant in response.

“Yeah. Yeah, without a goddamn war, or… something like that, I guess.”

Her hand tightening on the bottle as she fought off the rising tide of emotion she felt, she raised it to her lips again, draining the beer. She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the godawful jolt of pain through her wrist.

"I should go."

Instinctively, he took a step toward her, putting his hands up and taking a step back again once he noticed. “No, uh…” He sighed, running a hand over his head and mustering the courage to meet her gaze. He studied her. Even coherent enough to speak, hold conversation, make long-overdue digs at him, he could see from the barely-concealed shakes wracking her frame that she was in no position to be going back out there alone.

“Stay.”

She stared at him for a moment, letting the word echo around in her head. The last words he’d spoken to her in that god forsaken hospital room played alongside it. I gotta walk out of here, and you can’t do it with me.

Without another word, she set the bottle down and started toward the door. It was another, singular syllable that stopped her in her tracks.

“Please.” Goddamn him and the way he wielded that weapon against her like a bullet to the heart.

Frank could see the gears turning in her head, even from across the room. The slight tensing of her shoulders as she took a deep breath and the slow, uneven shift of her weight from foot to foot, option to option. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when she turned, sharply drawing it back in as her eyes fell on his. There was nothing uncertain about them. Everything that had been a near-impossible read just moments ago had fallen away. Karen was livid, and rightfully so. He braced himself for the years of… well, anything and everything his absence had been filled with.

“I told you we would figure it out together.” Her voice was low. She was angry beyond the point of shouting. All the hurt and frustration and long abandoned hope for the man in front of her was boiling over, but it was a quiet rage. She moved her hands between them. “Us, together. Just like with your family, just like with David Lieberman.

“I told you that you could choose to love someone instead of another war, and you told me it wasn’t what you wanted. You told me what your life was and you asked me if I wanted to be a part of it and you never, not for a single goddamn second, actually gave me a chance to answer you. And don’t you dare sit there and say that you did, that the silence between us wasn’t full of your stubborn bullshit. That’s all I ever was to you, wasn’t it? Just someone whose life you could walk in and out of as it was convenient for you.”

He took another step back, looking down and licking his lips. His fingers twitched incessantly at his side. He wanted to tell her no. He wanted to tell her it was never about convenience, that the silence between them was more often full of regret than bullshit. That she had never been ‘just’ anything to him. He opened his mouth to speak, and all of his words turned to ash on his tongue as he stammered. He shook his head before daring to meet her eyes again, hoping his own might say the things he couldn’t.

“No. No… you know that.” Her expectant stare and his rising panic prompted a weak response from his throat. His late wife’s voice rang like a bell through his head, their last one-on-one conversation replaying as it so often did. “I don’t know that.” Maria's voice had been broken, desperate. Hurt. Frank closed his eyes, forcing the memory to dissipate as he hung on the edge of the moment for a response.

“Do I, Frank? Do I?” She started pacing his living room, crossing her arms as she watched him. “I mean, you never said goodbye when you left. You looked down at me from a damn tower. The next time I see you it’s because you needed my help figuring out who Micro was, and then it was because of Lewis and we said goodbye, and then at the hospital, and I haven’t seen or heard a damn word from you in two years. I’m just another pawn in your war for you to move around and the second you decided you didn’t want another one, well, I guess that’s the end of that.” She knew her words weren’t true, and she regretted them the second they came out of her mouth as she saw the hurt flash deep in his eyes.

Frank knew when to keep his mouth shut, but it wasn’t often - if ever, now that he was forced to think of it - that he was rendered speechless. All the air had been sucked out of his lungs, any words along with it. He found himself frozen, unable to even look away from her prying gaze. Slowly, and with all the energy he could muster, his response was still whispered.

“You’re right.” He focused on flexing and releasing his muscles, one group at a time, willing himself into being able to move again. “Not about…” He shook his head, stiffly. Arguing was pointless. Whether the specifics of what she said were true or not, she had a point. He’d done little to maintain any connections that weren’t useful to him once he had decided he was feeling too much. The people he allowed to get close to him were only given so much room, so much opportunity, and then he cut them loose. He could never find it in himself to let them make their own decisions. He had to keep them safe, couldn’t have them on his conscience… however he wanted to word it, it was always the same.

