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ck90 · 5 years

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I Fell into a rabbit hole...

The Kastle rabbit hole. And of course, decided to do some follows because - pretties! I even made a playlist! Then I saw the post about #kastleweek2k19 and saw that day 2 was au-palooza. I knew it had probably been done (haven’t found it yet tho - lots of great fics to read) but wouldn’t it be cute if Karen was the bodyguard protecting Frank. I saw the post last Thursday and thought, sure I can make a “quick’ fluff fic. It was supposed to be 5K. Then plot happened.

I See Heroes

AO3

Chapter 1: Bad News and Worse News

Click. Click. Click.

Very Special Agent, Karen Page, Level 6, but off the books a Level 8, took a long sip of her second cortado in an hour and willed the caffeine to refuel her empty tanks. It had been a flat white, macchiato, cold brew, cold brew, latte, cortado times two type of day. It wasn’t a bad day, per se. At least it wasn’t the flat white, espresso, double espresso, triple espresso and keep it coming, chocolate covered espresso beans all day, “I said triple espresso!”, “That was a triple!”, “I need more coffee!”, “Behold, Black Insomnia,” and she didn’t sleep for the next 73-hours, type of day.

“You’re thinking about Black Insomnia, aren’t you?”

Karen glanced at the pretty - no, that was too small of a word, too nice - stunning, yeah, that was better, the stunning woman beside her. Special Agent Crystalia Amaquelin, also officially a Level 6 but in reality a Level 8, was out of this world. Literally.

“Never,” Karen’s eyes narrowed, “demon-spewing portal of a hell dimension or not, give me that again.” She shuddered. “I still get the jitters.”

“That was six months ago, you drama-llama.”

They looked at each other and smiled. Good times.

“Okay.” Karen brought the cortado to her mouth again, absently rubbing the ten-inch scar on her thigh. “Maybe only for demon-spewing portals.”

Talia snorted, kicking her size ten tactical boots onto the table and leaning so far back that Karen was sure she was going to tip backward, but didn’t, and clicked on the mouse nearest to her.

Click. Click. Click.

Karen glanced at her own size tens on the other end of the table, it was why she knew Talia’s size. They’d worn each other shoes more times than she could count. It had doubled her shoe collection overnight. She now had Guccis and Louboutins, and Talia had Miu-Mius and Manolos. They'd ended up sharing a house for that reason alone. The fabulous shoes. Except they’ve been practically living in their tactical boots for the last month.

Karen bit off a sigh and ignored the various screens that surrounded them, focusing solely on the one in front of her. They were in a sub-sub-basement of one of S.T.A.K.E.’s subsidiary offices watching the world unfold in front of them. She swiped at the tablet on her lap, and the image changed.

Click. Click. Click.

Who names an organization STAKE anyway?

“Stark.” Another image flashed in front of Karen. “Special Threat Assessment for Known Extranormalities. Howard Stark’s idea of a joke because he stumbled onto Vlad, himself.”

Talia turned to Karen. “Was I thinking too loud?”

“What? Oh.” Karen blinked and shook her head. “No. Sometimes we are just on the same vibe. Versus the times you purposely shout images of your latest conquest.”

“One of us has to have fun.”

Click. Click. Cli—

Talia pushed the mouse away and eyed the other tablet near Karen’s foot. In the blink of an eye, the tablet was in Talia’s hands. Karen was jealous of that little skill.

“Sorry. You should have said something.”

“I would have. Sooner rather than later.” She grabbed the coffee again, sipped, then extended the cup towards Talia. “Would you mind?”

Talia touched the cup. “Hot, scalding or volcano?”

“More than hot but not quite scalding.” In half a breath, the steam swirled up and out of the container. Karen brought it to her lips and savored the fiery jolt of caffeine. She looked at her coffee. “Is 32oz still considered a cup?”

Talia picked up her own vat of caffeine. “It is in my book.”

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

“We all have our lots in life,” Talia said. “Mine is to heat up your coffee and share my shoes.”

“They are really nice shoes.”

“They are, aren’t they?” They shared fond memories of their shoe collection. “What are we trying next?”

Karen worried her lip for one long breath, tapped on her tablet and then pointed at one of the screens now showing a variety of shoes. “Prada?”

“That’s so last year. How about stilettos?”

“You would need seven inches to be taller than Thor and four to go eye to eye with Rumlow. And the last time you went higher than three, you nearly broke your ankle.”

