"And when you have no tears left to shed, then… Then we'll come for you, Miss Page."

The words rang hollow in the stark warehouse.

Karen fought to keep control of her breathing, of her tears. She would not cry before such a horrible… shit. This was all her fault. If she'd just listened to Ben. Or Matt. Or anyone really.

She kept her attention divided equally between the gun on the table and the man before her. He was regarding her with a pleasant smile. Oh, how she wished she could just reach out and shoot it off…

She knew couldn't accept his offer, if it could even be called that. She'd die before she betrayed her friends. But she'd also gone past the point of noble heroics. If she continued to put up a fight, she had no doubt that Fisk and his men would target her friends.

Three, fresh new graves. Right next to Elena's.

No, what she had to do… what she needed now… more than anything… was time.

Karen sniffed, trying to regain what little composure she had left.

She regarded Wesley with an equally cool stare. "What do I get out of it?" she asked.

Wesley's smile turned into a full on smirk as one eyebrow rose. "Get?" he said in slightly perplexed amusement. "Your life. I should've thought that part at the very least was obvious."

Karen took a deep breath, steeling herself. It was a small pathetic gambit, but it was hers.

"That's not enough," she said cooly.

"Oh, isn't it?"

"Right now the only thing you're offering me is a promise," Karen said. "And I know perfectly well how much your… kind of people keep their promises. Am I supposed to just trust that you won't kill me after I do whatever you say? That you won't hurt my friends after?"

Wesley snorted.

"I suppose you don't," he said. "However - unlike certain persons present - I assure you, Miss Page, that I do in fact keep my word. I've been told, by different parties, that is both one of my best and one my worst character traits."

Karen crossed her arms, one eye still on the gun stretched out between them.

The conversation was moving into slightly steadier territory, but it still wasn't enough. She could go home, lie to her friends… but then what?

"Your plan for me won't work," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"I said it won't work." Karen swallowed nervously. "I'm the one leading this… I'm the one who got them all into this."

"Yes, and you'll be the one to get them all out again."

"No! Don't you see!" she exclaimed. Wesley flinched slightly at her sudden outburst, his hand twitching towards the gun. Karen bit her lip. "If I go in and suddenly do a three-sixty on them. If I… I tell them that Fisk is full of sunshine and rainbow and kisses puppies every morning when he wakes up," - she ignored the way Wesley glared at her - "they won't believe a word I say. They'll know I've been threatened or brainwashed or… something! I don't know. Point is, they won't believe me. They might even double-down their efforts."

"So. What you're trying to tell me," Wesley drawled, "is that you have no use whatsoever." He smiled.

Shit. She knew it was a crappy gambit.

"No! There are other things! Other things I can be useful for. Other… really good reasons why you should keep me alive!"

"Such as?"

Her head was pounding with adrenaline, her brain practically overdosing on the stuff.

Time. She need time.

"Give me three days," Karen said.

"What? So you'll be free to swan off and poison yet more innocent souls with your wild, libelous tales of corruption and scandal."

She fought down her immediate retort that it wasn't libel if it was true. She took a deep breath instead.

"Have me followed. Kill me if you see me stepping out of line," she said. "But give me three days and I promise you won't regret it."

Wesley didn't say anything in response. Karen forced herself to keep her face cool and steady.

That was it. All she had was now out there. The only thing left in her power was-

"Very well then," Wesley said. "Three days it is."

Karen started to breathe a sigh of relief, and then a phone rang.

It wasn't her ringtone, wasn't her phone. It echoed harshly in the stillness. Karen watched as Wesley turned his head slightly, his attention briefly diverted to his coat pocket.

She took her chance.

Karen lunged for the gun, her fingers reaching out to skim over the top. But Wesley was reaching too. Both of their hands collided over the metal surface and they knocked the gun off the table, sending it spinning and clattering onto the concrete floor.

They stared at each other from across the table for a split second, fear clearly marked in both of their eyes. The phone continued to ring. And then they both dove for it.

They collided again, this time an ungainly mess of shoulders and elbows. Karen felt her one hand smack the glasses off his face even as her other wrapped around the shaft of the gun. For one brief, heart-stopping moment, she managed to point the gun into his chest, curl her finger around the trigger, and pull… but the safety was on.

Startled at the lack of effect and just how close she'd come from murder, Wesley quickly managed to wrest it back away from her.

The two of them tumbled backwards, panting from exertion.

What had she done? If they safety hadn't been on… if she'd managed to pull the trigger all the way back…

And then Wesley was looming over her. She heard his thumb click the safety off and her heart began to scream. She stared at the barrel of the gun as he pointed it straight at her.

He mumbled something.

Karen blinked.

"What?" she said, not taking her eyes off the gun.

He repeated himself and she realized he wasn't mumbling. It was just her own blood coursing too loud against her ears to hear.

"I said 'See you in three days, Miss Page.'"

Wesley pocketed the gun and simply walked away, abandoning her to the solitude/sitting on the cold, grimy concrete.

She stayed like that for awhile, her legs to shaky to move, half expecting more of Fisk's goons to burst in and shoot her on the spot.

Three days.

She had three days.

What the hell had she gotten herself into this time?