“I, uh…” There wasn’t anything he could say. Apologies fell short and were too far out of date to make a dent. In lieu of apology, he reached blindly behind him for the arm of the couch and sat down on it. He exhaled any breath that might have been wasted on explanation, nodding again.

She squeezed her own arms slightly, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d started shaking again. Conflicting emotions barreled through her. She was genuinely angry - how could she not be? It didn’t change the things she’d always thought about him. Frank Castle was a man with a history, a man doing the best he could. A man who had been robbed of his family. A man that was a good man, not the monster the world had made him out to be. In this moment, in the wrinkles around his eyes and the fluttering of his fingers as he struggled with the warring emotions inside of him, that was the man she saw.

With a sigh, she slowly walked over to him, meeting his eyes. Her hand dropped from her arm, coming inches away from resting on his shoulder before she pulled back, letting it rest by her side instead. “Why?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Why do you want me to stay?”

Frank looked at her, then. Really looked at her. His eyes searched hers, and he wondered to himself if he looked as desperate for her continued company as he felt. Even in this pain, even with the anger and their shared past thickening the air between them, he didn’t want to lose her. He couldn’t. It had been a choice he’d made - a few times over, as she had reminded him tonight - only out of necessity. A choice he had made to keep her safe, because he was sure she was safer away from him… and despite that nagging thought being ever-present at the back of his mind, Karen had just proven to him that she, like anyone and everyone else, was capable of finding trouble or straying from safety whether or not he was in the picture. Wouldn’t it be better t--. He shook his head away, looking away from her.

“To make sure you’re okay,” Was the response he settled on, hoping it would say enough.

Her heart dropped at his words. Not because it was bad, but because it wasn’t the answer she had wanted. Not really. She swallowed and ran her hands through her hair again, closing her eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. “I’m fine.” she said, voice tight. She hated the waver that existed between the two syllables. “And even if I’m not, what then? I stay for now, you decide for yourself I’m fine, and then what? You disappear again?” She didn’t know that she could handle it again, the man in front of her becoming a ghost of her past again.

"Not if I can avoid it."

Even as he said them, he knew the words meant little. Karen had always seen it as avoidable, even with full knowledge of the dangers at hand. She had made the choice to stand by him, time and time again, eyes wide open. It was admirable and absolutely infuriating.

He sighed, running his hands over his head. "I'm really trying to turn things around, here, Karen. I'm not… I'm not there, yet, you know, but it's better. Things are… quiet."

She stared at him for a long moment. She wasn’t entirely sure what to think. He was trying to turn things around. Things were quiet. What did those words even mean when it came to Frank Castle? Slowly, each foot a deliberate step in front of her, she sat back down on the couch. A wince crossed her face as she put pressure on her wrist.

“I’ll stay for tonight.” She said after another pause. “We can talk about the rest tomorrow.”

[apageinthecastle]

A Quarantined Reunion - Chapter One: An Apple Pie Kind of Day

Karen Page and Frank Castle haven't seen each other since their exchange at the hospital. Now, in the middle of a pandemic, the two have been brought together again and have no choice but to quarantine together. What will come of the reunion?

Karen slipped her heels on, reaching for the hook where she always kept her keys and, thanks to this pandemic, her mask. Grabbing her purse off of the table by the door, she started out, careful to lock up behind her. She looped her mask over her ears, adjusting it as she left the building.

It had been months since this pandemic had started, with no end in sight. All of New York City was on lockdown except for essential errands only. It was the empty refrigerator that had Karen currently outside of the walls she’d been confined to for the last few weeks. Even her job with the Bulletin had gone completely remote.

She hurried quickly down the street to the grocery store just a fifteen minute walk from her apartment. Hell’s Kitchen was too quiet for the former Vermont woman. It had taken her months to get used to the noise of the bustling city and now that it was gone, she desperately wanted it back. New York, and it’s loudness, had become a warm familiarity that was now missing from her nights.