“I still think I can lift Mew-Mew, given half a chance.”

“Me-awl-nir.” Karen’s hands enunciated each syllable like a conductor. There was a wicked sparkle in Talia’s eyes. “You do that on purpose, don’t you?”

“Mew-Mew.”

Karen chewed the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. It would only encourage the incorrigible woman. “And Rumlow? Reeaally?”

Talia’s eyes grew unfocused. Lost in a thought or a memory. Karen geared up for more salacious imagery to burst out of her partner. But none came.

“Talia?” Karen reached out of habit. She was a hugger. Always had been even as a child. A comforting touch. A gentle squeeze. Always tactile. It was part of her skill set. Who she was. In her nature to console and reassure. To soothe. Her fingers brushed against the bunched sleeve on Talia’s elbow.

The problem was that Karen’s power was dangerously out of kilter. She couldn’t control it or replicate the circumstances. It had happened under stress - her nails had dug into a meaty forearm of a hellspawn who grabbed her neck with the intention of separating it from her body - and in perfect calm - her hand had bumped against Mac’s when they were getting coffee.

It had happened six months ago when some idiot opened a hell-portal in Kandahar. And it had happened yesterday morning in New York. The hellspawn had dropped dead. As had any of its brethren that came into contact with her skin. Mac had only been knocked out cold. Luckily.

She got the hellspawn. It could've just been a surge of adrenalin. Fight or die. It wasn’t uncommon for some of the higher powered operatives to develop extra skills in the heat of a battle. But yesterday, there’d been no danger. She had just felt a sense of determination. Of right and wrong. Of honor and dishonor. Of exhaustion.

Weird.

Talia blinked and eyed the long fingers on her elbow. Karen flinched her hand back, but Talia grabbed it and put it on her bare forearm.

“Talia!” Karen tried to pull her hand back, but the other woman was having none of it and held on tight.

“We’re going to figure this out, Kare.”

Karen yanked her hand back. “I’m not taking any chances. Don’t do that again.” She couldn't control the fear in her voice. She couldn’t bear if something happened to her best friend or any of their team just because they touched her by accident. She couldn’t go through that terror again. The picture of a crumbling Mac would forever be forged into her memory.

She was not going through that again. Even if she never touched another friend for the rest of her life.

Karen grabbed the full-length gloves that had been discarded because of the ridiculous warmth of the sub-sub-basement. Shaking fingers buried themselves into the unique fabric that Simmons had initially designed for Daisy. It had been meant as a temporary fix, but had become a permanent fixture on her body after Kandahar. Except for yesterday morning. Except for now.

“You're lucky I didn’t put you in a coma. Or worse.” Her fists clenched to stem the shaking. She refused to look at Talia. The wave of sympathy and love hit her like a comforting blanket. For someone who tried to personify a chaotic neutral personality, Talia Amaquelin was too consistent when it came to the people closest to her. She’d go through hell and back for her teammates. And she’d risk death to comfort a friend that was slowly dying inside from being so touch-starved.

Gloved fingers covered her lips in an attempt to quelch a strangled sob. Her hand fisted against her mouth.

I’m not lonely, Karen.

It was a fleeting thought. A will-o’-wisp. A hushed whisper from far away. So much emotion. So much left unspoken. But she heard it.

Again.

“Kare.”

Her whole body turned towards Talia. Blue eyes met green eyes like the old friends they were. Words were unnecessary. They’ve known each other for over five years. Worked together for over four and lived under the same roof for almost as long. A look was worth a thousand words. Talia grabbed a gloved hand and squeezed.

Yeah. They'd figure it out. But in the meantime, Karen wasn’t taking any chances. Gloves or not. She pulled her hand away.

“As for Rumlow,” Talia shrugged, “it’s complicated.”

Karen bit back a smile. Talia’s default distraction topic: Sex. “Complicated?”

“What can I say,” Talia turned her attention to one of the screens, tilted her head to the side, then moved on to the next screen, “I like living on the edge.”

Karen snorted. “That’s one hell of an edge.”

“I know right?” Talia rested the tablet on her lap and put her hands behind her head. “Sometimes I scare myself.”

Karen did not want to know the details. Of all of the dangerous men and women at SHIELD, Brock Rumlow was scary with a capital D for deadly. She was not going to ask. It was none of her business, and she didn't want to know the particulars that would make her blush anytime she was in the same room as that man.

