[ the last moment she saw frank castle was months ago, after he'd climbed out of the roof of that elevator, bleeding and broken, holding himself together out of willpower alone. it had eaten away at her, in the following weeks, that she'd just let him go. she'd kept up with madani, with the case, with the way that frank castle died somewhere in the chaos. that billy russo was in the hospital. that things had moved on and she'd likely never see him again...
and here he stands, impossibly so, in the midst of a decrepit motel hallway with a rifle hanging from his shoulder and his hair cut short, and it feels like her knees have been taken out from under her.
he's alive (though some part of her knew he was, even when she wasn't sure. even when she didn't know for sure) and he's here (how long? how long has he been in this same city, this same place, and she hadn't known?) and now-
karen opens her mouth to say something, feels the urge to push forward and touch him (just to make sure this isn't some nightmare, or she's not hallucinating, or any combination of the two), when the voices from down the hallway start back up again and she notices his eyes jerk off towards them and then back to her. they are both out here for a reason, and while she has to swallow back the realization that if she hadn't come out to investigate, she might have never known he was here, she knows where their priorities are.
his hands are warm where they settle, lightly, on her arms - and that's all the reassurance she needs right then. that he's real, that this is real. that he's here. he tells her to keep her safety off and Karen nods, stepping in behind him as he steps by her and continues, and Karen keeps her eyes behind them as she follows. it's noticeable, how much safer she instantly feels, how that cloying, suffocating feeling of survival lifts now that she's not alone. now that the frame she follows is familiar, even if the rest of their situation is still off.
the sounds of muffled screams have her tense, her hands tightening around her own gun as her eyes go from the hallway behind them to frank and back again. this would be his forte, something she knows he could do on his own without backup, but she's not about to let him.
there's one voice, and then another, and the kind of rustling of a body trying to move and others holding it back. karen thinks she hears a low chuckle, a few exchanged words, and then more muffled screams. her eyes shoot to the back of frank's head as they come to a stop at the end of another hallway, as she waits for his... she doesn't know. signal? directive? something. ]
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and here he stands, impossibly so, in the midst of a decrepit motel hallway with a rifle hanging from his shoulder and his hair cut short, and it feels like her knees have been taken out from under her.
he's alive (though some part of her knew he was, even when she wasn't sure. even when she didn't know for sure) and he's here (how long? how long has he been in this same city, this same place, and she hadn't known?) and now-
karen opens her mouth to say something, feels the urge to push forward and touch him (just to make sure this isn't some nightmare, or she's not hallucinating, or any combination of the two), when the voices from down the hallway start back up again and she notices his eyes jerk off towards them and then back to her. they are both out here for a reason, and while she has to swallow back the realization that if she hadn't come out to investigate, she might have never known he was here, she knows where their priorities are.
his hands are warm where they settle, lightly, on her arms - and that's all the reassurance she needs right then. that he's real, that this is real. that he's here. he tells her to keep her safety off and Karen nods, stepping in behind him as he steps by her and continues, and Karen keeps her eyes behind them as she follows. it's noticeable, how much safer she instantly feels, how that cloying, suffocating feeling of survival lifts now that she's not alone. now that the frame she follows is familiar, even if the rest of their situation is still off.
the sounds of muffled screams have her tense, her hands tightening around her own gun as her eyes go from the hallway behind them to frank and back again. this would be his forte, something she knows he could do on his own without backup, but she's not about to let him.
there's one voice, and then another, and the kind of rustling of a body trying to move and others holding it back. karen thinks she hears a low chuckle, a few exchanged words, and then more muffled screams. her eyes shoot to the back of frank's head as they come to a stop at the end of another hallway, as she waits for his... she doesn't know. signal? directive? something. ]