Frank adjusted the mask on his face for what must have been the tenth time in the short distance between his apartment door and the street below. When the lockdown was first initiated, the pandemic had only been expected to last a few weeks – Hell’s Kitchen residents were hopeful that life as they knew it would return to something next to normal by the end of Spring Break. After a short reprieve from full lockdown, December saw the restrictions return full-force. Easy enough to lay low when everyone else is doing the same, Frank thought to himself. Still, a creature of habit, he was annoyed with the constant change in pandemic rules and regulations.

In the midst of the neverending flux around him, however, at least one thing had remained the same: the weekly walk to 5 Napkin for a Double 5 Cheeseburger Smash and Bourbon spiked S’mores shake. If he was in a particularly annoyed mood, he might even add a slice of apple pie. Yeah, he decided as he shoved his hands in his pockets against the mid-December cold, it is definitely an apple pie kinda day.

Karen breathed into her hands as she walked, pulling her scarf a little tighter around her neck. Yes, she’d grown up even further North than her current residence, but eventually cold was just cold. Today was one of those days and she’d forgone the gloves, per usual. In the event she did need to use the firearm she concealed in her purse, it was much easier to do without fabric to get in the way.

For all the attention the woman usually paid, the empty streets had lowered her guard. She allowed herself to become absorbed in her thoughts as she walked, musing over her newest assignment from Ellison. Consumed in her own head, the hand that grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into a small space between buildings caught her completely by surprise.

It took a moment to register what was happening - the police officer shoving her against the bricks behind her, pinning her with his body. She didn’t have an opportunity to reach for her gun before the moment was gone and it was too late. A scream erupted from her throat, only to be cut off by the hand that clamped down over her mouth.

Tossing his regretfully empty milkshake cup into the trash as he continued along 9th, Frank haphazardly shoved the apple pie container and compulsory five napkins into the pocket of his coat; he was too hungry to wait to eat anything that required a fork. Tugging his mask down and unwrapping the foil around his burger had become one swift, instinctive motion over the months, not unlike the simultaneous action of dropping one magazine and replacing it with another in the heat of a firefight.

The burger was almost in his mouth when he heard it.at The sound, abrupt but unmistakably a scream, cutting through the eerie pandemic quiet and reverberating off of the buildings nearby. God damnit, he thought, can’t a man eat a burger in peace?

Any potential for cheeseburger peace now ruined, Frank frowned to himself and re-wrapped it, dropping it into the other pocket of his coat. Screams like that - the kind that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end - didn’t happen without good reason. Having spent the last year keeping a low profile (and the one before, working with Madani and the CIA in that god forsaken desert to earn what little amnesty he had), the Marine was conflicted. If the year laying low had taught him anything, it was how to effectively contain the restlessness that had a way of seeping through his better judgement. Hell’s Kitchen has survived this long without the Punisher bullshit, it sure as hell doesn’t need another pile of bodies, he thought. God knows they’re running out of toe tags.

The thought was wiped clean and his blood turned cold as a familiar voice filled his ears. Her voice.

“Help!”

His feet, which had been tracking the source of the sound of their own accord, fell silent against the pavement as he closed the half-block distance and saw Karen Page in the meat hook hands of the NYPD. So much for laying low.

Everything was happening too fast for the blonde to register as she tried to fight against her assailant. She was barely keeping him at bay, let alone making any headway in getting him away from her, and she felt her heartbeat drumming in her ears. Her vision was a flurry of limbs as she continued to struggle, crying out as her wrist was turned to an unnatural angle at a violent speed.

A moment later, she felt space around her as the man was shoved away. Her eyes went wide as she looked, trying to take in the scene playing out in front of her. Her breath caught in her chest. No. She thought, blinking back the pain filled tears that threatened to spill over her onto her cheek. It can’t be. It had been two years since she’d seen him and she’d convinced herself she never would again. Not after that conversation in the hospital when he’d told her he didn’t want to choose to love someone over another goddamn war.