Besides, Talia was a talker, and she’d spill it anyway. Any minute now. She tended to brag. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. It was almost charming. And one of them should have some fun. Especially now.

Except there was nothing but silence. Other than the low white noise hum of the computers. Talia was just looking at the screens in front of her.

Karen was not going to ask. Nope. Not gonna happen. She was just going to work. Her index finger tapped absently against her thigh.

Goddammit.

Karen dropped the tablet on the table and turned to Talia. “Spill. Details. Say it now so I can school my reaction next time I see the man. Rather than just having you spring it on me before a meeting.” Karen counted to three. “Wipe that self-satisfied grin off your face or so help me I’ll tell Coulson it was you who scratched Lola.”

Talia laughed. “We can’t talk about Rumlow, we’d fail the Bechdel Test.”

“Do you even know that is?”

“Of course I do,” Talia said. “I’ve lived with your nerdgasm for five years. It was bound to rub off.”

“Well, we can’t talk about work.” Karen gestured at the screens. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“What is Fury trying to find here?” Talia tapped on her tablet, and the screens changed. “I get that this is the new hub for vigilantes, but there’s no way that he doesn’t know the identity of the Devil. And that private investigator sure isn’t hiding. Neither is that big smoking hot dude in Harlem.”

The screens showed pictures of Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, and the glowing fist boy. But the images of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen were all dark and blurry. Only fleeting captures by surveillance cameras. No way to tell anything other than his suit was red, and it had horns. Ha. What’s next? Yellow spandex and gold armor? But Fury was Fury and Karen wouldn't put it past him that he knew exactly who it was under those horns.

“Maybe he’s looking for Spider-Ham.”

Silence. Even the computers stopped humming.

“Spider. Ham.”

It was the tone. Karen always looked at Talia when she pulled out that tone. “You know, the man-child dressed in red and blue who always hams it up for CCTV then realizes he probably shouldn't and throws that spider gunk at it as if it would magically erase the feed.”

Talia bit her lip. “Spider. Ham.” She tasted the words slowly. “I’m totally putting it on the next report.” She pulled out her phone and typed into it.

“Hello? Is this thing on?” A curly blond-brownish haired man tapped on a screen. “Oh, there you are. Can you hear me now? Can you see me?” He looked down, and suddenly all of the screens now had a real close up his face on them. “Is that better?”

“Not really,” Talia said.

“You’re on all of our screens, Fitz.” Karen bit off a smile.

“Oh,” Leo Fitz looked down again. “Is that better?” The image panned out to show more of the lab, but now only covered four screens.

“Not re—”

“It’s fine, Fitz.” Karen glared at Talia. “What’s up?”

“I have good news,” he said.

Karen straightened. Fitz and Simmons had been working on what the hell was going on with Karen’s power. Simmons from a biochemist angle and Fitz from the ‘engineering can’t hurt’ angle.

“Not really,” a disembodied voice pointed out.

Oh. Karen tried to hide her disappointment.

“Oh,” Fitz rubbed his head, “yeah.” He looked at Karen and deflated. “Sorry, Karen. It’s not about the—” he wiggled his hand, “sorry.”

Talia grabbed Karen’s hand and lifted it in a victory pose. “The gloves are totally working though. Not dead. Not even a little nap.”

Karen snatched her hand away.

“That’s great!”

“Fitz,” Karen said calmly, “What news?”

“Maybe it’s more bad news and worse news?” He looked at them worriedly.

“What’s the bad news, Fitz?” Karen had to wonder if it was bad news from Fitz’s perspective or hers. After all, what could possibly be worse than being stuck in a sub-sub-basement watching the world go by and not being able to touch another person because you’re afraid to kill them?

“Hi guys,” Jemma Simmons appeared on the screen and waved. “Don’t forget to bring some samples of that Hell’s Kitchen water.”

“We’re bringing it in us,” Talia answered.

Jemma smiled, then her eyes widened. “NO! Don’t drink it! You don’t know what’s in it.”

Karen bit the inside of her cheek.

“Nice one Jem,” Fitz said.

“It sounded normal in my head.” Jemma’s face contorted in embarrassment. Sorry, she mouthed.

“Why don’t you tell them Jemma?”

Simmons’ head snapped towards Fitz’s direction. “Noooo,” her head moved side to side until the last extended vowel. “He told you to do it.”

“But why would he tell me to do it?”

Jemma thought for a moment. “Because you were the closest to the door.”

“Oh.”

Karen loved them. Would stand in front of any hex or curse for them, face a horde of demons or gaggle of ghouls for either one without hesitation. They were an integral part of their team. Invaluable. But sometimes they drove her bonkers.

“Fitz. Simmons. Spill it.”

They both jumped.

“They are afraid to tell you that you’re still on Fury’s Shit List.” Daisy Johnson came into view.

“Still?” Talia made a face.

“If you know,” Fitz said, turning to Daisy, “then why don’t you tell them?”

“Nooooo.” Daisy held up her hands and took a half-step backward.

“It was an accident.” Four heads turned at the same to look at Karen who shrugged. “It was.”

“The two of you were playing keep the Tesseract away from the Flerken.” Karen resented the lack of understating in Daisy’s tone. It hadn’t been ‘keep away’ as much as how many tentacles does a Flerken really have.

“And he swallowed it,” Fitz said. “Again.” It’s not like it was the first time that “cat” had swallowed something he probably shouldn’t have.

“And we’d just gotten it back!” That sounded like an accusation coming from Jemma. As if it had been their fault SHIELD has lost the Tesseract in the first place. Again. For the fifth time?

Karen turned to Talia, who’s head disappeared between her shoulders as she dipped lower in her chair. “He gave it back.”

“Hurled, Talia,” Daisy said. “Hurled is not the same as give.”

“On the Director’s desk,” Fitz said. “Again.”

“And on his chair. And the floor. And that rug Fury brought back from Istanbul.”

It hadn’t been pretty.

Daisy turned to Jemma. “I think he had to burn it.”

“The smell.” They all said at the same time.

Yeah. That had been surprising. In a toxic dump, even the hazmat suits had come out of the room looking green in the gill, sorta way. You could smell it down the hall.

“He…also returned…some other stuff.”

It was surprising how much stuff could fit into such a little body.

“Hurled, Karen,” Daisy said. “Hurled is not the same as returned.”

“I think that huge mass of goo was a Chitauri,” Jemma said. “Or what was left of one.”

“Jemma, that’s not possible. The Chi—”

Karen tuned out the arguing scientists. She knew they’d figure it out. Her problem that is. If anyone could, it would be them. She just hoped it wouldn’t be another six months. Or longer.

“We knew this, though,” Talia’s voice was low and conversational. “It’s why we’ve been banished to Purgatory.” She waved at the screens. “To contemplate our misdeeds.”

Right. Karen nodded. “If Fury was really angry, he’d send us back to San Francisco.” Bad news and worse news. “Fitz. Fitz! What’s the worse news?”

Fitz picked up a tablet and started typing. One of the screens went black, then two pictures came up, side by side. Two men in Marine officers uniform. It must have been their file portraits. More images came up. The same men, but this time in fatigues, sitting and standing, but always together.

“He’s hot,” Daisy said.

Jemma nodded. “It’s the classic bone structure. The visual cortex recognizes that near-perfect symmetry. Rather pretty actually.”

Karen wouldn’t call him pretty. Not by a long shot. Not with a nose that looked like it had been broken more times that he could possibly remember. Not pretty, but there was something striking about those dark eyes, even in a photograph, that felt like they could see right through her. She couldn’t stop staring.

You were never in any danger …I wanted you to know that.

“Shh! Neither of you wanted to tell them so…shh. Perfect symmetry,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Are we assassinating United States Marine officers, now?”

Karen stiffened.

“What?” Fritz looked down at his notes, then back to Talia. “No. Not at all. Quite the opposite, actually.”

This guy is a war hero.

Karen started to relax. It would be a shame - a crime against mother nature - to have to destroy such a fine specimen of the male species.

“No. Nononononono!”

It was the repetition that unraveled whatever connection that was trying to materialize into this reality. Karen blinked and looked at Talia, whose face was now buried in her hands. She made herself replay the conversation she’d tuned out because of those devastating eyes she was now purposely avoiding. Then it clicked. Her eyes widened.

“NO!”

“Yes.” There was sympathy from Jemma.

“Yeah. Sorry.” And Fitz.

“You’re on babysitting duty.” Not from Daisy. Not even a little bit.

#kastledaily #kastleweek2k19 #kastleau #karen page #frank castle #amwriting #kastle

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