Swallowing as she sank down the brick wall, Karen couldn’t deny the sight anymore. Seeing the meticulous nature of the attack of what had moments ago been her attacker, there was no room for doubt. It was him.

Frank Castle.

He let the incoming right hook catch his cheekbone, and used the cop’s sluggish moment of recoil to throw his weight into the man’s middle, tackling him hip-first against the pavement. Driving his knee into the base of the officer’s spine as he pinned him to the ground, Frank snatched the government-issued firearm from its holster and readied it, knocking his opponent’s hat off with the barrel.

Armed, ready, and itching to pull the trigger, Frank knew that this split-second decision would make or break any opportunity he would ever have to speak with Karen again. He took a deep breath to counter the adrenaline, flicking his eyes over to her just long enough to try for her attention.

“Karen, get out of here.”

No response.

She couldn’t see this. After everything they had been through, everything they had fought over, everything that had fallen apart between them that day in the hospital, the slightest chance of a clean slate would be blown away the instant he-- he grabbed the cop by the hair and slammed his head into the pavement in frustration.

“Karen. Now.”

She was frozen in place, eyes locked on the two men. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Whether it was from the shock of the attack or the shock of seeing the Punisher in front of her again, she couldn’t tell. All she knew is the only thing holding her upright was the wall behind her. She didn’t have the strength or coherent thought to get her limbs to respond to Frank’s command.

His mind swirled with a multitude of thoughts in a single second, trying to decide the best course of action. This asshole had gone after Karen. He wouldn’t let him get away with that. Not a goddamn chance in hell would anyone get away with putting their hands on the last remaining family he had if he had any say in it. At the same time, could he really jeopardize whatever miniscule chance he might have with making things right with her if he pulled this trigger right in front of her? As the seconds continued to tick by - one, two, three - and she continued not to move, the choice was made for him.

He squeezed.

Clicking the safety on the firearm into place, he jumped up, shoving it into his waistband and abandoning the body to take the three strides it took him to get to her. He knelt down without hesitation, putting himself solely in her line of sight so that she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“Hey, sh, sh, sh, you’re okay. Can you stand up?” Once again, his words were met with silence and a distinct lack of movement from the woman. Her eyes were searching his, but distantly. She was looking at him, but she wasn’t seeing him at all. He held his hand up to her before slowly resting it on the back of her neck to keep her steady, doing a quick once-over for any signs of obvious injury. She was leaning to one side but didn’t dare to brace herself against her wrist - a sprain, maybe? Frank didn’t see any blood pooling. She looked terrified, more than anything. Definitely in shock, he thought as she shook. Satisfied with not having to call an ambulance, he looped her uninjured arm around his neck and helped her to her feet.

“Come on, Karen, let’s get you home.”

She leaned against him, unable to take her eyes off of him even as they started to walk. He kept glancing over as they made their way out of the alley, brows furrowing. He couldn’t read her face, couldn’t tell what she was thinking, and it made the man more anxious than he cared to admit. He’d learned a long time ago not to care what people thought of him. Karen Page was a rare exception to that.

When they’d gone two blocks toward her apartment and she still had neither said a word nor taken her eyes off of him, Frank knew he couldn’t leave her alone. She was in absolutely no condition to take care of herself right now, of that much he was sure. Clearing his throat and stopping, he looked over at her.

“I’m going to take you to my place, okay?”

Whether he was met with the faintest of nods or a particularly violent shake, he couldn’t tell. He didn’t think it would be fair for him to be in her apartment when she couldn’t tell him to fuck off if she wanted to, anyway. It was his place or they parted ways here, and that wasn’t an option.

A quick survey of the area told him she was probably on her way to get groceries. He made a mental note to pick some up when she came to. Should he text Red to drop some off? Were they still seeing each other? Would he lose his ever loving shit if he knew what had happened? Frank shook his head and gently urged Karen to start walking alongside him again. His top priority was getting her to safety, the other details could be ironed out after.